The looming gates of Dawnreach are an imposing sight. Fortified battlements, thick iron portcullis. Everything about it is designed to be imposing-to remind you that this city matters.

  At the base, stand a number of guards that are checking every individual that comes and goes in or out. Merchants, mercenaries, travelers, all types.

  As we enter the queue, the bandits start talking to themselves, muttering under their breath. It draws the attention of nearby locals.

  “If you didn’t want to face the law,” I say just loud enough for those around us to hear. “Then you shouldn’t have entered the business of kidnapping people.” Those around us start to question me less and glare at the bandits more.

  The bandits go silent.

  When it’s our turn to approach, they seem to recognize Wolfric.

  “Long time no see, old wolf,” the head guard says. “New friends?” He eyes me and the wounded woman whose head I applied a bandage to earlier.

  “Just a traveler,” I reply. “One who stopped a group of kidnappers.” I jerk my thumb at the ones tied behind the carriage.

  “Caught ‘em right quick, I’ll say,” Wolfric adds. “Feller used magics quicker n’ I er’ seen. Fight was over afore I could even get there.”

  The guards eye me suspiciously for a moment.

  “Traveler, step aside with your charge,” the head guard says. “You’re not in trouble-but you are involved. You come recommended by a known trader, but we need some information before we let you free into town.” He turns, “Wolfric, you’re welcome to proceed, or stay.”

  I turn to Wolfric “Get her to the temple, and then your produce settled. I can handle myself.” I hop down from the carriage and walk to the back, I look at the guards. “Always happy to cooperate with the law. You guys are the ones who keep the cities safe.”

  A nod of approval is the only thing I get as Wolfric spurs the carriage off into the city.

  Sitting down in an office near the gate, I explain the events that recently transpired.

  “I was traveling with Wolfric and heard a scream,” I began. “Three individuals chasing a bloodied woman, I couldn’t not help.”

  The truth comes easily. Details unfolding as the guard looks to the frightened would be kidnappers.

  As I finish, the captain sighs. “Dawnreach thanks you for keeping her borders safe. If you’d kindly give us your name, we’ll get you paid and send you on your way.” He’ll motion to another guard to take the bandits away. “Dawnreach pays for results like this. One gold, thirty-five silver.”

  “I-thank you. My name is Elkas.”

  Collecting the coins, I make my way to the door.

  “If we require more assistance,” he calls out as another writes my name in a ledger. “I hope the guards of Dawnreach can rely on you again, Elkas.”

  “Of course.” I wave as I step out into the noisy city streets.

  The quiet of the office shatters as magic lamps bloom into life around me. Towering buildings crowd the streets as people move with purpose to and fro. I slip into the foot traffic easily-muscle memory from years of crowded streets as I send a message to the group chat.

  “I’m inside Dawnreach. Capturing those bandits made access easy. How are you both holding up?”

  “Stable,” comes Shadow’s reply. “Found info on this ‘boss’ that they were talking about. Will investigate and report back when I know more.”

  “I’m okay,” comes HH’s reply a moment later. “Bandits? You didn’t mention bandits. I expect more details later. Get a room for the night. It might be best to visit during the day.”

  “Good idea,” I reply to both. “It’ll be better if I’m not ‘battered by the road’ when I come to take you away. Looking like I crawled here.” A pause before adding “thank’s for the vigilance, Shadow. Keep up the good work.”

  Walking the streets of Dawnreach, I’m reminded by how alien this world is to me.

  The architecture is foreign, seeming like it jumped from the pages of a Victorian Era magazine and then slapped in the face by the color palette of Miami Florida. The bright pastels clash with the harsh corners in a way that is almost mesmerizing.

  Looming in the center of town, making me feel smaller than I ever have, lies the Cathedral. The daunting pillar of pure white stone and gilded crenelations stands like a beacon, a promise, and a warning all at once.

  Looking at the signs, it appears as a language I’ve never seen, but somehow know how to read. Maybe another influence of Elkas’ mind mingling with my own.

  Entering a place called ‘Mira’s Resting Post’, the sound muffles significantly, allowing me a moment to breathe properly.

  The woman at the counter, a dwarf by the look of her, greets me with a warm smile.

  “Welcome!” She exclaims. “Name’s Mira, if yer lookin for a room, I’ve got a few still available.” She turns and takes a key from the wall. “Five silver and it comes with a warm basin of water, supper, n’ breakfast in the mornin.” She places the key on the counter. “Payment up front.”

  “I-um… thanks,” I’ll stammer as my nerves calm. “Sorry, first time in Dawnreach. I can do five silver.” opening the bag given to me by the guards, I place the money on the counter and take the key.

  “Room 114,” she replies, scooping the coins into a box under the counter. “Supper n’ water will be brought up ta yer room momentarily. Can I get a name fer the books?”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Elkas,” I reply faster this time. The name sounding less foreign the more I say it. “Thank you, Mira.”

  Climbing the stairs, I find my room and take off my robe, hanging it on a rack. That’s when I notice the mirror.

  Staring at me is a chiseled face, with brilliant silver eyes. Dusty blonde hair tied back in a short ponytail. A body with a decent build that looks like it’s seen much travel. My grimoire that I hadn’t truly noticed until now floats just above my left shoulder. With a mental command, it floats to my hand and I am able to set it on the table.

  “I really am Elkas,” I’ll mutter to myself. A chuckle escapes my throat “how absurd is this? The character who has fought demons and gods alike. Being puppeteered by a college kid who has no idea what’s going on-”

  I’m interrupted by a knock at the door.

  “Supper and water for you, Master Elkas.”

