Every hunter reacted differently. Kesa and Ben’s spirits eased when they heard Borba had left the village. They brightened a little when I relayed Inleio’s farewell. Mumu and Haol, on the other hand, were wound up tight and their skins sizzled with the desire for revenge. That was what it seemed like, anyway.

Their feelings were understandable—Inleio had been a fatherly figure to more than just me. For a long time, he’d been an important part of the lives of everyone in the lodge. Hell, everyone in the village. He’d done so much to protect the people of Voorhei.

Inleio was a complicated man, a person deeply rooted in the Way of the Hunter. In no way was he perfect or always right, but it seemed to me that he’d done more good than harm during his life.

He'd certainly been instrumental in making me a hunter. I had hunted in my previous life, sure, and it’d been a part of my identity then, but in the half year since I woke up in this world, it’d had become central to who I was.

He’d trained me in Spear and Knife Arts, gave me access to magic, and taught me about the forest’s creatures. Even after he’d retired as lodge master, he’d continued to visit to share stories and oversee my training. He was so stubbornly determined to make sure the hunter’s path was burned into me—into my muscles and nerves and brain.

Inleio knocked me down to keep me from thinking my teeth were strong enough to chew rocks, and then he picked me up again, showing me the proper way to stab a bear in the throat or how to steal eagle’s eggs from a nest.

I would’ve been a different man if I’d never met him—much poorer in skill and understanding.

Looking at the grisly scene around me, I took comfort in knowing that the dead weren’t truly dead. While Inleio’s family had moved on, he was still around, at least until this business with Borba was resolved. Then he’d be able to move on too, and that’d be good. It’d be doing him a disservice to let him linger as a ghost.

While I reflected on Inleio’s impact on my life, Mumu and Kesa quietly argued over the lodge’s next steps. Mumu wanted to immediately chase after Borba, while the trail was still warm, but Kesa cautioned that an empowered Borba wasn’t to be taken lightly. He wasn’t some dumb creature easily tricked; Borba intimately knew the lodge’s strategies, and he could easily turn that knowledge against us.

In Kesa’s estimation, hunting Borba would require at least two full teams, with neither of them rushing in the dark like lost, angry children. Those were her words exactly.

She didn’t pull her punches, our Kesa. But then that was probably what was required to get through to Mumu. Not that it helped—the lodge master looked undaunted.

Something was needed to shift the balance in Kesa’s favor, so I quietly said, “We should let the Koda and Dwilla know what happened here. Also, they can tell the militia to stop searching the village. It’s a waste of their time.”

The words startled Mumu; they were a reminder she was responsible for more than just the Hunter’s Lodge. Like Inleio before her, she was now an integral part of the whole of Voorhei.

Mumu turned to me, the faint scent of feeling betrayed emanating from her. She’d sensed that I’d taken Kesa’s side, but I only nodded in response. Her responsibilities were heavy, and they needed to be borne with diligence. That was what Inleio would’ve wanted. And besides, a proper revenge was best prepared with forethought and planning, so that it could be savored. I planned to explain that to her later, once we all had a chance to recover from the night’s traumas.

###

Thankfully, Mumu and Kesa set aside their disagreement to work together to outline what we’d discovered without revealing my ability to talk to ghosts. It helped immensely that I already had a reputation for working with the dead; finding Bindeise’s treasure paid off in more ways than one.

Koda and Dwilla didn’t handle the news of the additional deaths well, nor did any of the villagers shamelessly attempting to eavesdrop. Even as the alarm bell finally sounded the all clear, I heard the news being passed around in quiet mutters.

Somehow, it had even beat me home. After a couple of hours with the village’s leadership reporting-explaining-misdirecting, Wahashtei greeted me in front of his longhouse with a couple of questions. “It’s true, then? Inneioleia is dead?”

Bihei shoved him aside before I could answer. “Are you all right, Eight?”

“The answer is yes to both questions,” I replied. My kids were behind her, still holding onto Meliune’s Blessing, so I also added: “It’s safe for now. Borba was responsible for the deaths, and he’s fled the village.”

