(Dyn)

  Death 4 - Time’s Tether

  Dyn’s soul returo voidspace, floating among tless others, all moving inexorably toward What es . Uhe others, Dyn’s soul bore a tether—a lifelihat kept him from drifting too far, anchored by his Time orb, a fragment of Celestial magic embedded deep within his essehese orbs wove themselves into the very fabric of the soul, building their framework within. As the eleventh sed arrived, the tether tightened, yanking him from Void’s grasp once more—resetting him bato the world of the living.

  [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 former.

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

  [Time orb]: Thirty-os remain.

  Before Charles could grab him again, Dyn threw down the mug and shot to his feet. He aimed to sprint, but it turned into more of a fast jog down the road. To his credit, sharp rocks and sticks littered the ground, and he was still barefoot.

  Charles stood up quickly, brushing his hands on his trousers as he dropped the boots. “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “Not falling for it again, Charles!” Dyn yelled over his shoulder. Charles raised a finger, unsure which question to ask, then started walking after him.

  “This is how it starts,” Dyn panted betweehs. “You seduce me with form-fitting pants and a niap in your treehouse-Tardis thing.” He gasped for air. “Then y me with spoiled food and poisoea, force me to spill everything about the stupid Time orb I found, and then…” His pace had slowed to a slow jog. “And then you kill me!”

  “What’s this about a Time orb?” Charles asked.

  Hearing Charles’ voice rise an octave was the st thing Dyn wahe rugged elf tialking down the road after him. It felt like a horror movie—no matter how fast he tried to get away, the killer always caught up just by walking.

  ‘I really o get back to the gym,’ he thought.

  “No means no!” Dyn shouted. “I told you, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  He grimaced as pain fred up again; his ret sprint had incited ‘I’m literally on fire’ and ‘oh my god it itches’ to join forces. Now, even the fri of his pants offered no relief. It just hurt like hell.

  “Where’s the orb, Dyn?” Charles asked.

  “I don’t have it anymore,” Dyn wheezed. He had to stop; he was pletely out of breath. Turning to face Charles, he doubled over, brag his hands on his knees as he gasped for air.

  “Did you use the orb, Dyn?” Charles asked.

  Dyn heard Charles use his serious, ‘I might have to kill you’ voiothing good ever followed that tone. Lifting his head, Dyn risked a g the advang tailor and saw the look on his face. ‘Fuck.’

  He turned and jogged off again, ting under his breath, “I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die.”

  Seds ticked by as he huffed and puffed, but nothing happened. Uainty g him. His mind spiraled with absurd images: Charles pulling a giant golden gau from his treehouse of holding, snapping his fingers, and erasing half the universe, including Dyn. Magic owerful and terrifying, and the silence made it worse.

  U himself to look back, he thought, ‘Maybe he’s letting me go?’

  Then he heard Charles say in a heavy voice, “I’m really sorry about this, Dyn.”

  The suspense was too much for him. Dyn couldn’t help but turn and peek over his shoulder.

  Charles held out his arm, and a small fming figure the size of a aterialized. It perched on his outstretched arm, the fmes lig at his tunic’s sleeve without burning it.

  Unfazed by the heat, Charles leaned in close to the phoenix, whispering something too soft for Dyn to hear. With an explosive burst of fmes ahers, the phoenix uself off his arm and soared into the air. The mythical bird started low, beating its wings hard to climb high into the sky.

  ‘Magic is so freaking cool,’ Dyn thought. They hit—he remembered what magic could do. His brain floundered between dread and astonishment before settling on something iween: ‘dread-ment.’ Kind of like a fear boner, but fic.

  “Oh shit,” Dyn cursed. “Oh fuck.”

  Redoubling his efforts, Dyn pumped his infmed, itchy, chubby legs as fast as they would go. A screech pierced the air from high above. His mind drifted—just how high could a miniature flying sun climb? He could hear it was far up there, and it was ing for him. He just hoped it wouldn’t hurt too much.

  Dyn thought, ‘Last time wasn’t so bad.’

  The juvenile phoenix fis climb, cresting at the top of its arc before angling into a dive-bomb. The wihe fmes, making them burn hotter as the bird gathered speed.

  The st thing Dyn remembered was a sharp whistling sound before everythi dark. The phoenix leveled out at terminal velocity just before striking him in the back. His chest exploded in a shower of gore as the miniature onated on impact.

  Death 5 – A Pact with Time

  Time patiently ted to ten as Dyn’s soul drifted through voidspace, waiting to see if any other force would cim him. But when the eleventh sed came, Time—bound by the pact fed through Dyn’s ability—tugged oher. It wrenched Dyn’s soul back, marking him with yet arauma. Time reset his timeline, f him to relive life once more, and in doing so, knocked aally off the debt it owed him.

  [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.' A neain joihe rotation, ‘it stabs when I touch it’.

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

  [Time orb]: Thirty Resets remain.

  Dyn held his breath, frozen in pce. Sharp pinpricks ran from his thighs to his calves and back again. The pain was bad, but the terror of making another wrong move kept him paralyzed. That’s when he realized just how closely Charles had been watg him all along.

  “You’ve stopped breathing. What’s wrong?” Charles asked, gng up from his stitg. “Are you alright?”

  ‘Oh shit. Don’t mentioime orb.’

  “Uh…” Dyn stalled.

  ‘Say something, anything. Anything but the Time orb.’

  “I’m fine,” Dyn lied.

  “The ivy,” Charles said with a nod, “it’s very unpleasant.”

  Dyn was relieved to see Charles go back to resizing the boot.

  “Very unpleasant,” he agreed.

