I blinked. Mouth open. Brain stalling hard. “Oh.” The word squeaked out. I coughed, rubbing the back of my neck.
“…Oupsie?”
Saevrin shook his head slowly, feathers settling tight against his body. “No matter how much hatred festers in your heart,” he said, voice low, “you should not wish extinction, even on the simplest of beasts. Wolves can think, even as monsters. They learn. They remember. You have already twisted their fate. Lowered their spawn rate, their cycle.”
I furrowed my brow. “Do you… realize how petty I can be?”
Saevrin turned his head slightly, regarding me with that distant calm. “I do not care how souls choose to roam this realm,” he said. “Some will learn from their mistakes. Some will never understand. But it is the right of every soul to fail. And to fail again. Free will means even the foolish may walk their path unchanged.”
I nodded.
Just nodded. Didn’t argue. I’d already started mentally sketching my hit list. Damon, obviously, at the top. Then Tarz, because what the hell was that all about? Ice-Blood should get a beating from a certain Twir. And wolves… Uh, maybe check in with Frozna, see if she could tame the mud wolves. Force them to stay clean, mud-free.
Progress…?
“That is not why you stand here now,” Saevrin said, his tone settling into something deeper, colder. “I will present to you three options. Three paths for your new life.”
He lifted one claw, and with a graceful motion, the air before us rippled.
“This is the first choice,” Saevrin intoned. “You may return to your roots, reborn as human, male, unremarkable. I offer this path as a deliberate regression of the self. A grounding. You have been shaken, fragmented by what you endured. This life would recenter you, strip you of pretense, and force you to rebuild your mind from the foundation.”
I snorted, crossing my arms. “Yeah… no way I’m picking that. There is no way to escape mines.”
Unbothered, Saevrin moved his claw again. The projection shifted.
“In this—” Saevrin began.
“No.” I cut him off, eyes shut tight. “Next. You’re trying to kill me with these choices, aren’t you?”
I cracked one eye open, glaring at him. Saevrin stared back, unflinching. His eyes burned like coals beneath the shimmer of his feathers. “I offer you this life,” he said, “because it is alien to you. Because in this body, through these eyes, you would know the weight of captivity. A soul bound to chains, condemned to repeat the same brutal cycle without hope of freedom.”
His voice softened, but there was no warmth in it. “It is a lesson you lack.”
I blinked, gears turning. “There’s a catch. You’re required to offer me three options… aren’t you?”
Saevrin’s gaze grew distant, like he was listening to something far beyond me. “Yes,” he said at last, voice echoing like wind through hollow stone. “It is tradition. Every soul is granted three paths. One to reflect the past, one to reveal the present, and one to challenge the future.”
He tilted his head just slightly, feathers shimmering with strange light. “And yes… there is a catch. I expect you to choose the last option. That is why I have obscured its cost.”
I folded my arms. “So the first one… one month of life, tops. I know that mine. I’ve been there. Miss one quota, they send you to the frontline without a weapon. Most miners don’t last a week. I might make it seven days, if I’m lucky. But more than a month?”
I shook my head. “No chance.”
Saevrin’s eyes narrowed, faintly curious. “I had forgotten you were so well-traveled. That is my oversight.” He motioned slightly, as if brushing that aside. “And the second?”
I bit my tongue, but answered anyway. “Even without the slavery status? Taucuop Pirates are monsters. I fought their king once. His favorite way to cast legendary ship spells was through live sacrifice.”
I paced, letting the memory burn.
“And even if I wasn’t the one sacrificed, most slaves just die in the first skirmish. Get replaced with whatever prisoners survive the next ship raid. There’s no living there. Just a countdown to death.”
Silence settled between us. I stopped walking and turned back toward him. “The last option, then… I assume it has a drawback. Has to. One bad enough to match the others.”
Saevrin nodded once. Slow.
I squinted at him. “Any hint? Worse than the mines?”
Saevrin ruffled his wings. A subtle movement. But his expression, if you could call it that, remained untouched. Silent. Composed. He didn’t even acknowledge the question.
Smart god.
“Fine,” I sighed, rubbing my face. “Challenge my future, then. If that’s the game.” I dropped my hands into my lap and stared out into the clouds. “If that’s all,” I added, “I’m going to go drown my sorrow in a bottle of whiskey.”
