Eric looked at the faces of his allies and gauged their expressions. Shannon and Peter stared at him with curious, confused expressions, but Naomi’s hard glare bored into him. Eric continued, “I touched that Summon Stone when we all arrived, and it told me a prophecy. ‘A Titan stirs, its bonds grow thin, in fifteen years, the end begins. Summoned ones, fate is clear: fight the doom or perish here.’”

  Peter’s face hardened, and he swallowed. “Fifteen years? That’s it?”

  Shannon’s mouth was agape, bewildered disbelief written on her face. “We’re all going to die?”

  Naomi was the only one who sounded resolved as she said, “I understand wanting to keep this to yourself and why you’re sharing it with us now. . . The question we have to ask ourselves,” she looked at the other two, “is whether we want to tell other people.”

  Peter spoke first. “Why not tell them? The fucking end of the world seems pretty important. The more people that know about it, the faster we can solve the problem, right?”

  Eric held the tube-device and felt his mana continually trickle away to fuel the steaming iron. “If we tell the kingdom or anyone in the small council, they’ll misinterpret the words. They’ll think we have to fight this thing. Something like ‘chosen ones who must save the world’, or some bullshit like that.”

  And now time for a little bit of truth, and a little bit of misdirection.

  Eric sighed. “I didn’t just receive the words: I saw the end. This Titan cracked out of Elyndor like it was an egg. My theory, based on what Seraphine has said about Ley Lines, is that the Titan is linked to mana somehow.”

  Naomi spoke in a way that Eric recognized immediately, fast, analytical, precise, and no-nonsense. “And your concern is that if we share this prophecy, then they will want to kill the Titan preemptively, which might stop mana entirely. And from what we’ve seen, this whole world relies on it just like how we rely on electricity on Earth. It would be a full societal collapse and reset. We’d be stuck right in the middle of it. I assume you want to find some way to keep it sleeping or dormant? Or some other method of stopping it?”

  “Yes,” Eric replied, feeling a bit of shock at how much she had put together in such a short span of time. Her worry was spot-on with his own concerns. “There has to be a way to prevent what’s coming. The prophecy says fight the doom, but never specifies what the doom is. Maybe the doom is the Titan waking up. Possibly someone or something wakes it up.”

  But more than that, Eric thought, I want to keep access to The Paths. That’s only possible with mana. And if my assumption is correct, the Titan dying means mana dies. I don’t want to live in a medieval world that suddenly goes through upheaval. I want to be powerful just like I was before. I want to be an incredible Mage with awesome power, not some medieval peasant living a shitty life.

  "What do we do?” Shannon asked, voice filled with panic, and back to its quiet, mousy squeak.

  Eric replied, “I think we try and get stronger. We know that we can get milestones and increase our level. We establish ourselves here, in Trok, and build a base of power. We play our part in the kingdom, make them trust us.”

  “I agree,” Naomi replied. “It’s a solid plan to start with. We don’t want to cause a panic, and once we are established, we can begin to make some investigative inquiries. Do some research.”

  Peter glanced at Eric’s hand, grabbed the tube, and let his own mana begin to surge into the tube. “I got this.” Eric released it and gave Peter a nod of acknowledgement—he’d been getting genuinely tired as his mana channels were meant for combat, not fueling inventions for cleaning. “So what’s the immediate plan?” Peter asked.

  Naomi spoke before Eric could. “We do this Twilight Depths thing. Go into the dungeon and show our stuff. Try to impress them as best we can. The better impression we make, the more doors that will open up for us.”

  She’s right about that, Eric thought.

  “After,” Eric added aloud, “there’s going to be some culture lessons, and then a party. Seraphine said it’ll be our chance to impress everyone. That’s where we try to make connections that we can draw on later. For now, we just pretend like we never heard of the prophecy.”

  “Agreed,” Naomi said. “I wonder why she shared that bit of information about what’s coming up with you, and not the rest of us?”

  Peter scoffed. “She sees him as a leader. She said as much.” Voice softer, he said, “I don’t mind that, by the way. Wide receivers aren’t the playmakers. We just do what the QB calls for.”

  Shannon nodded. “If we’re stuck here, I want to be alive a long time. I want to get rich and comfortable—having a world end or all the stuff it runs on go away doesn’t seem smart.” She smiled sheepishly, her voice still small. “I’m not the brightest person, but I am good with people and, well, back on Earth I had street smarts. I’m not a planner, either. But I am great at getting stuff out of people.”

