“We are all broken, that’s how the light gets in.”

  —Leonard Cohen

  function annotate202(){ codex.updateEntry(“Persistence | We don't heal alone, and illumination can bring damage.”); }

  // Frequently misused as proof that pain improves character. I find more often that character improves pain. At least sometimes we don’t have to go through it alone.

  The warmth, like a lingering ember, faded from Remi’s cheek. He woke to the steady sound of keyboard clicks. The Campfire button had delivered the promised respite. Perhaps a bit too effectively. Remi couldn’t remember falling asleep—there was watching the sparks dance into the ebony sky, and then there was nothing. As he probed, trying to recall anything about the night before, he was met with the colour of that sky, an empty void. He knew that blacking out in a place where the environment was continually trying to kill you was a terrible idea.

  His head swam as he tried to piece it all together, but the gap in awareness was too wide to bridge.

  As he got to his feet, he spotted Nel, leaning against a fallen log. She had positioned herself so that Remi’s sleeping form was between her and the jungle canopy. Likely, so she could monitor them both. The crunch of ash and damp earth beneath him was a stark contrast to the schoolyard he’d spent what felt like an eternity navigating.

  He stretched out. His muscles felt remarkably good given the past day or so. The increased endurance and agility were far nicer than the screaming back and popping knees he would have had back home. The improved stats were the one and only bonus to this place; well, that, and reconnecting with Nel.

  Remi took one last pause to enjoy these moments before what he knew would be another long and trying day. He was alive, remarkably so. He took in a deep breath and savoured the smell of burnt sugar and pine needles, the remaining ghosts of the marshmallows and fragile peace of the night before.

  As he approached Nel, he could see her hunched over her laptop, the screen casting a green glow across her face. Her fingers danced across the holographic keyboard, as she was likely already deep in the Crucible’s data streams. Not even the predawn quiet could stop her constant probing. She didn't even slow her typing as she acknowledged his return to awareness. “Morning, sleeping beauty. I took all the watches last night.”

  Remi’s mouth felt dry, and his muscles, recently relaxed, knotted up between his shoulder blades. He couldn’t quite bring himself to look at Nel, so he fiddled with his vest, straightening it unnecessarily as he stammered out, “I’m sorry.”

  Nel nodded, but kept working. Maybe she truly hadn’t noticed his discomfort or, more likely, was kindly choosing not to mention it; regardless, Remi was grateful.

  She continued factually, “Not a problem. It was bound to happen; you haven’t ‘slept’ since you got in here. While we don’t need sleep like in the real world, your body can only handle so much constant cognitive load. Eventually, if you don’t rest, you crash. I had a bit more control in my ghost-thread sandbox, so I could get some downtime, where yours just ran continuously.” She looked up, making eye contact. “Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

  She’d noticed! She smiled, and his self-consciousness melted. He shouldn’t have been surprised; she seemed to notice everything, like she was always watching even when he thought she wasn’t.

  “Anyway, we can’t do much until after the countdown.”

  Remi hoped someday not to be in a state of perpetual confusion whenever she talked. When he didn’t respond, Nel pointed up into the sky, where Remi saw a massive clock counting down to zero. It was like time itself had been projected across the ozone layer, and the digital numbers stretched huge and ominous across the cerulean sky. As soon as he saw it, Remi’s novelty and stakes Ouro-halos flickered and ticked up marginally in response.

  There appeared to be about 5 minutes left to the countdown, and with nothing left to do but wait, he sat next to Nel, which apparently was a surprise, as she quickly closed her laptop screen. While he could read none of the scrolling font, Remi could catch a quick glimpse of a family eating breakfast. Pancakes maybe?

  He was hungry, so he rummaged in his murse. Feeling in his snack drawer, he came out with a bagel. Well, not as good as pancakes, but it would do. He held it up to Nel. “Want half? I get a daily snack?”

  She shook her head no. “That’s okay. I rarely eat breakfast.” Before Remi could object, she continued, “I also could get some rations in the sandbox, and I had a leftover bar in my hoodie.” Remi looked at the narrow pockets and wondered if they were pocket dimensions like his satchel, but knew she likely wouldn’t give him a straight answer. So he dropped it. He leaned back, crossed his legs, and ate his bread ring.