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Saevrin reappeared on my shoulder, light as a whisper, claws gentle against my skin. “I will need time to prepare the vessel for your new life,” he said. “The weaving of souls is delicate work. It will take… days, at least.”
I started walking slowly, the cold stone beneath my feet rough. Strange, walking with a god perched on my shoulder like a casual passenger. Not like marching beside some Ice-Blood legendary pretender god.
I miss the prince already.
“So,” I asked, “since you’re supposedly all-powerful… why so slow?” I shot him a sideways glance. “And any chance of a hint? How the hell am I supposed to find these Children of Gaia people?”
Saevrin’s feathers rustled, a soft sound. “Every second,” he said, “thousands of souls are born again. Sometimes, millions. You are not my only charge. Not even my most complicated.” He leaned in just slightly, his voice lowering. “But I was told to deliver this message. From the Seed itself.”
I stopped walking.
“You are required to die,” he said calmly. “That is the condition. The binding cannot be made unless you fall by your own hand, using their device.”
I swallowed hard. “And if I… die for real? No comeback?”
Saevrin did not blink. “That,” he said, “is the risk. Say it aloud,” he continued. “Say you accept. Only then may the work begin.”
I exhaled slowly, staring down at my hands. “I accept,” I said. My voice didn’t even shake. “I accept Option Three.”
The lid of my capsule slid open with that familiar hiss, the metal shell releasing me like an animal from its den. Last time, I thought, stomach dipping hard at the weight of it. Yeah, I may have played bravado in front of that bird, but that was only that. Killing myself? I…
Bravado.
“Welcome back, Miss Charlie,” Jerry chimed from the watch on my wrist. Same tone as always.
I crawled out, stiff, and padded toward the bedroom. “Thanks, Jerry. How’ve you been? Better than me, I hope.”
There was a soft beep of processing. Weird. “I… watched your execution a few minutes ago. Are you okay? You seemed… distant yesterday.”
I grabbed the nearest underwear from the chair pile, tugged it on, then pulled a giant metal band T-shirt over my head. The thing hung on me like a tent. Perfect.
“Yeah,” I muttered, fingers combing through my mess of hair. “I was. I don’t know why. Everything just felt… surreal. Like it wasn’t real, and any second I’d wake up back at square one.”
I yanked the shirt straight and flopped back onto the couch with a huff.
“But I’m back. I think.” I wrapped my arms around my knees, letting the too-big T-shirt drape over everything like armor. “We need to find the Children of Gaia,” I said, breaking the silence. “Any ideas?”
Jerry chirped softly. “Should I research?”
“Please,” I sighed, sinking deeper into the cushions as if the couch might swallow me whole if I let it. I stayed like that for a while, half-thinking, half-floating, the world too quiet but not quiet enough. I flicked through the channels until the holo-tv snapped into focus, beaming a day old video straight into the middle of my living room.
Some random kid was grinning to the external camera, sword gleaming as he waded through a bog waist-deep in sludge. Behind him, a crew of equally shiny teammates cheered as he slashed down one of those dumb, wide-mouthed swamp monsters.
No, charlie, that they are related to mud doesn’t mean they are dumb.
He slashed the kind that explodes if you hit the gas sac too hard. The chat feed sparkled in the corner.
I felt it… that pang.
Familiar.
I couldn’t go back there. Not now. Maybe never.
Banned.
The word tasted like acid. I pulled the shirt tighter around my shoulders, fingers clenching into the soft fabric. This wasn’t the first time I’d felt that particular twist in my gut, the ache of watching other people live the thing I wanted.
It was how it used to be, back in the old world. In the simulation. Sitting on the outside, watching the vids, watching streams, wishing I could log in. Wishing I could matter.
Back then, I told myself it didn’t hurt. That it was fine. No. I will go back, even if they reset stole my name, my story, my place.
I hugged my knees to my chest, eyes still locked on the stream as the guy posed over his kill, laughing while his teammates danced around him.
I should’ve seen it coming.
All of it. I should’ve known better. But I let myself believe again. Like an idiot. Believe that maybe, this time, I could hold onto something.
Princess? Check.
Noble? Check.
Fame, epic battles? Double check.
But that wasn’t the part that mattered. The part that mattered was the friends. Could I hold onto them without Rimelion?