  Naomi looked at Eric again. “Seems like you’re the de-facto leader. But we should all be involved in any major decisions.”

  “Agreed,” Eric replied. He’d never wanted to be the leader, but it couldn’t be helped. The territory came with the gift of future knowledge.

  That went about as well as I could have expected. And now we’re on the same page about the end goal. But, I’ve retained my advantage of all my foresight into coming events. Ley Lines below, I’m glad I sought out that hermit and mastered the ability to store memories for later access. I still have no idea how The Paths Within back with me, though. Maybe because it was tethered to my consciousness when that was launched back here to the past? I thought it was attached to the body, not the mind.

  “We good?” Peter asked. “It’s getting hot in here.”

  Eric hadn’t felt the heat much, attributing his lack of discomfort to his Fire Resistance. However, he saw the sweat from the hot air beading on other’s brows. “I think so.” He opened the door and stepped out. “I’m going to get some air.” He headed upstairs, hearing the footsteps of his allies behind him. Exiting the first floor, Eric walked over to the side of the hot springs and stared out over the capital landscape.

  Tenebria was softly illuminated along the roofs and through the boulevards by glowstones. People were heading to bed, going to bars and restaurants, or traveling to some of the entertainment venues as the workday died down. The west-facing city was bathed in the lingering rays of the sun; Eric took in a deep breath of the crisp, mountain air, noting the subtle hint of pine trees from one of the small groves on the mountainside. It was fall, and the cool wind blew down from the mountain heights in a refreshing breeze.

  “Hey, mind talking for a second?” Peter asked as he walked up behind Eric.

  “Sure.” Eric kept staring into the sky.

  “I . . . this is weird, man. The whole . . . just all of it, you know?”

  Eric glanced at him, not truly empathizing in the moment given his prior experience. “It is a lot at once.”

  Peter walked up next to Eric and put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s crazy,” Peter said, looking over the cityscape. “Fifteen—”

  “Don’t.” Eric tapped his ear, as if someone was listening.

  “Ah . . . right.” Peter walked in front of Eric and turned to face him, crossing his arms. The larger man had a few inches of height and a lot more muscle than Eric. “Listen . . .” Peter squinted. “Damn, there’s just no easy way to talk about this.”

  “Just say it,” Eric replied as he scanned the outside of the walls to try and spot any sign of patrol.

  “You seem like a good guy, but you also give me the creeps.”

  Eric raised a single brow. “In what way?”

  “Just . . . I don’t know. I feel like I’ve met you before, but that’s obviously not happened.” Peter scratched his chin. “Deja vu. Do you feel that also?”

  “I think I just have one of those faces people recognize. Maybe because it’s so punchable,” Eric replied with a little grin. Peter laughed at that, but Eric knew he needed to change the subject, so he said, “You’re jacked, did you know that? I’m jealous. I’ve been trying to bulk for years.” That wasn’t a lie. In his past life, Eric had tried to get fit, but never could put on muscle.

  Part of that came from having to constantly drain his mana down to the last drop, and then go beyond that, forcing his body to cannibalize its remaining fat stores, then spare muscle mass. It left him like a twig of just skin and bones. Part of the cost that came with being a healer with a Trait called Self-Sacrifice which allowed him to use his mana to fuel the cost of Warden healing normally paid for by the recipient.

  Peter grinned and held his arm up, flexing his bicep. “Yeah? Thanks, bro. I’ve worked hard on it. I have to impress the ladies, you know?”

  Eric just hummed in agreement. “Totally get it.”

  Peter lowered his arm. “Your fire stuff is pretty cool, though. Shooting it out of your hands seems fucking epic.”

  “Thanks for the compliment.”

  Benson, the Butler, walked up behind the two and bowed at the waist. “Reaver Steele, Blackflame Mage Mercer, dinner is served.”

  The two Summoned followed him inside and headed to the dining room, where the group sat down to eat. Eric felt his stomach grumbling, but the first thing he went for was the carafe of chilled worldspine-nettle tea.

  The meal was pretty good, all things considered. Eric was used to the fare: meat pies that were decent but made much better with the delicious gravy poured on top, roasted vegetables with plenty of spiced salt, and freshly baked bread. There was also a very spicy soup that the bread was perfect for dipping in.

