I tried resting. Resting wasn’t gonna’ happen. New world, new beds. New weird beds. New world, new weird beds, and no actual bnket.

  I sighed heavily and sat up. Oddly enough, knowing that I’d meet Velira again soon, and what she found could mean my immediate death wasn’t what was bothering me. I mean, it kinda’ did, but also…it didn’t. I’d already lost everything, so this was all that was left to take.

  No, what bothered me was that I was antsy. I needed to do…something. And without room to run or a proper gym, that meant going old school.

  I pulled the boots and tunic back off, and after some stretches, I went back to my roots for some calisthenics starting with burpees for a little full-body exercise. The whole squat, push-up, jump combination was a hell of a thing and it worked my entire body. The problem I encountered was that I lost track of time and realized I'd probably been doing burpees non-stop for around thirty minutes. I hadn’t even broken a sweat.

  With a shrug, I switched to mountain climbers. Can't run? Do mountain climbers. You'll hate your fucking life, but you'll be close enough to running and get that heart rate up.

  I then looked around the room, energy still pushing me to move, and found what I was looking for. A small ledge with just enough room to get my fingers onto, jutted out atop the main door. It was a bit odd since the rest of the room had smooth walls, but I assumed it to be a design choice after seeing the same ledge above the door to the bathroom.

  Pull-up time.

  I took it slow, making sure I worked each bicep and back muscle involved for the best improvement. The slow action also required me to work harder since I was having to control each movement every time I went up or down. But still, no sweat.

  The door chimed again, and before I could react, it slid open to reveal a suddenly wide-eyed Inari mere inches from my six pack. She gasped, made an odd little squeak, then spun on her heels to face the opposite direction. I had to admit, the cloak looked fabulous when it fred out.

  “Dane Walsh, what are you doing?” she asked. The poor girl’s voice was trembling, and I could see the tips of her ears turning scarlet.

  “Sorry. The bed and I didn’t get along, and I needed to expend some energy,” I said, dropping to my feet to put the shirt and boots back on. “Ever since I arrived, it’s like I’ve just had this motivation to be active.”

  She didn’t turn around. Just stood there, motionless. Then, after a beat, she asked, “You were not active before?”

  “I was. Very active,” I replied, remembering how often I was at the gym or practicing in one of the dojos even in my retirement. “But now, it’s like there’s some buildup of…well, I guess I could just call it power, and if I don’t let it out, I get restless and antsy.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her head tilt slightly just before she snuck a peek to see if I was dressed yet. I had my shirt back on, so she walked in.

  “What does antsy mean?”

  As I pulled one of the boots on, I replied, “Uh, mostly that you’re restless. If you get too antsy, you can become agitated. It’s like knowing you’re about to go somewhere exciting, and you’re all packed and ready to go, but one asshole is being a slowpoke and keeping you from leaving. You want to dart out the door, but that idiot’s gumming up the works and you get a bit testy with them.”

  “Antsy,” she repeated the word. Then, with a barely perceptible shrug, she swooshed into the room and took a seat at the small table. And, yes, it was a swoosh. I guessed that’s why she wore the cloak.

  “It is an odd word,” she continued, “but I understand the meaning now.” She nodded once. “I will make note of it.”

  “Good,” I said. “Next lesson: jackass.”

  She stared at me.

  “You’ll love that one.”

  Now apparently aware of my antics, she shifted gears. “And you said this buildup of power began when you arrived?”

  “Yep. Say, can those shiny pools of liquid give you brain cancer?” I asked.

  Inari blinked. “What?”

  “Never mind,” I muttered. “You’re still thinking about antsy.’”

  I waited a few moments, then realized that her eyes were on me, but her mind was elsewhere. Hello, Schor-mode.

  “So,” I said, drawing the word out, “was this just a social visit, or are we off to see the wizard?”

  Her eyes focused on me, quite sharply. “High Arcanist Velira is not a wizard, Dane Walsh! I cannot believe you would say such a thing.”