I’d lived through it once already. The other world. Watching the smiles, hearing the inside jokes, stuck on the outside looking in. Sure, I could offer advice from the test servers, play the theory crafter, the tactician. I could talk shop.
But nothing, nothing, compared to holding the line. I let myself believe I had it this time. That I was really there. That I was part of it.
When Llama held the front, refusing to budge. When Luminaria’s spells lit the field. When Lunaris spun through the enemy ranks like a blade on air. When Lisa’s magic wrapped around me, making me basically a god.
That was the feeling.
That was the thing I’d reached for.
I squeezed my knees tighter, eyes pressing shut because the tears made them too heavy to keep open. “And now crow asked me to believe them, and kill myself,” I whispered.
Someone wrapped their arms around me. Warm. I blinked, startled. “Huh—?” Before I could process it, I felt myself being gently pulled down, guided like I weighed nothing at all.
“Lola?” I mumbled, glancing up.
There she was, smiling softly, eyes worried but calm, as I realized I was now lying across her lap, my head resting on her thighs. “Sorry for the intrusion,” she whispered, brushing a few strands of hair out of my face. “But… Jerry let me in.”
“You needed the company, and we know her,” Jerry added just for me.
I opened my mouth to snap at him, but nothing came out. Stupid Jerry. I really needed to revoke his door access.
Lola kept stroking my hair, slow and gentle, her fingers combing through the mess like she had all the time in the world.
I didn’t protest.
“It’s okay,” she murmured, her other hand resting light against my shoulder. “I know.”
She leaned down just a little closer.
“I know about the execution,” she mumbled. “About your items. About… the ban.”
I pressed my face into the fabric of her skirt, not trusting myself to speak. My throat burned. “How?” I managed.
“Mister Riker,” Lola said softly, her fingers still moving through my hair. “Do you believe he’s actually making a movie? About our battle?”
I blinked, slowly turning my head toward her voice.
“From all that footage… his team’s working on turning it into some epic holo-flick,” she went on, giggling. “We may have to attend a premiere, you know. I already talked to Lisa about it—she agreed. Reluctantly.” Her smile softened. “She said she’s sorry she couldn’t come today. But apparently, she and Katherine finally had to show up at school for real.”
Lola’s fingers paused for a second, then resumed their gentle tracing along my scalp.
“I’m sorry, I…” My voice cracked a little. I turned my gaze back to the holo-TV, where the kid from the stream was now hacking his way toward some mini-boss, the chat exploding with excitement.
“…Your dream about the kingdom,” I whispered. “It… it may not be.”
Lola fell quiet for a moment, her hand resting softly on my shoulder. Then she nodded, almost to herself. “It may not,” she echoed. “But, Mister Riker also asked me to tell you something.”
I glanced up, and there was that playful glint in her eyes again. Amused. Too amused.
“He said… he doesn’t know much about the Children of Gaia,” Lola said, voice light but teasing. “And he was very frustrated about that.”
I frowned, confused, but the words didn’t want to come out right. “W-what… what did he—? You know?” She tilted her head slightly, still smiling. I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “…You know, don’t you?” I managed, barely above a whisper.
Lola’s smile only widened, and she gave a tiny, innocent shrug, her fingers still threading through my hair like this was the most casual conversation in the world. “Riker sponsored them, but they went silent recently. He is worried for some reason. And me too. It sounds… unbelievable.”
That was the moment I decided. “We need to contact Lucas,” I said, eyes narrowing, voice steady. “Jerry, call Lucas.”
Lola’s eyes widened. “Wait—what? Aren’t you… I mean, you’re still sad, aren’t you—?”
I turned toward her, grinning. “You know me, Lola. But do you really know me?” I pointed at the TV, where Lucas’s number was already glowing on the holo-screen. “No plan? Sad Charlie.” I tapped my temple. “But plan? Focused Charlie.”
Lola giggled again, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little, but she stayed quiet, watching me carefully.
The line blinked. Connecting.
Then the message started.
“Hi, Charlie,” Lucas’s voice said.
“Hi, Lucas! I nee—” I began, leaning forward.
But his voice kept going, cutting clean over mine.
“If you’re hearing this, it means I haven’t checked back into my apartment within the last 24 hours after heading out on a mission. This message has been automatically activated.”
“Please come to my apartment and retrieve my notes. The door code is still the same.”
The line clicked off.
Silence.
“Stupid Lucas.”