The moment my boots hit solid ground, a shiver ran up my spine. I was back. Behind me, the towering black obelisk pulsed once before going still. A grin tugged at my mouth. “Tucker, Balt… we actually made it.”

  Balt stepped out beside me, brushing dust off his newly upgraded robes. Tucker stumbled through after him, wide-eyed and already scanning the area as if something might leap out at him.

  I nudged Balt with my elbow. “You know… you’re finally going to get to finish that task. The one that dragged you into my mess all that time ago.”

  Balt let out a warm, rumbling laugh as he looked out at the rolling hills in the distance. “That’s true. Feels like a lifetime since I left Hearthway.”

  Hearthway was the name of the tutorial town Balt had lived in for most of his life. “How long do you think it’ll take?” I asked.

  Balt planted his staff gently into the earth. A soft glow rippled up his body, settling around his shoulders like a mantle of light. His eyes unfocused for a moment, then he lifted the staff and pointed toward a distant ridge. “That way, if we take a straight-line path and with our new levels and speed… we’ll make it before the sun even thinks about setting.”

  I nodded, feeling that old spark of anticipation flare in my chest. “Lawson,” I said aloud, “you still with us?”

  A familiar voice answered from nowhere and everywhere at once, calm and steady. “I am. But I can’t manifest here like I did in the other worlds. This place… has rules.”

  “Figures,” I muttered, but I couldn’t help the smile spreading across my face.

  Hearthway. What should have been the beginning of this strange journey, if Carson had not interfered would finally be reached today.

  The moment we set off, I felt it; my body practically itching to move. The world stretched out before us in rolling greens and jagged stone. I let myself breathe and enjoy my body moving as I ran. I pushed off the ground.

  Not a Flash Step. Not ether slipping. Just… speed.

  My new movement Talent surged through me like a second heartbeat, a reservoir separate from mana but just as alive. It drained in quick, sharp pulses with each burst, then refilled almost instantly, like water rushing back into a cracked bowl. Only when I bottomed it out completely did it hesitate, taking a few long seconds before the flow resumed. Beyond that brief stall, there were no side effects. No dizziness. No strain. Just pure, exhilarating motion. As expected of my first and only Mythical Talent.

  The miles vanished beneath our feet. We crossed open plains first, grass whipping at our legs as we tore through them. Then came uneven stone ridges that forced us to leap, slide, and vault across jagged terrain. After that, a dense forest of roots, fallen logs, and low branches, but even that barely slowed us.

  Tucker, bless him, was the slowest of the three of us… but the bestest boy kept pace like a champion. We stopped and let him drink deeply and rest a few times, but he never once complained.

  I glanced at Balt as we cleared a fallen tree. “Hey, do you know anyone we can trust here? Someone who can give us the lay of the land? Maybe point us toward any rumors about Alice… or Carson.”

  Balt didn’t slow. He planted his staff once mid?stride, using it to vault over a boulder before answering. “The Shattered Blades keep a small contingent on the tutorial floor,” Balt said. “All the factions do. Miranda might be able to steer us in the right direction.”

  “Miranda?” I raised an eyebrow. “You’ve mentioned her plenty of times, but is she actually trustworthy?”

  Balt nodded without hesitation. “She is. The place she works—The Quiet Shell—is owned by the Turtle Cloud Faction. They run an entire network of crafting halls and service houses that every faction uses. They stay neutral, and the others respect that, so their members can come and go as they please.”

  He adjusted his grip on his staff. “If we’re going to ask after Alice, it’s as good a place as any to start.”

  I’d heard Miranda’s name enough over the months to know she wasn’t just some acquaintance. He cared for her. But trusting her with who I was… and with who I was searching for… that was something else entirely. I didn’t know anyone myself, so I would put my trust in Balt’s judgement of her. Worst-case scenario I could just fight my way out.

  “So I’m finally going to meet the infamous Miranda.”

  Balt shot me a sideways smile. “I guess you are. And please… don’t do anything to embarrass me.”

  I put on my best offended face. “I would never.”

  “Yeah,” Tucker chimed in, “I would definitely be worried if I were you.”

  Balt groaned, but the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth ruined the effect. We crested one final ridge, and there it was.

  Hearthway.

  Not quite a city, but far more than a village. It was an expansive settlement built in tiers along a gentle slope. The entire town was wrapped in a fifteen-foot stone wall with soldiers in different colored armors walking the parapets. The town was still a mile or so away, but I could see smoke curling from dozens of chimneys. Market stalls sprawled along the main road, bright awnings fluttering in the breeze. People of every level milled about: newbies with mismatched gear, veterans with polished armor, merchants shouting prices, children darting between legs. Having advanced stats made everything easy to see.