  I sat back and held my hands up in surrender. “Alrighty then. But seriously, what are we doing?”

  She stood, smoothing out her finery. “It is time for your assessment and attunement tests. Follow me, please.”

  Inari didn’t say much on the way to the Echo Vault. She was walking a little slower now, but it wasn’t out of fatigue. Her fingers were ced together behind her back in that schorly "deep-in-thought" posture that told me her brain was chewing on something significant. Probably my earlier comment about feeling overcharged like a damn lightning rod left out in a storm.

  The hallways we walked through grew narrower, darker—not in a spooky, medieval dungeon way, but in a refined, surgical way. Crystalline sconces along the walls began to dim automatically as we passed, casting soft, yered shadows against smooth violet-tinged quartz. And then…we stopped.

  The door in front of us looked nothing like the others in the Shardhall. It wasn’t ornate or lined in runes. It was pin. Silent. A solid sb of polished gray crystal that hummed faintly, like a tuning fork struck just out of earshot. No knobs, no visible hinges, just a sigil etched at shoulder height that pulsed with soft cerulean light.

  “This is the Echo Vault,” Inari said, quietly reverent. “No sound from outside enters once the threshold seals. No external magic penetrates. No communication gets through. It is designed to remove all interference. You will be alone with only the High Arcanist, your memories, and the Essentia signature that we will be attuning to.”

  I gave a small whistle. “So, it’s a magical sensory deprivation tank. Fancy.”

  Inari didn’t ugh. Instead, she touched the glowing sigil, and the door opened with a low, resonant hum that vibrated in my chest. Inside, it was mostly empty. No decorations. No mirrors. No light fixtures. Just more of that seamless, metallic-smooth stone with faint veins of Essentia glowing like capilries under the skin of a sleeping titan. The center held a ptform ringed with smooth glyphs, each carved so finely it looked more printed than etched.

  But High Arcanist Velira was already inside.

  She stood waiting, arms folded, a projection crystal levitating beside her casting a slow, revolving aura of silver-blue light. Her expression was unreadable, and for a moment, I thought she was meditating. But then her eyes opened, and I felt the pressure in the room spike like the barometric drop before a hurricane.

  “Welcome, Dane Walsh,” she said. “When you’re ready, step onto the ptform. The Echo Vault will handle the rest.”

  I turned to Inari, who gave me a solemn nod. “I will remain outside. The moment you step in, the vault will seal. You may feel disoriented, or emotionally unmoored. Do not resist. Let it happen. The Vault responds more clearly when the mind is open.”

  “Right,” I muttered. “Open mind. Don’t freak out. Don’t punch the Arcanist. Got it.”

  Velira arched an eyebrow.

  “Sorry. Humor is my coping mechanism.”

  “Noted,” she replied ftly, but gestured with the elegance of Vanna White to the ptform. ”Join me.”

  I stepped forward, the glyphs reacting to my presence as if they recognized me, and I didn’t even notice Inari leaving the room. A low thrum built beneath my feet, and as the vault sealed with a soft shhk, all sound disappeared.

  Everything went bck. The ptform under my feet, the sound of my breathing, even the crisp, citrus scent of whatever Velira had on—it all just went away as if none of it existed. Sensing nothing at all was disorienting, and more than a little disconcerting. I had to remind myself where I was, and what we were trying to do. Still, I felt anxiety begin to creep up my spine.

  That’s when I heard it. The thump, thump of my heartbeat. Outside in the real world, I could imagine the Essentia-ced walls fshing at the same cadence.

  “Dane Walsh—”

  “Jesus, Velira, you breathtaking goddess, can you not just call me Dane? Do you really have to use my full…um…am I talking out loud?”

  I swear I heard an exasperated sigh from all around me. “I am in your mind now. Thoughts or spoken word, there is no difference.”

