(Dyn)

  Death 3 - The Eleventh Sed

  For teing seds, Dyn’s soul drifted in the quiet normalcy of death, ing closer to What es . In voidspace, the seds passed, as they always did, bringing him closer to a point of urn. As the tenth sed waned, Void stirred, preparing to cim him. But in that crucial eleventh sed—when Void would normally devour his soul—the tether pulled taut. Dyn was yanked back from the brink, ripped from Void’s grasp, resetting once more.

  [Time orb]: [Dejavu] triggered. Wait.

  Night had settled in, and Dyn sat on a short stool, his bare feet drying beside a small campfire. The rashes on his legs oscilted between 'I'm literally on fire' and 'oh my god, it itches.' At the moment, he was dealing with the tter.

  “Why did she kill you?” Charles paused briefly. “What did you do to her?”

  [Time orb]: Thirty-two Resets remain.

  The sound of Charles' voice startled him. Dyn jerked upright, spilling tea everywhere as he scrambled to get away from the murderous tailor. Tumbling off his stool, he yelped, "Stay away!"

  Dyn frantically searched Charles for the khat had killed him. But all he found was an elf with cssic, chiseled features: shoulder-length silver hair worn in a half ponytail, a promi jawline, high cheekbones, and deep-set green eyes. No bde in sight—just a handsome, rugged elf.

  Kig and scrambling backward, he hit the wheel of the treehouse, stopping him cold. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, fast and panicked.

  “Why is everyone killing me?” Dyn asked, his wide eyes fixed on Charles. The rugged elf had quickly gotten to his feet but kept his distance. Betrayal stung—he’d gehought Charles was a nice guy.

  It was disturbing how disarming the rugged elf could be—luring him in with the most fortable pants he’d ever worn one moment, then backstabbing—well, head-stabbing—him the . Regardless, the betrayal was most foul.

  Dyn’s eye caught the campfire’s fmes dang wildly. ‘Odd, there’s no wind,’ he thought.

  Charles noticed the flickering fmes too. Ohey settled, he said, “Apologies. I thought it was just one person who’d killed you.”

  Dy Charles' gaze scrutinizing him. The rugged elf’s eyes narrowed, almost imperceptibly, but Dyn aying attention now.

  “There was,” Dyn said, his hand blindly searg the spoked wheel behind him. He used it to pull himself up, aking his eyes off Charles. After a couple of tries, he finally made it to his feet and brushed himself off. “Until just now, when you killed me.” Dyn jabbed an acg fi the rugged elf.

  Charles raised an eyebrow, pointing to his chest. “I killed you?”

  “I thought we were friends, Charles…” Dyn raked his fingers up and down his thighs, trying to sate his insatiable itch.

  “If I had killed you, you’d still be dead,” Charles said. “And we wouldn’t be having this versation.”

  Dyed no hint of malevolence or threat. ‘He really doesn’t remember,’ Dyn thought. ‘Maybe I’m the only one aware of the resets?’

  “Murdering people without a reason just isn’t something people do,” Charles said. “There’s always a reason, even if it’s trivial. And right now, I don’t have a reason to kill you.”

  Dyn didn’t like how rational the rugged elf’s argument sounded.

  “Also,” Charles said, holding up a boot, “I don’t make adjustments for people I io kill. That’s extra work and a waste of my time.”

  Dyn couldn’t fault Charles’ logic—it made little sense for the rugged elf to kill him. Yet it had happened, even if Charles couldn’t remember. The unease lihough; the rugged elf had been kind and logical, right up until the mome all stabby.

  “I don’t know why you did it,” Dyn sighed. “We were just talking when it happened.”

  As the fire dwihe cold settled in, but his legs had switched back to ‘I’m literally on fire’. Somehow, the sensations banced each other out.

  “Alright,” Charles mirrored Dyn’s posture. “What were we talking about when it happened?”

  Charles spoke as if he believed him, which was odd, sidering Dyn wasn’t even sure he believed himself. Maybe he was just going insane.

  Charles looked so normal, unassuming even, standing there with a mismatched boot dangling from each hand—no hint of homicidal i. Dyn searched his captivating green eyes for any glint of insanity, a twitch e, or some sign of murderous i. But once again, all he saw was an attractive, rugged elf.

  Dyn took a breath, deg to take Charles at his word. “I was retelling what happened when I first woke up. I found myself naked in a dark room, without my phone.” He held up a hand. “And before you ask—no, I don’t know why or how I got there. Also no, dark side batman wasn’t there either.”

  “Dark side batman?” Charles raised an eyebrow.

  Dyn sighed. “Christian Bale…”

  Charles nodded in aowledgment.

  “Then you asked about the orb I found—”

  “An orb?” Charles tilted his head, a flicker of i crossing his features, like a pet hearing its favorite word.

  “That’s what you called it. You asked me to describe it.”

  “And?” Charles prompted. “What did you see?”

  “I described a blue sky over an e river,” Dyn said, notig a breeze stirring the fmes again. The treehouse behind him must be blog the breeze—that’s why he couldn’t feel it.

  Charles bent dowing the boots beside the table before pig up his mug of tea. He peered into the mug, holding it with both hands, as he listeo Dyn ret the explosion, his missing phone, and the poor woman he’d found dead in the room with him.

  Charles gnced up from his mug, and Dyn noticed the night casting a pale hue over his plexion. Sweating, Charles wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt.

