Hans looked down the hole. Was that…

  All thoughts of returning to the surface left him. Hans went back for his bag. He didn’t have much left in the way of supplies, some spare torches and matches, but he didn’t want to meet a new challenge unprepared.

  Not that this mostly empty pack counted as prepared. It was just slightly more prepared than he would have been if he left the bag behind.

  “Fuck it.”

  Hans dropped down the hole and landed on the circular stone. The fall stung his ankles and knees, but nothing broke. He imagined doing that a few weeks ago with his old adventurer body and knew he would have needed a week for his joints to forgive that abuse. He kicked the wooden box. Nothing happened.

  Sliding his knife between the lid and the frame, he pried a few of the rusty nails loose. The smell that escaped was rank. With the aid of Nightsight, all he needed was a crack.

  A shriveled, rotting goblin corpse was inside. It looked like it had died of dehydration.

  Hands shaking, Hans wrenched the next circular stone free. A dark cube sat some fifteen feet below. Without a thought for the pain, he dropped down. His assessment from above was correct; this was a dungeon core. It had the same construction as his dungeon core in Gomi and had the same hum of mana moving through it.

  Then he spotted a fissure in the wall.

  A very familiar fissure.

  Hans’ stomach lurched, and he felt dizzy. This didn’t make sense. He died. The body he was in now was not the one he left behind. He was still him, sure, but his death was a certainty. He remembered it too clearly for that to have been a dream or a hallucination. If he did imagine it, how did he get his eye and finger back? How did his old injuries heal?

  Steadying himself on the cube, Hans thought.

  “Did you… Did you regrow me?” Hans asked the core.

  It didn’t reply.

  “If you’re still doing me favors, could you stop growing terathans?”

  The core again stayed silent.

  He had just spent however many days in a terathan hive coming to terms with his own demise, accepting that his mortal life had come to an end. Seconds ago, in the matron’s chamber above, he was fully prepared to be ushered into the void.

  And now, he was just alive again?

  He had been alive from the moment he awoke in the hive. Hans knew that to be the case given that he now stood next to his dungeon core. What he thought was an afterlife of some kind had always been the work of the dungeon, but the abrupt shift in his perception of reality was disorienting to the point that he again questioned his sanity.

  Perhaps this was just more of the same terrible dream?

  Confirming the reality should be simple, Hans realized. He gave his heart a moment to slow and climbed out of the fissure. He used the passphrases Dunfoo installed to open the door protecting the dungeon core and made the short walk to New Gomi. The drawbridge was down, and two guards with an armorback each waited on the other side, doing their duty to prevent non-adventurers from wandering into the dungeon unescorted.

  They stared at Hans slack-jawed.

  Just then, it occurred to Hans that he smelled as bad as the rotted box goblin and probably didn’t look much better either. He hadn’t bathed in however long. He was covered in terathan blood and goop, and his beard was on track to compete with Becky’s in terms of length and bushiness.

  “Is Luther around?” Hans asked.

  One of the guards shook his head, his eyes still wide. “He’s… He’s in Leebel’s for business, sir.”

  “Thank you,” Hans replied.

  Seeing Leebel’s Rest again felt like revisiting a fond memory. The sun still dangled from the dungeon ceiling. Farmers worked the fields. Cockatrice chickens squawked in their enclosures. Camahuetos and griffons milled about in their pens. This was home. The ground beneath his feet was real. But he still couldn’t escape the feeling that this was some strange illusion.

  Thirty minutes or so into his walk to town, someone in New Gomi blew a battlehorn, a warning that there was danger in the dungeon. Hans looked around. He didn’t see any signs of monsters, but the farmers didn’t linger. They dropped their tools and raced for the safety of the city walls.

  A griffon flew overhead, coming from the direction of Leebel’s Rest and continuing on to New Gomi. It passed directly over Hans, so he couldn’t see who was in the saddle.

  As Hans approached the guard tower, he waved at the tusks on duty. “Can you see the threat? Where is it coming from?”

  They stared back at him but didn’t reply.

  “Guys?”

  A gust kicked dirt into the air. When Hans uncovered his eyes, Devon and his griffon stood between him and the guards.

  “Not another step!” the Paladin commanded.

  “This must be strange for you too,” Hans said. “I didn’t mean to give everyone a fright. How long was I gone?”

  “Three weeks.”

  “Wow. Really?” Hans thought it was a week and a half, at most. “Catch me up on what I missed?”

  “Stop talking.”

  “What?”

  Stolen story; please report.

  “Stop talking,” Devon repeated, the edge of a threat in his voice. “Disarm. Sword, shield, pack–on the ground. Now.”

  “Dev-”

  “I said now!”

  “Okay, okay,” Hans replied, doing as Devon asked. He dropped his gear and stepped back.

  The Paladin nodded his head to the tower guards behind him. Two armorbacks took up position to either side of Hans while still keeping their distance. Devon unbuckled himself from his saddle and passed the reins to one of the guards.

  “I’ll escort it back personally,” Devon said. “We’ve got a search going for others, so keep your eyes peeled. Blow the horn if you need me.”

  The guards nodded.

  “Hands out,” Devon commanded.

  “I’m not sure-”

  “Shut the fuck up,” the Paladin barked. “If you say another word, I’ll kill you, your masters, and then I’ll go to your realm and destroy it too. This is a low I never could have imagined.”

  Hans had walked into something he didn’t understand. That much was obvious. He extended his arms and waited quietly as the Paladin bound his wrists together with rope. Devon grabbed the back of Hans’ armor and jerked him toward Leebel’s Rest.

  “Walk.”

