(Dyn)

  Dyn blurted his pre-scripted line wheed with two options, “Por que no los dos?”

  Charles gave Dyn a ft look, crossing his arms. He seemed to uand.

  Dyn stared at him, fused. ‘Charles knows Spanish?’ he wondered for a moment, and then remembered the transti. The rugged elf didn’t find Dyn’s antics particurly amusing.

  Dyn sighed. “Restricted powers, please.”

  Charles gave a slight nod before expining, “Abs an orb installs its framework, like a belt with four pouches.” He gestured to his owher belts. “The instaltion mas the first ability, filling one of those pouches. Without a glyph to trol the other influehe framework pulls from ambient magic.

  “That’s how the first ability get influenced by restricted magic.” Charles g Dyn’s rea, his mouth tightening slightly. “It’s rare, but it still happens. Having oricted ability is dreadful—I ’t imagine aire framework.”

  “You seem to know a lot about illegal magic.”

  “Restricted,” Charles corrected. “That’s on knowledge—something ah access to a wate or astralship should know.” He picked up the boot again but paused, lost in thought instead of making another adjustment.

  “What’s a wate?” Dyn leaned forward, eyes wide. “Wait, did you say astralship? You o expin both. Like, right now.”

  Charles had already made one lifelong dream e true by pronoung him a wizard, and that rugged motherfucker was about to do it again with the ce that every show with ‘star’ ile was real. Dyn steepled his fingers in unbridled excitement.

  “Dyn, there are only three ways on or off a world.” Charles crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing as he studied the chubby man. “If you didn’t use a gate or arrive by ship, how did you get here?”

  “You mentioned a third way?”

  “There’s always another way,” Charles said, “usually involving terrifyingly powerful magic.” He narrowed his eyes at Dyn. “You’ve never seen an astralship before?” He pointed up.

  Dyn followed his finger, gawking at the night sky. He wondered which of those twinkling lights were stars or if he was looking at Lost-in-War-Trek, Fire-lon 5, Battle-scape, or the Orvil-lorian.

  “That’s how people usually travel between worlds,” Charles said casually.

  Dyn o firm they were talking about the same thing. “You have spaceships?”

  “Dirt doesn’t?” Charles asked, looking genuinely fused, as if not having spaceships was the stra part of this versation.

  “Earth,” Dyn corrected for what felt like the huh time. “We have space flight, but we’ve only been to the moon.”

  “You’ve been to your moon?” Charles asked, surprised, since he’d never visited either of his .

  “Well, I haven’t,” Dyn said. “But we went onaybe twice? Some people think we faked it…” He stopped himself before stumbling into spiracy theories.

  “Dirt’s pre-astral? How does someone from a pre-astral civilizatio off-world?” Charles asked rhetorically.

  Dyn shifted nervously on his stool. ‘This is it. I’m gonna die again. I feel it.’ He braced himself, already strategizing for the reset.

  After a pause, Charles said, “Dyn, I think I know what happened.”

  ‘Here it es. I hope it’s quick.’ Dyn ched his eyes and tensed his entire body, fling when a hand nded on his shoulder.

  “I believe you may be a victim of intergactic traffig.” Charles’ words hung in the air, and Dyn blinked, mouth slightly open, as he struggled to process what he’d just heard.

  “It’s important for you to tell me what else you remember from yesterday.” His voice low and steady.

  Dyn clicked his toill uo process. “What…?”

  “It’s okay, you’re safe now.” Charles awkwardly tapped the back of Dyn’s shoulder, his attempt at passion—stiff and meical.

  Charles shook his head. “I hought Ebonscale would stoop to traffig iient species, but they’ve gooo far.” He stood and walked to his treehouse. “Take your time and tell me everything you remember.”

  Dyn was dumbfounded, unsure of what to say.

  ‘Was I kidnapped from Earth?’ Dyn wondered. He o be careful about what he said . ‘What did I tell him before the resets?’ This was as bad as lying—keeping track of what someone else knew and didn’t.

  Charles’ patience wouldn’t st forever, and the rugged elf already knew about his deaths. Expining that without revealing magic powers would be tricky. Dyn stuck to the truth, avoiding any further plications for Future Dyn in case he got reset again.

  “One moment I was oh, and the I was in a dark room on Mother ons,” Dyn said. ‘Bit of a mouthful for a p,’ he thought, ‘but still better than dirt…’ Charles listened as he pulled open the et door. Dyn tinued, “I was naked, and then an explosio off, taking out a wall. There was a woman in the room with me, but she died before I could get to her.”

  Charles returned with the finished boots in one hand and a pair of gray socks iher. He held them out. “Here, put these on.”

  “Thanks.” The socks were soft, made from a breathable material. Dyn’s feet were sore and blistered, but slipping them on didn’t hurt. Afterward, he tugged on the boots, o a time. Just like his pants, they fit perfectly. With warm feet, he tinued, “I couldn’t find my gsses or my phoo call for help.”

  A question flickered across Charles’ face, but he held back, letting Dyn tinue. Dyn, still trying to figure out how to expin the deaths without lying—or dyiled for omission.

  “There was an orb, and I used it,” Dyn said, staring down at his new boots. He wiggled his toes ioebox, avoiding Charles’ gaze.

  “What was in the orb?” Charles asked.

  Dyn shook his head, not wanting to ahat question.

  ‘Should I say it’s another orb?’ Dyn wohe only other orb he knew about was the uh one Charles had mentioned, and that sounded way worse than time magic. His mind raced to solve the mortal puzzle—his life depended on it.

  “That’s okay,” Charles said.

