The waking world returned by degrees. A soft bed, and enveloping warmth. While her eyes remained closed, Erin could almost believe she was back home. It was the smell that gave her fantasy the lie. Wood smoke, straw, and a dozen other scents besides. This was not her home. She opened her eyes and was greeted by the interior of a wooden shack, illuminated poorly by the shifting light of a fire.

“Did you have a good nap?” Sigrid asked from where she sat beside her. Erin pushed herself into a sitting position, grimacing at the tightness. Her ribs no longer hurt, but a tenderness remained.

“How long was I asleep?”

“Five or six hours,” Sigrid said with a shrug. “I poured that potion of yours down your throat after I got us inside the village. Then I helped them put out the fire, not that it’ll do much good. That entire section of the wall will be useless when the qek attack.” Erin rubbed her hands over her face, trying to clear the sleep from her eyes.

“And when will that be?”

“I don’t know. Soon probably. You saw how many were coming.” Whatever elation Erin might have felt over the success of their attempt at protecting the village evaporated as she recalled the hundreds of qek she’d seen in their makeshift camps.

“There’s gotta be a way. We did it once,” Erin said, trying to swing her legs out of bed.

“Calm down,” Sigrid said, as she placed a hand on Erin’s shoulder. Her grip was as firm as her tone. “You need to rest and eat. We both do. Who knows when we’ll get another chance.”

“But the qek are coming,” Erin argued, shaking her head. “We need to-.”

“Erin, stop,” Sigrid growled. “You can throw a little fire. That doesn’t make you a hero.”

“It’s not about that.”

“It’s not? So you just charged headfirst into every crisis in your old life?”

“That was different. There were people whose job it was to handle stuff like this.”

“And now you think it’s yours?” Sigrid said with a mirthless chuckle.

“Isn’t it?”

“No,” Sigrid answered definitively, “No, it’s not. You have no idea what you’re doing.”

“I saved you.” Erin retorted, and Sigrid shook her head.

“Yeah, you did. Which is exactly why I’m sitting here trying to talk you out of getting yourself killed. Listen to me, this town is doomed, and there’s nothing either of us can do about it.”

“We could tell them.” Before Sigrid could reply, there was a gentle tapping on the door, followed by a young man stepping into the room.

“Begging your pardon ladies,” He said, in a curiously rural-sounding accent. “It’s just that your voices are raised and what you’re talkin about is making the fellows nervous.”

“I apologize,” Sigrid turned to face him, “I wasn’t trying to…” Sigrid trailed off.

“No need for that.” He waved away her apology. “We’ve dealt with the beasts before. We’ll sort it out.” Erin saw Sigrid’s jaw clench as her hands balled into fists.

“I take it your mayor doesn’t mean to follow my advice, then?”

“I can’t speak to that, miss. The old folk are still in discussion amongst themselves. I wouldn’t expect anything grand, though.” He said, casually rubbing his nose. “Folk is set in their ways around here, and we’ve chased off the beasties before.” He informed them with the genuine optimism of someone who believed every word.

Erin opened her mouth to argue, but Sigrid gripped her shoulder and she closed it again.

“We’ll discuss it with the mayor then when they finish. We apologize for the disturbance.”

The youth nodded and several seconds of silence followed, in which Erin and Sigrid watched him expectantly. Finally, it seemed to dawn on him, and he nodded again.

“Begging your pardon, ma’am,” and then he stepped out and pulled the door closed behind him. Erin buried her face in her hands, falling back against the wall.

“How likely is it they’ll choose to stay here, do you think?”

“If I’m being honest? Very. They’re a stubborn sort. I think you have to be to live here. They might send the kids away, maybe.”

“Then we have to fight,” Erin argued, but Sigrid shook her head, her expression sad.

“No, I’m sorry Erin, but there’s no reason for us to die defending people who are too stubborn to run. I warned them, and maybe they’ll listen.”

“But-”

“What did you do before this?” Sigrid cut her off, turning her gaze to Erin. “Before you died.”

“I- I was a student. I studied Computer Science.”

“I was a soldier. I died fighting a war that we were losing. It’s not bad to want to help people or do the right thing, but you need to learn to pick your battles. Trust me when I tell you this isn’t one of them.”

Erin wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t argue. This revelation about Sigrid helped some stuff make sense. After emerging from her lethargy, Sigrid had done a one-eighty, becoming both competent and proactive.