  The journey to Leebel’s from the watchtower was not short. They had an hour or so to travel, but the few times Hans risked looking over his shoulder to speak to Devon, he got a stiff punch in the back. He was not to look at or speak to the Paladin, and Hans very much believed Devon would kill him if he disobeyed again.

  As they passed through the front gate, the city went silent. The guards on the ground and on the walls watched Hans with disturbed faces. Townspeople parted and pulled their children close, while others stood frozen at the sight of the Guild Master.

  Hans had never been a criminal, but he imagined it felt something like this.

  Devon steered Hans toward the Leebel fairgrounds. When they turned the corner, Hans saw a grand wooden lodge in the middle of the field. The dark wood shimmered gold, and flowers larger and more exotic than any Hans had ever seen bloomed all around it.

  Before Hans could understand what it was he saw, a kick to the back of his legs put him on his knees.

  “Answer for this insult!” Devon bellowed.

  The grand double doors of the manor opened. Four slight figures adorned in flower petals and carrying spears made of glass escorted a woman toward Hans and Devon. The woman was slightly taller than her escorts and was adorned in golden light that had been spun into flowing fabric. Her steps were smooth and graceful as she glided forward, but the movement was unnatural. Even when she planted a foot to take her next stride, that foot continued to move, gliding toward Hans.

  The effect reminded Hans of watching imps float, staying aloft despite the beat of their wings not matching the physics his human mind expected.

  Hans caught the brief flicker of ethereal wings.

  Fae? Why were fae in Gomi?

  “Explain yourself!” Devon shouted.

  The woman tilted her head curiously, her skin gleaming like polished pearl. “Your riddle is beyond me,” she said. Her voice had the flutter of butterfly wings.

  “Is this how you negotiate?” Devon asked. “You send shapeshifters into our town to mock our dead?”

  An unarmed samodiva with lavender petals for hair emerged from the manor and stopped at the side of the taller fae. Hans recognized her. She had spoken on behalf of the Merchant when Hans traded his eye for his life.

  “This is Hans the Adventurer,” the samodiva said, plainly. “This is the human who controlled the dungeon core. His was the funeral we observed when we first arrived.”

  Funeral? Shapeshifters? Hans didn’t understand why fae were in Gomi, but he now understood the strange scenario his appearance created.

  “If I may-”

  The tall fae gestured toward him as though she plucked a harp string. His voice left him. Hans tried to turn to get Devon’s attention, but the Paladin struck him in the shoulder to keep him facing forward.

  Glancing about for any kind of help, Hans spotted Luther and Galad and then Charlie and Galinda. He didn’t know how long they had been there. When he caught Galad’s gaze, the tusk exuded nothing but disgust. In that moment, Hans suspected Galad looked a lot like his father, Ragrug. Though Hans never had the honor of meeting the tusk, he could see the posture of an enraged orc. Galad’s shoulders were stiff. He bared his tusks. His eyes welcomed violence.

  Galinda’s eyes were the same. Charlie and Luther, however, looked sad and tired.

  “Master Devontes,” the tall fae began, “This creature does not belong to me.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I recognize your power, but you would do well to recognize mine, Paladin. This creature does not belong to me, nor is he the work of any of my people. He does not bear the magic of a shapeshifter and was not born of the fae realm.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Devon spat.

  “Your people believe us to be full of tricks and deception,” she said, “but we are always honest and shrewd. I say again, this creature does not belong to me, nor would I endanger our ongoing negotiations. Especially ones that progressed in our favor.”

  “Prove it.”

  The fae giggled. “You ask me to prove the absence of an action? Such a thing cannot be done. I propose we ask the prisoner to explain his origins.”

  The sensation of Hans’ voice returning felt like swallowing a shot of fool’s root.

  “Speak, creature,” the fae commanded Hans. “Who and what are you?”

  “I am Hans the Adventurer. I’m a human and a proud citizen of Gomi.”

  Hans couldn’t see Devon, but he felt the Paladin shifting angrily behind him.

  The fae raised a calming hand to keep Devon from speaking. “That cannot be. Hans the Adventurer is dead, and his body has been laid to rest.”

  “I was killed by armorbacks in this very dungeon. I heard a child and went to investigate. I died, and my return is just as surprising for me.”

  Hans turned to look at Devon.

  “Is the kid okay? Did you find her?”

  “The real Hans died protecting young adventurers from an overgrowth,” Devon said. “Your lies insult his memory.”

  “Am I lying? You can tell, right? Ah, no, you couldn’t.”

  Devon’s glare narrowed even more.

  “I’m telling the truth. Is Bridun still in Gomi? All we have to do is ask him.”

  “That’s how we know you’re lying, shapeshifter,” Devon spat. “The real Hans saved his life, and he dedicated a song to that sacrifice. Hans did not save a child.”

  Hans thought. “There was never a kid in the dungeon?”

  Devon shook his head, and Hans began to laugh.

  “We are not here to entertain you,” the fae said. “We see no humor in dishonoring the memory of the revered dead.”

  Hans wiped his eyes with his bound hands. “I don’t know what’s going on, and I do not fully understand how it is I’m here. I remember dying, and I believe the dungeon core brought me back.”

  “And such a tale makes you laugh?”

  “The manner of my demise makes me laugh,” Hans explained. He twisted to look at Devon. “Listen. I wouldn’t believe me either, but if you’re going to execute me for being an imposter, can I ask a favor before you do?”

  Devon stared back.

  “Two favors, actually. Let me give Olza a hug, and then put me in a room with that shit Bridun. I don’t care if my hands are tied. Just give me two minutes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to beat the piss out of the Bard who murdered me.”