Sulaiman silently followed Priscilla to her room when they finished eating, not speaking until the door was firmly shut behind them. Priscilla yanked the towel off her shoulders and threw it onto the bed, uncaring of how her shoulders grew damper by the second.

  “These bandits,” Sulaiman said, stopping Priscilla in her tracks, “what can you tell me about them?”

  Priscilla wanted to let out a frustrated scream as every time she opened her mouth, she felt blood rising up on her tongue. She took a few deep breaths in and swallowed, trying to ignore the copper taste.

  “I can’t tell you anything,” Priscilla said, trying to keep the frustration from making her voice waver as she turned around. She was itching to get back on the road and ride through the night, even though she knew it was a stupid idea for many, many reasons. But logic didn’t make her want to do it any less.

  Sulaiman opened his mouth and then closed it, studying her features quietly.

  “You can’t tell me where we’re going,” Sulaiman said slowly, “and you can’t tell me anything more about these bandits.”

  Priscilla grit her teeth but nodded.

  He considered that for another long moment.

  “Alright,” Sulaiman finally said. “Can you tell me about your own fighting capabilities, at least? You can’t be completely useless if you’re so determined to solve these problems of ours.”

  That question helped to release some of the tension in her shoulders, as did his use of ‘ours.’ It made everything ahead of her seem a little less daunting.

  “I’m decent at unarmed combat,” Priscilla said, “but that’s mainly against other humans.”

  “Which these bandits should be,” Sulaiman said.

  “They should,” Priscilla said carefully, as that technically wasn’t future knowledge and simple agreement.

  “How would you describe your fighting style?” Sulaiman asked.

  “I focus on not getting hit in the first place and using my fists for quick retaliations, kicks too if my opponent is too distracted to try and grab my legs. If someone gets me in a hold, I have some tricks to slip it and I’m not afraid to fight dirty.”

  Sulaiman nodded slowly, his expression only showing momentary surprise.

  “I would be the frontliner drawing attention then,” Sulaiman said, “as you have little to no ways to protect yourself.”

  “Afraid so,” Priscilla said. “The best defense is a good offense in my humble opinion.”

  Sulaiman’s flat look told her everything she needed to know about how he felt about that phrase.

  “My shield’s structural integrity was compromised from the fight with the toad,” Sulaiman said, “but it will hold up against normal human strength. If they have magical weapons, it’ll be useless except for using it to smash over their heads as a last ditch effort.”

  Priscilla snorted at that imagery. “I’d actually love to see you bash their brains open.”

  Sulaiman rolled his eyes and sighed deeply, but ignored her snark.

  “You don’t have any ways to combat long-distance fighters,” Sulaiman continued, slowly pacing back and forth as he thought, “so clearing a way to get to them will fall to me. Most bandits have at least some sort of archer unit, and dealing with them should be prioritized so you can move more freely.”

  Priscilla nodded along as Sulaiman laid out the facts out plainly. He had always been the strategist of Illnyea’s group and it was fascinating to see it in action, even when he was working with limited information. She wandered over to her bed, sitting on the edge of it so she wouldn’t accidentally get in the way of Sulaiman’s pacing.

  “I can only assume that these bandits don’t know we’re coming,” Sulaiman said, pausing until Priscilla gave him a thumbs up, keeping the annoyance off her face as her muscles stiffened in an attempt to stop it. “We will have the element of surprise on our side, and depending on where we encounter them, we could attempt to pick off the bandits on the outskirts to thin their numbers. If we face them on an open field, I’ll have to be more aggressive with my magic to try and control the landscape of the battlefield to make best use of your capabilities.”

  Priscilla tapped her fingers on her thighs. It was a good plan, but she couldn’t shake the feeling in her gut that insisted that everything that could go wrong, would go wrong.

  “What if we encounter them in the midst of an attack?” Priscilla asked, choosing each word after careful consideration.

  “Then we prioritize helping the victims,” Sulaiman said. “Based on what we overheard earlier, it seems the bandits prefer to use fire, and, well, I am quite proficient with flames.”

  “Do you think you could smother a house fire?”

  “If needed to, I could, though I’d like to avoid letting the flames hit the houses in the first place.”