  Balt nudged me with his elbow. “Follow me.”

  I expected him to head toward the front gate, but he veered sharply left, skirting the outer edge of the settlement. We kept to the treeline, keeping ourselves well clear of eyes, until he stopped. Ahead of us, about half a quarter of a mile was just more plain, unremarkable stone wall. He motioned us down, and we lay flat behind a large tree.

  “Let’s wait for the sun to go down,” he murmured. “We’ll sneak in.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Sneak in how?”

  Balt gave me a sideways grin. “Just trust me, partner. I have lived here most of my life. I’ve got a trick or two.”

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  So we waited. The sun dipped lower, shadows stretching long across the ground. By the time the sky had deepened to a dusky blue, Balt straightened.

  “They shift the guards now. We should be okay.”

  We darted forward right up to the plain stone wall. Balt placed his hand on an almost imperceptible dark spot, no bigger than a thumbnail. The stone shuddered and then pushed inward with a soft grinding sound.

  My eyes widened. “Yeah… you definitely know a trick or two.”

  Balt slipped inside first, Tucker and I following. Once we were through, he pulled the stone door back into place. It sealed seamlessly, leaving no sign it had ever moved. “I told you,” he said with a smug little shrug. “One of the few good things about living here longer than just about anyone else.”

  We moved down a short, narrow tunnel. The air was cool and smelled faintly of dust and old mortar. Balt slowed, raising a hand for silence. Ahead, he stopped at another section of wall and removed a small wooden slat, revealing two eyeholes.

  He peered through, then beckoned sharply. “Riven. You need to look at this.”

  I stepped up beside him and leaned in. Outside, illuminated by lantern light, was a notice board. And on it, clear as day, were two sketches.

  Me. And Balt.

  Balt’s likeness was the old man he used to be, hunched and weathered. Mine was pretty damn accurate too, at least, the version of me from when I’d first arrived. “Tucker,” I said quietly, “they’ve got wanted posters of us. Or… something close to it.”

  Tucker had an easy solution for us though. “Well, Riven, you’re wearing your helm from here on out. And Balt? You look nothing like your old self, so you’re fine.”

  I exhaled slowly, then turned to Balt. “Tucker has the right of it, I believe.”

  Balt nodded. “Okay. When I flip this latch, you go first. You entering the town should complete my Task. So, when my anchor hits me with System energy, it’ll do it while I’m still inside the walls.”

  I nodded.

  Balt touched the latch. The stone panel shifted open just enough for me to slip through. I stepped out into the narrow alley beyond, just a heartbeat, then stepped back inside.

  Balt was on the ground. He blinked up at me, dazed. “Well… I can see that task gave you some levels.” I said.

  He held up two fingers.

  I grinned. His two fingers turned into one middle finger.

  And just like that, everything felt right again. We slipped out of the tunnel and into a narrow side street, the sounds of Hearthway washing over us in a warm, chaotic wave. Lanterns flickered to life along the walls, casting long shadows across the cobblestones. I summoned my helm, and we started walking.

  People noticed. A few gave me odd looks, but most eyes weren’t on me at all. They were on Tucker.

  He strutted down the street as if he owned the place, tail swaying, not a care in the world. A couple of kids pointed at him excitedly. One merchant actually stopped mid?haggle to stare. Someone else muttered, “Is that… a dog?”

  Tucker gave them a jaunty, brief nod, as if to say yes, behold me.

  Balt and I? Practically invisible in comparison.

  We wove through the crowd, moving deeper into the heart of the town. The buildings grew sturdier here: thicker beams, reinforced stone, wide windows glowing with warm light. The smell of cooked meat and fresh bread drifted through the air, mixing with the sharper tang of metal from nearby forges.

  Eventually, Balt slowed. “There,” he said, pointing with his staff.

  A large building dominated the corner of the street, two stories tall, built from heavy timber and dark stone. Lanterns hung from the eaves, casting a soft amber glow across the entrance. A wooden sign swung gently above the door.

  The Quiet Shell.

  The sign was carved with surprising detail: a broad turtle shell, rounded and sturdy, with a tiny chimney poking out of the top. Painted smoke curled from it in whimsical spirals, as if the shell itself were a cozy little home.

  Warm light spilled from the windows. Laughter drifted out. The place felt alive, but not loud.

