Jack looked up into the hard noon light and found the figure from the forest standing at the edge of their stall. Cloak like a spill of shadow. Hat brim wide enough to make its own shade. Hands and face wrapped in dark cloth. A great raven rode her shoulder and watched the crowd with a butcher’s interest.

  Lady Raven.

  They had met at the oak. She had come looking for a test and left with a truce. Jack had pegged her level then. He felt it again now, a quiet weight that pressed on the air without moving it.

  “Hello, Sir Barrow,” she said. The voice was low and rough, yet it carried cleanly through the market noise. “I am curious what your journeys have brought you this time.”

  Her eyes were on Rob before they touched Barrow. Barrow noticed. He stepped forward with the quick smile he saved for clients who could end a day early.

  “Ah, my lady,” he said, warmth sliding into his tone, “allow me to present my apprentice. Rob… Rob Smith.”

  Rob rose from his crates. He kept his hood where it was and took the offered hand. Her palm was cool through the wrap. He felt the slightest pinch of testing pressure. He matched it without letting the squeeze turn into a contest.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Lady…” His mouth stopped. The name tasted wrong on purpose. He had refused it once. It felt like a line he had drawn, and stepping over lines had a way of echoing.

  Barrow leaned in as if rescuing a forgetful hire. “Raven,” he murmured, helpful and oblivious.

  They were still hand-to-hand when she smiled under the cloth. Jack did not see the curve of it, but the skin at the corner of her eyes told on her.

  “Raven,” he said, and made himself say it easily. “Nice to meet you.”

  “That is right,” she answered, tone soft as soot. “Raven.” She held him a heartbeat longer, and in that pause, there was a small, satisfied silence. “And nice to meet you, Rob.”

  The name landed with a little weight. Not heavy. Just enough to mark the spot.

  The raven clicked its beak once. The sound was delicate and final. Around them, the square kept breathing. Sellers haggled. Someone laughed at a joke about fish. A child ran past with a ribbon in her fist. None of it reached the circle of still air where the three of them stood.

  Jack felt the cover he had wrapped so carefully pull at the seams. He did not know how much she had seen in the forest, nor what she could smell now in a crowd of metals and oils and sweat. He did know she had not missed his flinch at the name, or the way Barrow had hurried to fill the gap.

  He could not explain why he was here without saying too much. He could not say anything without giving her the answer she had already almost found.

  Raven released his hand.

  “Perhaps I will look over your apprentice’s stock after I greet the square,” she said to Barrow, eyes never leaving Rob. “I am always fond of new work.”

  Barrow bowed at the waist with merchant grace. “My stall is yours, my lady.”

  Raven inclined her head a fraction and drifted along the table. The raven on her shoulder tilted to keep Rob in view.

  Jack did not move. Inside the hood, he let his breath out slow and even. His presence was folded down to the bone. His aura sat tucked behind his ribs like a secret. None of that mattered if she had already put the pieces in order.

  Raven let her gaze slide off Rob as if he had turned into a crate. Her wrapped fingers drifted over the spread. She tested the balance of a hatchet, set it down, then thumbed the spine of a plain short sword as if the steel might whisper a secret if she asked nicely. Jack felt the smile under her wraps without seeing it. Not kind. Not cruel. Just a cat noticing a mouse that thinks it is a rock.

  A boxy flicker nudged the inside of his vision.

  Skylar Khan would like to open a voice chat with you. Accept?

  The prompt came with the soft tick of his journal, even though the book was not in his hand. He kept his face where it had been. Still. Mild. Merchant-adjacent. The prompt blinked again.

  Accept?

  He let the smallest breath out and agreed.

  Skylar: Oh my god. Oh my god. You have the chat skill. You have the chat skill.

  The voice hit like a sparrow through a window. Bright. Breathless. Too loud for silence, yet somehow he was the only one who heard it. Raven’s eyes stayed on the blade. Her body language did not change. The raven on her shoulder clicked once and fluffed.

  Jack kept his hands busy. He nudged a stack of vambraces into a tidy line, then set a spear haft parallel to the table edge.

  Skylar: You did accept, right? You can hear me?

  Jack: I can.

  Skylar: Eeeeeeeee.

  He did not rub his ear. He wanted to.

  Skylar: Sorry. Sorry. I have tried pinging a dozen people and nobody answered. Either the skill is rare or they hard declined me. Rude. I mean, fair, but rude.

  Jack: There are reasons to keep mental lines quiet in a market.

