Morning light had barely crested the rooftops when Riley stepped into the market square. The air still held the cool bite of dawn, and the cobblestones glistened faintly with dew. Merchants were only beginning to set up, their movements slow, their voices low and gravelly with sleep. A few lanterns still burned, casting warm halos over crates of produce and bundles of cloth.

  She spotted Garron near the livestock pens. He stood with his arms crossed, watching two stablehands argue over a broken latch. His expression suggested he had already lost patience with both of them.

  He noticed her before she reached him.

  “Riley,” he called, waving her over. “Good timing.”

  As she approached, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small leather pouch. It clinked heavily as he placed it in her hand.

  “Forty gold,” he whispered. “Got a better price than I expected. Turns out bandit horses fetch well when they are not half-starved.”

  Riley blinked. “Forty?”

  Garron shrugged. “I am a good negotiator. And I told you my friend would give us a fair price.”

  She tucked the pouch into her pack. “Thank you. Really.”

  “Least I could do. You saved me a headache clearing those roads.” He jerked his chin toward the gate. “Heading out?”

  “Back to the tower,” she affirmed, adjusting the pack on her back. The leather straps settled comfortably across her shoulders. The weight felt right. Balanced. Prepared.

  They had only just set off and had barely reached the tree line when a familiar shape trotted out from between the pines, tail flicking happily.

  Thorne.

  Without hesitation he jumped straight into the back of the caravan as though he knew he was welcome.

  Garron chuckled. “Looks like you have company.”

  Riley reached back to brush her fingers through Thorne’s fur. “He finds me when he wants to.”

  “Smart creature,” Garron said. “Knows who feeds him.”

  Riley did not correct him. Thorne did not stay for food. He stayed for reasons she did not understand. And whatever they were, she was just glad to have him.

  They rode until the road forked. Garron headed south toward the trade routes while Riley and Thorne continued north, toward the hills and the lonely tower waiting beyond them.

  “Stay safe,” Garron called over his shoulder.

  “You too,” Riley replied.

  Then he was gone, swallowed by the bend in the road.

  ***

  The tower came into view just as the sun dipped behind the ridge. The clearing was washed in soft gold, shadows stretching long across the grass. Riley slowed, scanning the area, her breath catching despite herself.

  No claw marks.

  No signs of intrusion.

  No overturned stones or scattered debris.

  Just the tower, standing silent and unchanged, waiting for her.

  Still, she didn’t trust it. Her eyes could be wrong.

  She pulled up the HUD, checking it just in case it felt inclined to warn her of danger this time. But it showed nothing out of the ordinary.

  So she turned to her most reliable alarm: Thorne, padding ahead with his nose low and tail relaxed. No tension in his posture. No warning growl.

  Riley proceeded. If it was good enough for Thorne, it was good enough for her.

  “Better than last time,” she murmured.

  Inside the tower, the air was cool and still. The faint scent of stone and old magic lingered, familiar now. She set her pack down and began unpacking her new belongings. Soap on the shelf. Spoon beside the cooking pot. Blanket folded neatly near her bedroll. Rations stacked in a corner. The wooden tea mug made her smile as she placed it next to the cube which remained on the mantle like a silent observer.

  Thorne scratched at the door, nails clicking lightly.

  “You are heading out already?” Riley asked.

  He gave a soft huff.

  “Fine. Don’t get into trouble.”

  She opened the door, and he slipped into the night without a sound.

  Before she could eat, she needed to deposit the gold into the obelisk so that it would be safe.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  ? Coin: 40 gold

  Satisfied that it was now accounted for, Riley closed the HUD and lit a small fire and set water to boil. Soon the pot simmered with a simple stew made from her new rations. The smell filled the tower, warm and comforting in a way she had not expected. She ate slowly, sitting near the hearth, watching the flames dance.

  The quiet felt earned.

  Her thoughts drifted to tomorrow.

  Back to the place she had first woken in this world. The clearing with the strange sky.

  She had been disoriented then. She needed to see it again with new eyes. With questions she had not known to ask the first time. Maybe she would see something she hadn’t before.

  She would look for signs of magic. Portal residue. Anything Alistair had described.

  And then she would scout the surrounding woods for signs of the Clawborn Dynasty. Tracks. Markings. Patrol routes. Anything that might explain why their sigil had been carved into her door.

  Why they had marked her.

  Why they had come so close.

  It was going to be dangerous but what choice did she have? Accept that she was going to live here forever? That she would never see her family again? That she would have to keep building this tower? That she would have to keep looking over her shoulder?

  The thought sickened her chest, but she forced herself to breathe through it.

  She was not the same person who had stumbled into this world with nothing but confusion and fear.

  Riley finished her meal, banked the fire, and sat for a long moment in the quiet tower, listening to the wind outside and the distant rustle of the forest.

  Eventually, she lay down, pulled her blanket over herself, and let sleep take her.

  Riley woke to the soft gray of early morning and the lingering warmth of her oversized wool blanket.

