(Nathan)

  He stared at the tablet in his hand and sighed. Outside the hall or hospital, it would be little more than a writing pad. The tech mesh in the buildings was the only way to access the League work. On house calls, for those too sick or stubborn to e in, the ck of instant access to the universe of knowledge left him feeling like half the physi he could be.

  Nathan walked by Sabath’s desk and handed iablet.

  “So, no rounds today?” Sabath joked, barely looking up from the puzzle glowing on his device.

  “No,” Nathan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “My refugee isn’t even in the hospital or the hall.”

  “Oh?” Sabath’s tongue peeked out from the side of his mouth, a sure sign the puzzle had his full attention. “Where’s he at then?”

  “Merts’ Circle,” Nathan muttered as he signed himself out of the on-call list. With a sigh, he dug into his pocket and pced the summoning stone on the ter, its absenehow adding to his sense of inadequacy.

  Sabath looked up, taking the smooth stoh a raised brow. “What in the world is he doing out there?” he asked, then promptly returo his puzzle, the s refleg in his focused eyes.

  “Not sure, but I should go find out.” Nathan pushed through the doors with a heavy sigh. ‘Poor thing probably got even less sleep than I did st night.’

  “That one’s defirouble,” Sabath muttered, just as the doors clicked shut behind Nathan.

  It had been a while sihan had walked down Market Street. The st time was months ago, when he bought a dress for Meekan’s birthday. Shopping for her was never easy; she always knew what you were going to get her before you did. But that wasn’t her fault—it was just her nature. When he once offered her gems to buy her own gift, she had simply said, “Even when you know someone loves you, it’s still o hear them say it.” He passed Bakugo’s Seemingly Perfect Results, the shop where he’d gotten the dress.

  Nathan reached Merts’ Circle but quickly ran into a problem. ‘What does a human even look like?’ All he had was a note about the poor man’s disfigured ears, but with no frame of refere was useless. He’d have to file a pint about the registratioment’s vague descriptioime he went to the League of Adventurers’ Hall.

  Cupping his hands around his mouth, Nathan took a deep breath and yelled, “Dyn!” His voice barely cut through the noisy cmor of the marketpce. Chastising himself, he thought, ‘I should be more specifibsp;How many Dyns could there be? Pulling up the tract, he g the man’s homeworld—an odd name he’d never heard before.

  Nathan shrugged and cupped his hands again. “I’m looking for Dyn. Dyn of Dirt!” he called, sing the crowd for any unfamiliar race. “Does anyone know where I find Dyn of Dirt?” His voice wavered slightly as he tried again.

  “Nope.” “Sorry.” “Never heard of him.” “What’s he look like?” “You a bounty?” The responses came from all dires, none of them helpful. Natha walking around the circle, raising his voice again. “Dyn! I’m looking for Dyn of Dirt!”

  Nathan ended up right where he started, where the circle met the street. Sighing in frustratioapped his foot and realized he had pletely missed the arborhearth parked in front of him. He’d heard about traveling merts with them, but this was his first time seeing one up close.

  The arborhearth was a sight to behold—pitch bd stunningly beautiful. Nathan’s eyes followed the intricate leaf and vine carvings that twined across the rge , framing the oval door. He bent low to ihe sprouting roots that made up the frame, marveling at the seamless form. The bramble spawn looked weary in the sun, uo take root.

  Its beauty nearly made Nathan fet why he was there. But then the oval door swung open, and a short, stocky elf stepped out. Nathan opened his mouth to ask if he knew Dyn of Dirt, but his eyes caught on their ears. No visible scars, perfectly symmetrical, blunted—not at all what the tract had described.

  “You’re Dyn.” Nathan poi the non-elf, taking in his oddly elf-like appearance.

  “Yeah,” the chubby man sighed. “I’m Dyn.” The deep frown on his face suggested something was clearly b him.

  “Dyn… of Dirt?” Nathan asked, still unsure. If he could just get to his ears, he’d know for certain.

  Dyn closed his eyes and winced, his frown deepening. “They said it wouldn’t be a problem…” Imitating a gruff voice, he puffed up his chest and bobbed his head mogly. “Transtions don’t have sequences.” He grunted, shaking his head slowly, then switched to a more nasal tone. “Pick a world, sir. You ge it ter, sir.”

  This man was clearly upset. Nathaated before trying to interject, “Are you—”

  Dyn cut him off, resuming his usual tone and tinuing his tirade. “I even tried to e manually, but still came out wrong.”