  He felt, rather than saw, her attention flick to his face for the smallest tell. He kept his expression on “bored apprentice counting buckles.” It was a good expression. He had used it on worse.

  Skylar: All right, noted. I will keep volume at “inside voice.” Also, yes, hello. Hi. We are doing the “pretend to be strangers” thing. I can play that game. By the way, your alias is terrible. Rob Smith? That is “NPC at the first town gate” energy.

  Jack: It worked until you arrived.

  Skylar: Correct. You are welcome. Also, relax. I am not here to set your cloak on fire. I have my instructions. You have yours.

  Jack: Instructions?

  Skylar: Quest text. Cryptic. The system has a flair for drama. Mine says not to engage with Jack Hart as Jack Hart. That is literally the line. It came with a cute little quill icon like Lucien thought he was being clever.

  Jack did not look up. His gaze stayed on the table while his attention shifted to the edge of her hat brim. She had not turned toward him, but he could feel the focus like sun through glass.

  Jack: You got it as a direct quest?

  Skylar: Yes. Box popped. Heart thumped. Whole deal. I am guessing your line is even shorter than mine.

  He thought of the single sentence on paper. Find the prince.

  Jack: Short enough.

  She eased a dagger out of its sheath. She tested the draw. The blade made no sound.

  Skylar: I will not ask. That is me being mature. Please clap. Also, if you are trying to stay low, switch your stride on hard stone. You have a very “moves like a storm” cadence when you forget. That is a tell.

  Jack: Noted.

  Skylar: You are doing better than the last time. Your aura is sitting so quiet I almost lost you in the crowd. That is scary. In a good way. Kinda like when a boss fight looks like a friendly old man.

  He adjusted a price chit. He thought of the way her presence had felt in the clearing. It had weight even when it did not push.

  Jack: Your presence is not exactly small.

  Skylar: I am working on it. Fae perks, some of it. Also, practice. Also, paranoia. And a big hat.

  She set the dagger down. The raven peered into the crate as if it might have mice in it.

  Jack: Skylar, why are you still showing as Skylar?

  Skylar: You mean the name. You expected me to go “Raven” in the system too.

  Jack: The tutorial lets you change things. Name. Body. More.

  Skylar: You are one of the Beta Four.

  Jack: There were seven of us.

  Skylar: Six, with two displaced in time, but I am using the community tag, not the truth. Nobody likes a pedant in voice chat. And yes, you did not get the menu. You woke up and got punted into “good luck, hero.” The rest of us had sliders. Classes. Race. Cool little backdrops. A voice that said “choose wisely” in three languages. It was a lot. The world was on fire. Actual fire. Some of us picked what we could click first and then cried about it in a field.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  She drifted to the neighboring stall, palmed a buckle, and handed it back before the seller could scowl. She never took her internal line off him.

  Skylar: Name changes were in there, sure. You know how many of us were ready to commit to a new identity that fast? Not many. I kept my name because it was the last thing I felt like I owned. I wanted to keep at least one word that belonged to me. Then the mask got fun. Then the mask felt like a wall. Then the mask felt like armor. Now it is a hat. Mostly. Got forced into the Fae race, could not choose ‘human’ due to limitations reached, sigh.

  Jack: Understood.

  Skylar: You do not. That is fine. Also, the raven thing started as a joke. Then people bought it. Now it helps. Sometimes a label keeps the wrong people from trying to pull the tape off your face.

  He let that sit. She moved on before it turned heavy.

  Skylar: Also, a quick lore drop. The SRO forums went feral after Beta Day. Someone’s aunt went full cork-board detective. Everyone dunked on her. Then some of us got yanked into Aerothane and realized her posts were not crazy. There were six names on a file in Phoenix that did not log out. I did the math. Others did too. People talk. People share. We know you exist. We do not know your business. I am trying very hard not to ask.

  Fiona. He pictured Petros hearing that name again. He pictured Abby. He did not let those thoughts bleed into the line. They will be relieved that their aunt never entered with them, well at least not at the time of the beta, things are still up in the air with the wave of outcast that arrived a year and a half ago.

  Jack: I appreciate the restraint.

  Skylar: Growth. I am proud. Also, I am dying to know what your quest is. Not asking. Please note the restraint again.

  He shifted his weight. Someone two stalls over argued about thread count. A child laughed. A musician tuned a lute to a key it did not want.

  Skylar: Quick housekeeping. Your merchant friend is clean. Good heart. Good habits. He cheats only when someone tries to cheat him first. I like him.

