Kendrick was in paradise.

The world was awash in golden sunlight, warm and teetering on the edge of hot without crossing it. The beach was dutifully cleaned of any lingering litter or unsightly washed-up trash by attendants who were all gray. This little detail gave Kendrick pause at first, but then he remembered it was normal, that they were supposed to be gray, and he continued lounging. He folded his arms behind his head, crossing his feet, basking in the summery glow. Gentle waves kissed the shore and sloshed back whence they came to do it all over again.

“I don’t know how today could get any better,” said Willow. She rolled over on the beach towel next to his, the cool water still clinging to her exposed skin, dripping sporadically from her damp blond hair. She smelled like the lake and coconut sunscreen. “You?”

Kendrick breathed in deep and exhaled contentedly. “Nope. This might as well be heaven.”

Speedboats, pontoons, and jet skis all hummed across the lake at their own paces, kicking up bulging wakes that rolled like muscles. Kids in floaties splashed happily in the shallow water. Seagulls cawed and waddled the beach in flocks.

Willow sighed dreamily. “I never want to give up days like this.” Kendrick turned to look at her through his sunglasses, mapping the galaxy of freckles across the bridge of her nose. He felt as though he shouldn’t stare. “They have lakes in Canada, too, you know.”

That snapped him out of his daydream. He snorted and rolled onto his back. “This is home. There, we’d just be guests.” He plucked a fat horsefly off his chest and flicked it away. “I’m staying here. You can go if you want. But I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Willow looked around at the attendants on the beach, sitting up and drawing her knees to her chest. Kendrick couldn’t help but sneak a glance at her two-piece turquoise swimsuit; part of him felt guilty, ashamed, like he was poisoning their friendship. Another part of him felt right to steal little peeks like this—comfortable, even. Part of him felt it was natural.

“You really think it’s a good idea to stay?” Willow asked him quietly. “Even after what we saw on the news?”

He sat up next to her. “Do you feel unsafe here?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He watched her stare at the sun glittering like diamonds on the glass surface of the lake. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Have you ever heard the expression ‘the writing’s on the wall?’”

Kendrick brushed wet sand off his legs and feet, knowing they would just be coated again the minute he stood up next. “Seems like people are overreacting to me. Glitches can be fixed. Plus, I don’t want to run away from the only home I’ve ever known. We’re only 18.”

“The day could come when we don’t have the option of running anymore, Kendrick. What do you have tying you to this city? To this country? Who do you even have, really?” He said nothing, casting his gaze down at his folded hands. He felt wounded—even if she hadn’t meant it to be hurtful. “Exactly. You could disappear tomorrow to another place entirely. Start a brand new life in a brand new world. Would that be so bad?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He gesticulated at the beach and the lake before them, the parking lot behind them, the far-off sounds of cars on the highway that one could pick out of the ambience when the waves were at their quietest. “I would be miserable in any other world. Everything I know and love is here.”

Willow scoffed. “How can you say that when this isn’t even real?”

Kendrick raised an accusatory finger at her. He felt himself steaming with anger on the inside. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that. I know this is real. I know it... has to be... Right? At least most of it.”

Then Willow sighed like a tired, underappreciated nurse. She rummaged through their bag of beach supplies and pulled out a timeworn wooden bucket with black iron rims and held it out in front of him. “You’re going to throw up again, aren’t you?” She must have been a prophetess. Seconds later, his insides twisted and wrung themselves out into the empty bucket soon sloshing with his bile. “Oh, there you go, dearie. Let it all out. You can still make it. I believe in you.” The acid burned his throat and mouth, even trickling out his nostrils. In the bright light of day, he saw some of it was bloody. Willow clicked her tongue disapprovingly but it didn’t sound like her anymore. “Can someone bring me that bucket of cold water and a rag? He’s going to need some more attention here when he’s done.”

“Willow, don’t go,” Kendrick rasped. Vomit dribbled down his chin. “Willow... wait... Tell me...”

“Sshhh, now, sshhh. Oh, no. Poor thing.”

***

He woke up and it was night. He didn’t know where he was.

When he opened his eyes, they adjusted little by little, picking apart details of his surroundings. He was no longer at the beach. He was in a bed. He saw a rough hardwood floor, a ceiling he didn’t recognize—and the window was wide open without so much as a screen protecting him from the elements. Thunder rumbled somewhere. That made him fearful deep in his bones, but he wasn’t sure why.

