IN THE BLINK of an eye I’m back in my apartment on Earth. It’s unclear how the Tower transports people, or where it transports them for that matter, so it’s possible I never left Earth to begin with… but I doubt it. There’s only so much strange shit you can see before you accept you’re not in Kansas anymore.

The birdsong outside and a quick glance at the clock on my nightstand tell me it’s still morning. Time moves faster in the tower, so my harrowing adventure only cost me a few hours over here. My heart still pounds in my chest from my brush with death. I wish I could say it’s a new feeling, but it’s not uncommon to finish a mission by the skin of my teeth. Once again, I’m reminded why people choose to do this kind of thing in teams.

My apartment is the same as always, a medium-sized single bedroom with a kitchen and living room, separated by a neat little bar-island I occasionally eat breakfast on. I don’t spend too much time here, and rarely ever have guests, so it doesn’t look very lived in.

I unstrap the leather sheathe from my waist and sling it onto my bed, then strip out of the various bits of Tower Gear I’ve accrued, choosing to don a pair of jeans and a t-shirt in their place. My phone charges on the nightstand, the only message awaiting me a scam text. I pocket it after confirming the weather will stay warm and sunny. For a time, I just stand around my apartment, unsure what to do. There’s nothing interesting on TV, but then again, there never is.

I hate this feeling… this lack of purpose. What am I even doing here? A girl just died, and I teleported an unfathomable distance in what felt like less than a second, using technology so advanced as to be indistinguishable from magic. It might even be magic. I can’t even begin to comprehend how or why any of this is the way it is, and now I’m just standing here, flipping through channels on a TV I’ve never used.

Instead of caring about any of that potentially important stuff, my brain is instead insisting I dwell on things I don’t want to think about. Like dead girls I can’t save.

Ella wasn’t special. I’d barely known her ten minutes!

…So why does it feel like I let her down?

She shouldn't have been there alone. If I had to guess she was, her team either ignored or underestimated the Tower’s recommended proficiency for the mission: Resistance. Which, as we understand it, means resistance to magic. The reason why is obvious now, of course, what with the psychic worm… moon… thing. (Seriously, what the hell? That place was insane.) But without the benefit of hindsight, it can be near impossible to gauge exactly how difficult any given mission is going to be before it’s too late. Vagueness is just one of the many reasons Climbing is so dangerous, and a bigger reason not to do it alone.

Still, by saying it was her team’s fault, am I not just shifting the blame for her death onto someone else? It feels wrong. They weren’t there; I was. I could’ve done more. Should’ve done more.

What, was I supposed to hold her down and fight off those things at the same time? She’d already been brainwashed! Besides, I wasn’t in my right mind either. This is obviously her team’s fault, not mine.

The excuses ring hollow. The truth is; a girl is dead because I fucked up.

I let loose a heavy sigh. Why do I do this to myself? This isn’t making me feel better, or getting me anywhere productive, I’ve just been standing in place staring at a blank TV screen. I need a distraction. Maybe I’ll go see if there’s anything that needs doing at the Guild, rather than continue doing... whatever the hell I’m doing.

My apartment complex is quiet, as most people are probably working at this time of day. One of the shockingly few benefits to being a solo Climber is getting to set my own hours. Though, with the extended duration of my day thanks to time shenanigans, my sleep schedule is an absolute mess. I pretty much just pass out when the need arises and try to stick to something like a normal routine.

Down the elevator and out the building I go, into the morning sun. The warmth on my shoulders is a welcome relief, something I hadn’t known I needed until this very moment. I have to wait a bit for a bus to come by, so I just relax and try to forget all the bad shit in my life. It doesn’t really work, but I do try.

When it shows, I board the bus headed downtown, followed by a grim cloud of my own bullshit. It’s mostly empty, with the few people inside pointedly focusing on other things and minding their own business, with the exception of one, a girl wearing a black baseball cap siting on a bench near the front of the bus.

She stands out not only because of her appearance—pale white skin, midnight hair spilling from her cap, tight tank-top, loose cargo pants, and lace-up boots, all in varying shades of black—but also because she’s glaring at me with the most vivid blue eyes I’ve ever seen. She’s lithe, but in an athletic way that contradicts her obvious inclination to avoid the sun.

She must notice the quizzical look I send her, because she quickly turns away to stare out the window. I follow her gaze up to the Tower. It’s in the same place as always, visible from anywhere on the planet as little more than a backdrop on the horizon, almost like a two-dimensional image pasted on the sky.