  Nel didn’t look up, but she scooted sideways a few inches, making just enough room for him. It shouldn’t have mattered. But it did.

  “You seem to know everything.” He made his expression wry—rye as a bagel. “Are there places in the dungeon that we can resupply?”

  Her response, “Of course,” was served up dry as toast.

  Remi looked up at the sky, now down to one minute and fifteen seconds. “Any idea what happens when that gets to zero?”

  Nel shook her head yes, made an explosion gesture with her hands, “BOOOOMMM!”

  “What? Really!” he said. Panic unintentionally crept into his voice.

  “Of course not! You’re too easy.” She laughed at him. Remi only really minded that he hadn’t thought of the joke first. She explained, “There has been a field placed along the jungle edge. You could try to pass through; it would be funny, but I don’t recommend it.”

  Remi had no intention of trying to run through an invisible force field. He wondered how she knew, but figured if she wanted him to know, she would have told him. And so they waited as the clock counted down. Finally, it was ten seconds, then nine, eight, Remi finished the countdown in his head, but said the “3,2,1” out loud. The numbers flared, freezing at zero, as a robotic voice boomed across the sky, vibrating the canopy.

  Sing, O threads, of your tutorials now complete.

  Not all returned. Many cut and scattered to the winds.

  But those of you who endure stand ready for the funnel.

  The Crucible narrows. As one becomes two.

  From this point onward, you are measured together.

  There are no more practice runs.

  You will have one week to complete this chapter prior to the page turning. The portal awaits, vast and visible, emblazoned on maps when near. Fear not my threads; your pairings are locked, for now. The genre before you is drawn from the myths of your past. Refuge remains, but sanctuary is conditional. Experience will no longer tally line by line, but by the turn of the scene. The Crucible will not measure the thread, but the line you weave—together.

  Ink boldly. Write wisely.

  Nel said nothing at first, just nudged his arm with her elbow, a slight gesture that granted him permission to breathe before the info avalanche hit. “Don’t worry, old man, we’ve got this shit!” She actually believed that, and Remi found it comforting in a way that he needed.

  He exhaled, letting himself relax for just a second. They couldn’t control what came next, just deal with it when it did. He told his students that the test was the test—worrying didn’t change the questions. So he might as well follow his own advice. He waited for the Crucible to show him his options.

  [SYSTEM MESSAGE]

  XP Progression Protocol: Updated

  Advancement is now milestone-based. Narrative resonance and event triggers now determine growth.

  Pairing Protocol: Initiated

  Pair bonds locked until further notice. Synergy bonuses enabled.

  [CLASS UPDATE: SPELLBLADE PARAMETERS DEFINED]

  See the character sheet for more information.

  The numbers exploded into a rain of digits that bled downward from the sky like cooling wax. The numbers fell from the heavens to land on them both, crawling across his skin as a glowing line inside his forearm. Nel’s had the same mark, pulsing in rhythm with his.

  For a moment, Remi couldn’t help thinking about how appropriate it all was. Everyone was a ticking time bomb; this fucking place had just made it literal. A faint glow pulsed to life along the inside of his forearm, syncing with his heartbeat before resolving into a new countdown.

  Time to Turn: 7 days (168:59:06)

  It all felt very biblical. But if heaven and earth could be made in that time, then Remi was certain that he and Nel could handle whatever the Crucible had to throw at them.

  [AI]: YOU HAVE SEVEN DAYS!

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

  Remi: Shit! Seriously? Did you just set the time limit so you could make a Ring joke?

  [AI]: No, of course not. That would be ridiculous. The time is optimal for the dungeon funnels that have been designed for each thread pair. The Ring joke was just a bonus.

  Remi: You have too much time on your hands.

  [AI]: That would be you. Well, arm technically, but it’s still funny. Also, I’m far too busy and important to change the world just for you. I’m running a worldwide narrative salvage, after all.

  Remi: Ya, I know.

  [AI]: Actually, that's a bit of a lie. Most of these funnels are the same; it helps to standardize for efficiency. But I took the time to add a few special things for you. Nothing major, just a few flourishes. You know, to show that I care.