Then his insides stung and he filled up with a panicked urgency and he leaned over the side of his bed and hurled again. There was already a bucket waiting there for just such an occasion. When he was finished, he saw a hazy white glow that his eyes couldn’t quite focus on; it looked like smoke or steam suspended in a moonbeam. Or maybe it was more like his breath on a cold winter’s day—if his breath produced its own light.

Whatever it was, someone sounded very unhappy about it.

“He’s purging again!”

Sleep called for him, pulling him down into the folds of the unfamiliar bed. He shivered. “W-w-w-w-… w-w-… W-… Willow...” Then the nothingness settled over him again like a blanket.

***

He spent a long time in the gray area between sleep and wakefulness. Sometimes he would open his eyes for a few minutes and stare at objects he couldn’t quite name, but he knew of their presence. He was vaguely aware of the passage of day and night, the light ebbing and flowing around him, the warmth giving way to cold and back again. Sometimes the unnamable objects around him looked familiar. He felt at home. Other times he was overcome with an ineffable urgency upon waking, like he was late for something or didn’t quite belong where he was. He never stayed awake or alert long enough to lift his head off his pillow, let alone go anywhere.

He didn’t know how long he had spent in this limbo. Hours, days, or longer... So, this is death, he thought once, crisply and soberly. That thought stayed with him. Time became nothing but a blurred circle.

Then, one morning, everything changed.

He woke up right around dawn, a shaft of golden light prying his eyes open and then forcing them shut again. He lifted a weak arm to cover his eyes. This proved insufficient to shield his groggy vision, so he rolled over to see two witches standing at the edge of his bed. His heart skipped a beat.

“I told you today would be the day, Anbjor” said the tall, hefty one.

The shorter, slender one applauded gently. “Wondrous, Bjorna. You’ve always had foresight for this sort of thing, sister.”

“Where... am I?” Kendrick asked, his voice cracking dryly.

“Why, you’re in Crystalcairn, young man,” Bjorna replied. “Three days’ hike from the Plains of Anurath.”

A flash of lightning and a sudden flinch—all in his mind. The echoes of thunder lurked in the corner of his memory. “What happened?”

Bjorna wrung out a rag into a bucket of what appeared to be clean water. She grinned coyly at him, averting her gaze. “Well, I’m afraid that’s not my story to tell. There was an elf who was looking for you who will answer any questions you may have. He said he was from a group called the Slayers of Adrogan.”

“Where is he?” Kendrick asked.

“He’ll be in the village square. He’s been healing stragglers from the Plains ever since you arrived two days ago. He’s the one that brought you in, you know.”

Kendrick sat up in bed. “Do you know if any of the others made it out? Did a witch named Bellara...” All of a sudden, he became so afraid to know the answer that he didn’t dare finish the question.

“I only met the elf, who told me to send you to him once you woke up. He was the one who mended all your physical injuries. Needed help with the aura, though—you about purged yourself to death three separate times—but we come from a long line of crystal healers here in Crystalcairn. We took care of the rest.”

Kendrick stood and held out his hand for some reason. It felt like the right thing to do. Bjorna accepted a handshake with a bemused smile, and so did Anbjor, and then Kendrick realized it felt a little awkward. “Thank you both. I’m going to go now.”

Without another word, he slipped out of the squat grass hut and made his way out into the village of Crystalcairn. It consisted of many other grass huts similar to it, but no two exactly alike; there were also a few buildings made of clay and in the center of the village was a tower of interlocking crystals of various sizes and shapes about three stories tall. It caught the morning sunlight and scattered it in dazzling glitter across the western side of the village.

Was any of that dream real? Kendrick thought as he made his way across Crystalcairn. Willow... I remember her name now. Blond hair, freckles, glasses—I’ve seen her before. She was telling me about wanting to leave our country. When was this—and why? She said she felt unsafe... He tried to collect all of the fragments of his other memories that most often came to him while unconscious, gathering them up in his mind like shards of broken pottery. I’ll have to try to figure out my past later—I still don’t know what exactly is happening in the here and now. One thing at a time.