The goddess’s blessing fell away from Billisha and Aluali, but they didn’t rush to hug me like usual. There were too many prying eyes—not just Wahashtei and his family, but all the neighbors. They started congregating in our direction.

“That’s all the news I have. We’ll have to wait for a full investigation by the Hunter’s Lodge for more. Until then, I’m exhausted, and will be taking my family home.” I bowed to Wahashtei. He could be a cranky old bastard, but he took in my family without question. “Thank you for watching over them.”

He waved me off. “We are neighbors. It’s what we do. But are you sure it’s safe? Borba—”

“It’s been confirmed,” I said, gesturing to my eyes. “He’s gone. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

I waved to Bihei and the kids to come forward, and they slipped past Wahashtei’s family, offering their thanks as they went. Then, we all trooped home, and shut the door on our neighbors already starting to gossip.

Billisha and Aluali gripped my arms, and Bihei came in for a hug. “Are you really okay?” she asked.

“It’s been a hard night,” I said, finally letting some of the detachment from earlier go. My voice felt rough, and I could feel the sadness welling up. Tears leaked from my eyes, and my family held onto me even tighter.

###

That night, I dreamt of Inleio. Yuki had asked for permission to take control, and when I gave it, they arranged a recollection of various moments of our times together: the day I first met him, and he tested my skills; my initiation into the lodge, when he first called me his hunt brother; all the times we’d trained in the early mornings; the cups of tea while he patiently answered my questions; the beauty and perfection of his skill with the spear; the look in his eyes as he stared down the King of the Forest; and so many more.

We sat together to the side as the memories played out, almost like watching a play in a theater. I was me, and Yuki sat on my shoulder, taking the shape of a pink fairy.

When I heard them sniffle, it occurred to me that this was Yuki’s first time—they’d obviously experienced Helen’s death through me, but Inleio was the first person to die who Yuki loved directly.

“We don’t like it,” they said.

“Death sucks pretty hard, doesn’t it?”

“Mmm,” they said, nodding.

“Knowing it’s not the end helps, but at the same time it doesn’t. The person we love isn’t suffering anymore—whatever pain they felt is finally gone—but they’re also not around anymore. That’s easy to forget too, so you turn around to say something stupid and funny, but there’s no one there to laugh. The person you love is gone, and you find yourself missing them. Utterly, achingly, completely.”

I felt Yuki’s thoughts turning and turning, but all they said was, “Mmm.”

The rest of the night was lost in memory.

###

The sun was halfway to noon before I got out of bed the next day. Bihei and the kids hadn’t done much better. From the state of preparations for breakfast, they’d woken up not more than half an hour before me. The meal itself was quiet, interrupted by the occasional question from my family. I didn’t have solid answers, though, since a lot depended on the lodge’s next steps.

Stepping outside, I saw that we weren’t the only slow risers. Others were also just leaving their longhouses, and I saw more than a few yawning. The whole village felt slow and sluggish. A few started to look my way, but I slipped into the land and cast the Camouflage spell for good measure before they could come over. I’d lose the whole day if I let them pester me with their questions.

The rest of the walk to the Hunter’s Lodge would’ve been pleasant if not for the pall over both the village and me. It was, after all, a crisp fall morning, and there was a beautiful breeze, bringing with it the scent of approaching rain.

I let the spell lapse when I arrived at the lodge. A number of hunters sat in a circle, and from the smell of things they’d been dipping early into the corn liquor. Dura, Tobin, and Susu’s teams were all represented—all quite capable but perhaps not the lodge’s top tier. That honor was reserved for Mumu, Kesa, and the late Peng’s teams.

The hunters looked glum, with none of the laughter and hijinks I was used to. I had other plans for the morning, but pulled up a seat instead and exchanged greetings. Then, I hardened my heart, so that I could use what’d happened the previous night as a teaching moment.

“I blame the darklight,” I said. “It’s what turned Borba into a monster.”

Several of the hunters nodded at that, but one said, “Without it, though, we would’ve lost the fight against the King of the Forest. None of us can deny that.”

