Welcome, New Entry.
Origin: [Realm of Earth].
Destination: [Realm of Bayteran].
Purpose of transfer: [Unclear | Due to absence of Guardian, parameters for the agreed transfer protocols are unmet. Alert].
Please remain calm. Sensory adjustments may cause momentary disorientation.
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[System Notice: Integration Initiated].
You are currently being integrated into the mana-weave of Bayteran.
Compatibility checks in progress… [Error: Guardian of the Threshold not detected | Integration will be unsanctioned. Alert].
Please standby for assistance. Your patience is appreciated.
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[System Notification: Orientation]
Welcome to Bayteran.
- Basic Provisions: [Pending allocation | Error detected: Inventory manifest incomplete | To be confirmed later].
- Class Assignment: Initial assessment suggests compatibility with Rogue Class parameters. [Error: Class assignment interrupted | Guardian of the Threshold not detected | Assignment pending. Alert. Loop Error. Alert].
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[Critical System Flag]
Please be aware that the Veil between Origin [Realm of Earth] and Destination [Bayteran] is destabilising rapidly due to absence of the Guardian of the Threshold. Alert.
Urgent action required: Appointment and activation of Guardian necessary to prevent catastrophic Veil failure. Alert.
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[System Update: Preliminary Attributes]
Initial parameters… Alert. Integration stalled… have been assessed:
- Physical Capacity: [Assessment complete | Above average].
- Cognitive Alignment: [Assessment complete | Stable].
- Mana Affinity: [Assessment complete | Low].
- Special Aptitude: [Assessment pending | Requires Guardian presence. Alert].
Note: Attributes remain dynamic and can be progressed through… Alert. Unsanctioned integration taking place.
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Thank you for your understanding during these irregular circumstances.
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[System Update: Starter Equipment]
Provisioning standard resources: [Error: Resource manifest inaccessible | Equipment delivery delayed]
Universal language comprehension enabled. You will understand and communicate fluently with local inhabitants.
We apologise for these temporary disruptions. Efforts to restore normal integration procedures are … Alert. Failure of the Veil is imminent.
--
[System Notice: Integration Interrupted]
Integration incomplete. You are provisionally recognised within the realm of Bayteran.
Urgent Advisory: Guardian parameters unmet. Immediate action required to avert total Veil failure.
Welcome, and good fortune in your unexpected arrival.
The odd thing about waking up in a woodland clearing that smelled suspiciously of lavender and felt far too solid for heaven was that, somehow, it felt like it was actually real.
But that couldn’t be the case, could it?
Because if I was dead, then my surroundings were all a little more pastoral than I’d anticipated. I mean, I’d always assumed the afterlife came with either trumpets and judgement or pitchforks and regret—not trees, hedgerows, and … the memory of quite a lot of text.
I tried to remember what the words that had flown before my eyes had said, but it was like grappling with smoke. There was something about . . . no. It wouldn’t come. To be honest, though, recalling the T&Cs about what was going on felt a bit less pressing than actually dealing with what was happening.
If I’d somehow survived then . . . no. I definitely hadn’t survived.
I remembered quite clearly the bang, the smell, and the way my chest had imploded. My local priest—when I still had one who wasn’t too scared to speak to me—had been pretty damn clear about the direction my life was going. However, even he hadn’t suggested the threshold between here and eternity would look like an outtake from Countryfile.
Threshold . . . It felt like that word mattered.
No. Insight didn’t arrive. One thing was clear, though. Wherever this was, it wasn’t Aunt M’s deserted attic. I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. But then again, on the plus side, there was no annoyingly attractive assassin standing over me. And, whoop-de-doo, I didn’t appear to still have a couple of traumatic chest wounds.
No, instead of all that real-world joy, my circumstances seemed to be almost . . . serene. The sun was out, there were birds singing, brooks bubbling, and a gentle breeze stirring the air. Honestly, it was possible that the Disneyfication of my current circumstances were freaking me out more than my letting Katya-from-the-train getting the fatal drop on me.
I lay there on my back, staring up at a tree from which my left shoe was improbably hanging, feeling this weird itch in the back of my mind like something was supposed to happen.
And then, as if on cue, it did.
Ding.
A soft chime echoed all around me. It was the sound of a message notification from my personal mobile. I stood up and looked around to see if I could spot it somewhere in the field, but there was nothing there. But that made sense, didn’t it? I’d dropped it back in Halfway Hold, hadn’t I? When, you know, I’d been horribly – and somewhat inevitably – murdered.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
I might have got a bit morbid about that, but then the weird noise happened again.