  Finishing off his last bite of his first plate’s worth of food, Eric looked up to see the other Summoned just looking at him, aghast. “What?” he asked, wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin.

  “You’re just packing it away,” Shannon said as she poked at the vegetables with her two-tined fork. “How do you know what’s edible?”

  I mean, looking at it, it does seem pretty weird, Eric thought. The shapes are all wrong compared to Earth’s food. But, they need to eat. Best try and convince them.

  “I don’t,” Eric lied. He took a sip of the tea then continued, “Food security wasn’t the best when I was growing up, so I sort of learned to eat whatever was put in front of me.” He pointed at the bread. “I know it looks weird, all black and blistered, but it’s tasty! Plus, why would they give us stuff we couldn’t eat? They want to keep us healthy, and I doubt they’d poison us.” To emphasize, he took another bite, and went, “Mmm.” That wasn’t exaggerated, either, the food was delicious.

  Shannon gingerly grabbed a piece of the bread, took a little nibble, and her eyes lit up. “Oh, it’s like sourdough! But it has . . . like a garlic hummus taste baked in.”

  That was the signal the other two needed, and soon enough all were eating. Eric finished first and stood up. He headed down to the basement, and was able to find Benson in the kitchen, cleaning some dishes. “Thanks for the meal. I have a favor to ask.”

  Benson turned to him. “Of course, Blackflame Mage—”

  “Just Eric. We can be informal here at the estate unless we have other noble visitors, right? That’s what Seraphine said.”

  Benson visibly relaxed, and his shoulders lost some of their professional tension. “Very well. What can I do for you, Eric?”

  “I want you to acquire some ingredients for me . . .” Eric quickly described the ingredients for a pizza back on Earth. “Are there approximations for what I want?” he asked.

  Benson finished scribbling his notes and nodded. “Similar enough, from the descriptions. The estate’s funds will cover it. Just so you are aware, the crown pays my sister and I. The crown has also allocated a small budget for other expenses. I keep the records in the butler book.”

  “Where are you keeping that?” Eric asked.

  “It’s in my quarters. Any of the Summoned may request to examine it at any time. It is hidden, but my sister and I know the location. Can’t have robbers finding the account numbers, as some funds are kept at the local branch of the Global Banking Authority.”

  Eric pulled the sack of coins from his pocket and handed them to Benson. “Add this to our reserves, if you would.”

  Benson opened the pouch and nodded. “The coins here look old.” He looked up to Eric. “If I may ask, where did you get them?”

  “A gift from a benefactor.” Not technically a lie, since the prior Summoned who’d hid it away in the secret compartment had benefited Eric.

  Benson’s head cocked to the side at an angle for a brief moment, then snapped back upright. “Anything else?”

  “I think the others are wrapping up eating. We’ll probably be going to bed soon, I imagine.”

  “Of course. Would you like anything brought to your rooms? Perhaps a beverage?”

  “Worldspine-nettle tea, please.”

  Benson grinned. “Taken to it already, eh?” He then looked confused. “How’d you know the name? I didn’t label it.”

  Fuck. I slipped up.

  Eric quickly replied, “I overheard servants talking about it when we were in the citadel and made an assumption that’s what we were drinking.”

  “Ah.” Benson nodded and his face took on a more relaxed expression. “I’ll brew it and bring it up.”

  “Thanks.” Eric headed back up to the main level. He was kicking himself mentally for his slip and would have let out a litany of curses if he didn’t think it would contradict the impression he was trying to put out.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  I need to watch what I say more closely.

  Peter and Shannon were nowhere to be seen, presumably in their rooms, and Eric went into the study. He found Naomi nose-deep in one of the books and sank onto the couch opposite her.

  She looked over the top of the cover. “Well?”

  “Well what?” Eric asked as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back.

  He heard the sound of her shutting the book and getting up. A moment later, he felt the slump on the couch next to him. “I think you’re holding something back.”

  Eric glanced at her, opening one eye. “What makes you say that?”

  “I’ve been watching and listening.” Her gaze, that calculating look, pierced him. “You . . . you haven’t been acting like Shannon or Peter. And you’re not like me.” She tapped her temple with her left index finger. “With a bit ‘off’ upstairs. You’ve got something else going on. And honestly? I have a hunch that I’d like to investigate.” She used that left index finger and pointed down to the floor.