  “Damn,” I muttered. “Can you pretend I didn’t say that?”

  “And which part would you have me disregard?”

  Man, if her sexy voice wasn’t as smooth as silk, I don’t know what was, I thought...just seconds before I had a realization. Oh, shit—if she’s in my mind, she can probably hear my regur inner monologue too!

  She chuckled and I knew this was gonna’ suck donkey balls.

  “Let us begin,” Velira said. “I will start with your birth, your home, and your family. How one was raised is a good indicator of future actions.”

  As soon as she mentioned my home, I knew it would be donkey balls all over the pce.

  Since you’re watching it, I may as well expin it, I said as my family home in Portnd appeared. We fast forwarded through my infancy—not much going on there unless she wanted Mom’s big ol’ boobs in her face while I breastfed. But I noticed as the repy of my life fshed by, Velira would stop at certain scenes, rewind a bit, and then move on.

  Sometimes I had the opportunity to at least begin to speak, but before I could get most of the backstory out, she had moved on. She was either uninterested in what I had to say, or she had already gotten what she was looking for.

  I felt my nonexistent throat tighten when she got to the part of my youth that I was dreading.

  Yeah, my old man could teach a Master Css on how not to be a father, I said ftly. Scene after scene of me being screamed at, or spankings that went well beyond what was deserved with or without the belt.

  Mirian, I whispered, a cold prickle locking around my heart at the sight of her. She was four. I was six. Jesus…just look at that beautiful little smile.

  Through the nothingness of the Echo Vault, where time and space seemed irrelevant, I could feel tears streaming down my face in anticipation of what was to come.

  Mirian was my little sister, and she followed me around like a lost puppy. When I was old enough to go to school, she would cry and pout until I got home. My old man hated hearing it, and no matter what he did to her, she wouldn’t relent until I stepped off that big, yellow bus.

  My shoulders shook and my chest heaved at the sight of that precious little angel. She ran down the sidewalk in a pink tank top and white shorts, barefoot and beaming. Her arms were out to her side, and she smiled so sweetly at the sight of me.

  When she jumped into my arms, I felt her little body jerk and she whimpered. I didn’t pay much attention at the time, thinking I’d held her too tightly, until she ran ahead and my six-year-old heart fred in anger.

  Peeking out from under the straps of her shirt I could see thick red welts across her back. I knew exactly what they were—the weapon of a coward who beat children.

  “Stay right here,” six-year-old me said, pointing at the sidewalk below the steps,

  “Surprise for me?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with expectant excitement.

  Come on, Velira…please…not this…

  The High Arcanist ignored my plea and pressed on, the scene repying as if I were still there.

  Stop! Velira—PLEASE!

  My younger self pushed open the door finding my old man where he was every day when I got home from school. He was drunk, half asleep in his recliner, and the brown leather belt was still in his hand.

  As rage built up within me, I felt helpless as I watched while young me yanked the belt away and let out a rage-induced scream while spping the belt down on my old man over and over. When he came to his senses, he came after me, but that old man had chosen the wrong little girl to fuck with, and little Dane was fully engaged…

  …so much so that Mirian’s screams of worry went unheard. I’d not heard them then, but hearing how scared she was at the sounds coming from the house broke me.

  I had never seen what, exactly, happened the day my sister died. And now I know.

  “I’m coming to help, Dane!” she cried, her little voice high with fear and love. I watched her scared face turn to one of determination as she worked her little legs up the steps, reached for the front door—

  My old man had had enough of chasing me, and he shoved the front door open with enough power to send a four-year-old sailing backward through the air and over the four steps to nd with a sickening crunch on the unforgiving sidewalk.

  “NOOO!!!” I screamed. The hair on my body went stiff, every fiber of muscle flexed in anger and despair, and I could feel static in the air.

  Then I dropped to the floor of the Echo Vault, sobbing, cursing Jacob Walsh, and desperate to see my little sister alive again.