  The rations she had eaten last night and her new blanket had helped her physically but mentally, the night had been tumultuous. Like the kind of restlessness you get before a big test, except deeper and far more insistent.

  She stretched, rolled up her blanket, and slipped her pack over her shoulders. Everything was already packed. She had been ready before she even fell asleep.

  When she opened the tower door, she paused, bracing herself. She made her same ritualistic checks like a habit now carved so deep into her bones.

  No claw marks.

  No threats.

  No grotesque display waiting to greet her.

  “That’s a good start,” she murmured.

  There was nothing she dreaded seeing, but nothing she hoped for either. She scanned the clearing for Thorne, but he was nowhere in sight.

  Riley stepped outside and called his name. “Thorne! Come!”

  Not even a rustle in the underbrush.

  She waited a moment longer, then exhaled through her nose. “Alright. Find me later, please.” The hope in her voice was genuine; she’d go north alone if she had to, but she’d feel far better with him beside her.

  Riley walked until the tower disappeared behind the trees, then summoned her HUD map with a thought.

  The translucent display flickered into view in front of her, still covered in shroud. Fog-like patches obscured most of the terrain, leaving only the areas she had personally traveled visible. Clearing more of that haze was a secondary goal today. The more she uncovered, the less blind she would be in this world.

  She dismissed the map, and the forest closed around her again. The canopy swallowed the light, turning the world into shifting greens and muted browns. Her boots crunched softly over fallen needles.

  The deeper she went, the stranger the forest felt. The air grew still, as if the wind refused to enter this part of the woods. Moss draped from branches like old curtains, and the trees leaned inward, their trunks twisted in ways that suggested age or something heavier. Every so often, she caught the faint snap of a twig far off the path, but when she paused to listen, the sound vanished. Even the birdsong seemed muted, as though nothing cheerful had any reason to be here.

  Riley pushed back against the eerie prickle along her spine, forcing her thoughts toward anything else. Her mind drifted as she walked, back to her time in Rivermark.

  Zelgra’s voice came first, blunt and unfiltered. Are you a mage?

  Riley had dodged the question, but it clung to her like a burr. She could upgrade a tower. She could interact with things other people could not. But did that make her a mage? The word felt too big, too loaded. In her world, “mage” meant someone with a skill tree, a spellbook, a glowing mana bar hovering in the corner of the screen. Someone who trained for years, grinding levels, unlocking abilities, learning how not to blow themselves up.

  She had none of that.

  No spell list. No mana pool she could see. No tutorial popups explaining what she was or how any of this worked. She had not cast a single spell on purpose. She had not even felt magic, not the way others described it.

  Upgrading the tower had felt less like spellcasting and more like interacting with a game interface only she could see. A menu. A prompt. A system responding to her input. It was like clicking “Upgrade” in a strategy game and watching the building shift and strengthen in real time. That’s all.

  That was not magecraft. Not in the traditional sense.

  So what did that make her then?

  A player in a world that did not know it was a game?

  A glitch?

  A cheat code wearing boots and pretending to be normal?

  Or something else entirely, something this world did not have a name for?

  The uncertainty felt heavy on her, but she kept walking.

  Then there was Edrin Kavos.

  The name felt powerful and was magnified by the fact that he was the only mage in the realm capable of opening portals. He was somewhere in the north, somewhere in the direction she was heading, tucked behind borders she had been warned not to cross.

  If anyone knew how she got here, or how to get her home, it would be him.

  Doubt crept in.

  Would he even help her? The north was not friendly, or so she had been told. The Clawborn Dynasty ruled with cruelty, and powerful mages did not survive long in hostile territory unless they were useful to the people in charge. Or aligned with them.

  Or responsible for the portals themselves.

  A cold knot formed in her stomach. What if Edrin Kavos had brought her here on purpose? What if she was not an accident at all, but a piece on someone’s board? A tool. A test. A mistake he did not care to fix.

  And if she was an accident, if she had slipped through some spell he never meant to cast, would he bother helping her? Or would she be an inconvenience, a loose thread he might prefer to cut rather than unravel?

  It had been a while since she had felt the weight of so many unanswered questions. Her discoveries in Rivermark had given her a false sense of security, a brief illusion that she was better off now than before. But she knew better. Hope made people careless and compliant, and she could not afford to be either. Not here.

  She couldn’t trust Edrin just because she was desperate for him to be her golden ticket. Wanting that made her vulnerable. Trusting him might be dangerous. But she needed answers, and he was the only lead she had.

  So she kept walking north.

  At the clearing where she had first woken up, would there still be signs of magic? Portal residue? Anything Alistair had described? Or had too much time passed? Maybe the forest had swallowed every trace. Maybe those beasts had trampled it.

  She rubbed her thumb against the strap of her pack, grounding herself. Answers were ahead. She just had to reach them.

  Her thoughts drifted deeper, looping through each question, each possibility until the ground dipped unexpectedly beneath her boot.

  Riley stumbled, caught herself on a low branch, and looked up.

  A dark opening yawned between two moss-covered boulders.

  A cave.

  Large enough for a person to enter. But also large enough for something else to live inside.