Riley woke as though hauled back from a great depth.

  Light squeezed through the gaps in the hut roof. Smoke lingered in the air. Beside her lay a wooden bowl and a waterskin.

  She laid her hand on her stomach.

  The wound wasn’t bleeding anymore. She couldn’t smell the foul odor of infection. She peeked under the bandage and saw that the wound was closed and the area was clean. It was no longer hot to the touch or red in anger. She breathed in and waited for pain that did not come. When she shifted, it answered her only faintly.

  She sat up and was immediately reminded that whatever magic had healed her was not a miracle. She was still extremely light-headed. The more she tried to stand, the dizzier she felt to the point that she had to sit back down until the floor stopped swaying beneath her.

  “Patience,” she said softly.

  She waited for the dizziness to pass, then looked herself over. Her bruises were fading. Her cuts were scabbed. Her body felt worked over, but whole.

  How long had she been healing? How long had she been in and out of consciousness in this room?

  An older woman entered the hut and stooped beside her. It wasn’t the healer she had last seen tending to her broken body.

  “I am Tama,” she said. “I see that you are feeling better,” she observed as she gently inclined Riley’s head in her hands. “You have slept long.”

  “How long?”

  “Three days.”

  Riley blinked. “No. That’s not possible.”

  “Your wounds were deep. People do not often survive encounters with a bloodstag.”

  Bloodstag. The HUD must have given it a common name. But she knew they were speaking of the same terrifying mutation.

  “Yes, I never want to see one of those again. What happened to it?”

  Tama gestured toward a bowl of food waiting for Riley on the table.

  “How?”

  “Hunters shot it down. And they reached you just as your light was dying. We did not expect you to rise again. Seeing you walk out of the hut and take that blow to the ground, we saw your strength, Riley. You are stronger than you know.”

  “The monsters…” Riley snapped her head toward the door as if expecting to see them barge in.

  “They’re gone. For now. They take what they need and leave us to mend what we can and remember those we can’t.”

  “And the healer?”

  “She is tending to the others.”

  “Did she save Mali’s father too?”

  The woman’s expression softened, but there was no comfort in it. “No. The wound was too deep. And once a life slips past a certain point, magic cannot call it back.”

  Riley swallowed. “Why not?”

  “Because there is no fire left to stoke,” she said gently. “Healing magic feeds on what remains: breath, warmth, will. When those are gone, there is nothing for a spell to cling to. We can mend flesh. We cannot rekindle a life that has already gone cold.”

  Tama’s gaze drifted toward the doorway, toward the village beyond it. “Among my people,” she said softly, “we believe a person’s spirit lives on in the memory of those who loved them. Strength doesn’t vanish when a life ends. It settles into the ones who remain.”

  She looked back at Riley, eyes steady. “I believe a piece of Mali’s father is with you now. His courage helped you heal. And now you’re back with us,” she said resting her old, weathered hand on Riley’s leg.

  Riley placed her hand on the woman’s. “Thank you. Thank you all.”

  Tama’s mouth curved, just slightly.

  “Someone has been waiting for you to wake.”

  Mali poked her head into the hut and slowly inched inside with her doll clutched against her chest.

  She stopped when she saw Riley.

  They looked at one another. Mali did not blink. Her eyes were wide and fixed. Riley felt the urge to look away but didn’t. She held Mali’s gaze and kept her face calm.

  “Hi, Mali,” Riley said.

  Mali’s fingers tightened around the doll’s cloth body. She looked down at it, pressing her chin briefly to its head.

  The space between them filled with what neither of them wanted to say.

  Riley made the first move. She extended her arms to the girl, inviting her to come closer. She hoped she hadn’t lost her trust.

  Mali didn’t hesitate to move, but her steps still felt heavier than they had just days earlier. She sat right beside Riley, allowing her body to press up against her friend. Riley took her gently by the arms and turned her slightly so she could look directly into her eyes.

  “I’m so sorry, Mali. I never meant to do anything that would hurt you. I …” Riley’s voice trailed off. She had no idea what to say to a little girl who had just witnessed her father being murdered. She had no idea how to apologize for ever coming to her village, for not heeding her mother’s warning, for putting them in danger because she selfishly wanted answers that might help her get home to her family.

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  Mali looked down at the doll. She too, was at a loss for words. Or maybe she was afraid that if she spoke about it, the pain would be too much to bear.

  “It is not your fault,” Tama spoke on behalf of the girl. “The innocent bear no blame. The Clawborn will meet their day of reckoning. Evil survives only until people rise together and take a stand.”

  That was a sweet, innocent absolution, but Riley knew the chain of events still led back to her being in that village. They didn’t blame her, but she blamed herself. And she knew she would never be able to live with herself until she made this right.

  “I need to leave,” Riley blurted.

  Mali’s head snapped up. “No. But it is not your fault.”

  “It’s not that. I just have to go,” Riley said.

  “You will not stay?”

  “I can’t.”

  Mali swallowed.

  “People go.”

  Riley didn’t answer. She saw Mali grip the doll a little harder. She saw now how much it, and Riley, meant to her. Riley made the gesture she had used the last time she was leaving the village.

  “I will come back,” Riley said. “For you and the others.”

  Mali looked into Riley’s eyes as if searching for the truth in her words. Her eyes grew glassy, but she didn’t cry. She simply nodded.

  She reached down and touched Riley’s bandage. Riley covered Mali’s hand with her own. “I am coming back,” Riley said. “I promise.”

  Mali nodded again.

  Tama, Mali, and the girl’s snuggly tucked doll turned and left without another word.

  Riley tested her weight again.

  Her feet held, and her legs were sturdy. The pain came, but it was late and dull, not a refusal. She breathed through it and waited for worse. When it didn’t come, she tried walking around the hut. She felt fine, considering.

