It was late at night when Anne and Eva finally arrived in the outskirts of Longren, where the three who had ridden ahead stood waiting for them.

“Hello! Did you have a nice ride?” asked Sebastian, while Anne and Eva climbed out of the carriage.

Anne shrugged. “It was fine,” she said.

“We need to decide what to do with the Crown Prince,” said Eva.

Sebastian glanced nervously at the carriage driver, who gave him a casual salute.

“Don’t worry, he’s a member of the rebellion,” said Eva. “He won’t spread any rumors.”

“Oh, okay,” said Sebastian. “Wait, am I part of a rebellion now?”

“Ma’am, I had a thought,” said Ylyndar, stepping forward.

“Yes, did you have an idea?” asked Eva.

“I think the prince should come back to the camp with us,” said Ylyndar.

“Good thinking,” said Eva. “That’s probably smarter than trying to sneak him into the church.”

“Wait, what camp?” asked Anne.

“The rebel army camp,” said Agis. “You know, the rebel army that I’m in charge of?”

“Oh, right,” said Anne, who up until now had somehow never thought about the fact that if there was a rebel army they would obviously need to, like, be somewhere.

“Excuse me,” said Sebastian, holding up a finger. “I really don’t feel like I was properly informed about the whole rebellion aspect of all this.”

“Sorry…” said Anne, patting him on the back.. “It kind of slipped my mind… I’m sure they can probably tell you more about stuff when you get to the camp or whatever.”

“You three ride on to the camp then,” said Eva to Ylyndar. “Anne and I will continue on to the church, where we’re expected.”

So the two groups quickly parted ways again, the three horse-riders skirting around the edge of the town towards wherever the rebel army camp was while the carriage made its way through the Longren streets.

Anne was staring out the window at the cobblestone lanes and quaint buildings, feeling strangely nostalgic even though this wasn’t even really her hometown.

Anne was simply emotionally exhausted. The denunciation from the church and the Emperor, the drama with Sebastian, the fight with Corvina, the awkward carriage ride with Eva… Anne was feeling truly alone, like she didn’t have anyone she could confide in. Which she didn’t, not really, not about everything. And she was feeling homesick, really truly homesick, deep down in her bones.

Anne felt desperate to go home. She even wanted to go back to work at her crappy data entry job, even though she’d always hated it before. She’d hated a lot of things about her life but now she wanted nothing more than to go back to her crappy small apartment at the end of a crappy work day and read poorly written fantasy romance novels and just not have to worry about things like rebel armies or staged kidnappings or possible assassinations. Sure, it had been a lonely, boring existence, but at least it had been low stakes. At least it had been comfortable.

I want to scroll twitter, thought Anne. I want to eat candy. I want to watch bad tv. This world sucks.

The High Clerics were waiting outside of the church to greet the returning Saintess, although the mood was much more somber than when they had sent her off to the capital.

Once again, Eva talked to the High Clerics while Anne waited off to the side, always left out of the loop. A useless symbol, carried around by her allies, rarely directly involved in anything.

Anne wondered if the original Saintess had ever felt this superfluous. Was that why she had chosen to abandon her life in this world? Had it even been her choice to leave?

Eva was telling Anne about something or other while they were walking through the familiar corridors of the church, but Anne wasn’t really paying attention.

When they reached Anne’s room, Eva gave her a hug. “Get some sleep, dear Saintess,” she said. “We can figure out our next moves in the morning.”

After Eva left, Anne stumbled into her room, plopping down into the chair by the fireplace.

Despite herself, the room was actually somewhat comforting. It wasn’t Anne’s home, not really, but it was a home. It would have to do for now.

I should get up and get undressed, thought Anne. So I can actually go to bed.

But getting up seemed like too much work. So instead she just stared into the dying fire, brooding, until finally she nodded off in her chair, still fully dressed.

“You’re dead, you know,” said a voice.

Anne sat up with a start to find herself in a dark void, the original Saintess standing in front of her. The only light in the void was coming from behind the Saintess, wreathing her head in a sort of halo. It was so bright Anne had to squint.

“You died in an accident,” repeated the Saintess. She sounded sad.. “You can’t ever go back to your original world. There’s no body there for you to go back to.”

Anne sighed. “Yeah, I know,” she said. “That doesn’t mean I can’t miss it.”

The original Saintess didn’t respond. She seemed to be looking at something past Anne’s shoulder. Anne turned, but there was nothing there, only darkness.

Then suddenly the Saintess grabbed Anne by the shoulders. Her eyes, now close to Anne’s, looked desperate—not merely sad anymore, but despairing.

“Why are you wasting so much time?” wailed the Saintess. “You claimed to be braver than me! Quickly, you have to destroy it. You have to shatter it! If you don’t act quickly enough it will repair itself.”

“What? What do I have to destroy?” asked Anne. “What will repair itself?”

The Saintess disappeared and the darkness turned into the capital city, the steps of the palace, where an angry crowd had gathered. Anne was trapped in the crowd and she could barely see over the heads of the people who crowded around her, but at the top of the palace steps she could just barely make out Duke Marshal with the original Saintess by his side and Corvina on her knees before them.

Corvina lowered her head and Duke Marshal raised his sword.

Then the scene shifted again and they were in a dark green forest. The Saintess, looking ragged and exhausted, barefoot with her feet bleeding, was stumbling through the forest. Her expression was grim, determined.

Anne ran up to her, grabbing her by the shoulder, and the Saintess looked at her, confused.

“You can’t just show me vague images and metaphors, you have to tell me what to do!” said Anne. “Please. You’re the only one who knows I don’t belong here. You have to give me real guidance. I don’t know what to do.”

The Saintess continued to stare at her, confused.

A thought suddenly occurred to Anne.

“Wait, when I died and was sent here… where did you go?” asked Anne. “Are you dead? Where are you?”

The Saintess stared off to one side of Anne’s face again, her expression vague. Anne was about to give up on this dream making any sense when the Saitness finally spoke: “I don’t know,” she said. “I left, but I don’t know where I am anymore. I thought it would be better. I thought…” The Saintess trailed off again, distracted. Then suddenly she shouted, “Look out!” and pushed Anne.

Anne woke up with a start to find someone staring at her.

It was hard to make them out in the darkness, but the figure seemed to have very pale skin contrasted against their dark clothing. They had short, fine hair that was such a dark blue it was almost black, and large, deep blue eyes that flashed in the remains of the firelight. Their facial features were almost as sharp as the dagger they held in their hand.

There was a long moment when Anne and this mysterious person just stared at each other.

“What are you?” asked the assassin.