“Has anyone seen an elf named Tanathil?” Kendrick called out. “Hello? Tanathil?” He walked past a number of humans, orcs, and other elves in various states of injury; some had bloodied wounds and nursed broken limbs while others were bruised up but not quite as bothered by it, and still others had severely torn or burned clothing but didn’t appear to be in any pain at all. They must have already been healed, Kendrick deduced.

It was on the other side of the tower of crystals that Kendrick found a line of individuals waiting to be healed by a group of four elves and a human wizard. One of those elves just happened to be the one he sought.

“You’re about down to {40} aura again there, Tanathil,” said a black-haired human witch who put a hand on his shoulder, aiming an aurimeter in her other hand. “Might be due for a nap, yeah?”

The elf stood up from his kneeling position and dusted off his trousers, sighing. His platinum blond hair was disheveled and tangled in places. For the first time since Kendrick had known him, he actually looked a year or two closer to his actual age of over 100—now his face could pass for a human in his early 40s. “Might be. All right, then.”

The witch looked up at Kendrick neutrally. “Is that him? The swordsman?” Tanathil turned around and smiled exhaustedly, hobbling over to him, and Kendrick couldn’t help but notice the witch smiled at him a long while, making eye contact, before she sat down to take over healing duties.

“You’re awake,” said Tanathil, holding out his hands in awe. “Oh, that’s grand. I... I’m not quite sure what to say. I’ve been up for... Well, I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been awake. I don’t think I’ve slept since Dalcaster—no, that’s not true, I did nod off yesterday while I was healing that orc’s broken leg. Do you know how long an orc bone takes to heal? They’re so dense... Do you have any idea what it takes to break an orc bone? I’m sorry, Kendrick. I’m a bit loopy. How are you feeling?”

Kendrick held out his hands and shrugged. “I’m awake. And I have no idea what’s going on. Is this real? Are we all still alive—did we make it, or is this heaven or the Overworld or whatever you call it? What happened, man?!”

The elf grinned at him with bags under his eyes. “I was looking at just the right time to see it. No one else was looking. But I saw what you did—that great smear of white light on the other side of the battlefield, and the way Urobius even lost his balance for a moment!”

Kendrick’s eyes widened. “No way. I got him?! Did I kill him?!”

Tanathil snorted. “Are you still dreaming? No, you didn’t kill him.” A little bit of wind was let out of Kendrick’s sails. “But you still did something that changed the course of the battle, young stranger. You actually wounded the big bastard. You made him bleed. For a mortal with nothing but a sword, even a sword like yours, that’s something out of a legend. Not only that, but you created a weak spot on the Dark Lord for every spellcaster and archer in the entire caravan to fire upon—and oh, did they ever. You couldn’t even see the monster through all the spells, catapult shots, and the cloud of arrows until the eclipse was over and everyone had to reload. By that point, he had turned tail to run back east.”

“East?” Kendrick echoed. “You mean...”

“We just received word from a fairy scout this morning. The Dark Lord crossed over the Rift and closed it behind him. The Kanthian Army, with some very delayed reinforcements sent from Varyngard, have been mopping up the rest of the Underworld holdovers, along with help from spellcasters militant. Of course the Dark Lord cannot die—it would be as unthinkable as the death of Aldiel, perish the thought—but this plan that the dark sorcerer Zorgen set into motion years ago has now finally been foiled. The last time Urobius set foot in the Ecumene was ages ago. Let’s hope he waits just as long for his next comeback.”

It’s over, Kendrick marveled privately. It’s really over. The Ecumene... it’s safe. Just like Bellara and Sahni hoped when they brought me here. He felt the pang of something bitter—something like grief, or the anticipation of it. “Okay... I’ve been afraid to ask, but I have to know. Did Bellara survive? Did she...” There was that fear of knowing again, overpowered only by his need to know. “Did she, you know, recover Sahni’s... Did she manage to carry Sahni off the battlefield? For... burial?” Tanathil stared at him solemnly. “Well? Did Bellara even make it out of there? Just tell me, man. I can handle it.” The elf was silent. He stared at Kendrick, or maybe straight through him. Kendrick worried he was slipping into a nightmare again... but he realized he was still very much awake.

Tanathil’s eyes bulged suddenly. “Kendrick! Behind you!”

