After he had calmed down, which had involved a great deal of hyperventilating, Zach was finally able to sleep once again, the rest of the party talking softly as he faded off. Egan had turned out to be a pretty chill dude, keeping him company when Pevarin left to bring Selara back in when darkness had fully fallen, at least according to them. He couldn’t tell himself as they were quite deep within the cave, and the light from outside didn’t penetrate nearly far enough for easy telling. Selara did not even give him so much as a second glance when she returned, acting as if he wasn’t even there. He found that more than a little rude, and annoying, but he was more irritated with himself for being annoyed with her. It wasn’t like he was simping for her or anything.

Pevarin did most of the work in calming him and had been accommodating overall, but there was this strange air of detachment throughout every interaction that he had begun to pick up. Perhaps it was simply because he was an elf, but something had bothered him about the argument that had occurred earlier. What had he failed at, and why was he scared of trying again? He couldn’t figure it out, and he was too overwhelmed to try deciphering it anyways. It was rare for him to dream, or rather it was rare for him to remember his dreams, but that night one did come to him.

A long path stood ahead, cobbled and enveloped in darkness. No, darkness did not quite describe the depths of black that enclosed the road ahead. Around him was the void, and to leave the path meant falling into that abyss, and he knew that would mean his doom. He traveled along it for a time, faces flashing in the void around him. They spoke to him, or he assumed they did, but their words were unintelligible, too scattered to discern. The more he walked, the more familiar the faces became. The party he had just met, then his friends online, friends he had forgotten, crushes he had given up on, then his family. Then other faces, faces that pulled and tugged at his memory though he knew them not. Two children, a boy and girl, and a woman. Suddenly, the path ahead simply ended, and he pulled short, almost falling into the void. He peered over the edge, and what he saw made his stomach drop. All of them, dead, spread in a circle around a figure wreathed in shadow. He stood paralyzed, unable to process what he saw. The shadow began to move its head, turning his gaze upward.

And then he woke.

He sat up quickly, immediately regretting the action, his body still aching. He knew that movies tended to represent action poorly, but he had assumed that perhaps he would have some sort of increased fortitude in this world, but that did not seem to be the case. He still felt like shit, and he was doubtful that it would change anytime soon. Shouldn’t someone know healing magic? Looking around, the cave was mostly empty, with only a few crates remaining. He stood, although it took a few attempts, his legs wobbling threateningly as he walked towards the entrance of the cave. As he rounded a corner, he could see the first signs of light, and he had to squint his eyes as he stepped out into the afternoon sun, his breath stolen away by the sight before him.

He could see a great expanse of land before him, a town or village below, rivers connecting to lakes and mountains beyond even that, mists and clouds swirling amidst the peaks. To the left of the town down a highway woven through a small woods stood a castle, but it was not particularly impressive. He supposed the local lord owned it, and likely managed the town below.

“Not much, I know,” said a voice to his right, and he jumped in shock, Egan leaned against a tree nearby, gazing down proudly at the town, “but we’ve kept it clean of those louts. They don’t dare step foot in Riverton while we’re around,” He turned to Zach, the worry plain on his face, “I hope they don’t trouble it none when we leave.”

“Leave?” he said, not particularly surprised. It was obvious as soon as he awoke.

Egan didn’t answer him, but turned and began walking down the hillside, motioning with his hand for him to follow. It was difficult going, what with his crippling injury and Egan skipping down the wooded hills like a mountain goat, but he made it, Egan heckling him all the while. He never realized it was so taxing to go down a hill. He always assumed gravity would take care of most of the work.

“They got hills where you come from Outlander?”

“Stop calling me that,” he snapped, “My name is Zach.”

Egan nodded in affirmation, Right, milord Zachary, whateva you say milord.”

“So,” he said, raggedly drawing breath in between speaking, “Riverton? You from there, or...I don’t know, what’s the place to you?”

“Naw,” he said, kicking at a branch as they walked, “we were just needed here is all. Folk don’t have much in the way of protection these days. Someone’s got to do it.”

“Protection? From what? Monsters?” he asked, thinking back to the Shadowstalker.

“Not the kind you’re thinking of. Well,” he said, pausing thoughtfully, “not always, at least. Usually just the Goldskins. They’re always makin’ a nuisance of themselves. Here, Irongate, Edgemire, Bharinia—everywhere, they’re the same.”

The names meant nothing to him, but he tried to store them away. He was sure it would be important later. “Goldskins?” he asked, nearly tripping over a rock, cursing under his breath, “Who are they?”

Egan paused for a moment thoughtfully, tapping his cheek with his index finger, “The soldiers of the United Empire. You’ll get proper acquainted with ‘em if you stick around here long enough, I reckon.”