  The question was how long this would last. The tower was hours away, beyond the tree line, along a route that was rough and uneven. Even if she was at her best, it would be difficult.

  And there would be danger, except this time, her reaction time would be much slower.

  She accepted all of it. The HUD would at least be able to show her a clear way home now. She would check it often for signs of danger, and she would keep her hatchet out at all times. That was the best she could do for now.

  She couldn’t afford to rest here another day. Something pulled inside her, urging her back to the tower. It was like a constant tide. Not even the desire to find her way home could push her farther north. Not now. Not after everything that had happened.

  She ate the bowl of bloodstag that had been left for her. It was even more delicious than the steak version she had cooked herself. She packed the bread that had been wrapped for her in cloth and admired her hatchet blade, newly sharpened. The villagers’ generosity was more than she deserved.

  As she exited her hut, she felt the eyes of all the villagers on her again just as they had been that first day. This time, they were friendly. She had endured pain with them and was now part of their closeknit community.

  Two villagers waited for her at the edge of the dwellings. Neither spoke much. They carried spears like seasoned hunters.

  They walked with Riley without her asking.

  The land rose and fell in long, uneven stretches. Grass gave way to stone. Stone to root-choked earth. The farther they went, the thinner the village sounds became.

  Riley felt a strain creep back into her body, a tightening in her side, heat beneath the bandage. She adjusted her pace and said nothing.

  They stopped around midday.

  One of them pointed ahead.

  “This is where we leave you.”

  Riley nodded.

  Neither wished her luck. They did not tell her to turn back. They only watched as she shifted her pack and set her feet toward the rise beyond.

  When she looked back, they were already returning to Hoshin the way they had come.

  As she followed the familiar path, Riley passed the cave she’d discovered on her first trip. As tired and sore as she was, she couldn’t waste the chance to take back at least something to jumpstart her leveling.

  She carefully made her way into the dark entrance, feeling along the wall until her fingers brushed what she assumed was the same chunk of ore she’d tripped over days ago. The one she’d sworn she’d come back for.

  She shoved it into her backpack and stepped out again.

  The weight of that single piece of ore was all she could manage in her condition. It wasn’t much, but it was more than nothing.

  As she stepped back out of the cave and continued along the path, Riley found herself humming the “hi?ho, hi?ho” tune under her breath because every grind needed a soundtrack. The land opened after that. Fewer trees. Longer sightlines. The tower stood faint against the sky, a dark line where none should be.

  With each step, the pain grew. Each one cost more than the last. But the tide inside her was strong, drawing her onward, steady, patient, as though it had always known she would follow. By the time the sun began its slow descent, she no longer wondered if she would reach the tower.

  Only what would be left of her when she did.

  The walk gave her too much room to think.

  The memory of hands pushing her forward, and of a man stepping in when he should have run, returned with every step.

  She hadn’t known much about Mali’s father, but his actions that day said everything she needed to know. The pangs of guilt added to her physical discomfort. Tormenting flashbacks twisted into anger, and then into rage.

  It rose in her like a fever.

  Rage at the creatures who would strike down someone trying only to protect an injured friend. Rage that they could take a man’s life without hesitation, as if it meant nothing. Rage that Mali would grow up without a father and carry yet another painful memory she would have to bury just to survive her already miserable existence. Rage that an entire village could be enslaved and terrorized against their will. Rage that Riley herself was now responsible for a man’s death through the simple causality of her choices. Rage that her vision had prophesied the destruction of an innocent village.

  But what the armies that had torn through that village in her vision didn’t know was that the vision had shown Riley a higher purpose. And now, they were going to have to answer to her. They didn’t know it yet, but she could raise armies too. She knew how to burn kingdoms. She knew how to outstrategize even the most skilled opponents. The day of reckoning Tama spoke of would be coming.

  Monsters in the forest. Raiders with knives. These were setbacks. Interruptions. It was true she might not have been made for skirmishes, but she was made for wars.

  She remembered, in her games, leaving her borders open, shields down, daring anyone watching to test her. A silent message written in risk and confidence: If you want this, come take it.

  Few ever did.

  Fewer survived when they tried.

  Yes, that had been a game and this was real life, but if she played her cards right, and she knew she could, she could bring the same fate to the Clawborn as she had to her online enemies. She knew how to test limits and find angles to exploit to help her level up faster.

  Riley wasn’t being na?ve; she knew there were no margins for error wide enough to hide in. If she failed here, she would not respawn. Her body would simply stop.

  That fact did not frighten her.

  It focused her.

  She just needed to examine the situation objectively, as she would in a game, and strip away any fears holding her back. There were a lot of unknowns for her still in this world, but the strength and confidence she felt when she was in her element with the HUD and the tower, it outweighed the risks. Even if one of those risks was her own death. Let’s be real, there was no guarantee she would ever make it back to her world anyway. And the risk to others’ lives was calculated. She couldn’t believe she was capable of thinking this when the stakes were actual people and not characters on a screen, but casualties were part of war. But she wasn’t going to let that happen without a fight either. She already had ideas on how to protect Mali’s village. They could be moved to her tower. And the tower could be held. She just needed to build. She needed to assess what she had, what she lacked, what could be taken, and what could be created. She needed to amass power quickly so that she could become a formidable force for good.

  “I can do that!” Riley cheered herself on with clenched fists. “This is what I do.”

  So really, all she needed to worry about was whether she could bring herself to take down an army of real enemies.

  And the answer to that was yes.

  The Clawborn needed to be stopped. If they wouldn’t respect innocent lives, then they deserved Riley’s wrath.

  And Mali’s village, and anyone else being oppressed by these tyrants, deserved Riley’s protection.

  “I’m all in motherfuckers. Game on.”