  Priscilla turned Sulaiman’s plan over in her mind, thinking on how it would be affected by the landscape of Kavil’s village. It was located in a small forest with no name, on a smooth riverbank. The trees might provide some cover, but neither Sulaiman or Priscilla had any great long-distance attacks. Sulaiman may have his magic, but he was probably better off using it to augment his body than using it to lob flames while surrounded by flammable wood.

  “Besides making that cool ass flame sword,” Priscilla said, “what other types of magic can you cast? I saw you jump on the toad’s back, so I assume you can cast some sort of physical augmentation on your legs at least.”

  “I can augment my arms and legs,” Sulaiman said, coming to a stop in front of Priscilla. “Though if I push myself, I can reinforce my torso somewhat if an attack is unavoidable.”

  “Have you had much practice augmenting multiple body parts at once?”

  Sulaiman scowled, though it didn’t seem to be directed at her.

  “No,” he said, crossing his arms. “The people I spar with in Meadowyar don’t allow magical augmentation to be used in the name of safety and fairness. I’ve practiced moving while augmenting so I don’t faceplant, but the only time I’ve been able to practice augmentation in combat was when Illnyea and I sparred privately.”

  Priscilla’s fingers danced nervously before she decided to just ask the question she had been hesitantly building up to.

  “Have you ever thought about learning a spell that lets you see in the dark?” Priscilla asked lightly and very normally. “Or one that allows others to see as well?”

  Sulaiman’s scowl did now seem to be directed at her, but just for a moment before he glared at the ground.

  “No.”

  Priscilla held back a sigh. It had been a long shot. The Sulaiman that she knew had eventually learned the spell and used it masterfully, though he didn’t share just when he learned it. Priscilla knew that the Muloian people had an innate affinity for dark aligned spells because they had lived in mountain caves for hundreds of years surrounded by orichalcum ore, which, to put it in simple terms, kinda let out a magical radioactivity that affected those who lived near it. Seeing in the dark was one of the most common spells Muloians casted, but Sulaiman had been raised in a Kavendash state sponsored orphanage whose teachings were likely rife with propaganda about Muloians and their magics, so it tracked that he didn’t know it. There had been no one around to teach him. It made her so very curious about how he had learned it in the book, and she had to push that to the back of her mind to think about another day.

  “Fair enough,” Priscilla said, leaning back on her hands. “Messing around with magic around your eyes does sound like it’d be asking for you to blind yourself. I was just wondering about that in case we encountered these problems at night.”

  Sulaiman looked up, the frown lessening as he took what she said.

  Wordlessly, Sulaiman raised his palm. Brief staticky pain bloomed in Priscilla’s knees, which were the closest body parts to Sulaiman, before a small spherical ball of fire came into existence.

  “I can conjure one for each of us,” Sulaiman said, “and they should hover a few feet from us as we move.”

  He dismissed the fire by closing his hand and her knee pain stopped. Priscilla leaned forward to discreetly rub her knees to get rid of the aftershocks. There was no denying this strange pain she felt when she had enough instances to be able to figure out what was causing it.

  Experiencing pain each time someone casted magic was straight up weird and incredibly annoying. Priscilla had heard of nothing like it before in the story and she had a few guesses about where she might find an explanation for this phenomenon. But the only places that she thought might let her ask a question and not be hauled away as a test subject were on completely different continents because a kingdom like Kavendash didn’t exactly share much about magical research to the public and encouraged its allies to do the same.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Her mind drifted to the locked book she had in her pack.

  Now that might have some answers, but this exact moment was not the time to wonder about mysterious locked books. Everything besides Kavil was secondary.

  “If we sneak up on them at night,” Priscilla said, firmly pushing her weird body out of her mind, “maybe you can conjure up those balls of yours to blind them.”

  “Please don’t call them balls,” Sulaiman sighed.

  “But they’re your balls of flames!” Priscilla said, not even bothering to hide her smile.

  “If you must refer to them, call them spheres of flames.”

  “You’re a spoilsport,” Priscilla said, rolling her eyes.

  Sulaiman did not rise to her bait. “But yes, I do think your idea of using the spheres to blind people has merit. I just doubt we’ll be able to use it for this particular problem if they are using flame magic themselves.”

  “Alrighty,” Priscilla said. “Are there any other aspects of our upcoming problem solving experience you think I should be aware of ahead of time?”

