Ignis’ First Firesday of Harvestfall, 1442, alleyways, city of Luminara.

  Vaelith opened her eyes, finding herself standing, once again, in the small alleyway. The alley she had brightened only yesterday. And also where her group had argued. But, ultimately, where they had agreed to form a permanent party.

  With a gulp, her mind racing with a sense of foreboding and apprehension, she took one hesitant step forward, her heart pounding in her chest.

  No nausea, no dizziness?

  A slow, warm smile of relief touched her lips, chasing away the shadows of worry. She then stepped lightly over the cobblestones, her golden tail counter-balancing her every move. Her fins caught the sound of her footsteps, comfortably reverberating through her bones.

  She recalled how disorienting and entirely inhuman her dracan hearing had felt yesterday when she had just incarnated this body. But right now, it only brought her joy. Especially when she contrasted the feeling of Jason’s sickly body, driving through the streets of Bellevue. How had she ever survived forty years with every sound so deafened, muffled? It had been like trying to live inside a box, never able to stretch fully. How had he endured that?

  She closed her eyes and took a deep, relaxing breath.

  Gently, she brushed a hand over her arm, going from wrist to elbow. She could feel the distinction between the touch of skin and scales. It still surprised her how the latter felt smoother and warmer than she would have imagined; closer to skin than fingernails.

  I’m back. I’m home. And I feel healthy and happy.

  Ever since she woke up earlier in Jason’s bed, she had been yearning to return here. To once again feel how she had in this world. The rightness of it all.

  What a relief it is to be back!

  How good it felt to be alive, to exist, to take space without feeling like she was taking something precious from somebody else. She did not have to sacrifice her happiness for others to be happy here. She could smile, she could dance. Could use magic, even!

  Vaelith looked at the opposite wall of the narrow alley, a few meters from where she stood. She quickly chanted her Blink spell, feeling the magical energies funnel from the tip of her fingers to the spell book at her hips, and she immediately found herself at her destination. A pleasant tingle rippled throughout her body, the lingering after-effects of magic coursing through her veins. The feeling brought to mind a mix of goosebumps and electrical currents.

  Yes. Magic was actually real in this world. She knew how to use it. And it felt tingly, funny and amazing!

  And blinking to your destination? Beats driving, any day of the week.

  She recalled Elyssia had told her she would get portals and teleportation spells if she kept levelling up. Those spells came from the ritual spell casting part of the mage class. She had not actually tried any of those yet—Not as a player, at least. She had vague memories of learning how to do so in class. No, so far, Vaelith had only practiced her basic telekinetic blows and blasts with the old wizard in this very alley.

  Maybe it’s time to look at my grimoire and figure out how those spells work?

  As she looked downwards at the satchel on her hips, she caught a small, floating notification in the periphery of her vision. It produced a subtle, audible chime semi-regularly as it pulsed, trying to draw her attention.

  She focused on it, and the notification turned into a system message.

  “Kaelyn Moonshadow has formed the registered party ?Golden Dawn?. You are one of its founding members.”

  The Golden Dawn icon sat on the edge of her vision. Examining it brought up the party interface.

  It looked more like a guild panel than what she had expected of a party window.

  Perhaps there’s a difference between a registered party and a regular party?

  The interface listed the name of her teammates, their titles, class, level and online status. She read through the list.

  Kaelyn Moonshadow, Encantadora, Priest 9, Offline for eight hours.

  Vaelith Dawnscale, ícono, Mage 5, Online, Luminara.

  Elyssia Windwhisper, Guardián, Martial Artist 12, Offline for nine hours.

  Leoric Stargazer, Galán, Ranger 14, Offline for nine hours.

  She was the only one online right now. That came as no big surprise as she was early.

  But she could use that time to catch up to the others. She expected Kaelyn would likely be the first online, seeing as she currently does not have a job.

  Elyssia, their tank, would only log in after work, and that was still hours away. Once she got online, she would probably have the entire team out doing dungeon runs. She would keep them busy, and Vaelith knew there would be precious little time to relax once she got them started.

  After all, Elyssia had been a raider, one of the world’s top tank in the top guild. That was, of course, in the previous release of the game.

  Vaelith knew Elyssia would not expect her to run raids, but she would still make every single event exciting. As a force of nature, she would always push herself and others to their limits. Vaelith doubted she could keep up with her energy—or if she even wanted to. She liked the idea of adventure, but endlessly pushing herself? Vaelith knew Elyssia well; she had known her for decades. Elyssia never complain if anyone needed to slow down or take a break.