  Well, she’ll figure it out eventually, Eric thought. I should just take a bite of the mantriclon and get it over with. Best to do it somewhere someone will be less likely to overhear us and I can drown out our conversation.

  “Let’s go downstairs.” Eric stood up and made his way toward the door exiting the study.

  “Laundry room?” Naomi asked as she followed him.

  Eric shook his head. He led the way down and into the kitchen. In that room was a stove which had several red rocks embedded along the top to function as heating elements, pots and pans hanging from hooks above the range, and other mana-fueled appliances. Eric shut the door and went to the sink.

  A series of pipes were embedded in the walls and went down to underground rivers. By channeling mana from his palm into the green-hued windstones along the handle, he formed a small vacuum that caused the water to gush into the basin.

  “Grab a pot,” he ordered.

  Naomi walked over, snagged one, and handed it to him. Eric put it in the basin upside down, which made the water ping off of the surface, providing a blanket of sound that would prevent outsiders from listening in.

  Eric let out a breath, then inhaled sharply. He made sure his tone was steady, firm, and completely solid. There was no trace of humor in it. “I’m from the future.”

  Naomi let out a guffaw of laughter, but then seemed to notice the deadly seriousness on Eric’s face. Her face went pale. “Oh shit . . . you’re not joking.” She took a step back and put her hand on the counter as if to steady herself. “That explains . . . Holy fuck . . . I want to believe you, given what I’ve observed and how you talk . . . If it’s true, tell me something that you know about me, something that I wouldn’t tell anyone else.”

  Eric grimaced. “You killed your sister. A failed full-dive VR pod experiment. Need I say more?”

  Naomi’s face tightened. “There’s no fucking way you know that. I’ve never told anyone. They all thought—”

  “—that it was an accident. In that other timeline, past life, future me that no longer exists—whatever you want to call it—you told me about it.” Eric shook his head.

  “Okay,” Naomi said, her face pale. “Once could be some weird, fucked up lucky guess. Maybe something about the . . . mana or magic of this place. Do a few more. Twice is coincidence, thrice is pattern.”

  “Sure,” Eric replied. “I can keep going: you’re ace, you vomited the first time you kissed someone on the lips, you loved the underground Seattle tour even though you told your parents you were scared because of how dark it was, and despite saying you love fish and chips you hate it. The smell of the ocean is your favorite scent, and pine needle soda is a drink you absolutely love but can never find in stores. Whenever you get to hike up Mount Rainier, you make sure you grab a bunch of white pine needles to make it at home.”

  Naomi’s mouth went slack. “That . . . that’s all true . . .”

  “I’ve done all this before.” Eric insisted, crossing his arms. “Last time, I was a Warden Class. The short version is that I survived the corruption of this kingdom, a war, and had a Trait from a secret Class I discovered. I did see the end of the world when the Titan hatched from it. The thing fucking killed me. Somehow, I was sent back in time for another chance. Maybe The Paths sent me back to try and prevent the world from dying.”

  Whatever it was in the moon, that dragon eye, it must’ve been making a last-ditch effort to save itself by sending my consciousness and memories back in time, Eric added mentally. Using me to prevent it from dying when Elyndor is destroyed. Maybe that moon-entity was too big to send itself back, and I was the only suitable, still-technically-alive vessel it could use thanks to Self-Resurrection keeping me on the edge of life and death.

  Eric shoved that theorizing out of his mind. He hardened his gaze and his tone. “I’m going to keep this kingdom from falling into darkness. And after that, I’m going to keep the world from being cracked in half.”

  Naomi sat on a small stool, and her face was not as pale, but she still had that look of shock. “You’re . . . holy fuck, Eric. How old are you?”

  “Thirty-three. It’s been a bitch trying to act like a newbie. I already slipped up with Benson.” He smiled ruefully. “I’m sorry for the subterfuge and manipulation thus far. I’m telling you because you are smart enough that you’d eventually put enough clues together—depths below, you’d already started to suspect me. I’m just happy no one else has caught on. Not even the small council members, thank the Ley Lines.”

  “Is that why you talked with Seraphine about ‘fate’ and ‘destiny’ and all that when we were getting clothes?” Naomi asked.