“Do you really believe it is your responsibility to save people because you can use magic?” Erin swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, and this time Sigrid didn’t stop her. A pot of stew was slowly bubbling over the small hearth.

“I think,” Erin said slowly, “that if you can help, you should.”

“And what if you can’t?”

Erin filled a bowl and took a seat in front of the flames, thinking as she watched them dance. No answer came to her, so instead she asked a question.

“How do you know if you can’t? Like, how do you really know?”

Sigrid rubbed the heel of her palm against her forehead and sighed.

“Experience mostly. If you survive long enough and you see enough of your friends die. You learn to tell when you’re in over your head.”

“And this one of those times?” Erin asked, still watching the flames.

“That doesn’t require any great experience to work out. They have an overwhelming advantage in numbers, and neither you or I have any way to answer it. Maybe if I had a few weeks, and the ground wasn’t frozen, and I could get everyone here to listen to me, but you fight with what you have and we don’t have enough.” The more Sigrid talked, the less certain Erin felt. “Focus on what you can do.”

“And what’s that?” Erin asked.

“Survive today. Get some experience and some training. Better tools and weapons. Do your best to be ready for the next time. If you die pointlessly today, you condemn everyone you might’ve helped had you lived.” Sigrid lifted her chair as she spoke, and moved it to sit down next to Erin. ”We already did everything we could for these people. We bought them time they didn’t have before, and what they do with it is up to them.”

Erin didn’t like any of it. The fact it made sense was even worse. Admitting that Sigrid was right, and they should save themselves, felt like giving in to cowardice.

“Alright, we’ll do it your way.” She agreed, her stomach turning to acid, disgusted at her own relief. She didn’t want to die, and that felt like weakness.

Sigrid leaned over and grabbed her shoulder.

“Work hard, Erin, and there will be times when you don’t have to run away.”

“Yeah, I just-” but another tapping on the door cut her off. The pair of them stood together as Sigrid moved to open it. An elderly man with a long gray beard and kind eyes stepped over the threshold. Erin was struck first by how short he seemed. She was not tall, and this sense of looming over someone was alien. Then, as the young man from earlier followed, she realized he was also shorter than her. Before she had a chance to dwell on her oddly elevated perspective, the elderly man spoke.

“We are thankful for your help, Lady Sigrid, but we have decided to remain.” Sigrid’s jaw clenched visibly at his words, but she nodded before asking.

“The children as well?”

“Yes,” he intoned with a nod, “everyone will stay. The elders have decided it’s safer within the walls than out in the forest. We have driven off the qek before.”

“You said yourself that there were more than usual.”

“Miss Sigrid, there is no sense in arguing what has been decided. If you wish to go, you may. If you follow the road south, it will take you to Dangole. From there, you can make your way to The Gap. Your city has an outpost there.”

“Her city?” Erin questioned, confused.

“Your city as well. Academy City, the Mage Capital. It’s where you sort usually come from. This whole turning up in the woods business is unheard of. They’ll train you up properly, I expect.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “You’d sort out this bunch of beasties in a wink if you’d been down that way already. I met one of them Mages once. He turned a Slausqa into solid ice like that.” A crisp snap of his fingers and a laugh.

“What’s a Slausqa?” The old man scratched his chin beneath his beard and gave Erin an appraising look.

“It’s a monster, big one. They only live in the far north like this. They’re usually a menace. Bad news when one of them turns up, but that Mage. He sorted it out.”

“Big like, you can hear them coming big?”

“Sure can,” the old man said with a nod. “Footsteps, move right through the ground.”

“I think there is one nearby, then. I avoided it a couple times when I first got here.”

“Lucky you,” the old man said, waggling a finger at her. “They ain’t afraid of you Mages like some monsters are. Too stupid, I expect.” Erin wanted to ask more, but Sigrid cut in.

“We’ll be leaving at sunrise. I hate to ask, but we would be thankful for any supplies you can spare. We have a bit of money,” but the Mayor waved her away.

“No need, no need. You did right by us, and we’ll do right by you.”

“That’s very much appreciated.”

“O’course. I’ll have something put together and brought over. You’re welcome to stay here,” he said, gesturing at the small shack. “It’ll never be said we aren’t thankful.” In another life, not so long ago, Erin wouldn’t have thought much of the gesture; the little one-room space with its dirt floor, but she was far removed from that life. It was warm, it was dry, and those were both luxuries now.