  ‘What?’ Dyn thought, biting his tongue.

  “Do you know the ability you got from it?” Charles asked.

  Still staring at his toes, Dyn wondered, ‘Was this an option the whole time? Just... not answer?’ It had worked before, so he tried it again.

  Dyn looked up at Charles, shook his head, and waited. His mind was always rag to find solutions; it had never occurred to him that silence could be one

  “Must be a self-resurre ability if you remember dying,” Charles said. “Listen, Dyn,” Charles leaned forward slightly, his voice l, “don’t tell anyone about your abilities. That kind of information is dangerous, and a lot of people will use it against you.”

  ‘You’ve gotta be kidding me,’ Dyn thought. ‘This might just work.’

  Charles poured out the remainio quench the waning fire, then kicked up enough dirt to cover the ashes. He took the kettle off the hook, grabbed both mugs and the teapot, and carried them to the back of the treehouse. The sound of water spshing from the spigot filled the quiet night air as Charles carefully scrubbed each piece of his tea set.

  “Fetch the stools and table,” Charles said, motioning with his head in their dire.

  The stars and moons provided enough light for Dyn to gather the stools and table and carry them to the treehouse. He had suspected he was on another p after climbing out of the ke, when he looked up and saw two moons.

  Dyn carried everything irip to the treehouse chest. Awkwardly, he reached uhe pile of stools and table to lift the lid, but it didn’t budge. He set the furniture down and tried again.

  “That won’t work,” Charles said from behind the treehouse.

  ‘That’s creepy,’ Dyn thought. It uled him how Charles always seemed to kly what he was doing, even out of sight.

  Charles came around with the wet tea set and pced it on the small table. Dyn watched as he put a hand on the et door, paused, then ope to reveal a drying towel. Charles dried the tea set and wiped the table .

  “The , chests, and ets are all magically locked and will only open for me.”

  Dy watg as Charles opehe chest, ly stag everything inside before closing the lid. Dyn leaned in slightly, his eyes narrowing with i. “How does it work?”

  Charles closed and then re-opehe chest, pulling out a single arrow. “It just works.”

  Dyn didn’t take it personally, remembering Charles’ advice about sharing information. The rugged elf walked to the other side of the treehouse and pulled open the oval door, waiting for Dyn to follow.

  The tip of the arrow lit up with an e glow.

  Charles locked eyes with him. “Do not touch the glowing part.” He spun the arrow, fletg first, and held it out for Dyn. “It’s not much, but it’ll help with the darkness.”

  “Thanks.” Dyn took the arrow and held it upright like a long, makeshift dle. Charles gave him an unsure look.

  “You’ll ride ihe treehouse. We’ll reach Dartmouth in a day if we don’t stop again.” He poio Dyn’s legs. “Then we get that rash looked at. You’ll be safe and out of sight until we get there.”

  Dyn watched as Charles walked toward the front of the carriage. With one foot on the driver’s step, Charles turned back. “Oh, and the bucket’s oher side of the nightstand, but you’ll have to it out if you use it.”

  “What’s the bucket for?” Dyn asked. Charles grabbed the handle and pulled himself into the driver’s box, leaving the question unanswered. “Charles, what’s the bucket for?” Dyn asked again, his voice rising half an octave.

  Snap, crack, and thwip sounds came from the front of the treehouse, like breaking branches and snapping vines. It caught Dyn’s attention, distrag him. He ed his o see the oversized demonic deer w their hooves free from their roots, walking in pce as they prepared for departure.

  “I’ll let you out after we’ve arrived,” Charles said, pig up the reins. Dyn hurried to climb into the treehouse, worried he’d get left behind. “If you need anything, just speak normally,” Charles added, flig the reins. “I’ll hear you.”

  They were off, pulling bato the road toward a town called Dartmouth. Ihe treehouse, a hallway stretched between two doors. One remained locked, while the other led to the bedroom he’d slept in just a few ho.

  With the arrowhead glowing, Dyn could finally see. A twin bed was tucked into the er, and he realized he must’ve missed it when he passed out earlier. o it sat a nightstand and the bucket Charles mentioned. Iher er was a reading nook, plete with a lounge chair and a small bookshelf filled with books.

  The other side of the room looked like a work area. A workbench with a built-in mae reminded Dyn of his grandmother’s sewing mae from her craft room. One side of the bench held a wall-mouhread holder, stocked with dozens of spools in various colors. Oher side, a long shelf was stacked with fabrid leathers.

  The leather chair let out a series of fart noises as Dyn sat down and got fortable. Gng up at the ceiling, he remembered what Charles said.

  “That was the chair,” Dyn said out loud.

  The arrow cast a soft, flickering light across the room, shadows dang along the walls as Dy carefully atop the bookshelf, seg it with a book. His hand hovered he glowing tip for a sed lohan necessary, the warmth almost tempting him to touch it.

  An intrusive thought crept in. ‘What happens if I touch the glowy bit?’ Dyed the urge to poke himself with the arrow. Instead, he turned his attention to the tiny library, w, ‘How many of these are about magic?’

  He picked up the first book and exami. The cover was blue, but the title had worn away. ’Better get started,’ he thought.

  Dyn wasn’t the fastest reader, and he only had a day to read as much as he could. His excitement faded after opening the nameless blue book and realizing he didn’t reize any of the letters. He picked up another book at random and flipped it open.

  Dyn sighed, slumping into the chair, frustrated that he couldn’t read or learn more about magic. The stupid transti didn’t work with books. Now he had a whole day with nothing to do.

  ‘What if I have to go to the bathroom?’ Dyn wondered as the bucket came into view again.

  “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”