Miri woke to the smell of bacon and for one disorienting moment, she thought she was back home. Where it was safe and ordinary, where mornings didn’t begin with pain and blood. Then she shifted, felt the dull ache along her side, and remembered everything at once.

  She lay still and took inventory.

  Breathing was easy. No stabbing pain. No blood in her lungs. Not even soreness.

  “Good,” she murmured.

  The ceiling above her was wooden, beams dark with age. A thick, hand-stitched quilt was pulled up to her chest. Someone had even braided her hair out of her face. The care of it hit her harder than the wound had.

  She sat up slowly. The world stayed put. That felt like a win.

  By the time she made it to the kitchen, Behr and Aliah were already awake, seated at a long table set with food that smelled like it had been made by people who fed a lot of mouths on purpose.

  Bacon. Potatoes. Fresh bread with butter and honey. Something stewing on the stove that smelled like comfort.

  “Well look at that,” the older woman said, smiling. “You heal fast.”

  “Magic,” Miri said, then paused. “And potions. And stubbornness.”

  Behr, low and relieved. “I’ll take it.”

  They ushered her into a chair like she might break if they didn’t, and she let them. As she ate, the tight knot in her chest loosened bit by bit. Food helped. So did the way they kept looking at her like she was something precious that had nearly been lost.

  “We don’t know how to thank you,” Behr said finally, serious now. “Those cubs—”

  “They’re family,” his wife said.

  “And our livelihood,” he added.

  Miri glanced around the kitchen. Comfortable, but not extravagant.

  She hesitated, then said, “I’m guessing they’re… valuable?”

  The farmer snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”

  “How much are they worth?” she asked carefully.

  Aliah smiled. “About ten thousand credits each.”

  Miri blinked. “Each?”

  “Guard tigers aren’t common,” he said. “They protect farms, drive off burrowers, and most people don’t have the land or patience to raise them properly.”

  Miri looked around again, recalculating.

  “Then why does the place look so… normal?”

  He laughed. “Twelve daughters.”

  “Fourteen,” his wife corrected.

  “Twelve we raised,” he amended. “Two married in.”

  Miri froze mid-bite. “Twelve?”

  If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  “All sets of twins,” Aliah said brightly.

  Miri choked.

  “We kept trying for a boy,” Behr added. “Kept getting pairs.”

  “Ages nineteen to thirty now,” his wife said. “Universities, guild colleges, career crafters, an author, one studying ley engineering.”

  Miri’s laughter faded.

  Twins.

  The word landed harder than it should have. Her chest tightened, sudden and sharp, and for a moment she just stared at the table.

  The couple noticed immediately. “You alright?”

  Miri nodded once. Then again, slower.

  “I had a twin,” she said quietly. “A brother. Mason.”

  They waited. Didn’t rush her.

  She told them everything. Not every detail, but enough. The cave. The mana. Waking up alone. The System. The way the world felt wrong without him beside her.

  When she finished, Aliah reached across the table and squeezed her hand, firm and warm.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, her eyes wet. “No one should have to cross worlds alone.”

  Her husband nodded. “But you didn’t let it harden you. That matters.”

  The silence that followed was heavy, but not unbearable. Eventually, it softened.

  “Well,” Aliah said after a moment, eyeing her over her cup, “if you’re looking for family…”

  Behr grinned. “We could always make you lucky thirteen.”

  Miri laughed, a little wetly, and the knot eased.

  “Tempting. Very tempting.”

  After breakfast, they insisted she take a proper shower. Hot water. Real soap. The kind of clean that went all the way down to your soul. When she came out of the spare bedroom feeling more human than she had in weeks, Behr was waiting by the door.

  “There’s something else,” he said.

  They stepped outside. Miri saw the barn fence had been repaired. Beyond it, in the yard, sat the tiger.

  The young male lifted his head when he saw her, ears flicking forward. He was big—already powerful—but not fully grown yet.

  “He chased your attacker,” the farmer said. “All the way to Helmsworth. Turned back at the gates. Knows better.”

  The tiger’s tail thumped once against the dirt.

  “He’s two,” Aliah said, joining them. “Smart. Loyal. Protective.”

  “And,” Behr added gently, “he chose you.”

  Miri swallowed.

  “I can’t—” she started.

  “You can,” the older woman said. “And you should. We filed a report with the gate guard this morning, you'll need to make one too.”

  Behr leaned on the fence next to his wife and added, "I'd—We'd feel better knowing you had someone looking out for your safety."

  Miri watched the tiger approach her. She glanced at the repaired fence. At the fresh dirt and straw where her blood had spilled on the ground just last night. She looked to Behr and Aliah, who only needed a couple hours to decide Miri was worthy of being considered family.

  "I think,” Aliah said softly, “you need a friend.”

  The System chimed.

  [ Quest Complete: God’s Lonely Man ]

  [ Reward granted. ]

  Miri laughed, breathless and stunned.

  “Yeah,” she said, reaching out as the tiger leaned into her hand. “Yeah, I think I do.”

  She would go back to Helmsworth. Report the attack. Finish her contracts.

  But she wouldn’t be walking alone anymore.

  * * *

  Hank did not go to bed.

  The lamp on his table had burned low, wick hissing softly, but he hadn’t noticed. His book lay open and unread in his lap, fingers curled around the spine as if he’d forgotten how to let go.

  Something was wrong.

  He pressed a hand to his chest and frowned. The ache there wasn’t pain, it was more like fatigue that had no business being so deep. As if he’d walked a long way without remembering when he’d started.

  “That’s new,” he murmured.

  Hank rose unsteadily and crossed the floor, stopping at the spot he avoided thinking about. He didn’t go below. He didn’t need to.

  The wards answered his touch: faint, tired, fraying at the edges of his awareness. Holding. Still holding.

  For now.

  Hank swallowed and stepped back, heart thudding.

  “I need a warder,” he said to the empty room. The words came out rough.

  “Soon.”