He thought of pursuing it further, but it didn’t matter at the moment. It was like choosing the optional lore button—he really didn’t need to know at the moment to get the main quest done. It didn’t take much longer to reach the town, although by the end he felt like death, Egan took out a skin of water and handed it to him after taking a pull himself.

“You had that the whole time?” he said, drinking from it gratefully, some of it dribbling down his chin, and he wiped it with the cuff of his sweater.

“You seemed fine.”

He would have argued, but he settled for a withering stare as Egan tucked it back away into whatever crevice he had stored it in. The town was full of life, with children running through the streets and people talking with hawkers and owners of stalls. Some gave him strange looks before averting their eyes, while others continued to stare, and he could feel his face burning under their scrutiny.

Egan leaned over to him, saying, “Just relax. You’re a stranger, and dressed very...differently.”

Zach had figured as much, but he noticed that Egan scowled, eyes scanning the crowd. But for what?

“So what are we doing here?” he asked, shaking his head at someone trying to sell him food.

“Gotta talk with some folks before we go. Here we are,” he said as they approached a tavern, townsfolk loitering in front, some waving at Egan as they neared. The boy greeted some of them with nods and quick words of acknowledgment, then led Zach inside. He had expected it to be rowdy and full of life, but it was rather subdued inside. There were a few patrons scattered around, mostly older men talking quietly amongst each other, and then Egan tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to a table in the corner. Pevarin and Selara were there, sitting with a portly man who was well-dressed and a man in full chain-mail, his helmet on the floor below. Pevarin saw them, waving them over while Selara merely flicked her eyes at them. There were chairs already nearby, and they took their seats, the others continuing to speak as they did.

“...faring poorly. We’re not sure if they’ll hold out much longer.”

Pevarin nodded grimly, but Selara half-stood, gripping the edge of the table, her hair bouncing as she did so, “We cannot stay any longer. You’ll have to figure it out yourself.”

The portly man sighed patiently as if he was dealing with a petulant toddler, “And I’ve told you, we cannot ensure your safe egress without dealing with this issue first. The Empire is not in the business of employing fools and half-wits—slipping past them will require resources we currently do not have.”

“Who said anything about slipping past them?” said Selara darkly.

“Please,” said Pevarin, exasperated, “we can hardly afford to draw attention to ourselves that way.”

“We need to reunite with the rest of the Final Breath. We can take the fight to Lucinder now, but we need to get him,” she said, pointing at Zach without looking at him, “to something resembling competent with all possible haste.”

“And you won’t make it if you draw the full ire of the Goldskins,” said the soldier. He turned his attention to Zach, eyeing him up and down. “Besides, I’m not sure if he’s the one you’re looking for.”

“Not much, I know, but we found him at a Gateway. That hasn’t happened since...” she faltered, glancing towards Pevarin, whose face remained impassive. “I’m confident he’s the one.”

“What am I, exactly?” he asked, and everyone turned to him in surprise. They spoke as if he wasn’t literally sitting at the table with them, as if he did not have any say in what was going on, as if he was simply to go along with whatever they said and be a good little boy. Well, he would make sure that changed. Selara gave him a small smile, and he felt a warm bolt of thrill shoot through him. And that annoyed him, again, but he pushed the feeling away.

“The Hero of Peratha,” said Egan next to him. He said it casually, confidently, as if it had already been decided.

“And what the hell is Peratha, exactly? Where is Peratha?”

The portly man looked between them all, confused, “The boy doesn’t even know where he is, and you want to fight Lucinder with him?” he laughed harshly, “I wish you luck with that.”

“Peratha is an old name for the United Empire,” said Pevarin patiently, “We’re all in ‘Peratha’ right now, and you’d have to go a great distance to escape its boundaries.”

“And I’m the Hero?” Zach asked. “I’m guessing that means there’s a prophecy, right?” It sure sounded as if there was one. Typical chosen one story. He likely had untapped powers after all and was probably overpowered. He should never have been worried in the first place.

“There is,” said Pevarin hesitantly, “it speaks of one who appears from a different world to save ours from the grip of a tyrant. You are the first one to appear in a century.”

“Is that all? How am I supposed to do that? Is there a lost artifact that will grant me power or something?”

He shook his head, “The prophecy only says that you shall be our salvation. How you accomplish that is up to you.”

That wasn’t particularly helpful. He had nothing, not even a sword, and he was wearing terrible gear, essentially. Right now, he needed better gear, then he would need to grind levels. Doing things that way would allow him to unlock better skills, and once he had sufficient abilities he could travel to a higher-level zone. It was simple when he thought of it like that. The main quest, saving Peratha, was out of his reach for the moment.

That meant it was time to take on some side quests.