I spent about the next two hours talking with the girls, mostly listening to them tell their own war stories. None of them belittled me for the simple, foolish, and lucky nature of my story, and in the end many of them told stories where they clearly only survived, themselves, because of luck and the help of others. Usually, they showed an equal amount of regret and self-recrimination for those stories; they had all long since come to accept that to a large degree, they should have known. I came to realize after the third such story that swapping stories of stupidity and surviving by blind luck was an acceptance of our shared humanity... including those who were not technically human.

It was honestly starting to wear on me that I couldn't just think of them as human. In my head, human just meant people. As long as they were people, it didn't matter if they were male or female, human or halfbreed, white or black, cat or dog... people were the same, in spite of our differences, in spite of the obvious fact that often enough we weren't all that alike. We all had potential, all had hopes and dreams, all had weaknesses, all had our moments of foolishness and insanity, all needed help sometimes. I hadn't quite settled on a word to use instead of "human" to describe all that, because I had never needed one.

In the end, they all told at least one story. The climbing catwoman was Ulia, and the muscle bear woman was Xechi. They didn't seem terribly close, although Loi was outgoing enough on her own to bring them together. If anything, Ulia and Miana seemed to quietly dislike each other, while I got the distinct impression from her poorly concealed longing gazes that Xechi wanted to jump into bed with either or both of Miana and Chibal. Miana seemed a thousand miles away much of the time, and I think Chibal was more interested in getting back to training than having a evening with friends who might also be competition for a position she didn't understand but seemed interested chasing nonetheless.

In short, a religious temple dedicated to fighting attracted introverts. Who knew?

For myself, I didn't want it to end. It wasn't that my room was lonely or cold or that I hoped to share my bed with someone, but there was a greater sense of energy and hope in that circle of people than there had been anywhere since I had arrived on this world, and more, if I was being honest, than I had seen in the last decade of my old life. Each of them was vibrant and alive in their own way; Loi was the only really vivacious one, but when each told their stories, I could see the different intelligence and nature of each in how they told it. Ulia liked to describe the locations in vivid detail, and she found small details that amused her, even if it was just the shadows on a distant mountain. Chibal could see through the thoughts of her enemies with startling detail, even for me, and when she narrated a duel against a superior opponent, the narrative she spun was more than half from her opponent's point of view, as they watched a sure win turn into a defeat one small reversal at a time.

Xechi, on the other hand, seemed to focus on the team she led. Her victory came from a battle in which her own leadership left them outnumbered and flanked; rather than taking any credit for herself, she praised and praised others and how the victories and sacrifices of her people led them to a bloody and narrow escape with about half of their forces remaining, having wiped out three times their losses in the escape. I could hear in Xechi's voice a genuine love for people and a distinct need to guide and carry people forward no matter the cost to herself.

Miana, in contrast, was a poor storyteller. She was a martial artist, and similar to Raine, had set out deep into an enemy force to get revenge. In that quest for vengeance, she had almost lost her way, but the grace of the goddess helped her come back before she wasted her life. After having cut a bloody but ultimately useless scar through the enemy front lines alone, she ran out of steam and retreated.

It was only when we collectively asked questions that we came to understand Miana better. She was a disciple of Fire Martial Arts, which (as I vaguely understood on my own, although Loi helped explain) meant she had completed both Order and Chaos and combined them into a higher form of martial arts. She had been after revenge, yes, but had been trying to kill an enemy mage who was protected by two whole companies of soldiers--of which she cut through one. Not the whole company, of course; they were in a line formation and she had cut through the formation and faced down the rear ranks when they turned to stop her. She probably faced a couple dozen people on her own, but was wounded and exposed to archer fire.

The questions the others asked Miana teased out just how much she remembered about that fight. Even though she was not a commander, she knew the enemy formations, could calculate losses, guessed at probabilities. When she turned to retreat, instead of going back through the hole she'd cut on the way in, she cut a new one--not to get more kills, but to keep the enemy archers from being able to shoot her. She spotted the enemy company's commander in a crowd of dozens but recognzied that she was in no shape, at that point, to try to beat him. She saw no reason to include these things in her story until asked, but by no means was she stupid.

Loi, in her own way, was also a bad storyteller, but I suspected she just didn't know what story we wanted to hear. Hers was a story of personal vengeance and included a bunch of gory details that none of us flinched from, but nobody seemed interested in, either. I could see in her face and her posture, and the flicking of her ears and tail, a deep and resonant hatred that she normally kept masked as she described her final victory, her enemy's guts spilled on the ground, her sword stained with blood, her quest at an end and her vengeance (at least according to her) satisfied.

When the stories were done, there was a period of small talk, but all that really told us was that we were all awkward in our own ways and all ready to split up for the evening. As we seemed to reach that agreement, Loi was the first to stand, and she gestured for Chibal to stay. "If you don't mind, I'd like to have some time with the guest to myself. I'll make sure he gets back alright... if that's what he wants." She grinned at me with a little bit of a leer.

