Zav exited the armor shop, pulling his newly gained gear snugly against his skin. He caught a glimpse of himself, reflected in a nearby mirror, and smiled at himself.

  “A damn good looking gnome, if I do say so myself.”

  The elven female with the long dark hair blew a raspberry with her mouth. “Full of yourself, ain’t ya’?” Then, more seriously, she added, “Don’t forget how much you owe me for everything I’ve done for you. Don’t make me come to collect the debt.”

  Zav kicked the snow in front of him mockingly, like a petulant child.

  “Don’t worry, ma’,” he said. When she frowned, he amended, “Sorry Ashryn.”

  Ashryn nodded. “That’s right. Deference. Get used to it.” She looked around. “Now… What to do. I’ve already wasted enough time with your shenanigans for the day.” She put a hand to her forehead, covering her eyes. “I really need to stop helping new [Players] and start gaining some levels.”

  Zav pondered for a moment before asking, “Why do you do it?”

  She looked at him curiously.

  “Help new [Players], I mean. Why?”

  Ashryn seemed to consider his question for a time before eventually shaking her head. “You wouldn’t understand,” she said.

  “Then make me,” Zav replied. He extended a hand. “Come with me for today. Let’s gain some levels together.”

  Ashryn hesitated, looking at his hand as if he offered poison. She turned, her shoulders drooping hesitantly. “Hmm… maybe. Follow me, and we’ll see.”

  Zav did as she asked and followed, leaving her a modest amount of space at the front. She said little as they navigated around the frostbitten town full of fresh faced adventurers of all sorts of species. He saw humans, elves, dwarfs, and even ones that he didn’t recognize. Eventually, they came upon a large bluish crystal with circling golden bells.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “This is a [Waystone],” Ashryn said. “A place to enter [Keywords]. I’ve—I’ve never used one before. Perhaps we—”

  “Step off, bitch!”

  There was some sort of altercation a small way away, in the town square, and a crowd had formed around to witness it.

  “Stand aside,” another voice demanded, ringing out above the crowd.

  People gawked and murmured.

  “What’s with that armor?” one asked.

  Another answered with a question of their own, asking, “And what are they doing to the air? Do you see it?”

  There was a sudden clang of weapon on weapon, and more than a few of the onlookers jumped back, dispersing a bit to give the combatants ample room.

  There, reverently in the snow, reflecting gold, and holding a simple silver sword towards the sky, stood an almost angelic being. The air itself seemed to tremble around this person. Shiver in fear. Quake in reverence. No, not a person… a living goddess. Long flowing silver hair contrasting a deep and dark skin tone just beneath perfect golden armor. Not one imperfection showed… except her eyes. She stared forward with dull pale eyes, almost as if she were… blind.

  Beneath the goddess was a man he recognized… Vorgarn Deathless. He held a hand pressed against his chest, and Zav could see a trail of blood flow down the grooves of his armor until, eventually, it fell off into a little pool collecting in the snow.

  The golden goddess sheathed her sword at her side, and it disappeared in a ray of light. She stepped past Vorgarn, who seemed unable to even look her in the eyes.

  “I’ll kill you one day, hacking bitch. One day.”

  The golden goddess turned, raised a hand, and snapped her finger.

  As if flung by a giant invisible hand, Vorgarn was lifted out of the snow and thrown, spinning into a nearby building where he slammed into the side, shattering wood and sending those splinters rocketing on high, only to fall down striking the gaping onlookers. He made not a sound as his limp body fell out of the newly created Vorgarm shaped hole in the building, falling delicately into a pile of snow.

  Part of him wanted to celebrate the man being brought down so low after what he had done to him—even if the revenge was not brought upon by his own hands. But another part of him was fearful. He trembled, and he knew in his heart it wasn’t from the cold. A shiver ran down his spine and he knew it wasn’t from the chilled wind. This woman—this goddess—was dangerous.

  The onlookers created a path, and the goddess stepped forward so lightly that she almost appeared to be gliding, leaving no footprints in the snow until she stopped, standing in front of the [Waystone]. In front of her appeared three screens that he could see. They were quickly filled and, as the screens disappeared, so did she.

  He had seen the words, and, despite his best interests, they were burned into his memory. He closed his eyes and still he could see… the words written were: [Thawgarden] [Gnoll] [Rainy].