  “What came out wrong?” Nathan asked, trying to make sense of the situation.

  “Dirt,” Dyn replied, as if it should’ve been obvious. “The name of my p got all mixed up in some intergactic database… or whatever. It’s not dirt, it’s pronounced Dirt. I’m Dyn of Dirt.” He began spelling it out as awful, terrible noises escaped his mouth.

  Nathan wi the first harsh squawk. Dyn stopped spelling, gng at him with monoyance. In unison, they both said, “Don’t spell!”

  Exasperated, Dyn threw his head back, staring up at the sky. “I know, I know!”

  ‘I o calm him down before he hurts himself.’ Nathan sidered using Triage, but he hadn’t earned enough trust to ask yet. An introdu seemed like a safer first step. “I’m Nathan, by the way. I’m a physi, and I’ve picked up your tract. Which means I’m here to help.”

  Dyn looked at him, wild-eyed and overwhelmed, teetering on the edge of tears e. He took a deep, shaky breath and reached a hand toward Nathan. But before the gesture could nd, Dyn jerked his hand back, tug it under his armpit.

  ‘Odd,’ Nathan thought, watg the strange gesture.

  With a defeated tone and arm tucked tightly under his armpit, he muttered, “I’m Dyn…”

  “Dyn, do you—” Nathan stopped mid-sentence as the sharp st of something charred tickled his nostrils. “Do you smell smoke?”

  “What?” Dyn lifted his nose and she air. His eyes widened. “The dle!” He grabbed tufts of his hair, spinning around to see smoke billowing from the open door. Without a sed thought, he started climbing bato the smoke-engulfed arborhearth.

  ‘What is he doing? Who runs straight into a fire?’ Nathan lunged frabbing Dyn’s tunic. With a hard tug, he yahe chubby man off the steps and into his arms as they both tumbled backward.

  “Excrement, excrement, excrement, excrement… sacred excrement!” Dyn’s gaze shot upward, watg plumes of dark smoke pour out of the . “He’s going to kill me.” He turo Nathan, eyes wide with terror.

  Nathan only let go once he was sure Dyn wouldn’t make another dash for the fire. “Who’s going to hurt you?” He wasn’t sure if Dyn was being dramatic eerrified—either way, he o calm him down.

  Dyn scrambled to his feet, brushing off his tunic. “Charles. He’s gonna kill me.”

  “Perhaps you’re being a bit dramatiathan stood up, trying to sound diplomatic. Dismissing Dyn’s fears ht would only make things worse, and he needed Dyn to trust him. “I’m sure no one’s going to kill—”

  Dyn suddenly grabbed a fistful of Nathan’s tunic, yanking him close. “You don’t uand,” he whispered, his voice low and trembling. “He’s do before.”

  Nathan’s Lawful orb remained silent—a detail that sent a shiver down his spihe implications were uling, but he’d have to deal with that ter. Right now, he needed a pn before the situation spiraled out of trol. ‘Clear the area, put out the fire, and then calm Dyn down,’ he thought, his mind w swiftly as if triaging a patient. He stepped back, eyes sing the surroundings and taking in every clue.

  Nearby merts were already scrambling to move their wares away from the arborhearth. Isoting the fire would keep it from spreading. With established margins and a defined operating field, Nathan turned his attention to minimizing damage to the arborhearth. The fire had to be put out, and fast. Distracted by his pnning, he lost track of the reckless, chubby man. Dyn had already dashed toward the back of the .

  “What are you doing?” Nathan called after him. “Get back here, Dyn!”

  “I don’t know!” Dyn threw his arms up, shielding his face from the intense heat. “But I’ve seen Charles get water from this thing!” He twisted the spigot left. “Excrement, lefty loosey isn’t w…” He twisted it the other way. “Righty… loosey isn’t w either!” Giving up, he hurried back to Nathan. “I ’t get it to work.”

  “The arborhearth is a summoned ability; it only responds to the one who summo.” Nathan g the now-singed, reckless, chubby man, unsure if he could trust him to stay out of trouble. “Listen, I’ve got an idea, but you have to promise me you’ll stay away from the fire.”

  Dyn nodded, and that would have to be enough—there was no time tue. Nathan knew of a frost user, Grel’ka, who might be able to help. She’d retired from Nightshade and had retly opened a shop on Market Street. He just hoped she en—and there.