Ding.
Yeah, there was no ignoring it the second time. Mind you, even if I had wanted to, the appearance, directly in the centre of my vision, suspended in mid-air, of a glowing blue rectangle was pretty damn insistent, too. It almost looked pretty cool, except that instead of a futuristic Sci-Fi message, it had the air of a cheap knockoff of a video game interface.
[System Message: Class Assignment]
Congratulations. Conditions for Class evaluation met.
Calculating…
Verifying combat data:
- Improvised weapon use: [Confirmed]
- Tactical evasion: [Confirmed]
- Environmental manipulation: [Confirmed]
- Vital strike precision: [Confirmed]
- Mana resonance: [Stable]
- Aggro generation: [Unusual | To be reviewed separately]
Preliminary Classification:
Candidate exhibits alignment with Archetype: Rogue.
Subclass Possibilities: [Daggerkin | Wayshadow | Threshold Skulk | – aberrant match]
Evaluation based on stealth, instinctual combat efficiency, and environmental adaptability.
[System Notice: Assigning Class…]
Assigning Core Class: Rogue
Assigning Subclass: Thres—
…Alert…
…Alert…
Guardian of the Threshold not found.
Guardian Presence required for subclass confirmation.
Link to Class Tree: severed. Alert.
[System Alert: Classification Interrupted]
Class assignment has been suspended. Alert.
You remain unclassified. Core parameters in liminal state.
Please seek Guardian authority to resolve subclass assignment.
Until then, Abilities will manifest inconsistently and without formal guidance.
Note: System will continue to gather behavioural and situational data.
You may encounter emerging abilities from the Rogue Pathway without warning.
[System Annotation: You are being watched.]
Observer Entities detected: 1 [Error | Identification concealed]
Your actions are currently under review.
[System Reminder: Veil Integrity Failing]
Your presence has increased ambient instability.
This is not a reprimand.
It is a prophecy.
A whole bunch of strange words flashed before my eyes. They ‘flashed before my eyes’? Christ. Sorry about that. I’m not quite back on my game yet. Less cliched narrative descriptions will be on their way just as soon as I pull my recently assassinated self together.
“Hang on! Hang on! Don’t do anything. Don’t even think about doing anything!”
I span around to face who had spoken. Seriously, what was with me today? There was a time it would have killed me to keep letting people sneak up behind me like this. Well, no, that’s literally what’s just happened, isn’t it? Irony, that is.
It turned out, I was being addressed by a wizard.
Now, people have occasionally suggested—gently, and sometimes down the barrel of a gun—that I have a tendency to rush to judgment. That I make unfair snap assessments. That I categorise people based on surface-level impressions rather than, say, the content of their character. To which I say: fair enough. But in this very particular instance, I felt justifiably confident.
The man in front of me was wearing flowing red robes which billowed in the breeze. His hat had a point. Not metaphorically. Literally. It was conical, embroidered with things I was willing to bet were runes, and perched on his head in a very serious way.
He was also carrying a staff which looked like it had been stolen from a nativity scene and upgraded by someone with strong opinions about crystals. And his beard was two parts Santa, one part Gandalf, and all parts Wizard. I sensed this wasn’t a man with a vague interest in the arcane. This was no Weekend Warlock or someone who once bought a tarot deck and called it a personality. No. This guy was a capital-W Wizard. The full deluxe package.
So yes. I judged him. Instantly.
“You didn’t choose yet, did you?” he said.
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Good. Excellent. Well, not that you don’t have any idea what I’m talking about. That’s potentially a complete and utter disaster. But it is good that you didn’t make any rush Class selections.”
“So glad to be able to help you out, mate. In repayment, how about you do me a solid and tell me what on Earth is going on here?”
The wizard laughed. Honestly, an actual chuckle. One full of beard and self-satisfaction. “Well, quite!”
“I’m sorry?”
“What you just said. Hilarious. ‘What on Earth.’ Quite. How droll.”
I think the sudden rise in my blood pressure actually made my eye twitch. I suppose getting shot will do that to a person. “Right. Fascinating. Are you planning to explain what’s happening here, or is this all going to be somewhat interpretive? The last thing I can remember is being in Aunt M’s attic. Then I was being shot. And then -”
“Yes. Well, that has all been quite unexpected on our end, too. After all, it’s been so long since the fall of Warden Margaret that, I’m afraid to say, we’d somewhat given up on a new Guardian ever coming forward to step into the breach. I don’t think I would be telling tales out of school to say things have become positively unruly of late.”