“True,” I said, “but darklight is a sword with two edges, one that cuts friend and foe alike.”

“That’s a good expression.” The hunter speaking raised his cup to toast me. “I like it.”

Another sighed. “That dolbec Moon didn’t seem to have a problem with darklight. He couldn’t speak, sure, but he was no ravening beast.”

I felt myself frowning in thought. “He once told me that the dolbecs who take darklight train for it all their lives. They’re not forced to become mules like Borba was.”

“So, you’re blaming our Inleio, then? Is that what I’m hearing, Eight?” The eyes around me turned angry.

“No, of course not. Voorhei couldn’t have asked for a better lodge master, but you know how the hunt goes—sometimes you have to make the best of a bad situation. That’s what it was like with the King and Ghitha, a bad situation, and Inneioleia made the best of it.” I turned from person to person to make sure I looked every hunter square on. “But you also can’t say we aren’t living with the aftermath. We’re paying the toll for the kalihchi fight, just delayed.”

“And a bloody toll it is.”

“It’s a lesson to us for the future,” I said. “We need to be careful of darklight, or at least of forcing it on others. It’ll twist in our hands like a bad knife, and we’ll only end up hurting ourselves and our loved ones. Don’t you agree?

“Enough with your questions, Little Pot,” a hunter said. “We’re grieving and don’t need to hear this heavy talk.”

“But—”

“Please.” The word was spoken with such heartbreak.

“All right, I understand. I'll be in the meditation room. Will someone come get me when Mumu and Kesa arrive? I need to talk to them.”

There were several nods in response, so I took my leave.

###

After getting comfortable on one of the colorful round cushions, I brought up my full Status. I’d made a habit of checking it every other week as a way to keep track of my progress. Normally I did it at the Glen, though, so no one could comment on me staring glassy-eyed into space. Gods forbid I picked up another nickname as a result. Anyway, it was time for a checkup, and I was supposed to be at the Glen to do it, but events—

Enough woolgathering, Ollie. Focus. I rubbed my face, and focused on the information in front of me.

Eight (Hidden, Oliver Michael Sandoval)

Path of the Young Forrester 4 Age: 8 Silverlight: 3,599 of 6,750

Soul Marks

God Touched Spontaneous Formation Memories of Another World Mana Door Way of the Hunter

Primary Attributes

Strength: 9/10 Constitution: 10/10 Agility: 10/10 Intelligence: 15/15 Wisdom: 15/15 Spirit: 15/16 Charm: 11/11 Luck: 13/13

Free Attributes 0

Secondary Attributes

Body Power: 15/16 Qi: 50/52 Mana: 24/25

Talents

Jack of All Trades Talent Scout Qi Sensitive Multilingual Enduring Spirit Hunter Lightning Affinity

Blessings

Aluali Eightsson (Human) Billisha Eightsdaughter (Human) Diriktot (Fallen God, Order) Helen Miriam Sandoval (Spirit) Ikfael (Spirit)

Curses

Ghitha Woldecsbrother

Conditions

Occupied (Evolving*)

Skills

Artisan

Appraisal: 5 Construction: 8 Woodworking: 8

Domestic

Cleaning: 4 Cooking: 6 Repairs: 6

Magical

Aeromancy: 5 Geomancy: 5 Hydromancy: 6 Nature Magic: 5 Qi Body 11 Qi Body Arts: 8 Spirit Magic: 4

Martial

Archery: 10 Knife Arts: 5 Logistics: 11 Marksmanship: 8 Poison Arts: 4 Spear Arts: 8 Strategy: 5

Mercantile

Accounting: 12 Administration: 12 Barter: 6

Scholarship

Biology: 5 Chemistry: 4 Diaksh: 9 English: 13 Nonverbal Communication: 7 Numeracy: 8 Physics: 4 Signed Diaksh: 9 Spanish: 8

Social

Gaming: 12 Relationships: 9 Storytelling: 10

Spiritualism

Meditation: 9 Spirit Arts: 9 Taoism: 8

Survival

Caves: 3 Forest: 10 Ocean: 3 Stealth: 10

I took a moment to appreciate the changes I’d made to the display. There were slashes now to indicate the direction of both my primary and secondary attributes. Also, I could see the amount of silverlight required for Level 5.