"That sounds like fun," I forced myself to say, although I was a little tired, and I stood and returned the smile. I didn't want to go back to being alone, and I did want to spend more time with Loi. In spite of Pal'lud's suggestion that...

I tried to disguise the sudden deflation I felt. I had two days and half a night to figure out what I was going to do, but all I really felt was that I was a pawn in a great game that I didn't understand. I had a deep sense that I should not get close to Ciel'ostra right now, but the most likely culprit as to why--the author behind the mysterious note--swore to do no harm. If that person was not the cause of my anxiety... who possibly could be? With as little power as I had, at least compared to Ciel'ostra herself, I was not a major player in this fight, but the sense that I knew something that she didn't terrified me. Was the secret I was keeping going to affect the outcome? What was truly going on here?

But I just smiled at Loi as she led me to a ledge by the Bell of Ciel'ostra which overlooked the city. She sat down on the edge and looked over the city, patting a spot next to her invitingly, her little wolfen tail flicking back and forth a just a bit eagerly... so I joined her. It was after sunset, but not so long that there was no light left in the sky; below us, the city was lamplit, looking to me like a crude approximation of what a city at night out to look like, but I could only smile and shake my head at the thought. That world was behind me, and this was reality, and likely would be as long as I lived.

"What's funny?" Loi leaned up against me, and I felt the warmth of her shoulder pressing into mine--warmth behind a wall, and I didn't mean our clothes. I could still see the hatred in her face, hatred that was a truth she concealed, but pushed the thought away.

"Just comparing the world I know to this one." I gestured down at the lamplights. "Imagine a city a thousand times bigger than this, where light poured from every window, down every street... I won't see those cities of light ever again, but they still feel more real than what's in front of me. Which..." I decided that I would accept what she was clearly offering, and leaned over to put my head on her shoulder, "...is foolish. What's in front of me is real. The future is real. The past... is something I can never return to. I just... can't quite let go that easily."

Loi, for her part, was a little shocked that I was willing to make a move, but she quickly smiled and put her one arm around me. "We all have our pasts," she said profoundly, and laughed a bit. "And we're not proud of them. I know that I went too far in search of vengeance. I didn't say it at dinner, but... many people I respected tried to tell me to stop. Not because the bastard should not be killed, but because I should not lose myself along the way." She paused, and I felt her tense. "I did, though. I went too far, lost myself. I would do it again. I'm not ashamed of what I did, but I admit that my obsession was a weakness." She paused. "I feel great shame in you, Ryan of Eyes. I see in you a sense that you are humiliated by your weakness, and I do not understand that. I wonder what it is that makes you feel so unworthy. Perhaps in that world, you were a thief? A criminal?"

I laughed. "No," I said, turning to look up at her. This close, somehow... I felt sad. It wouldn't be tonight, if it was ever with her. There was some distance there that neither of us understood. I put my head back down on her shoulder and looked over the city. "It's like Xechi said. I was a 'paper-man'. I did little things in a world that made me unhappy." I gestured. "I am sure many people here, like in my home, are unhappy, but after all that I was taught, all the time that I had, and with all the tools that..." Technology was either not a word here or I just couldn't think of the translation. There probably was one, if only a rough idea. "...that my world provided, tools that gave me the ability to travel, to communicate, to learn. With all the power I had, I was not able to bring myself happiness. Now I have fewer tools, but..." I paused. "...more hope, I think, than I ever had there."

Loi looked out over the city, too. I got the feeling she probably did that a lot, if perhaps not usually from here. "Tell me," she said. "stories of that world. Of traveling and communicating and learning."

So I spoke, briefly about technology, and more about what it meant for society. Of cars and planes and ships and how different trade was; of phones and networks and how you could reach anyone, if you knew they existed. Of endless libraries of pictures and books, many of which were mistaken or were lies or slander, all accessible, but some always pushed to the top so more people would find them. Of a history of art that stretched back thousands of years, of being taught stories hundreds of years old when you were young, from all around the world. Of powerful people who made too much money, of small people who were pushed around, of people in the middle who got along. Not all the stories, I think, were all that interesting, but when I talked about planes and flying, she closed her eyes and tried to imagine it. When I spoke of stories from around the world, she asked what they were about. I talked briefly about world cultures, described a few old stories and a few new ones...

And before I really knew it, it was past midnight. The lights had mostly gone out in the city, but for a few streetlamps, and my attention was mostly drawn to the Arch, the planet's ring in orbit. Loi, too, looked at it.

"What do you think is up there?" she asked.