  “That wasn’t a lie,” Eric replied. “In a way, I was saved from death by whatever mechanics caused me to go back into the past. But I figured I should play up this destiny angle in case I can use it later. You know, in case I need to pull a Dune and go full Paul Atreides.”

  She seemed to take it all in stride, which is what Eric had expected; she was a genius and had a masterful grip both on her emotions and how to compartmentalize them for later. Naomi began talking rapidly, like she usually did when solving a problem as she regained her composure. “You’re setting yourself up to be a messianic figure.”

  “If needed.”

  “That’s why you laid the groundwork.”

  Eric grimaced. “If it meant saving the world. But I’d like to save Trok from itself and help it survive a world war intact without doing that.”

  She sighed and gestured broadly above her head. “What about all of this? The whole ‘Eric from future’ bit? Do we tell the others?”

  “In time,” Eric replied. “I think they’ve got enough to worry about right now. But you? I knew you’d be okay with it.”

  Naomi smiled softly. “You’re right about that. What do I do in the future? This other timeline?”

  “You revolutionize Trok and Bhlast—a Meritocracy across the mountains. You make mana-fueled technology like trains and even have an orbital platform where you keep a teleportation array. But that takes a good ten years to make. Heck, you even have a satellite array with fucking lasers that let you blast baddies from above.”

  Naomi’s soft smile cracked larger at that. “That’s awesome. Okay, short-term—what’s going to happen going forward from here? I want to be in the know on the major events of . . . let’s say the next month.”

  “Well, first off, they use seasons, not months. I’ll explain the calendar later . . .” Eric launched into a rapid, only-essentials explanation of the next few days’ events. Just key bullet points that took him thirty seconds.

  He ended with, “After that party? We’ll have a lot of time on our hands. That’s when we should start focusing on increasing our levels, gathering information about this Titan as subtly as we can, and working on taking down the pieces of shit who will ruin Trok. Diplomatic tensions won’t rise for four years, and then a year after that, we will have a world war. There’s time to do things right.”

  Naomi’s face remained firm throughout the explanation, and she finally gave him a terse nod, but smiled. “Seems like we were good friends in the last timeline.”

  “We were acquaintances,” Eric replied. Tone softer, he spoke from the heart. “But we kept in touch. Last time, Shannon vanished when the war started and Peter disappeared into the Twilight Depths. This time? I want us all to stick together.” His voice took on a wistful tone. “I . . . I want to be friends. Actual friends. I want us to save the kingdom and the world as a team. I want Peter to find his boyfriend again. I want Shannon to actually open up to me this time.”

  Naomi let out a little bit of a laugh. “Wait, Peter’s gay?”

  “He puts on that super-masculinity and bravado to cover it up. What do you expect from a Texan all-star football player? No way he’d come out of the closet.” Eric shook his head and chuckled. “He does go over the top with the portrayal though. Good news for him, Trok and Bhlast are fairly open-minded. They won’t care.”

  “Seems like you don’t know much about Shannon,” Naomi commented.

  “No. I wish I did,” Eric replied. “I’m trying to fill in for that older brother she won’t ever see again.” He shook his head. “I genuinely want to get to know her better. She’s so closed off right now, and we don’t have long before events begin to move forward. I need to build enough trust with both her and Peter that I can share some information so they can actually help.”

  Naomi nodded curtly and stood up. “We’ll keep them in the dark for now until there’s a better time. Hopefully then they won’t be as overwhelmed with all this info, and we can just feed them piecemeal as needed.” She put a hand on Eric’s shoulder and squeezed. “Thanks for trusting me with this.”

  “I’m not surprised you’re handling it so well, but I am a little taken aback that you don’t have more questions.”

  Naomi sighed. “I have questions, but we don’t have time right now without rousing more suspicion.” She glanced around the room. “I know we are being spied upon. The servants are obviously plants.”

  “You’re right about that,” Eric confirmed. “The siblings work for the Spymaster. She sits on the small council—I worked with her a bit in the other timeline. She’s a good person. As for the siblings? Think of them like contractors and not her direct employees.”

  Naomi nodded. “Before we’re done, anyone particular at this party we’ll need to try and connect with?”

  “I’ll make you a dossier. Ideally, we are able to inform Peter and Shannon a bit. Getting their help during the party would give us far more openings than if it’s just you and me.” Eric turned off the flow of water, scrubbed down the pot, reactivated the flow of water, and engaged in some idle small talk with Naomi about her life at college before the summoning—his goal being to throw off anyone who might be monitoring them.