  As it turned out, there were just a few more things Sulaiman wanted to make sure Priscilla was aware of. It was mainly things about how he fought and how much distance she should be giving so she doesn’t get accidentally caught up in his attacks, and a few basic formations. Since it was just the two of them that were fighting, it wasn’t that helpful because you can only rearrange them both so much before it became redundant, but Priscilla didn’t complain. Talking through strategy made Sulaiman feel more composed and comfortable and Priscilla prized that above her own potential boredom.

  Eventually, Priscilla did find a place to interject.

  “We have to leave early tomorrow,” Priscilla said, “so we should probably sleep soonest.”

  “Right,” Sulaiman said, turning towards the door to leave. “I’ll see you at dawn, then.”

  His sturdy shoulders were broad from the back and a little tight with tension and Priscilla felt like she had placed a burden too large upon them too early. He was only nineteen and she was asking him to risk his life. But, besides the one outburst Priscilla could realize in hindsight was fueled by a lack of knowledge, Sulaiman had rolled with the punches the best he could, considering how their relationship had been just a few days ago. It was so clear in how hard he was trying to make them have a better chance of survival than a snowball’s in hell, and Priscilla couldn’t just let that effort go unappreciated.

  “Ah, Sulaiman.”

  He stopped at the door, his hand hovering over the doorknob.

  “I just wanted to say thank you,” Priscilla said. “You being here with me… well, it means a lot that you’re willing to help, especially since your help is proving to be invaluable.”

  Sulaiman turned to meet her eyes, an odd expression on his face as he said, “We’re going to do good and these bandits need to be stopped before they can kill anyone else. There’s no need to thank me for that, it’s the honorable thing to do.”

  “Even so,” Priscilla insisted, “you didn’t have to do this. I… well, I thought that I was going to have to solve these problems all by myself. You helped me keep my cool earlier and think about things more logically.”

  Priscilla let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Hell, without you here, I probably would have gone tearing off into the night and end up with an exhausted horse that couldn’t even get me fully there.”

  Sulaiman watched her quietly, the same odd expression never leaving.

  “You’re welcome, Priscilla,” Sulaiman finally said, looking away and exiting the room.

  Priscilla fell backwards onto the bed. Her shoulders were damp from her hair and would make sleeping in this outfit uncomfortable, so she should change. But she didn’t move.

  “Master,” Asha said softly, “are those bandits the lunatics we need to punch?”

  “Got it in one, my smart little Asha,” Priscilla said, staring at the ceiling. The two of them had hobbled together a decent plan considering the amount of time and information they had, but somehow, it didn’t feel like it was enough. Priscilla hoped it would be, but she had a bad track record in this world about hopes being fulfilled.

  “I like the solemn one,” Asha said, unknowing of Priscilla’s thoughts, “he wants to make sure you’re safe at all times.”

  “That’s Sulaiman for you,” Priscilla said with a half-smile. “He’ll never admit it, but he’s a mother hen, always trying to make sure everyone around him is doing well even if he’s sometimes a dick about it.”

  Asha was quiet, contemplating something deeply. Priscilla was content to let the artifact think because it meant procrastinating sleep.

  Despite her upbeat attitude today, Priscilla had been deeply shaken by the nightmare last night. She suspected that the weird freaky creature had somehow been connected to the migraine that plagued her. She may have not had her head hurt at all today, but Priscilla was still gripped with fear, wondering if it was still lingering there just beneath the surface. She wondered if the anger she had felt yesterday was her own or if the creature had been able to influence her while she was awake.

  She felt violated by the creature’s touch and was horrified by the way it seemed to warp her own feelings and perception of the world, trying to make her so full of despair that she stopped fighting back. It had been working too, feeding into her self-deprecating nature so naturally that it wasn’t until it tried to slip in the one thought that went against everything she was fighting for. If it hadn’t been for that, Priscilla might not have had the strength to fight back as desperately, might have succumbed to whatever the creature wanted to do with her.

  To have her autonomy ripped from her was one of the things Priscilla feared most in the world, more than torture, more than death. She had always taken pride in how autonomous she was and the way she forged her own path in the world, and always reacted harshly when some tried to dictate how she should behave like they knew her better than she did.