  Like a mouse caught out in the open, Dyn had o hide and o run. Trying not to draw the cat’s attention, he gnced down at the mug in his hand. Ripples danced across the surface of his golden-brown tea—a side effect of his trembling fingers. He casually poured the tea out on the ground aly pced the mug oable. His mouth was dry with ay, but he dared not ask for another drink.

  ‘Don’t mentioime orb,’ he thought. Dyn sed for any other lethal objects within read said, “I’ve, uh…

  ‘Don’t mentioime orb.’ He worried his awkwardness would give him away again. “I’ve got to, uh…”

  The urge to run was strong, threatening to overtake him again, but the fear ering Charles’ predator instincts kept him in check. He still didn’t know where the tailor kept his dagger.

  ‘Is it in his boot, like Bronze? Maybe it’s in his pocket? That would expin the rge bulge in his pants. Why does everyone have so mas?’ Then it occurred to him, ‘Jesus, Dyn, he’s a magi. He’s probably got pockets in his sleeves.’

  A loud pop escaped from the campfire, startling him as he studied Charles. Dyn quickly sed the fmes for any creatures crawling out. Magitroduced a whole new level of what the fuck. Anything ossible with magid he imagihreats everywhere around him.

  His gaze nded oeapot—the most innocuous of kitware. Charles had used it to kill him just moments ago. A plethora of horrifying ways the rugged elf might wield cookware and kit utensils haunted him.

  ‘What if he’s got a spoon?!’ Dyn really didn’t want to die by spoon. ‘Because it’s dull and it’ll hurt more.’

  He stared, unfocused, into the fire, imagining the horrors of a mug-wielding tailor. His gaze drifted toward the empty mug, sparking an idea.

  ‘Don’t mentioime orb,’ he kept telling himself.

  “Too much tea,” Dyn said. ‘Don’t think about the pain,’ he thought, wing as he stood up too quickly. “I’ve gotta pee.”

  Dyn ged at his rettable rhyme. Charles poioward the bushes without looking up. “Mind the ivy.”

  He nodded appreciatively to Charles for his sideration—it reassured him that Charles hadn’t switched into kill-mode. Dyn walked stiffly toward the bushes, doing his best to avoid unnecessary chafing.

  ‘Don’t think about the pain,’ he thought. Even the simple act of walking took most of his tration as he fought not to cry from the brutal sting—thousands of pins prig him stantly. Putting it out of his mind wasn’t likely, but that didn’t stop him fr. ‘Don’t think about the pain.’

  He found a secluded spot just out of Charles’ line of sight. Pain did funny things to people, like short-circuiting their thoughts.

  ‘Don’t mention the pain.’ Dyn unzipped his pants and prepared to relieve himself, but couldn’t. He needed a distra from death, pain, and the fact he wasn’t alone while trying to pee. Auto-manners, being the bro he was, took over and decided small talk might ease the tension. “So, what would you do if you found someone in the possession of a Time orb?”

  ‘Fuck!’

  “Hypothetically, what would you do if you found someone in possession of a Time orb?” Dyn asked, trying to crify and praying he hadn’t just triggered murder-me-harder-mode.

  ‘Goddamnit Dyn,’ he thought, squeezing his eyes shut. ‘’s over. He knows. At least “it stabs when I touch it” will go away after the reset, hopefully.’

  Dyn stood there with his fly down, in the most vulnerable position known to man. He kept his eyes closed, waiting for it all to end. ‘Is there still time to drink the tea?’ he wondered. ‘That wasn’t the worst way to go.’

  Charles let out a ptive grunt and paused, still holding a boot in his hand. “They’d either be rich, well ected, or an adventurer. Most likely, all three.” He gripped the toe in one hand and the boot shaft in his iving them a tiny tug. “Getting involved in any sario would be exceptionally dangerous, and I’d advise against it.”

  Dyn opened his eyes. Charles hadn’t killed him. He still had a firm grip on life—and himself.

  “Noted.” His rash transitioned into a much more tolerable, ‘oh god it itches’. With both his immi demise and unbearable pain gone, he realized he really o pee.

  As Charles gave him a couple of mio finish his business, curiosity and an idle mind teamed up on him as he relieved himself. He knew what was getting him killed—his time magic—but he o know why.

  “Hypothetically,” Dyn said, taking anamble, “what if that persohe Time orb?”

  “That would be,” Charles said, “unfortunate.”

  Dyn wondered, ‘Who refers to murder as unfortunate?’

  “While I enjoy hypothetical discussions, I find it hard to imagine anyone willingly usiricted magic.” Charles switched to the other boot.

  Dyn took offense. ‘How was I supposed to know it was illegal?’ He knew voig those exact words would earn him another death, so he’d have to try different ones. Walking toward his seat, he reasohat dyio a warm fire was better than dying out in the cold again—hopefully less explosive, too. “What if it was an act?”

  “That’s absurd…” Charles looked up from his wain, staring at him with a skeptical expression. Dyn froze mid-squat, like a deer caught in headlights, while his thighs burhat stare was a remihe cat-and-mouse game hadn’t stopped.

  “It’s nearly impossible to use an orb by mistake,” Charles said, resuming his work on the boot. “But since we’re talking about a Time orb, and not an Uh orb, the fact still stands that using it would require mental sent; only an idiot would do so knowingly.”

  Dyn sighed, remembering how the orb had asked him for permission, but the rugged elf’s words still stung. Ignorance didn’t make him an idiot. He hadn’t knowingly done anything, and that was the problem—his ck of knowledge of how the system worked.

  “So, no one has illegal magic?” Dyn cautiously finished sitting down.

  Charles let out a sigh. “It’s restricted, not illegal, and there is a way to end up with it uionally.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  Charles put down the boot and asked, “Do you want to talk about League politid jurisdi? Or restricted magic?”

  Dyn’s pulse quied when he saw the rugged elf empty-handed.