  Jack: Barrow is honest about his dishonesty. It makes him safe.

  Skylar: Also, your prices are fair for the region. That is me giving you a compliment that sounds like an insult. Do not get used to it.

  The raven dipped its beak toward a coil of rope. The merchant two stalls over pretended not to bristle.

  Skylar: A heads up. Jovish has three people who think they have big knives. Only one of them does. He is under orders not to draw unless the bell rings twice in a row. If the bell rings twice in a row, you are going to want to not be at this table. There are archers on the roofs today. They like to show off when I walk the market.

  Jack: I can be elsewhere if a bell decides to stutter.

  Skylar: See. Mature. I knew I liked you. Also, your hood posture is too clean. Slouch a little. You look like a knight pretending to be a farmhand. Bend the shoulders. Pretend your boots are cheap.

  Jack let his spine soften by a fraction. Enough to register. Not enough to read as false.

  Jack: Like that.

  Skylar: Better. Rob Smith now looks like a man who has slept in a barn. You are welcome.

  A trio of traders rolled a barrel past. Jack used the motion to shift a crate, count coins, and not look at her.

  Jack: Telepathy, then. How wide is your range?

  Skylar: Depends on line of sight and noise. If I can see you, I can whisper from a long way off. If I cannot see you, I need a thread. Threads are weird. Emotional lines, shared Myriad paths, names written in journals. I do not fully get it. I am collecting data. I have charts. It is very cute.

  Jack: You have charts.

  Skylar: Do not judge me. You have a tree in your head. We all cope.

  He did not let the surprise touch the surface. She kept talking.

  Skylar: Do not worry. I cannot read thoughts. It is not that kind of skill. Think of it like a doorbell. If you accept, we can talk. If you do not, I sulk and then go eat bread.

  Jack: Good.

  Skylar: I can sense spikes though. Fear. Rage. The big ones. It is like a humming in my teeth. You keep yours quiet. That is impressive. Also terrifying.

  She ghosted a fingertip over a pauldron and moved on. A pair of guards nodded at her and then remembered to look bored.

  Skylar: One more practical note. I have eyes on some people who like to pick fights with legends for clout. I will steer them away without pointing at you. That is a favor. Consider it an investment in my future entertainment. Also, in the continued health of Jovish awnings.

  Jack: Appreciated.

  Skylar: You are getting a lot of favors today. Try not to get used to it. I want to keep my brand consistent.

  Jack: Your brand is “mystery bird who gossips in your head.”

  Skylar: Strong brand. Tested well with focus groups. Speaking of groups, you have fans in the west. Try not to give them autographs. It ruins the mystique.

  He almost smiled. He did not.

  Skylar: Since we are in share mode, I will give you one more. Someone is advertising a bounty that is not a guild posting. Private purse. Bad purse. The kind that pays in favors and knives. They want you alive. That last word is doing a lot of work. Not today. Not here. Just keep your head down and your alias boring.

  Jack: Understood.

  She drifted back to the front of his stall. The raven’s eye met his. It blinked once. Slow.

  Skylar: I will buy something now so the theater looks normal. Pick me a dagger that says “I mind my own business but I can ruin your week.”

  Jack slid open a box without looking at her directly. He set out a narrow blade with a fuller that drank light and a hilt wrapped in dark cord. Balanced. Nonreflective. Modest to the point of threat.

  Jack: This one.

  Skylar: Perfect. I will pay in the usual way.

  She placed coin with exact change and a sweet little clink. Barrow’s head came up at the sound. He beamed like a sunflower.

  Barrow spread his hands. “My lady has an eye for honest steel.”

  Raven inclined her head. “Your apprentice has a steady hand.”

  She turned, cloak moving like water, and drifted toward the next stall. The raven hopped once and settled.

  Skylar: I will circle. If the bell rings twice, do not be here. If someone asks you for your mother’s maiden name, it is a trap. If someone tries to sell you a ring that keeps bread fresh, buy two.

  Jack: Bread rings.

  Skylar: I am serious. They are amazing. Also, stay alive. I want to see what kind of prince needs a storm to find him.

  The line went quiet. The square rushed back in. Jack breathed with the crowd, lifted a spear for a farmer to test the flex, and let the tension bleed into the rhythm of sales.

  Cover intact. Ally adjacent. Quest still a single sentence on a stubborn page. He could work with that.

  For a breath, Jack let the teen cadence run laps in his head. The thread of tension loosened. Raven might still want a duel someday, but she was not here to blow his cover. She was not here to make him choose between the quest and a fight. That counted.