  There had been one question that lingered in the back of her mind ever since she woke up in this world – and she had stubbornly not focused on it because of the instinctual panic it caused. But with how her thoughts were devolving into a negative spiral, it came back to the forefront, forcing her to consider it once more.

  She wondered if one day the original Priscilla would return to reclaim her body and just what would happen to her at that time. She knew in her gut that she wouldn’t be magically transported back to her original world, so the only other option she saw was that she would become an unwilling passenger in a body not her own, forced to simply watch the world through another’s eyes. She would be like a puppet on strings, dancing along to a tune that she couldn’t hear – a mere pawn to be deployed, used, and discarded as the world saw fit.

  The original had been brainwashed by the cult leader in the story, and she had never been able to break free of it until moments before her death – did she too despair as the strings that forced her to play a role that ended with tragedy? Did she ever struggle against her chains? Could she even think about rebelling?

  Or had that same creature invaded the original’s soul and twisted her thoughts into complacency so never even knew she could fight back?

  If the cult leader came after Priscilla to try again, she didn’t know if she would be able to fight him off again because she didn’t exactly remember what on earth she had done the first time. All she remembered was a thinking it was all a dream and cursing him the fuck out before her head hurt a whole lot, so she told him to fuck off and die.

  And then she fell asleep, content that it was all a pleasant dream.

  That’s it – the only explanation that she saw was that she survived by sheer dumb luck, which is something that she did not want to have to rely on. She had been attacked by a Gorelock Toad and if Sulaiman had not been her guard, that’s probably where she would have died.

  It was all ridiculous, now that she thought about it.

  Her life had become utter ridiculousness but she couldn’t deny that she had some hand in making it ridiculous with her bold actions. She hadn’t stopped to think about her actions much because that would have had her spiral even further. Instead, she had just focused on the problem in front of her and the people she could help.

  She was attached to the world she had spent half her life reading about and as she interacted more with it and the people who lived here, the attachment grew until it felt an obligation to save them because the entire fucking world was at stake here, even if no one else knew about it. She was the only person who could stop it from happening and that pressure laid across her psyche like an anvil, threatening to shatter her if she couldn’t summon up the strength to continue.

  She couldn’t let the silence linger anymore and leave her alone with her own thoughts.

  “Hey, Asha,” Priscilla said, suddenly pushing herself up, “how about I read more of the bestiary for you, huh?”

  “Are you sure you want to read, master?” Asha asked. “You just told the solemn one that you should sleep early.”

  “I’ve been curious about the other monsters in Heinlein Fens,” Priscilla said, focusing on the only aspect of her curiosity that might be satisfied, on facts that were immutable instead of potential futures that filled her with dread, “ever since we encountered that disgusting toad.”

  She might be able to find a possible explanation for why the toad had been in the Emerald Forest if she studied the other creatures’ habits. Maybe there was a mating season that made a certain type of creature incredibly territorial and drove out all other creatures that ate the same food source, or perhaps an annual migratory period she had missed on her first read through.

  (It wasn’t likely since she memorized every page she read, sliding the new information neatly into her mental TDE-wikipedia, but if it was a sin to lie to herself to make herself feel better, then Priscilla would be the biggest sinner in the world.)

  “Well, if you’re certain, master,” Asha said, “then let’s read for a little bit before you go to sleep. You should enjoy the bed while you still have it.”

  Having her words thrown back at her had Priscilla holding back a sigh. She tried to not feel too irritated at Asha’s insistence and just nodded as she stood to grab the bestiary and a geography book for good measure. She flipped the book open to her current location to see the small indication of Kavil’s village on the map and remind herself that everything wasn’t hopeless, not yet. She ran her eyes over their route and found it to match the one in her brain, and then she set the geography book aside.

  Priscilla began to read about Firebog Wolves and their inherent tendency towards nastiness against other species for no other reasons than it was fun and let herself imagine about the wolves chasing down Gorelock Toads just to be a problem on purpose, snapping at the toad’s legs and burning its poison before it could hit. The wolves would try to separate a toad from the rest of the pack and hassle it until it grew exhausted and then they would devour it.

  That scenario stayed fixed in her imagination until she closed her eyes, hoping to trick her mind into kinder dreams.