Warden Margaret? Guardian? This was all starting to make my head hurt. “I seriously am about to lose it if things don’t start to make some sort of sense, mate. Can we start with where I am and what’s happening?”
“Yes, well. We have precious little time, I’m afraid, Elijah, and I don’t think it would be sensible for me to waste it going over the basics. All things being equal, a transition of power of this magnitude would occur in far less of a dramatic fashion than this has. There’s usually charts and a welcome pack and, if I knew Margaret, a whole tray of freshly baked biscuits while it was all thrashed out. But, well... events, dear boy. Events. And naturally, now that you are actually in role, as it were, there are certain things I’m absolutely forbidden from disclosing. Especially to a candidate to become the new Guardian of the Threshold.”
“Seriously, mate, I honestly think you’ve got the wrong guy here. I don’t guard things. Surreptitiously reallocate them for money? Now, we might be able to have a different contractual conversation. But I’m really not so much with the actual guarding.”
“Yes, yes, of course. Margaret spoke often of her disappointment at your chosen . . . career. But she was sure you would grow out of it, and, well, here you are! So, she was right! What an opportunity for your inner hero to make itself known. Dare I say, perhaps it’s time for you to try something outside your comfort zone? Because, dear sir, like it or not – and there are a number of us that do not like it at all, especially considering the coming crisis - you are the chosen heir of Warden Margaret, and with that comes all manner of responsibilities.”
He paused, just long enough for the words to settle and start rearranging the furniture of my brain.
“So, I guess if we’re in ‘what all of this means,’ territory,” the wizard continued, his tone shifting ever so slightly from whimsical to weighty, “then your new reality is that you are required to play a part that is written in the marrow of both of our worlds.” With that, he thudded his staff against the ground as he intoned.
“For when the Veil thins and the Old Ways stir,
When names are forgotten and doors unbar,
The Warden shall rise where the echoes run deep,
To stand halfway where none shall sleep.”
He looked at me expectantly as if there some sort of formal reply I was supposed to make. I didn’t have much more than a shrug to offer.
“Ah, there we are then. Very well,” he said, clearly disappointed. “Well. Hopefully all of this will begin to resonate with you in time. Although, I should note, hopefully not too much time. Should the Veil collapse entirely. . . Mind you, if Warden Margaret had confidence in you . . . well, who are we to question things? For now, I suppose it is enough for you to understand this crucial point. To fulfil your responsibilities to both this realm and your own, you will be required—by necessity, not preference—to make some very different life choices.”
He leaned in towards me and the light caught the runes stitched into his robes, which, unhelpfully to my sense of reality, were now moving. “The Guardian of the Threshold cannot complete his work from the shadows.”
My brain, still struggling to process the absence of bullet wounds, let alone my Aunty M being some sort of cosmic Edgewalker, unsurprisingly didn’t have a lot of bandwidth to spare for career advice from discount Merlin.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what that means. I don’t understand what any of this means. All I know is that I was in Aunt M’s Cottage and found an odd message she’d recorded for me. Then I got shot—which, in my defence, I’m handling with more grace than I might have expected—and . . . what? I’ve fallen through a gramophone and into Narnia?”
“No, that’s not at all like it at all. I am afraid this realm is nothing so pleasantly sentimental, Elijah,” he said. “Whilst the information I can impart is limited, I do not think I will be censured for noting you’ll find no benevolent lion rulers here. Though White Witches, yes. There are certainly plenty of those about, especially since we’ve had to muddle through for a while without a Warden. What I can tell is that you are in Bayteran now. And this is a world aeons older than your own, and, I may say, considerably worse. The Guardian of the Threshlod – which hopefully will shortly be you - alone has the potential to harness the required power to stand between the realms and keep back that which would imperil your world. Your aunt saw all of this coming. She always did.”
He hesitated and fixed me with an earnest look.
“I admired Warden Margaret greatly. And she made me promise that if—when—the worst happened, I’d make sure when you took your first steps in Bayteran, it was on a new path. A different way of living. One that didn’t have you performing acts of violence in the darkness. She wanted you, more than anything, to step into the light in your new life.”
Ignoring that it seemed Aunt M had a far better handle on what I had been getting up to than I’d ever have thought possible, Mr Wizard had just called it my new life. That felt uncomfortably final.
“You mean this is... all actually real?”
“It is indeed, Warden Elijah.”