I laughed, and she looked a little offended. "Sorry," I said. "You spoke of it like it's a mythical world full of new life. I am sorry to say, Loi, but you won't find life up there." I paused, remembering that in my argument with the gods, my powers had detected one life form in particular up there... but I didn't say anything. One way or another, that one was an exception that proved the rule. "Air," I said after a moment, "the stuff we breathe, that resists us when we run too fast, that blows us in storms, it doesn't reach that high. If it did..." How to explain? "...the Arch could not stay up there. If you watch it over time, you will see it moves. If it stopped moving, it would fall."

"So it's not a land of mysteries and excitement?" Loi seemed to take the news with gentle humor. "No riches, no monsters, no wondrous vaults of mystery?"

"I think there might be one," I mused, taking for granted that she wouldn't take me all that seriously. "One vault of mystery among countless thousands of rocks. But one lifetime would not be enough to search for it."

"But what a lifetime," breathed Loi, and when I looked at her, she was staring at the Arch, fully enraptured, as though her eyes could pick out the one point of that was different from the others. "You know, I always thought that there was one shinier than the rest. Do you think it's that one?"

I laughed, and after a moment, she decided it had all been a joke, she suddenly scowled at me and pushed me off the edge. The next level down wasn't far, but I still didn't enjoy landing on the hard stone of it. I couldn't quite stop laughing, though, and when she hopped down after me, I eagerly accepted the hand she offered me, and she pulled me up. "Yes," I said, smiling at her. "I am sure the shiny one is the vault of mystery. Perhaps it is the lost home of the Arch Sorcerors."

"Don't tease me. You got my hopes up already. To find a legendary place like that..." She took another long look at the sky. "I can't even imagine what I'd find there."

I started to say that I had no idea, then stopped, then forced myself to say it anyway. "I have no idea," I said. "A library full of the world's truths, an arcane forge for creating the world's greatest magic items. Perhaps a tank to birth miraculous creatures, and an engine to create magic itself from nothing. Perhaps a thousand eyes to watch the whole world at once, a thousand ears to hear every secret, a thousand swords each ready to cut down the mightiest of warriors." Those were... exaggerations, but all feasible with advanced technology, if some far more advanced than Earth had ever had. But combined with magic? Who knew. "But no mortal will ever reach that height. I know how long it took my people to reach the skies... and I doubt this world is ready for what it will find."

"What did you find?" Loi went from staring at the Arch to looking at me, searching for something in my eyes.

"That we are alone." I returned the look, and I felt a heaviness that I didn't expect coming over me. "That life is rare and miraculous. That if we had to leave this jewel of a world, there would not be another one within reach that could save us. That if we ever damage this world, become too powerful and too careless... that will be the end of us all, forever."

Loi shivered, her tail noticably tucked, and couldn't stop shivering after she started. I could sense that the small dose of perspective I'd offered was too much, and forced myself to smile apologetically, patting her on the shoulder. "Don't worry," I said. "It takes greater powers than you can imagine to ruin a whole world. If we ever have powers that great... perhaps we will have the power to rebuild the world after whatever damage we have done. I can swear to you now," and I felt this was simply true, as a god, "there is no power on this world great enough to destroy it. There are other dangers, but nothing like that."

Loi nodded, and calmed a bit, but she still seemed shaken. After a minute, I put my arm around her. "Come on," I said. "I need to sleep... but I don't know the way back from here."

So she led me back through the halls to my room, though she paused outside my door, not quite willing to leave yet... but also clearly not expecting an invitation, or offering one. As I watched her expression in the darkness, I saw great doubts cross her face. I reached out and took her hand, trying to offer some comfort... and she squeezed mine in return, but pulled hers back after a moment. "Is there really nothing else out there?"

"We found nothing," I said. "We looked at everything that was close. The things that were not close... were not close enough to matter. If we needed a new home, they were too far to do us any good. And if there was life out there... it was too far away to reach."

"But there are at least two worlds," she said. "Your world, and ours."

"Yes." I smiled. "And maybe someday the Two Worlds will find each other. Right now it's a mystery how people get pulled across. Maybe someday." I paused. "Maybe someday we can cross back. Maybe I can show you cities of light and planes and the mysteries of the universe. But, I think all we can really expect is to live the life that we know, the life in front of us. Especially if you plan on inheriting the position of--" I almost said 'a goddess', but caught myself, "--the Lady's Vicar, you can't let your head be full of faraway places that you'll never see, just as I can't spend my life thinking about the world I came from. The future is waiting, whether we are ready or not."

Loi looked in my direction, but the nearest lamp was a ways away, and I thought she was struggling to see my face clearly in the darkness. She smiled, though. "You're right, it's just... hard."

"To have a dream and not be able to reach it? To fantasize about a world you can never reach? To imagine a place where things are different, and have to admit quietly that it's only a dream, only a vision, and not reality? Yes, it is hard, Loi. But to me, that burden is an old friend." I patted her on the shoulder. "Good night."