  Balt exhaled slowly, something like nostalgia softening his features. “Well,” I murmured behind my helm, “guess this is it.” And together, we stepped toward the door.

  The moment we stepped through the door of The Quiet Shell, the entire place went still.

  Conversation died mid?sentence. Tankards paused halfway to mouths. A lute string twanged off?key somewhere in the back. Every eye in the room swung toward us: me in my helm, Balt looking like a storm mage on vacation, and Tucker… being Tucker.

  Two large men pushed away from the wall and approached, their tabards marked with a stylized turtle shell. They moved with the kind of confidence that said they’d broken up more than a few bar fights.

  One of them cleared his throat. “All animals are to be regulated to the stables in the back.”

  I straightened. “Tucker isn’t an animal. He’s my companion.”

  Both guards raised their eyebrows in perfect synchronization. Then Tucker stepped forward, ears perked, tail swaying, and said in the most pitiful voice imaginable, “Do I really have to wait in the stables?”

  He even did the big puppy?dog eyes.

  The guards’ eyes went wide. The bigger one recovered first, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah, no. No, that’s alright. If he’s intelligent, he can stay. Just… don’t go making a mess out of the hindquarters, if you catch my drift, companion.”

  Tucker nodded solemnly, as if accepting a sacred oath.

  A woman in fine dark green clothing approached then, graceful and composed. “Right this way, gentlemen.” We followed her through the dining hall. Balt produced a small bag that clinked heavily with coins and offered it to her discreetly.

  “If you could tell her, Miranda, that one of her oldest friends Balt is here to see her,” he said, “I’d appreciate it.”

  The woman, Bella, as her name tag read, gave Balt a curious look, as if trying to reconcile the youthful man before her with the idea of being anyone’s “oldest friend.” But she hefted the bag, watched the coins flash and vanish into her apron, and nodded. “I will let the mistress know one of her old friends is here to see her.”

  She left us at a table tucked into a quiet corner. Time passed, long enough for Balt to have a few drinks. I dared not dismiss my helm, so I just sat there people-watching.

  Finally, Bella returned. “This way, gentlemen.”

  We rose and followed her up a wide staircase; the wood polished smooth by years of footsteps. She led us down a short hallway and into a private room. A large table dominated the center, flanked by sturdy chairs. A wooden stove crackled softly in the corner, and several decanters of dark alcohol gleamed invitingly on the table.

  Bella gestured toward the seats. “Mrs. Miranda will be with you shortly.” As she closed the door behind her, I let out a slow breath. Huh. This was going fairly smoothly, actually.

  A few quiet minutes passed. The warmth from the stove, the soft clink of the decanters, the muted hum of the tavern below, it all blended into a strangely calm lull. I found myself thinking this was going smoother than expected.

  Then came a sharp knock. “Excuse me,” a woman’s voice called.

  The door opened, and a beautiful middle?aged woman stepped inside. Dark hair swept elegantly over one shoulder, eyes sharp enough to cut stone. The moment she saw us, those eyes narrowed.

  She lifted her hand.

  Several wooden panels along the walls slid open with a mechanical whisper, and the tips of crossbows emerged, all aimed directly at us. I doubted the bolts could actually do anything to us, but the start of this reunion was not going how I had hoped.

  Her voice was low, sultry, and dangerous. “Why… oh why… would you use the name of a dear deceased friend of mine to request a meeting?”

  Balt smiled. Actually smiled. “So I’m dead, am I? Well, that’s news to me.”

  Miranda froze. Her eyes went wide, then flashed with something fierce and bright. She flicked her fingers, and the crossbowmen withdrew instantly. The panels slid shut, leaving the room looking perfectly normal again.

  She closed the door behind her with a soft click and began walking toward us, slow and deliberate.

  Balt rose to meet her, arms opening for a hug. But Miranda stopped short and placed a tentative hand on Balt's face." Is that really you? she asked. Balt gently grabbed her hand and pulled her in close, "it is."

  Tears were running down her eyes now. You better have a good explanation for disappearing and worrying me half to death."

  He held her tenderly and I looked away trying to give them some privacy. "I'll explain everything.”

  "You'd better," Miranda replied.

  The door opened suddenly, revealing a beautiful young, golden-haired woman flanked by two fully armored guards. “Yes, you better explain, or else, Balt.”

  I instantly moved in front of Balt and Miranda, summoning Ember in sparks mode as aura crawled along the blade. “Or else… what?”