Caleb dragged himself out of the water, forcing himself to crawl beyond the high-tide mark before collapsing. He lay face down in the sand for a minute, breathing hard. Water dripped off his body, but he didn’t shiver. His thoughts came slowly at first as he tried to piece things together.

Did I just…was I dead just a minute ago? And did the swirly lady and Mister Poseidon-without-a-trident resurrect me?

He did his best to rationalize it.

I must’ve been hallucinating. Maybe I fell off the boat and drifted ashore?

Gingerly, he brought his hand to touch his chest. Then the top of his head. The wounds were gone.

Not to mention that the water and the sand are warm. I should be freezing right now. Where on earth did I end up?

Caleb turned over and sat up. He looked down and realized that he was naked. Then he looked up at the purpling sky and let out a gasp.

The stars were unfamiliar. The band marking the Milky Way was a giant, Dreamsicle-colored swirl. And then there was the moon.

Specifically, there were three of them.

Luminescent white, garish pink, and robin’s egg blue. Each was full, about half the size of the single moon he was used to seeing – and spread in a wide arc just above the horizon.

“Yeah, I’m a long way from Kansas,” he said, in a voice barely louder than the rippling surf. “So it was real, all of it. Been a long, long time since I went to Sunday school, but I don’t remember reading about any deities called Lir or Danu.”

Even as the words came out of his mouth, he felt a strange shiver run through his body.

Wait, what exactly do I remember?

When he cast his mind back to his childhood, it was like pushing through a wall of fog. His parents were blurs of shapes and raw sound. The smell of popcorn, a smeary wall of color that was his first experience at a movie theater.

School barely registered as a blip of memory. Maybe a few more blips of someplace he’d worked. The sharp cracks of firearms. The intoxicating aroma of gunpowder.

The sharp tang of salt and the briny smell of the ocean came to him. The hard, white planes of his first sailboat, the prickle of rain on his back as he took her out to sea.

The warmth of a woman in his arms.

The warmth turned to fire as he smelled the smoke that filled the cabin. Gunshots. The sting of cold water as he dove overboard. The piercing pain of the bullet that went right through him–

Caleb gasped. He knew his name, that he’d had a life once. A rich, full life, maybe.

But the rest had been taken from him.

A thrum of panic ran through him as he got up. Who am I? What am I?

He stumbled over to where a cluster of rocks held a small tidepool. A not-insignificant part of him breathed a sigh of relief that he still looked human.

Skin tanned deep both by sun and rays reflected off the water. Short hair and shorter beard in matching shades of burnt butterscotch.

Dark eyes that could be cruel.

Caleb was no bodybuilder. But he had a muscular, wiry frame he’d gotten through honest labor instead of at the gym. He dimly remembered getting a scar from an accident of some kind over his temple. Yet a quick check showed nothing but smooth skin.

Something made him squint into the tidepool again.

A faint glow reflected in the water startled him. He took a step back and saw a dimly lit rectangle to his left. To him, it resembled a semi-transparent monitor screen floating in midair.

It grew brighter as he squinted at it. He reached out to touch the object, but his finger passed through it without so much as a ripple. A little more concentration, and words appeared inside the window. The cursive script flowed as if it had been handwritten with a quill pen.

Welcome to Avalon, Soul Traveler. You have been given the gift of renewed existence, praise be to Lir and Danu. This is a highly limited gift, so do not use it up without cause. You are one of the few in this world gifted with Outward and Inward Sight. It is up to you to decide how to use this gift, for good or ill.

Peace be with you.

Below and to the left of the text, he made out a set of three multicolored pegs. A trio of horizontal bars in green, blue, and yellow sat next to the pegs. The bars in turn were followed by a separate window containing two pairs of words.

LOOK OUTWARD LOOK INWARD

“This place is a trip-and-a-half,” Caleb murmured. “Whoever these gods are, they must like my world’s games. I just wish I could remember a tenth of what I’ve played.”

He touched Look Outward. Caleb expected to be shown a map of the world, but instead the screen expanded with a ripple and displayed a new set of words.

No Subject. Switch to Automatic Sight? YES / NO

A touch of the word Yes didn’t reward him with anything. Instead, the words faded away like an afterthought, to be replaced with the original set of symbols and the words Look Inward.

He touched the words and was rewarded with several more lines of text.

Name: Caleb Ledger Level: Three Class: TBD / Wizard Base Alignment: TBD Individual-Specific Specialty: XP Edge (20) Wizardly Sub-Specialties: Weathermancy, Craft with Iron Existing Buff / Debuffs: Abilities Reduced 10% by exposure, hunger Potential Buff / Debuffs: TBD

Caleb puzzled over some of the information for a moment. It was only a moment, because the breeze carried the intoxicating smell of cooked food. Something freshly baked that made his mouth water. He blinked, and the words wavered into near-transparency.

The bit that stuck in his mind had been shaded in light red: Abilities Reduced by 10% by exposure, hunger.

“You’re not kidding,” he said. “And I’d better damn well do something about that.”

The scent came from inland. Off the beach and in the rough direction of the town he’d spotted when swimming ashore. He’d only taken a step, when several more lines of text winked into existence.

Novice-Level Quest: Find food and drink before Abilities are further reduced by hunger. Novice-Level Quest: Find clothing before Abilities are further reduced by exposure. Beginner's-Level Quest: Attempt to blend in with the local Avalonian society. Quest difficulty increased 50% due to lack of clothing.

Lir and Danu’s Helpful Hints:

Blending in usually requires not attracting attention. Consider acquiring clothing before asking for food or drink. Naked people’s requests are not taken as seriously. Confrontation and violence usually result in death. We recommend that you avoid dying.

“We recommend you avoid dying.” Caleb chuckled dryly. He waved a hand, and the text dissipated into thin air. “Great advice. Sure as hell won’t argue that point.”

Caleb headed up the gravelly slope. The rough, irregular surface against the soles of his feet made him wince. The gravel gave way to a knot of tangled shrubs, followed by the lines of a freshly plowed field.

The far end of the field sloped up to where clothing hung on a set of lines. Beyond the lines sat a chest-high ramshackle stone wall and a cottage built from leftover pieces of timber. The glow of a lantern shone from inside an open window.

He made his way over to the edge of the field, keeping to the undergrowth as much as possible. The thorns on the bushes scraped his legs and private parts. He cursed under his breath but finally reached the first of the lines. The hanging clothes helped shield him from anyone who might be looking out from the house.

A quick search of the line turned up a slightly damp pair of trousers. Keeping one eye on the house, he tugged them off the line and slipped them on. They were exceedingly thin but felt rough, like worn sail canvas.

He located a single pocket sewn into the right hand side. Overall, the trousers fit well enough around his midsection that they wouldn’t slip off. The length of the legs was a different matter. They hung short, between his knees and ankles.

On the next line he found a similarly damp-but-wearable tunic. Again, it slipped over his neck and onto his body easily enough. But the bottom hung above his waist.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” he muttered, right before the breeze carried the scent of food towards him again.

He spotted something sitting on the open windowsill. A freshly baked pie, tendrils of steam still curling up from the crust. His mouth watered and he took step towards the house, but then hesitated.

He already didn’t like stealing clothes, but he was already planning to swipe someone’s dinner. Yet the idea of begging repulsed him. And he didn’t think a tale of woe would work when he’d already taken clothes off a person’s line.

But what choice did he have?

Suddenly he heard the bark of a dog, followed by a low growl. The door banged open, and he heard the tread of boots down wooden steps.

“What’s that you smell, Ripper?” came a man’s voice. “You go tear ‘em up now!”