  Remi: You didn’t have to put yourself out on my behalf.

  [AI]: It’s not a problem, really. We’re not talking about anything major. A few allusions I thought you might enjoy here, an Indy style pit of snakes there.

  Remi: Really, I’m good.

  [AI]: I hope so. The snakes are really kind of nasty. You likely don’t want to end up there.

  Nel was looking at Remi. “You’re talking to him again, aren’t you?”

  There was no point in lying. “Yes,” he said.

  She nodded in affirmation. “Good, you have forward access. I’ve got backwards. We should coordinate sometime soon, just not when the system is listening.

  “Sure,” was all Remi could manage in response.

  “You should check out your updates and stats,” Nel said. “I already did mine.”

  “I’m guessing you aren’t sharing,” he said. Nel only responded with a smile, intentionally warped to look fake cute. He shook his head and opened his information sheet. Most was the same, but he saw it had been updated. It even had the annoying update tags found in governmental documents.

  Reluctantly, Remi flicked open his own character sheet. Columns of numbers unspooled in a crisp font, each one an uncomfortable reminder that the Crucible thought it knew him better than he knew himself. Still, the stats looked better than he expected.

  Class: Spellblade

  Subtype: Caster-Melee Hybrid

  Level: 10

  HAND:

  Strength: 15

  Agility: 17

  Endurance: 18

  HEAD:

  Intelligence: 20

  Wisdom: 17

  Lore: 17

  HEART:

  Charisma: 13

  Stealth: 12

  Luck: 14

  He scrolled further, skimming the subclass notes.

  NEW!

  Designation: Close-range arcane combatant

  Interesting! What does that mean exactly?

  NEWISH!

  Imprint Ability: Mana Lash

  Type: Mobility Tether/Pull

  Concerned, Remi flipped to the spell write-up. With a sigh of relief, he noted it was the same.

  [Remi]: Did you change my lashing spell?

  [AI]: Not really. I just decided I hated the name. This one is cleaner. Hence why I said “newish,” not new.

  [Remi]: I see.

  He didn’t, but it wasn’t something he was going to get upset about as long as the functionality of the spell remained. He went back to the class write-up and noticed a large new section.

  NEW!

  Core Rules:

  

  
• All strike spells require physical contact to trigger.


  
• One hand must remain free for casting.


  

  

  
• Dual-wielding reduces spell access.


  
• Spells emphasize control and disruption, not ranged destruction.


  
• The class is forbidden from learning the spell Fireball!


  

  Remi blinked. “What kind of fantasy doesn’t allow Fireball? That’s like banning ice cream.” He really wasn’t that upset, but he knew that last rule was intended to irk him, so he might as well play along with the narrative. The truly upsetting rule was actually the first one.

  [Remi]: Could you clarify what that first rule means exactly?

  [AI]: You ask a lot of questions for someone who used to get paid to give them. But fine—if it has Strike in its name, you actually have to hit the thing to make it work. I noticed you were waving your stick around like a wand. That isn't how this subclass is going to work. You traded long-range for close-quarters.

  [Remi]: That hardly seems fair.

  [AI]: To you. Probably not. But to the new readers, some of whom indicated that you might get a bit of a god complex. I agree. If you could swing a weapon and sling spells from across the room, you’d erase the difference between fighter and caster. There’s no balance. And if there's no balance, no difference, there’s no story. Weakness makes you interesting. So that means no fireball.

  [Remi]: Oh.

  [AI]: I mean, ever!

  [Remi]: Fine.

  [AI]: Just read the limitations. I’m sure you will have something to complain about there too.

  That was concerning. Remi went back to examining the tooltip.

  Limitations:

  

  
• Cannot channel spells through weapons.


  
• All damage spells will be close-range; risk is a mandatory part of the class.


  

  That all seemed fine to Remi. He wasn’t sure what Archie thought he would get upset about. But then he saw the spell updates.

  Spell Updates:

  

  
• Stat Surge: Is now 1 use per day. The surged stat will be weakened by the bonus amount during the next combat.