In the next moment, Kendrick was on the ground. He braced himself for impact with his left hand, reaching with his right for the Psysword—it was gone. His sheath, the weapon, everything was gone. I swear to Aldiel, he thought maliciously, I’ll send you back to the Underworld! I'll make you suffer for what you took from me! His assailant now had their full weight on him, pressing him against the dirt road.

He rolled over with his fist ready to swing and saw Bellara grinning down at him.

“You idiot,” she teased him. “You almost died when I specifically told you not to do that. What’s wrong with you?” Before he could say anything, she wrapped him in a hug so tight that it cracked his stiff back.

“With you just having woken up from your coma, I didn’t think she’d actually tackle you like that,” Tanathil remarked. “I guess I don’t know you lot well enough yet.”

“Bell!” Kendrick exclaimed when he had access to his lungs again. “You made it!” The redheaded witch helped him to his feet. “We won. We really won! We...” Their loss tempered his runaway joy. He thought of Gydeon, buried on the side of the road where he was slain by the Prime Sin Adrogan.

But he thought even more sorrowfully of Sahni, stricken by one of the Dark Lord’s sinister bolts of diabolical lightning. Did anyone bury her? Kendrick wondered. He decided not to ask right now, lest this happy moment be soured irrevocably. But he would have to ask soon.

“Kendrick, it’s good to see you,” said a voice behind him. He about-faced. It was Sahni, smiling shyly, poking the tips of her index fingers together. “Do you think, um... Do you think I might be able to have a h—” This time, before she could say anything more, he wrapped her up in a hug as tight as the one he’d just received, spinning around with so much joy that he lifted her off the ground and her braided aqua hair fluttered behind her. When he finally relented and set her down, she brushed strands of hair from her blushing face, smiling up at him as she did so.

“Sahni! I thought I...” Kendrick began, looking at Sahni like she was a mirage or a ghost. Then he looked at Bellara, and he was smiling so widely his cheeks hurt, and he worried now this was a good dream he was trapped in somehow. But this was still just as real. “I thought we lost you, Sahni. But you both made it!”

“Did you have any more questions or need anything else from me?” Tanathil interjected. “I’m happy for this reunion, but I need sleep. Not all elves look as good as I do at this age, you know.”

“Get your rest, Tanathil,” said Bellara. “You’ve earned it.” Then she turned to her two friends, putting an arm around each of them. “Crystalcairn has welcomed us as guests here—and everyone else from the Plains of Anurath. I heard the tavern has been repaired in time for breakfast. How about we sit down for a meal together and trade our stories?”

“I’d like that very much,” Kendrick replied. And he meant it.

***

Several dozen patrons crowded the tiny tavern of Crystalcairn—humans and orcs in equal measure, primarily, but there were some elves in the mix as well. The single-story wooden edifice with the thatched roof was so packed that tavern-goers spilled out through the doorways and milled around the perimeter with their food and drinks. Kendrick, Bellara, and Sahni each took a pastry out back and leaned against the building’s rear wall while they told each other of their experiences.

“How far did it throw you?” Bellara laughed. “I mean, really.”

“Oh, 20 grandstrides, easy,” Kendrick replied, speaking of his brief battle with an archdemon. “I’m talking crazy far. My hip got broken or popped out or something happened, but by the time I landed, it undid whatever happened to me. Mostly. Although now...” He crouched and jumped up and down a few times. “Feels back to normal now. Thanks, Tanathil.”

“And then after that is when you...” Sahni lowered her voice, looking around and cupping a cautious hand around her mouth. “...that’s when you attacked the Dark Lord?”

Kendrick nodded with a grin. “A while after that, yeah. When I got up, I wandered around for a while, and then I had to climb this big-ass tower thing with hieroglyphics in it!”

“Hie... ro... glyphics?” Sahni echoed with a tilt of her head.

“You mean the Anurath Monument!” said Bellara.

“Sure, that thing!” Kendrick replied. “I actually jumped off the balcony to take a swing as the big guy walked by.”

Bellara smirked and rolled her eyes playfully. “We know that’s going to become a major tourist destination for years to come.”

“So, where were you? How did you manage to heal Sahni after all? And what happened after I was out?”

