I stopped at the Colosseum Bazaar long enough to buy a shirt for the auspicious occasion. The sun’s rays were less effective, but going to see a district lord—on purpose, with your tits out—seemed a little gauche. Even if the lord in question was always half naked.

  I had enough spare money from the jobs, finally.

  And just when I adapted to being bared to the world and started to really appreciate my skin's ability to absorb solar rays, I had to cover up.

  There was no marker for the Heartland Lord's request on my map. It wasn’t a System generated task, so apparently I was flying blind in Heartland Park and stopped to ask a faun where to find Gleamholt got me nowhere. He hummed and pointed and gestured and spoke some croaking language that I didn’t know. I tried again in Orcish, and he backed away from me like I threatened him.

  I wandered in the general direction of the faun’s gestures until I came upon sprites frolicking in a bed of flowers. Sprites tended to know English, at least from my experience. I choked down my dislike of the bug fairies and went over to ask.

  They pointed in the same general direction. I had the sinking feeling that I’d be late, as I wandered aimlessly around the tracks of Heartland. The sun stared down at me from its zenith like an uncaring eye.

  Why haven’t these dicks put up signs?

  I stopped walking and closed my eyes. Slowing down to think would help me not panic. Not freaking out would be better than losing my shit and killing the locals.

  A hint of a floral scent drifted past me. The soft zephyr that brought it wafted through the stiff stand of birch I’d paced around. Heartland paths meandered, as if the fae had a whimsical sense of direction. As if. Heh. More like the originators of whimsy. Getting frustrated with something else wouldn’t help. Just. Breathe.

  The prism. A moment calm washed over me while experiencing the world instead of my stress, the memory of it came back. I pulled it out of inventory and held it up, looking at its rainbowed surface gleaming in the pale light.

  A shimmer appeared across the stand of trees. The prism refracted the sunlight, manifesting points of color to sparkle against wood. The spots shifted, converging into a triangular portal. Beyond the portal, a gargantuan tree rose, the huge humps of its roots full of little windows, as if something lived within the tree.

  I went straight for it. As I passed through the portal, I realized what it was. Not a portal, but light cast through the illusion. The paper-thin image of birch and maple vanished where the prism’s refraction was directed. Science was not my thing, but it was useful.

  Gleamholt towered higher than the biggest redwood I’d ever seen. Well, pictures of, anyway. I’d never been near a redwood of any kind, but this? This made me think of Lothlorien from Lord of the Rings. I walked along one of the bulging roots, drawing my fingers along the rough, golden bark. The fallen leaves were larger and thicker than tarps.

  Where was the damn door? Rounding the root, I spotted elves standing at attention beside the trunk, spears in hand. Their HP was significantly higher than mine—which would rule out any fighting, if they didn’t let me in.

  I hesitated, sizing them up. Odds were, they were guarding an entrance I couldn’t see. Illusion protected Gleamholt’s location, so why not a door? Squaring my shoulders, I ambled over to them. As I approached, I held the prism up, catching the light and angling it to the spot between them.

  “Checkmate, bitches,” I smirked, walking toward the door I uncovered.

  The elves looked at each other, then leveled their spears at me. “Hold!”

  “Hold what?” I asked, brushing a spear out of my way.

  My bravado was all show. My bladder was warning me not to play any more games before I found somewhere to take a leak. A spot between my shoulders was twinging, and it took everything I had to ‘act casual.’

  These two could have squashed me without using their spears.

  The one whose spear I didn’t brush away angled it up toward my chin. I looked down the weapon and then at him and said, “I have an appointment with his lordship at high sun. Will you be the reason I’m late?”

  That made their resolve waver.

  “Up the stairs, to the top,” the other guard said, eyeing her partner, who lowered his spear.

  “Got it,” I said, rushing through the door. I wished I’d had time to admire it. Its bronze fittings were more patina than metal. The wood of the recessed door was smooth and heavy when I pushed it.

  The stairs they mentioned were in the core of the tree, smooth wood spiraling upwards. I tore upwards. It almost seemed like someone had molded the tree into being this way, as if no chisel or sanding had ever sullied its grain. Running up a tight spiral got dizzying, fast. I came off the landing with a stagger into the top floor chamber.

  Lord Ashwynn lounged in a throne made of the tree itself. He didn’t have the wolf skin cloak on—instead it was thrown over the armrest—but he was much the same as yesterday. He reclined, still as a mountain god, his glacial eyes fixed on me.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  I drew myself up, tilted my head to crack my neck, and strode toward him, stopping halfway. This is where I always fail. The talking part.

  “I got your letter, your lordship,” I said, doing my damnedest to be polite.

  “Dathai Orc-kin,” he said, his riveting voice filling the chamber.

  I bowed my head to avoid looking at him, my nerves ramping up again. I’d throw myself off the highest branch of this tree if he asked me to. That feeling irritated me. Stupid charisma, making me feel things that didn’t make sense.