  

  Remi groaned out loud. “So you're telling me my ups are going to be paired with an equivalent down.”

  [AI]: Yes. It’s called balance.

  [Remi]: I get it. Just not looking forward to the agility or strength hangover. It’s fine after a night of drinking, but this could mean I simply fall while standing in the center of a room.

  [AI]: Yah, and how entertaining will that shit be?

  Nel shook her head in frustration. Remi felt bad; it must be frustrating to listen to him speak in fragmented thoughts.

  “Sorry, Nel, he is just ironically trying to explain how this place is balanced.

  Her derisive snort was the only confirmation he needed to let him know he was right about her wanting the information gaps filled. “Okay, Archie, I know you’re not done.”

  He wasn’t, the patch notes continued.

  

  
• Foreshadowing: Should be rare and vague. Therefore, it's now once per encounter. The spell can no longer be cast and is now a triggered ability.


  

  [Remi]: You gave me a NERF.

  [AI]: Duh! Of course I did. Did you really think I'd just let you spam those spells in every combat? Stat Surge, the way I gave it to you in the tutorial, would let you brute-force every fight. Foreshadowing would always be your first spell, and the solution would be right there, so there would be no tension. Even the ability to cast it lets you know when the hint is coming. If we don’t have balance, we risk losing interest. Which is the point here. So balance isn’t optional, especially in your case; it’s survival.

  Remi considered. The part of him that liked powerful spells when he played video games was saying one thing. The literature teacher said another. He reluctantly agreed.

  [Remi]: I agree with the theory, but know I will continue to break this Crucible open any way that I can.

  [AI]: Of that, I have no doubt. But it isn't all bad. I have given you a few new toys as well.

  [NEW MECHANIC UNLOCKED]

  Rune & Glyph Imbuement: Weapon Upgrades

  Overview:

  Weapons now have a slot system for all runes and glyphs.

  Category A: Temporary Runes (Combat Slots)

  

  
• A weapon may hold one temporary rune per combat.


  
• Must be inscribed prior to engaging in combat.


  
• Grants a temporary enhancement (lightning damage, slow, binding effect, etc.).


  
• Once chosen, a rune cannot be swapped or overwritten until combat ends.


  
• The rune may be removed mid-combat, but no replacement rune can be applied.


  
• Temporary runes automatically fade once combat concludes.


  
• Temporary runes do not interfere with [Strike] spells.


  

  Remi felt the familiar thrum of excitement that came with any kind of combat upgrade he got when playing video games. Having the ability to enhance his weapon with runic power was something he could definitely get on board with.

  Category B: Permanent Glyph Slots

  

  
• Limited only by the physical space on the weapon.


  
• These slots hold permanent or long-duration glyphs (e.g., bent paperclip hook, Tearcall).


  
• Glyphs persist between combats and remain bound to the weapon until deliberately erased.


  
• Permanent slots cannot be used for temporary runes.


  

  System Note: “You asked to be a hybrid. So now you can upgrade both your hardware and software. That means a bit of juggling, but who doesn’t love a good juggler? Now, your power comes with focus and risk.”

  [AI]: And yes, I may have added the temporary runes only to see a flaming meter stick, but you’ll never prove it. Regardless, it will make for interesting combat, which is my goal. Also, I’m giving you a new permanent glyph.

  He, too, couldn’t wait to have a flaming meter stick.

  [NEW GLYPH ACQUIRED: TEARCALL]

  Type: Linked Weapon Glyph (Rare)

  Slot: Permanent

  Effect:

  

  
• Inscribes the weapon with a stable tear-anchor in reality.


  
• The caster may summon or dismiss the weapon through a controlled tear in space.


  
• The tear manifests after 3 seconds of stabilization.


  
• The weapon emerges directly into the caster’s hand or withdraws into margin space storage.


  

  Limitations:

  

  
• No spells may be cast during tear stabilization.


  

  [AI]: You aren't a garbage panda! This way, you can stop rooting around in your bag like a raccoon every time you want to grab your stick.

  He had a lot to process.

  Remi was overwhelmed—so much so that he almost made a dick joke just to cope. But he decided he was bigger than that.