  The voice is young, likely a hired hand. I open the door a moment later and a tray of warm food is left standing next to a small basin of warm water. No sign of the voice’s owner.

  Taking the food and water into the room, I’ll eat and wash my face in the water while I message my friends.

  “Found lodging. HH, the bandits were Kidnappers that were chasing a woman. They are apparently capturing and selling people like us to someone in Brightwell. Shadow’s looking into it while I get you out. I have an idea for that I’d like to run by you.”

  “Oh, well, at least you saved the woman,” HH’s reply comes. “Let’s hear your plan then.”

  “A woman was brought into the church today,” I begin. “Head wound. She likely has told a story about how a mage saved her from bandits who were going to capture and sell her off in Brightwell.” I’ll stand and prepare my room as I message. “I plan on going to the church as the mage who saved her, requesting help from the church in thwarting this Brightwell threat. When I do, you volunteer to come help me. You are seen as a brave priest, offering to help people; I am seen as a concerned individual asking for help from local powers.” I’ll pause a moment. “Thoughts?”

  A moment passes before answers come through.

  “You don’t ask for her directly,” Shadow responds. “She volunteers before anyone else can. Efficient, doesn't tie you together yet. Good plan. Needs some ironing out.”

  “I like the idea,” HH replies. “It makes me out to be a pilgrim on a mission in their eyes instead of a runaway priest. But I’d have to come back eventually or you’d be in trouble with them as well.”

  The addition of the last phrase gives me pause for a moment before I continue.

  “That can be arranged,” I reply. “When we have time together to work out what we’re going to do going forward. For now, I’m going to try and sleep. My mind has been running on overdrive since I got here and I can feel my body shutting down. Good night guys, we’ll go over plans again in the morning.”

  The morning bells ring as I stand on the steps to the grand doors of the church. Despite the imposing architecture, the doors are wide open and inviting.

  Looking inward, I check my status, more out of habit than hope.

  HP: 132 / 132

  MP: 80 / 80

  My stride falters.

  My mana… it’s back.

  The realization hits hard, then passes just as quickly. I shake my head. A more pressing matter awaits.

  I ascend the steps and enter the grand doors of the Church of Solmir.

  Light floods the interior—not harsh, but warm—filtered through tall panes of stained glass that cast gold and amber across white stone floors. The space feels alive with purpose and hope. Voices murmur softly. Footsteps echo in measured rhythm. No one rushes, yet nothing is idle.

  It isn’t long before a robed man approaches. His white vestments are edged with yellow trim, marking him as something more than an acolyte, but not one of the towering figures I half-expected.

  Dark hair frames eyes that are observant but gentle, carrying a practiced calm rather than judgment.

  “Welcome to the Dawn,” he says, inclining his head. “I am Brother-Steward Griffith. You look as though you’ve traveled far.”

  The greeting catches me off guard. No demand for name or purpose—just acknowledgment.

  “I have,” I reply after a moment. “I’ve come seeking aid.”

  A flicker of approval crosses his face.

  “You have come at the right hour,” Griffith says. “Solmir teaches that light is not a weapon. It is an invitation. Truth reveals itself when given space to breathe.”

  He gestures inward—not commanding, merely inviting.

  “Speak plainly.”

  As we walk, I notice how others regard him. No reverence. No fear. Just trust. The kind earned over time.

  Good.

  “You may have heard,” he continues casually, “we received a wounded daughter last night. She spoke of a mage who saved her from bandits.”

  He turns his gaze to me—not accusatory, simply attentive.

  “I did what I thought best,” I say. “I saw someone in danger and acted.”

  He nods once, satisfied, and leads me toward the edge of the main hall, where the cathedral opens upward like the inside of a sunlit bell.

  “Tell me,” Griffith says, folding his hands, “what aid do you seek?”

  “I seek to stop those dragging souls into the dark,” I reply. My eyes drift across the hall, finding HH—and intentionally passing over her. “I fear I’ll need more light than I can carry alone.”

  “I see,” he says simply.

  “One of our brothers has gone missing,” he continues. “Several days now. No signs of struggle. No witnesses. Simply absent.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see HH tense.

  “For now,” Griffith adds, voice even, “we limit unnecessary departures. Not from suspicion—from care. Until the Dawn reveals what has been obscured.”

  HH’s hands clasp at her waist, fingers tightening around her holy symbol. Her eyes lower—not in prayer. When Griffith finishes, she exhales softly, like someone only just realizing they’d been holding their breath.

  She looks shaken. Anyone would be.

  “That seems wise,” I say, glancing up at the stained glass depiction of Solmir—the Luxar, radiant and distant all at once.

  A faint smile touches Griffith’s lips. “I’m glad you see it that way.”

  There’s a pause.

  Then HH steps forward.

  “Brother Griffith,” she says quietly, “if there are places the Dawn does not yet reach, let me help guide the light.”

  She doesn’t look at him as she speaks.

  Griffith studies her for a long moment, weighing resolve rather than words.

  “Willingly facing the dark to bring light is a noble path,” he says at last. “But no one walks it alone. If you go, you must go with a witness.”

  I don’t hesitate.

  “I’ll stand with her,” I say. “We’ll bring light to the lost.”

  Something in the chamber shifts—not relief, but acceptance.

  “Very well,” Griffith says, nodding. “The Dawn goes with you both.”

  He turns and walks away.

  I finally look at HH.

  The tension in her shoulders eases, but she doesn’t move.

  “Let’s go,” I send quietly.

  She startles, then nods, and we walk together out of the cathedral.

  The hush of the temple fades as the sounds of the city rush back in—merchants calling, wheels rattling over stone, life pressing forward. We did it.

  And yet, I can’t shake the feeling that something important has been left behind.