  After a few minutes, Naomi opened the door, and both bid one another goodnight as they ascended the stairs and went to their respective rooms. Eric opened his door to find a tray with a carafe and ceramic cup. After pouring himself a hefty cup of the tea, he took a sip and looked out the window at the stone face of the mountain.

  Going to the small writing desk, he sat down, pulled out the ink pot and gravity-fed pen, and— after filling it—began making a list of the different ‘major players’ who would be at the soirée. However, he wrote it in English, and willed it to remain in that language.

  That was a little secret he’d discovered seven years into his stay the last time. He had been making a to-do list and the apprentice he had taken on was trying to read his notes but couldn’t, because Eric had defaulted to English. He had experimented after that and found out that the Elyndians could not read Portuguese either.

  The ultimate conclusion was that if he wrote with the intent of writing in Elyndian, his fingers would move correctly for the language and it would be legible. But if he had the intent to use one of the two languages he was fluent in from Earth, that stuck and was indecipherable gibberish to the native population.

  Spoken language, however, seemed to translate no matter what. Eric had tried speaking in English, Portuguese, and even a few words he knew in Mandarin—yet the Elyndians had understood those perfectly. He set the pen down and blew on the lettering to help it dry before tucking it into his pocket.

  A knock sounded at the door behind him, and he walked over and opened it a crack to find Shannon standing on the other side, dressed in comfy pajamas woven from strandvine: a pseudo-cotton-like fabric that was harvested from the mountains. “Can we talk?” she asked.

  “Sure,” Eric replied as he pulled it the rest of the way. “Come on in.” He walked back toward his desk. “If you are okay sharing a cup, I have this nice tea. It’s sort of like a chai mixed with earl grey. There’s a little nutmeg flavor at the end.”

  “Sounds interesting.” Shannon accepted the cup and took a sip. Her eyes went wide, and she gulped down more of it, finishing the whole thing only a few seconds later. “Oh my God. That tastes phenomenal. Did we have this at dinner? It tastes similar.”

  “Yeah. But it’s better warm.” Eric smiled and took the cup back from her, filled it once more, and sipped at the hot liquid. “What did you want to talk about?”

  She pointed to the bed. “Can we sit?”

  Eric walked over and sat, and she sat down on it next to him. He took another sip of the tea and handed the cup to her. “How are you settling in?”

  “It’s . . .” She gulped the tea and handed it back to him, then clasped her hands and rested her elbows on her knees as she leaned forward, staring at the wall. “I wanted to say thank you for being there for me. I’m . . . it’s a lot.” Her voice lowered to a whisper as she said, “Being ripped away from everything I knew. Never seeing . . . seeing my brother again.”

  Eric gently put an arm around her shoulder. “It’s rough, I know. I’ll never see my brother or dad again. I won’t see Ms. Perdy, the head nurse who always gave me a hot chocolate packet at the end of my volunteer shifts. I won’t see my career counselor, Mr. Markson. I won’t go to medical school.” He chuckled and set the mug down on the bedside table, held up his hand, and manifested Blackflame Bolt. “And I definitely won’t be healing anyone with this.” He let the Rote fade and the mana sucked back into his body with that reverse-sneeze feeling.

  “Thanks for being here for me.” Shannon’s voice stayed at its whisper. “I . . . I grew up poor. Those bookies I worked for? It was the only way I could make a living.” She wiped tears from her eyes. “My brother was in the army to provide for me, but our fucking dad siphoned the money out of my account. I’ve been working since I was fourteen. I had to drop out of school to make money.”

  Eric rubbed her shoulder reassuringly. “We can practically be royalty here if we play our cards right. And hey, I don’t want to come off weird, but I don’t mind stepping in as a big brother if you need it right now. Or I can just be your friend. We should stick together. All of us. We can be a little found family.” He lowered his voice to a soft, gentle whisper. “I’ll do everything I can to keep us all together. We’re all we’ve got in this new place.”

  Shannon nodded and leaned into the crook of his shoulder. “Thanks for that.” She smiled and let out a laugh. “Peter offered the same. Said I remind him of his kid sister and that seeing me sad earlier broke his heart. I didn’t imagine he’d be sensitive like that.”