“Tanathil had just awoken after getting healed,” Bellara explained, “but I finally had some help from the other healers to help me work on Sahni. I had to twist their arms to get their assistance.”

“Oh yeah?” Kendrick asked. “How did you convince them?”

Bellara shot him a befuddled look and arched an eyebrow. “I just said I twisted their arms. I wasn’t about to waste aura casting a spell to knock some sense into them. Once they actually agreed to help, and using the spells they’d used to resuscitate Tanathil, they were able to bring Sahni back from the brink. She was out like you, though—didn't wake up until the following day.”

“I’m grateful that you were willing to twist their arms for my sake,” Sahni laughed.

“That was about the time that Tanathil cast a seeing spell to get a closer look at Urobius. It wasn’t a moment too soon, either—he saw the exact moment of your attack and told everyone about it. Some of us didn’t believe him, especially those who hadn’t seen the light of the Psysword like he did. But finding your body... and the weapon... was enough to convince most of the doubters. There are a handful who still won’t believe. I say screw them.”

The Psysword, Kendrick thought. I went to use it—and I’m glad I didn’t have it on me. How did I forget about it until now? “You said you found the Psysword?”

Bellara nodded and sighed neutrally, reaching into the bag slung around her back. She pulled out the bladeless weapon, an orkanite hilt with a crystal embedded in the crossguard, and handed it to him.

The fall. His back breaking. The Psysword hitting the ground, bouncing, cracking—Bellara had told him once that orkanite was an especially brittle metal and not practical for use outside of aura channeling. He could still hear the weapon clanging against the rock and snapping.

The memory flooded his brain with sensory details and, for just a moment, he was back on the battlefield. He’d experienced that a lot recently—reliving moments that were particularly brutal or painful. He wasn’t sure why they kept forcing themselves upon him in that way.

Kendrick looked down at the Psysword. Its central crystal was cracked slightly down the middle, with that same crack slithering about a third of the way down the hilt. “Does it still work?” Thuuum. A moment later, his aura shot forth to form a blade just like always—except this time, it wavered and lost focus ever so slightly. It reminded him of an old lightbulb near the end of its life and flickering between bright and dim.

“It still has some of its function,” Bellara decided. “Not quite its old self, though. Thankfully, you won’t ever need to use it again, will you?” She smiled at Sahni. “In fact, one of these days, it might be time to take a road trip to the Redrune Academy and...” Her voice trailed off. She was looking at something behind Kendrick, and he turned to see a less than happy surprise this time.

It was the first jinn he’d ever killed.

“Bellara Cass? Sahni Khloremi?” said the Warden from the Redrune Academy. He, or it, was wearing the same garb Kendrick had seen all those days ago when it approached them on the road and tried to arrest them for their crimes of thievery. “And you must be the swordsman I’ve heard about. I am a Warden of the Redrune Academy, and I am—”

“Praiestu!” said Bellara, and she cast what looked like a splash of liquid white aura on the Warden. “Now, reveal your true form, you...”

The aura winnowed off the Warden and he folded his arms disapprovingly at them. “I’m not sure what you think you are doing, Miss Cass,” he sighed, “but I’m afraid it won’t work.”

“So, he’s legit then, huh?” Kendrick whispered. “Not a jinn? You guys are actually busted for real this time?”

“You guys?” Bellara muttered to him out of the corner of her mouth. “You’re the one holding the stolen artifact... If anything, we’re all about to face the Academy’s justice now.”

“That’s them,” said Olser, stepping out from behind the Warden. He pointed an accusatory finger at the trio. “Those are the three I told you about and where to find them. I trust you to do the right thing.”

Kendrick deactivated the Psysword and threw his hands up in the air in disbelief. “Wow, man, really? After everything we’ve been through?”

“You three will be coming with me,” said the Warden. “Back to the Academy. I’m afraid it cannot wait any longer. Bellara Cass, Sahni Khloremi, and...” He looked at Kendrick expectantly.

“You can’t get me in trouble if you don’t know my name. That would never hold up in court.”

“And you,” the Warden replied impatiently. “By the authority of the Redrune Academy, I am placing you three under arrest. I’ll be escorting you back to the Academy so that your crimes, and their potentially vast magecological consequences, can be discussed in great detail. And I assure you that you three will be getting exactly what you deserve.”