  She would not slow down, either. She would simply carry the extra weight without complaints. But despite herself, Vaelith wanted to be more than dead weight. This was the first time she had felt this way in the twenty-plus years they have gamed together.

  Deep down, she could tell. That feeling of wanting to carry her own weight? It came from Vaelith’s heart, not Jason’s. The little dracan mage wanted to shine. Kaelyn had taught her how to. She had given her a taste, and the key to do so. She had told her. “They’re watching you, cari?o. They’ve been watching you all evening.”

  She went back to the list before her.

  Leoric, the other damage-dealer, had mentioned he would be busy with some work during the day. She knew not to expect him to log in until later, then.

  Vaelith took a moment to reflect on the tall ranger. She knew very little about him, but Elyssia seemed to like him, and that was endorsement enough. Recalling their encounter yesterday, his attractiveness and capable presence offered a contrast to Elyssia’s chaotic energy. He also had provided a reasoned approach to her burst of anger.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  As a ranger, she assumed he would likely be the cool, brooding lone-wolf type. He honestly intimidated her. The fact he was two feet taller than her played a part in this, certainly. But yesterday, he had mediated. He had sided with Vaelith, asking Elyssia to listen to her, even though they had just met.

  Her eyes locked on the levels of the party. After her, the second lowest party member, Kaelyn, was level nine.

  Vaelith decided she would try to at least catch up to her before the felinae logged back on.

  She noticed the priestess had logged out later than the rest of them. The party interface suggested an hour difference.

  An hour likely spent finding the registrar’s office to form our party.

  Kaelyn had agreed to pay the registration fee without hesitation.

  Vaelith wondered if she was likely to log in soon? While she knew Kaelyn was neither employed, studying or training—a NEET—she knew little beyond that.

  Not having a job was no surprise to Vaelith, but it made her wonder how old Kaelyn actually was. Given how she jumped into a retro VR MMO at launch and had graduated but had no job? Vaelith assumed she probably was some drifting post-university student. One of the many unable to land a job in this economy. That meant she probably was twenty-something?

  So young.

  Her confidence and the maturity she had displayed yesterday had belied her age. She had appeared so confident and comfortable in her own skin. So easily capable of just approaching others. Of taking space and being seen. Strutting around, unapologetically herself.

  Vaelith’s first impression had suggested Kaelyn would have been older than that.

  And if she was honest with herself, Vaelith was in awe of the priestess. How she wished she could be more like her.

  Both here, and in the real world…

  A heavy weight settled on her chest as the intrusive thoughts lingered on her mind. Vaelith wondered if Kaelyn had noticed her admiration. Maybe, one day, she would be confident enough to ask how she did it—how she made it seem so effortless. But for now, just watching was enough. She would have to be careful how and when she would approach her. Kaelyn had made a bad first impression with Elyssia, and her protective friend might oppose the idea of Vaelith and Kaelyn having private chats.

  Hopefully Kaelyn logs in first, then. That would make it so much easier. Out of sight, out of mind.

  The interface still open in front of her, Vaelith’s focus moved to the custom titles listed next to their name.

  Spanish words, that’s so Kaelyn.

  She did not know the blonde catgirl that much, but she had been the only one punctuating her sentences with Spanish terms.

  Vaelith’s title, ícono, meant a symbol of divinity. It was fitting, she supposed, considering Luxoria made her into her image.

  But why did Luxoria do that?

  On one hand, Vaelith was happy in this body, here in this world. Both—the world and her body—felt like home.

  It was hard to reconcile how perfect this body felt knowing that she lucked into it.

  And now that it’s done, what exactly does Luxoria expect from me?

  The question sat uneasily in her mind, no matter how much she tried to push it aside. Was there a grand design behind everything happening to her?

  The sound of her stomach rumbling snapped her out of her ruminations.

  She immediately thought back of the skewer stand from last night, where she had that embarrassing conversation with Zyra. She chuckled.

  “Hungry for skewers again? They must really mean something special to you.”

  Predictably, her question remained unanswered.

  “Well, the market is just around the corner, and the old man gave me a few chips and shards for my troubles, so I can probably afford some?”

  She emptied her coin purse, letting a handful of copper and iron coins clink into her hand. She smiled as she sorted through the mix. Seven cuprum pieces gleamed among the pile, their larger, finely pressed shapes standing out against the duller ferrum coins. Cuprum pieces were among her favourite coins—solid, weighty, and satisfying to hold.

  Shards were the smallest denomination, equivalent to a penny. They were tiny and light, but ferrum shards—their iron counterparts—were even duller, smaller, and far less appealing. For every material, ten shards made a chip, and ten chips made a piece. A cuprum piece was the equivalent of a dollar, but regardless of the material—whether ferrum, aurum, or cuprum—all pieces were grand in size and detail.