Hmm... did I go overboard with the bullet points? Maybe I should switch back to the chart? No, I don’t think so—I like the way the bullets chunk the data. For now, at least.

I definitely enjoyed seeing the numbers go up. I had hit 10 Agility at the end of summer, but unfortunately the milestone hadn’t been accompanied by any new talents. Two more opportunities were coming up though: the first would be when my Strength increased to 10 and the second was when I reached Level 5.

I was most hopeful for the bump to Level 5. That was when a person supposedly started the process of becoming more than human, and the milestone almost guaranteed at least one new talent, sometimes more.

There were increases across all my fighting skills, including the magical ones. I was especially proud of the Qi Body skill hitting 11. It was my first new skill breaking past the rank 10 boundary, and it’d been a pain in the ass, requiring more than a season’s worth of constant tempering of my meridians until they could handle the lightning-aspected qi flowing through them.

The feeling was of preparing the ground, and I still felt a charge every time I meditated from the way the qi shot through my system. It was so fast and delicious, plus I could switch almost instantly between spells. Most importantly, now that we didn’t have to actively slow down the qi, my recovery rates doubled.

On its own, without help from Yuki or me, my qi recovered at a rate of two points every hour. With me meditating or Yuki helping, that number rose to four, and if both of us pushed, then it was eight. That equated to two qi spells every hour, and because my mana tagged along, I also picked up two mana spells. Recovering four spells an hour was ridiculous, or so the hunters on my team said.

The only downer was that my Lightning Affinity talent hadn’t evolved once the ground had been prepared. I’d suspected-hoped-dreamed it might, but the path to Lightning-Touched was likely longer and windier than I’d like. Ah well, a boy could dream, even if he was an old man at heart.

As for new skills, there was... Cleaning, which while underwhelming was an unavoidable part of life—in this one and my previous. Speaking of previous lives, the tooltip for one of my soul marks had also finally been decoded:

Memories of Another World

A life fully lived is a gift to the world. This soul mark begins the intricate process of weaving a robust amount of extradimensional data into the World Spirit. To ensure the fairness of the exchange, a significant bonus is provided to the creation and maintenance of skill channels.

Needless to say, I found the tooltip fascinating. It clearly confirmed what I’d learned from Sheedi, Inleio, and the others about skills, namely that information traveled both up and down. As you practice a skill, its channel broadens, and the harder you work at it, the more pressure is generated to push ideas and innovations up to the World Spirit. At the same time, that pressure also pulls information down; the process was a kind of double pump.

That was how I was able to learn from the Skill-Sensei when I had first arrived in this world. And while their early instructions were simple—holding the spear, for example—at higher ranks, the information was... well, still not clear. But it felt more familiar, like I had a whole bunch of subconscious background knowledge just out of reach. The result was that I felt a lot more comfortable with the spear than a season’s worth of training would normally provide.

While I would’ve loved to credit that familiarity to the hard work I’d been putting in, I knew—like Taoism skill knew—that something more was involved. The World Spirit was a web to which everyone and everything was connected, and my hard work had contributed to it, just as it had contributed to me.

And it was all reflected in the numbers displayed on the phone in my head.

It occurred to me that Inleio lived in these numbers. What he knew, what he loved, and what he strove for—those things were all shared with the World Spirit. They, in turn, then belonged to everyone who had hunters’ skills. Who knew, right at that moment, someone on the other side of the world could be learning something from Inleio. Indirectly, sure, but it was possible.

More than that, Inleio’s training was reflected in my skills. When I looked closely at their foundations, I found memories of him running through them—they were part of me, woven into who I was as a hunter.

Heart aching, and smiling in spite of it, I thought, The people we love go away, but not completely. Something of them always stays behind.

###

A clap outside the door roused me. “It is Ahlrein, come to tell you that Mumu and Kesa are here.”

“Thank you,” I said, then wiped the stray tears away and gave my cheeks a couple of slaps. Right, time to get some work done.