  “We’ll keep an eye on each other’s backs, right?” he asked. “You mentioned street smarts, I’m sure you know the value of having someone watching your back.”

  “Yeah . . . Did you deal with that stuff, too?”

  Eric let out a rueful laugh. “I grew up in Oakland. Gang activity was common, and you never went around alone unless you were packing heat.” He traced a line with his finger from the edge of his right eye to the ear on the same side. “I got nicked by a bullet about two years ago. Could’ve been shot in the head. I got lucky. The guy next to me on the bus? Not so lucky. He lived, but that was a scary experience.”

  “Jeesh.” Shannon’s voice lightened a bit. “We had the mob where I lived, but I heard crazy stuff about West Coast gangs. Seems like it wasn’t made-up bullshit.”

  “It was scary sometimes,” Eric replied, vividly recalling nights where his older brother had escorted him to and from the bus stop. “My brother Marco kept me safe.” He squeezed her shoulder, then let go and continued drinking the tea.

  “Do . . . do you miss him?”

  Eric nodded. “I’m sure it’ll hit,” he lied. “But not right now. Right now I’m just thinking about what tomorrow is going to bring.”

  Shannon stood up, turned around, and tapped his forehead with her fingertips. “Thanks.”

  Eric rubbed his forehead. “What’s that for?”

  “My brother did it to me before I went to sleep. He said it was for good luck.” She smiled again. “Thanks, Eric. Sleep well.” Before she left, she cast her gaze to the carafe on the small table in the corner of the room. “Can I take the rest of that tea?”

  “Take it. And goodnight.”

  Shannon left with her prize, shutting the door quietly. Eric drained his tea remaining in the cup, and then disrobed. Slipping under the covers, he let out a sigh of contentment and crossed his hands behind his head.

  A fantastic day one to my second chance at life. Tomorrow, the Twilight Depths. I’ll get some levels and can show off even more for Seraphine and those guards, who will be reporting back to the highest bidder.

  He closed his eyes, and just as he’d done in his past life, thought of Luciana. Her glamorous smile, dark hair, glittering green eyes, and enchanting laugh.

  He replayed their first meeting in his mind. Both covered in blood, inside a medic tent. Eric healing people, tending to them, and chatting idly. Her commenting on his amber eyes. They’d spent hours talking while he’d tended to other patients. It was love at first meeting. He’d loved her even more after they got cleaned up and the ichor marring her features was washed away.

  She’ll be out of my reach until the next diplomatic meeting. That’s not going to happen for a few seasons, so I have time to prepare. I’ll need to somehow insert myself into the meeting so it feels like we are just in the same place at the same time. Other than that? Just be myself. In the meantime, I need to do everything I can to get stronger.

  At the same time, he also knew that there would be plenty of potential matches at the coming party. He wouldn’t be ‘claimed’ by the Admiral already like in the prior timeline. This time, he could actually seek out authentic connections. And since he had met Luciana, and knew what real, authentic love felt and looked like, he was certain other connections might become apparent.

  I can hope that I meet Luciana again in a few seasons at that meeting, but I shouldn’t restrict myself from looking at other potential matches. That would be foolish, and I don’t know if Luciana would look kindly upon me now that I am a Reaper, rather than a Warden. That one change might have altered the timeline enough to change her perception of me wholly. I’d be a fool to hold out hope for her and her alone.

  He sighed and began going through a set of exercises he’d been taught on the battlefield. A way to strengthen his mana channels while sleeping. It had taken him five years to master, but once he did, his internal mana reserves constantly improved.

  Mana channels, like muscles, could be exercised. If a person flexed their muscles just right, they could stimulate the channels to also flex. Over time, Eric had been able to isolate just his mana channels and set them into a near-undulating repetition of flex and relax.

  Thoughts back to the present, it took him a few minutes to feel out his smaller mana channels, but it was like riding a bicycle.

  “Index,” he whispered, “can you tell me anything about how I retained my memory storage and retrieval in The Paths Within?”

  [REDACTED.]

  He’d received that message a few times in his past life when The Paths had denied him information that he sought. The mystery of how he was able to still access those memories from his prior timeline would remain, for now. He shrugged and settled into his meditation, continuing to pulsate the mana channels and set them to their rhythmic flow.

  He smiled as he let blissful sleep take him, the slight thrum of mana surging up and down his body filling him with a sense of belonging.