I take a seat on another bench and watch as the city passes by. The scenes through the window are fairly mundane compared to the world I just came from, people simply going about their morning commutes and routines, blissfully unaware of the little tragedies occurring all around them. A sudden surge of envy rises in my chest, but it passes quickly enough. Deep down, I know I’d just be miserable in a normal life.

Though I left my sword at home, I can still feel the soft leather hilt against my fingertips, as much a part of me now as the crackling energy I sense on the edge of my perception. I can still feel the power radiating from my burning hand, waiting to be loosed on the world.

…Or maybe that’s the nerve damage.

I sigh and lean back in my seat, holding up my good hand and allowing a small arc of electricity to dance between my fingers. Letting the power flow is sweet release, but like an addiction, it begs for more. My brain craves another hit, just a little bigger than the last. But I know from experience giving an inch is the same as giving a mile. Like most things concerning the Tower, magic doesn’t fuck around.

Something shifts nearby, drawing my attention back to the girl in all black.

She stares at my hand with wide eyes. “Is that magic? Can you do more?”

I nod, and carefully turn up the juice. Lightning flashes across my fingertips before coalescing into a spear Zeus himself would be proud of. It’s not as impressive as it looks—more form than substance, really, but that’s kind of the point. I’d never try to throw a magical spear when it’s much easier and more accurate to point and let the lightning go wild. However, I find people often enjoy a little showmanship. Far be it from me to deny a girl her curiosity.

Her eyes light up for a moment, but just when I think I’ve earned myself an adoring fan, her face twists into a frown. “Seems… impractical.”

Or not. I shrug, and the spear winks out of existence, dispersing into whatever it is that comprises magic in the first place. “It’s just a trick.”

“What else can you do?”

I look around the bus and notice some of the passengers looking a little green around the gills. Oops. Adjusting back to society can be… difficult at times. In their eyes, I probably look like a madman waving around an assault rifle on public transportation. I run a hand through my hair. “Here? Nothing.”

The girl furrows her brow, barely sparing a glance for the people around us. “Who cares? It’s not like you’re hurting anyone.”

She’s not wrong, but her attitude rubs me the wrong way. Still, it’s not worth my time to get into it with a teenager on a bus. At that moment, we come to a halt to let on more passengers, and I make an executive decision.

“That’s me,” I say, making a vague motion toward the exit, before standing up and hopping off the bus. Just as the petty self-satisfaction kicks in, boots slap pavement right behind me. The girl in black stands there, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

“Will you tell me how you got magic?”

I give her a blank look. “Is this your stop?”

She crosses her arms and shoots me a defiant look in return. “Is it yours?”

She’s got me there, so I just turn and begin walking. Predictably, she follows.

“Hey, I asked you a question.”

“No,” is all I say.

“You won’t tell me? Why?”

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. “No, it’s not my stop.”

There’s vexation written on her face, but I’m not too concerned about her feelings at the moment. Sure, I’m probably being a bit more aloof than necessary, but my nerves are shot from being in the Tower, and I’ve got a long day of self-flagellation ahead of me.

The girl’s footsteps suddenly stop. “I’m going to be a Climber.”

Her words hit me like a hammer, and a heavy sense of dread settles on my chest like a stone. Gone is the girl with the midnight hair and sapphire eyes. Ella stands in her place, a twisted smile splitting her lips.

Except it’s not Ella, is it?

The thing controlling Ella’s body begins to walk her away from me, deep into an ominous forest under a sky the color of blood. I want to chase after her, but my legs refuse to move. My heart pounds in my chest, the pace only rising as panic sets in.

“No!”

Then the girl in black is there, looking at me like I’d just shouted in her face. The surprise wears off a moment later, and her features twist in anger. “Why, because I’m too young? Or is it because I’m a girl?”

“Neither,” I say, looking away. I don’t know how to explain my temporary lapse in sanity, so I try to brush it off as advice. “The Tower doesn’t care. It kills everyone equally.”

Fire burns in the girl’s eyes, a smoldering pyre just beneath sapphire waves. Her boots shift against concrete, and for a moment I think she might actually attack me. “I won’t,” she spits out.

“I’ve got business with that Tower, and I won’t be satisfied until I’ve taken my pound of fucking flesh.” She stands on her tiptoes and gets in my face, practically growling as she jabs a finger into my chest. “I’ll never die. Just sit on your ass and watch.”

With that, she turns on her heel and marches off, leaving me alone to pick my jaw up off the floor.