  He rose fluidly. His bare arm extended, gesturing to an open archway that led out to a balcony. The round treetop audience room wasn’t large, with little furniture save the throne; natural wood grain provided the decoration. Curving whorls in the wall kept it feeling ornate, regardless of its actual simplicity.

  He walked with a slow, regal pace. I reluctantly followed, falling in by his elbow. In his shadow, I stepped out onto the balcony that wrapped around the treetop. Above, foliage kept us in the shade.

  A flash of birds streaked by, their angry twittering a momentary disruption in the constant rush of wind and rustle of leaves the size of sails.

  The vista provided an unparalleled view of the city, even better than the one at Kiyomizu. Planters ringed the outer walkway, bursting with the same floral scent I’d gotten from the letter. I was too wound up to examine the flowers.

  When the fuck would he get to the point?

  You’ve been busy.” He said it like an observation, but it felt deeper. He stopped to look out at the view, the profile of his horned head like an ancient work of art.

  Was that a compliment or a warning?

  “I do what’s needed,” I replied, pausing just out of his arm’s reach. I didn’t think he’d toss me off the balcony, but it seemed wise to stay back.

  Cold eyes turned my way. “How did you see the pattern?”

  My brow furrowed. I ran through the last day’s events in my mind—was it all in one day?

  I shrugged, giving neither of us satisfaction.

  He kept staring at me with silent, mild inquiry.

  “I did what made sense.” I couldn’t give him a better answer. He was right, though; the sequence in the chain would have been broken by any rational person.

  Good thing my brain had always been a little divergent from the norm.

  A smile ticked, sharp as his gaze. “The way you move, the tricks you play, makes me think you are the kind of being that arranges circumstance, then pretends that fate did you a favor.”

  Was that praise or the preamble to a caveat?

  “I wouldn’t call myself brilliant, but I’m decent with puzzles,” I admitted.

  His chin rose with the long breath he took in, but he said nothing. I stood beside the flowers, and he looked into me like one watches a campfire.

  My heart pounded at my chest, warning me to look away before I got lost in his charm effect. Dodge the rizz, don’t pledge my soul. But a part of me basked in it. The sucker part of me was caught in the undertow.

  I had this fae lord’s full attention. Me. The focus was intoxicating.

  With emphasis on the core; toxic.

  “Have you ever left the city?” I asked, pushing the conversation away from me, and to something I actually cared about. The Gateway had to be beyond Convergent City, somewhere.

  “I have been outside it,” he said, looking out at the sprawl of districts below. “There is little out there but misery. Here, there is life.”

  His tone warmed at the word life, which drew my gaze back to him, just in time for him to pin me with his own, almost hungry eyes. “And games to occupy my mind.”

  I swallowed hard. “Ah. If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been here?”

  He laughed, the sound spilling out, warm as sunlight. “Time has no meaning.”

  Ugh, I wanted to drop to my knees and kowtow with devotion, just for that simple laugh. I wished he’d just get to the point so I could leave and not feel so conflicted.

  “I want to find the Gateway,” I blurted.

  His brow arched, “Why?”

  “I want to—” I stopped before I expressed my true desire. Instinct warned me that it wasn’t a smart move. But my truest longing wasn’t even crashing the System. “This isn’t my body, and this isn’t my home. That’s why.”

  “This,” he cast a regal hand over the landscape, “is a gift, Dathai. Why did you choose the System, if you didn’t want to play?”

  “I didn’t understand how long forever was…” I swallowed around the lump in my throat, thinking of Zayan. He’d been here thousands of years.

  “There you go with time, again,” Ashwynn flicked a dismissive gesture at the concept.

  I pressed a knuckle to my temple, grinding into it to try to focus. “Why did you call me here?”

  “To give you a reward for your cleverness.” His enigmatic smile flashed like a blade. In his outstretched palm, a sword appeared.

  That was what I longed for, since I’d stood in Bauring Dath, motionless, weaponless, while a PC went rampaging. Since then, I’d adopted other skills and tools, but the hunger never faded.

  “A reward for past tasks? With no geas to bind me?”

  The amused glint in his eye cooled. “You are of my faction now. I need no geas. Did you think you could earn a place at my table and then abandon it without consequence?”

  “Oh,” I murmured.

  The Heartland Lord held the sword out to me, and I raised numb hands to take it. Of all the struggles I’d faced, nothing complicated my plans more than this.

  A rainbow aura flashed. Dully, I noted level 6 on my HUD, felt the burst of energy, a densifying of my body, like when I’d gotten to level 3. Shame I paid my freedom to get it.

  [Baneheart: inflicts poison damage +1 in addition to slicing damage]. Green leather sheathed the blade and wrapped the grip. It fell to my side, my fist clenching the sheath.

  “You may go,” Ashwynn said, turning to gaze upon the city.

  I bowed my head and turned away, my choices settling on me like an unwanted mantle.

  How was I going to tell the others about this?

  -ARCHIVE-