“So do you just go around telling everybody your name from your past life?” Meka asked. She hesitated, shifting her weight slightly from one foot to the other before continuing. “Is that… normal?” Her curiosity was clear in her voice. There was no judgment there, no edge or accusation, only an honest attempt to understand something that still felt far too large and abstract for her to wrap her head around.

  Rowan turned toward Meka as if she had only just noticed her presence. Her body reacted before her thoughts could fully catch up. She took a half step back on instinct, knife sliding into her hand in one smooth, practiced motion that spoke of long habit rather than fear. Her eyes flicked down, then up, measuring distance, angles, posture, and intent in a single sharp glance. “How did you get there?”

  I lifted my staff and my free hand at the same time, palms open in a calming gesture. “Meka’s been here the whole time.”

  Rowan blinked once, then looked again, this time more carefully. Her gaze lingered on Meka, then returned to me. After a moment, she let out a short breath and some of the tension drained from her shoulders. “Oh. You sure?” She snorted softly, embarrassment creeping in as the adrenaline bled off. “Okay. Whatever.”

  She slid the knife away and rolled her shoulders, as if physically resetting herself after the reflexive response. “Yeah, I tell people sometimes,” she said. “Not everyone. Just enough to see what happens.” She shrugged, the motion casual but deliberate. “I wanted to know if anyone would judge me for who I was. Some people thought it was cool. Those ones are fine.”

  Her expression tightened, irritation sharpening her features. “But you don’t want the others. Dael, for example.”

  She shook her head, frustration creeping into her voice. “That asshole thought I could give him a reputation if I followed him around. Like standing next to me would somehow make him important.” She scoffed. “I did, for a while. I wanted to see if he’d actually learn anything. Maybe grow up a little.”

  She crossed her arms. “He didn’t.”

  Leaning back slightly, she continued, “He’s incompetent, and he thinks his dad is going to fix everything for him. Every mistake. Every bad decision. Every time he mouths off to the wrong person.”

  Her mouth twisted. “My dad couldn’t understand a reincarnator if one bit him. What chance does his father have, especially when he got shipped here too?”

  I watched her for a moment before speaking. “That still doesn’t really answer the question,” I said. “Is that normal?”

  I gestured vaguely at myself, at my height, at the absurdity of it all. “Am I supposed to walk around telling people my old name? Is that what we’re expected to do?”

  Rowan snorted. “Only if you want to.”

  She leaned back against the counter, the wood creaking faintly beneath her weight. “The records don’t follow us forever. After we leave here, they’re not just sealed.”

  That made me straighten without meaning to.

  “They’re destroyed,” she continued. “Completely removed. We get a small mark that says we’re reincarnators, and that’s it. Then we get sent to a different guildhall.” She shrugged. “Most people never learn anything about who we were before. Most don’t even think to ask.”

  She exhaled slowly. “It’s like a third chance. Not a clean slate, but close enough.”

  Her gaze drifted to the side, her voice quieter now, less guarded. “I wanted to know what it felt like to live in the open for once. To speak plainly. To move through the world without shaping every step around who might recognize me or what they might expect from my name.”

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  She pushed herself off the counter. “Caves and camps get old. Running from the law gets old. Always planning the next escape gets old.” She paused, then added more softly, “I wanted to see if it could be different.”

  I nodded slowly. I understood that more than I cared to admit. I had lived in more caves and temporary camps than I could count during my wandering years, sleeping light, never settling anywhere long enough to call it home, never letting myself believe any place would last.

  Looking at her, something clicked into place. You could have more in common with someone you had once killed than with almost anyone else, once you started talking about who you had been before the world ended you the first time.

  That was when Greta and the rest of the martial class came in.

  The door opened raucously, Winnie’s voice carrying ahead of her as she talked to Greta with unrestrained enthusiasm. She was dragging something behind her, a boar-shaped mass of brush and twigs that looked as though it had uprooted itself and decided to go for a walk. It was far too large to be mistaken for an ordinary shrub, but calling it a boar felt generous. It was… something.

  I glanced sideways around Rowan’s legs to get a better look. Meka leaned with me, tilting her head in the same direction, mirroring my curiosity without even realizing it.

  Winnie chose that exact moment to yell the worst possible thing.

  “Oh, hi, Runt! Good to see you!”

  Rowan froze for half a heartbeat, then burst out laughing. Full, unrestrained laughter that bent her forward slightly. “Your name is Runt?”

  I felt my eyebrows draw together as heat crept up my face. I already knew, with perfect clarity, that this was never going away. Not ever.

  “No,” I said flatly. “My name is Azolo. She calls me Runt.” I shot Winnie a look. “I haven’t been able to stop her. She’s a dwarf.”

  “It’s okay, Runt,” she added cheerfully. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I’ll do it for ya.”

  I brought my staff up and smacked it lightly against my own face. Once. Then again. Then a third time, just to be thorough. I kept going, hoping, without any real faith, that she would either run out of breath or develop a sense of mercy. She did neither.

  Winnie grinned, entirely unapologetic. Then she somehow slipped between Rowan and me, spinning on her heel as if she had been waiting for the opportunity. She threw one arm out theatrically and announced, “This is The Great Wizard Runt, and his apprentice, Meka.”

  Rowan waved a hand at me, still struggling not to choke on her laughter. “Oh, that’s incredible,” she said. “Absolutely incredible.”

  Meka slipped around Rowan and waved politely. “Hello, Winnie. It’s good to see you,” she said. “Myrda finished your log.”

  Winnie froze.

  Her eyes went wide. Her mouth fell open. For half a second she looked like her mind had simply shut off.

  “Really?” she gasped. “It’s done? Where is it? Is it ready? Can I see it?”

  She started bouncing on the balls of her feet, hands clenched into fists at her sides, practically vibrating in place. It was genuinely funny. If I had not been standing there, emotionally crushed by the certainty that my name in this life was now permanently ruined, I might have laughed.

  Greta walked up beside me and rested a hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay, Azolo,” she said calmly. “She’s excitable. You know that.”

  She tilted her head slightly. “How was your day?”

  I straightened without thinking about it and looked up at her. “Honestly, it wasn’t that bad,” I said. “Meka and I practiced. She worked with her magic, and I tested my new core.”

  I paused, then added, “It was interesting. I’m faster. Stronger. And I don’t feel painfully full anymore after eating an absurd amount of food.”

  Greta nodded as if that explained everything. “Yeah, that tracks. You wake up after an advancement starving, eat enough to kill a normal person, pass out from a food coma, and then wake up feeling like nothing ever happened.”

  She shrugged. “The part after feels great. The part before that is awful.”

  I laughed. “I wish I had known. I probably still would have done the same thing, but knowing would have been nice.”

  Greta smiled, then turned her attention to Rowan. “Hello, little Rowan,” she said. “It’s been a while. You look… okay, I guess.”

  She studied her more closely. “Have you eaten? You look like you haven’t had a proper meal in days.”

  Rowan grimaced. “Three days,” she admitted. “We were out on a quest, and my former squad mates were kind of terrible.”

  She waved a hand vaguely. “I mostly kept to myself. Turns out there’s not a lot you can safely eat in the Sea of Trees. Most of it will make you sick if you’re not careful.”

  She shrugged. “I could stand to lose a couple pounds anyway.”

  I looked at her properly then. She did look thinner than before, her movements a little sluggish around the edges, the kind of tired that did not come from one bad night of sleep. It had probably been a hard quest, the sort that left marks you did not always see right away.