  It amused her that ferrum shards, the smallest, ugliest coins, held the same value as a gleaming cuprum piece. She chuckled. Historical economists would have been aghast at the notion. But practicality ruled this world, and merchants often preferred to trade away their bulkier cuprum coins for lighter shards. Vaelith, however, preferred the opposite.

  Why? Because it felt wrong to let a single ferrum shard sit alone in her coin purse, surrounded by its brighter, shinier cuprum neighbours.

  Wouldn’t it be lonely, all alone, without any peers or friends?

  She laughed softly to herself, knowing how silly it was to personify coins. But still, the thought made her smile.

  Returning to her count, Vaelith found fifteen cuprum shards—light, colourful things—and three cuprum chips, roughly the size of an American quarter. Then came the heavier iron coins: four ferrum chips and two ferrum pieces, their iron hue dull yet commanding.

  The ferrum pieces alone were worth more than all her other coins combined, a fact that never failed to amuse her. Coins that looked so plain, so ordinary, commanded such value. It was as if the world rewarded practicality over beauty—a truth Vaelith had yet to fully embrace.

  Running the math in her head, Vaelith tallied two-hundred, forty-seven ferrums, and forty-five cuprums.

  Is that enough to afford food?

  Yesterday, she had noticed the price of a single skewer was one hundred and twenty cuprums.

  She had had her fill with a single stick, too. So, yes, she could easily afford to eat.

  She kept two cuprum pieces in one hand and returned the rest to her coin purse, which she secured back on her belt.

  “Let’s go order some food first for that gurgling belly of ours. Maybe peek in that tome while they cook?”

  She stepped back downhill, headed back to the market. And every time it fell off cooldown, she gave in to the temptation and used her spell, blinking ahead, each cast of the spell as thrilling as the last.

  The magic flowed more easily today than it had before, as if her body were growing more attuned to it with each use. Every spell felt like a small step toward something bigger, something more powerful—and she wanted to chase that feeling. She had already learned that magic was not strictly about power, but about control, too. Every cast made her slightly more adept at using it. She could feel the speed at which she chanted the spells, the precision of her aim—everything kept improving with practice.

  Levelling up was important, but there was something else—your skill. Practice makes perfect.

  As she approached the market, the walls that surrounded her vanished, letting the sunlight engulf her from all directions. She felt a subtle warmth along her scales that made her shiver slightly. The light’s embrace felt odd, but in a good, different way. Like her body was attuning to the world around her in ways Jason’s never could.

  The scents of roasted meat and spiced bread hit her first, rich and savoury. The murmur of merchants haggling with customers mixed with the clatter of carts rolling over cobblestones, making the city feel vibrant and alive.

  Every jingle of coin exchanging hands, joining their friends in cash boxes or coin pouches, reverberated in her fins. It was musical, and distracting, but she realized she could subdue or control it if she wanted to focus on some specific conversation. Those dracan fins kept impressing her. She ran a few fingers gently against the edge of her right fin. Unlike yesterday, when she jolted back in surprise and pain, today it barely registered. She could tell the contact had impacted her sense of hearing, but that was the extent of it.

  The market looked so different in the noon sunlight than it did at midnight, with all the lanterns and magical orbs lighting up the place. It looked more welcoming like this, but also much like it had lost something magical or festive. She wondered which version she preferred. She decided she liked both. After all, night would eventually fall, bringing back the wondrous version of it.

  Variety is the spice of life.

  Going from memory, Vaelith skipped toward the skewer stall, her steps light and carefree. The crowd seemed to part instinctively at her approach. Unlike yesterday, when she had kept her eyes downcast, today she held her head high and met their gazes.

  Kaelyn had told her to pay attention to how people looked at her.

  Some smiled, their faces reflecting the joy in her own steps. Others offered softer, more cautious smiles, as if they were watching something delicate—fragile, even. Something that needed their protection. A few older onlookers blushed, likely recalling the dance from the previous night. Perhaps her appearance today had stirred those memories back to life. The younger faces were harder to read, though she sensed curiosity and wonder in their expressions. Maybe it was just the sight of someone who resembled Luxoria, their goddess, walking among them that caught them off guard.

  Whatever their reasons, Vaelith noticed something she had not before: people recognised her. She was no stranger here. They were watching her, yes, but not with judgment or disdain, but with a kind of quiet reverence.

  And for the first time, she felt no need to apologize for it.

  She was Vaelith, and that was enough.