  Jack: You have given me more help than I expected. I have something for you that will pay you back.

  Raven’s stride paused two stalls away. Cloth rustled. The raven on her shoulder cocked its head.

  Jack: Walk back like you forgot your change. I will hand you a coin that acts as a key. It is a ward token for Anjelica. You can enter through the Pendle portal, but I recommend the main gate the first time. A C tier presence snapping into our square would put three alarms in the air and five scouts on rooftops.

  She pivoted with perfect casual annoyance and returned to the counter. Her eyes were sweet. Her voice could have cut fruit.

  “I believe I was shorted a coin.”

  Barrow leaned in with scandalized delight. “Rob.”

  “Sorry, sir,” Rob said, all nerves and contrition. “First market in Jovish. I am useless with numbers when the Lady visits.”

  His right hand dipped into his pocket. The coin did not come from the pocket. It came out of a bracelet that looked like a dull band of metal and held a small city. The token slid into his palm as if it had always been there. Silver face. Three lines of tiny runes around the rim. The back etched with the Boar and the Book.

  Raven held out her hand. Jack placed the coin on her palm. She closed her fingers and made it vanish with street magician ease. She turned on a heel and left without a word.

  Jack: You did not have to look that offended.

  Skylar: Method acting. If I am going to be mysterious, I have to commit. Also, never go OOC in front of a crowd.

  Jack: Noted.

  OOC was a gamer’s term for hardcore players which stand’s for ‘out of character’.

  He watched her drift, then pushed before she could bounce to a new topic.

  Jack: When you can get to Anjelica, find Petros first. He has formalized the adventurer’s guild. We are registering parties, tracking bounties, and standardizing field reports.

  He felt her intake of breath arrive on the line.

  Skylar: Please tell me this is going where I think it is going.

  Jack: There are other groups claiming to be guilds. Some are legitimate. We are not stamping them out. If they want access to our map archive and our portal dispatches, they can register as chapters. That is boring logistics. The useful bit is this. A registered guild can process an official name change through the Myriad registry.

  The squeal cut through him like a thrown pin.

  Skylar: Eeeeeeeeeeeee.

  Jack flinched. His boot tapped a crate. He covered the motion by nudging it an inch to the left and frowning at a completely fine strap.

  Jack: There are other routes, I am sure, but the guild path is clean and recognized. Join, file the change, collect your papers, leave if you like. No oaths required. No brand on your arm. You can be Raven in the world and Skylar where you need to be.

  Two stalls away, the wrapped figure did a small spin that looked like a gust of wind forgot where to go. Jack groaned out loud, then made a face like he had stubbed his toe. Barrow did not look up. Barrow had seen worse.

  Skylar: Sorry. OOC. Sad face. I am fine now. Mostly. Do you think I could open a chapter here in Jovish? Official. Real forms. A desk. A bell.

  Jack: That is up to Petros, but the coin is my recommendation and your key to access Anjelica, so that will work in your favor to add you to the ledger.

  Skylar: You just said the magic word. Ledger. I am going to cry. Thank you. You do not know how weird it is to live behind a name that hurts and helps at the same time.

  Jack: Abby and Petros are close to your age. Petros reached C. Abby should be at the line or past it. They are allies, and they will treat you like a person, not a title. One note. Petros has a girlfriend. Her name is also Raven. She is delightful. She will put a spear through a mountain if the mountain flirts with him.

  Skylar: Copy that. I am not into, er, boys. Your researcher gremlin is safe from me.

  He let the corner of his mouth think about smiling.

  Jack: Thank you for the discretion today. It helps to know at least one C tier in the west is not trying to test my ribs for weak spots. The first three we met were not welcoming.

  Skylar: Tell me about it. Power attracts weird. Also, there is a scoreboard in some people’s heads. I try not to feed it. It was good to meet you for real, Jack. Good hunting on your quest.

  Jack: Same to you. Try not to challenge Asil. She is kind and patient. She is also a natural disaster with a sword.

  Skylar: No promises. Byeee.

  Your chat with Skylar Khan has ended.

  The market swelled back in like a tide. Jack breathed with it. He stacked two helms and straightened a row of buckles that did not need straightening.

  From the side of the stall, Barrow watched him tidy nothing. The merchant scratched his cheek with the back of a knuckle and decided it was not his business.

  “Kids these days,” Barrow said under his breath, and rearranged a tray that had been perfect for twenty years.