  ‘You selfish idiot.’ Nathan sprinted dowreet, berating himself for not unlog more abilities. If it weren’t for his fear—his shame—of unlog the wrong one, he might’ve had something to deal with the fire. Even a simple movement ability would’ve been more useful than he was right now.

  Grel’ka’s shop was just ahead, but he couldn’t make out the sign to see if it en. Not that he had a backup pn if it wasn’t. Silently, he prayed. ‘Oh Mother, please let—’

  [Physi orb]: Lifeforce warning.

  Nathan skidded to a stop, heart hammering in his chest. His head snapped back toward Merts’ Circle. [Lifeforbsp;was the passive ability from his Physi framework. It showed him the health of everyone around who was less than one-hundred pert. It usually flooded him with stant triggers at the hospital, so he’d lowered the alert threshold.

  He focused on a single lifeforce—less than fifty pert and dropping fast. Dyn’s. “What is he doing?! He promised to stay away from the fire!” Nathan knew some people were just wired differently. Instead of running from danger like any sane person would, they charged straight into it—usually with tragic results. Trying to be a hero was often the wrong choice.

  “No, no, no, no!” Nathan shouted as he sprinted back. ‘How could I let this happen? You worthless piece of filth,’ he cursed himself. His legs and mind raced, fueled by panid self-hatred. His selfish obsession with guarding against corruption might’ve just cost this man his life. All of this could’ve been avoided if he weren’t such a coward.

  His lungs burned with effort as he watched Dyn’s lifeforce plummet past critical—zeroing out.

  “No!” Nathan cried, his heart seizing painfully in his chest. He’d made the wrong call, and now all he could do was stand there, helpless, as Dyn died. He hadn’t been smart enough, fast enough, or strong enough to save the man he’d sworn to protect.

  [Uh orb]: [False Life] avaible for 10 seds.

  Tears blurred Nathan’s vision as he bouoward Dyn, his chest heaving with each step. He knew what he had to do, but fear clutched at his heart. ‘I ’t.’ Nathaled against himself, aware that he possessed the power to overe his failings.

  [Uh orb]: [False Life] avaible for 7 seds.

  Nathan’s gaze locked onto Dyn’s lifeless body sprawled on the ground. ‘I won’t.’ Resurreg another was anathema—cruel to Dyn and a btant act of hubris against Death, Time, ainy. The celestial entities determined how, when, and where a life should end. But the power to fix everything was right in front of him. All he had to do was act.

  [Uh orb]: [False Life] avaible for 5 seds.

  Not even Life itself grahe power to restore a soul to its body. Only Uh dared to pull souls back from the maw of Void. Self-resurre table because it acted before the soul fully departed. But this—this was different. ‘I’m sorry.’ The weight of the choice pressed down on him, a burden he wasn’t sure he could bear.

  [Uh orb]: [False Life] avaible for 3 seds.

  Nathan froze just in front of Dyn’s body. What he should do, could do, and would do cshed violently in his mind, each warring for trol. ‘I pray you both five me…’

  [Uh orb]: [False Life] avaible for 1 sed.

  In that final sed, Nathan’s resolve shattered. He gave in to his weakness, extending his trembling hand as he cast False Life on Dyn. [False life] was a Life ability from his Uh framework. It graemporary undead health points—and if used within 10 seds of death, it would bring the soul back.

  With a sharp gasp, the undead, singed, reckless, chubby man’s eyes flew open as his heart lurched back to life. Nathan dropped to his knees beside him, immediately castiabolize, knowing he had to restore Dyn’s health before the temporary undead health points expired.

  Tears trickled down on Dyn as Nathan watched his lifeforce tick slowly from zero to one pert. Mundane people usually had low natural healing factors, and Nathan didn’t have any abilities or potions on hand to speed up the process.

  Once his coughing fit passed, Dyn gnced up at Nathan. “Did you just… resurrect me?”

  ‘What?’ Nathan’s eyes darted around, worry fring in his chest. ‘Did anyone else hear that? How does he know?’ F himself to refocus oient, he sed Dyn’s injuries—the frostbite bing his face, lips, and ears, the arc burns crisscrossing his chest, and the broken ribs that were visible even through his natural padding. “No—I mean, it was close, but I’m sure I got to you just in time.” Nathan lied, keeping his voice steady.

  Dyn coughed into his fist. “I’m like y-nine pert sure you—” His eyes widened suddenly. “Oh excrement, he’s here.”

  Nathan looked up and froze. A rugged elf loomed over them, armed with three bdes and a bow, his eyes cold and unblinking.