  ‘I khere was something off with that fk,’ Dyn thought. ‘Looks like it’s b him, too.’

  “I think I know what happened,” Charles said, holding out his empty mug. “Would you like some more tea while I expin? It’ll help calm your nerves.”

  Dyn still saw no ons in sight, but the ungodly itg had returned. Uo help himself, he ground his legs together and twisted at his hips like a child with an overfull bdder.

  “Sure,” he said, taking a tentative step toward Charles and holding out his mug.

  Charles picked up the teapot and slowly made his way toward Dyn, stopping at a respectful distance. He held out the teapot with one arm to refill Dyn’s mug. Theurning to his stool, he topped off his own mug, carefully using both hands.

  Dyn watched as Charles took a long pull of tea, then followed suit. It tasted like peppermint, with the same cooling, fresh menthol fvor. The tea did woo se the lingering fk from his mouth. He leaned back against the rounded er of Charles’ treehouse.

  “Somehow,” the rugged elf said, “you found an orb. They install magical frameworks when absorbed, which allow you to unlock magic abilities. Even the least desirable orbs are both expensive and powerful.”

  “Holy crap, does that make me a wizard?” Dyement pletely overtook him, his ret demise fotten. He had dreamed of this moment his entire life.

  Since his tenth birthday, Dyn had been waiting for his owl to arrive. Twenty-five years passed, eaaking it less likely. By now, he’d given up on that dream. But Charles, a spicy tailor with a touch of the tism and a pent for spontaneous murder, had just told him he had magic powers—which, in Dyn’s book, was close enough to calling him a wizard.

  Charles shrugged. “The official title is adventurer, but magic users go by several monikers—wizard being one of them.”

  ‘Fuck yes! He said it. I’m a motherfug wizard,’ Dyn thought.

  “How many abilities I get? Are they like spells? I learn spells? Is this gonna be oest? Are you an adventurer?” Dyn rapid-fired questions at Charles.

  ‘I o sit down,’ Dyn thought. Lightheaded and buzzing with energy, he grabbed his overturool and plopped it dowhe treehouse. He sat, eager to learn more about magic.

  Charles began, “I used to be an adventurer like you—”

  Dyn snorted, nearly getting tea up his nose.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Sorry, it’s not important. Please, tinue,” Dyn said. For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to talk about one of his favorite games—not when they could talk about actual magic.

  Dyn ehe versation and didn’t want his ADHD t him into another sidequest. The warmth of the tea repced the lost heat from the fire. Charles had been right agaiea helped rex him.

  “All magic is both potent and dangerous,” Charles said, “but some types are far more dangerous than others. The League calls it restricted, and it’s uo possess, let alone use.”

  Dyn had almost fotten about his boots. They sat unfinished where Charles had left them whearted expining the magic system. But Dyn didn’t mind—learning about magic was far more iing.

  “The orb you found was a Time orb,” Charles said.

  “Right,” Dyn said with a sigh. He knew he had a Time orb, but he wished he uood how his ability and passive worked.

  “Time is one of the restricted magic types,” Charles said.

  “Oh.” Dyn hadn’t realized he had a restricted orb, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. “That doesn’t sound good.” He noticed a strange absence of ay, knowing he should be more ed—but he wasn’t.

  “And what happens if they catch you with restricted magic?” Dyn took another sip of the warm, delicious tea.

  “There are open tracts for colleg restricted magic items and practitioners,” Charles said, pig up a twig and flig it into the fire.

  “Was that your reason for killing me?” Dyn no longer felt afraid.

  Charles swirled the tents of his mug. “No. That’s not why I would’ve killed you.”

  “Oh, good.” Dyn realized there was n or itg in his legs anymore. He’d definitely be drinking this tea until they could get some of that oi Charles had mentioned earlier. Slurping, he took another sip while listening to Charles.

  “Although not g the tract after you were dead would’ve been wasteful,” Charles said, feeding aick to the fme. “And it would’ve been important to firm your murder was wful and clear my name.”

  Dyn chuckled. ‘A tract killer,’ he thought.

  “Then why’d you do it?” Dyn noticed his mug was empty a dowo his stool. His arms found a warm spot on his p to rest.

  “Because there are worse things thah,” Charles said.

  ‘That was grim, and a touch dramatibsp;Dyn thought.

  “How do I get rid of the orb? I return it or—” Dyn stifled a yawn, uo finish his question.

  “No,” Charles said, his full attention on the campfire. “Abs an orb is perma.”

  “What do I do now?” Dyn crossed his arms aled into a fortable spot against the treehouse.

  “Nothing. I’ve already taken care of it.”

  “Thanks.” Dyn’s eyelids grew heavy. It would be o close them for a bit.

  “I’m really sorry about this, Dyn,” Charles said, his voice heavy and distant, like it was ing from a million miles away.

  Dyn remembered—those were the exact words he’d heard moments before dying st time! F his eyes ope up unsteadily, trying to focus on Charles. The world wouldn’t stop spinning.

  ‘Fuck.’ He gnced down at his empty mug, struggling to stay oool. The mugs seemed to multiply as his vision wavered. Realizily what Charles meant, Dyn muttered, “Oh, you mother—”

  He slipped off the stool, uo finish his sentence. He didn’t eve when his body hit the ground. The toxin worked in stages: first taking away his ability to move, then to feel, and finally to breathe. With no pain and no fear, Dyn died.