The Mayor nodded at them and turned to leave, the young man following behind. Once the door was shut, Erin leaned a little closer to Sigrid.

“Do the people here seem kinda short to you?”

“At first, yeah, but according to,” Sigrid pointed to her head, which Erin took to mean Sigrid’s Liaison. “They’re not shorter, we’re taller.”

[That is correct.]

“How could we not notice being taller?” Erin asked, looking herself over. “I remember my first growth spurt. It was awful. I was tripping all over myself for most of a year.”

“I had a similar thought,” Sigrid agreed, “but it’s obvious a lot more than our height has changed once you have someone to compare with.” She returned to her chair, and Erin followed suit, her curiosity piqued.

“You mean because we’re ‘Tier 2 Souls’ or whatever?”

“That’s my understanding so far, yes. I’m not sure of the details. Like what actually happened to our souls that changed our bodies.”

“They’re not our bodies,” Erin said slowly, her memory jogged by the conversation. She held her hand up to look it over. “We left our old bodies behind when we died, and our soul built a new one. Apparently, with some upgrades.”

“What’s the point, I wonder?” Sigrid mused, looking into the fire.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are we reborn like this? If we’re Tier 2, are there Tier 3s?”

[There are.]

Lisa chimed in unexpectedly.

[You met one before you came to Jetriser.]

“Thetra,” Erin said after a moment of racking her brain. The period immediately after her death had been surreal to the point of madness, and none of her recollections from around that time were clear.

“What?” Sigrid asked, her eyebrow raised.

“When I died. I met a woman named Thetra. According to Lisa, she was a Tier 3.”

“Lisa?” Sigrid asked. Erin mimicked Sigrid’s earlier gesture, pointing at her own head to indicate the Liason.

“You named it?”

“Her, and sure. Why not? It was a long couple of days before I met you, and I probably wouldn’t have survived that long without her.”

“Wish mine had ever been so useful,” Sigrid said with a shake of her head. “So they exist. Tier 3s. Then what’s the point of it all?” Erin shrugged, spooning some of the soup into her mouth. She figured Sigrid was trying to draw her mind away from the gnawing sense of guilt. Even if Sigrid’s arguments made perfect sense, it wasn’t helping her conscience much. Something of what she was feeling must’ve shown on her face, because Sigrid sighed.

“Listen, Erin, I know-”

“It’s okay,” Erin cut her off, staring into the fire rather than meeting Sigrid’s eye. “I mean, it’s really not, but I don’t think there’s anything you can say to change that.”

“I’m not good at pep talks, anyway,” Sigrid said, her own gaze turning toward the fire. “That was my husband’s thing. He always knew what to say to smooth out my thoughts.” Erin wasn’t sure what to say or if she should say anything. Apart from a brief mention of Sigrid’s children when they first met, neither had discussed the people they’d left behind.

She missed her parents and little brother fiercely, but it was all too fresh. Thinking about them was painful beyond anything, and so she shied away from it.

“I had it too easy.” She said eventually, pulling them both out of their reveries.

“How so?” Sigrid asked

“My old life, it didn’t prepare me for this.”

“I don’t know if someone can be prepared for magic and monsters, regardless of what their life was like.”

“You seem to do okay,” Erin pointed out and Sigrid shook her head.

“I’m as lost as you are, just a little more used to being in danger.” Erin didn’t fully agree, but she didn’t argue either. Who wouldn’t feel lost? They fell into silence again, which lasted until there came another tap on the door. A villager delivering a bundle of supplies. Food, blankets, and other odds and ends.

“Thank you,” Erin said, giving the woman a smile, which was shyly returned before she bowed and hurried away.

“They seem kind of skittish,” Erin commented, and Sigrid nodded. “They’re Tier 1 right? What are they even doing here?”

[These are souls that did not achieve sufficient growth in their first life to ascend to Tier 2, and have been reborn in a higher tier world to help them achieve that growth.]

What does that mean? What sort of growth?

[I don’t know. The System has not seen fit to give me that information.]

So the mystery of our place in the universe will remain a mystery. Got it.

Erin scoffed, and Sigrid shot her a confused look.

“Just the voice in my head refusing to share the meaning of life and death.” Sigrid looked nonplussed and Erin shrugged and finished her soup rather than trying to explain. “I guess if we’re going to leave, sooner is better than later.”