We stepped out of the Rift Gate and into the familiar haze of Hano.

  The air felt thicker, warmer, and more humid. The checkpoint outside the Rift was as busy as ever. Merchants transported crates, and couriers, dressed in ornate clothing, carried messages to important nobles. The guards wore red and black, their eyes sharp and unblinking. Outside the castle, the sky was its usual blue, contrasted by the yellow sun. We were back in the Contested Realm. After days in the crisp air of the Elemental Bloodline Realm, it was like returning to a noisy old apartment after a week abroad.

  Yon stretched his arms and glanced around. “I’ll take care of the paperwork,” he said. “Raik, I’ll escort you to the Guild if you want.”

  “Appreciated,” Raik said. “I hope my brother’s in Hano.”

  Ja’a stepped up beside Kan. “You’re going to the Guild too?” she asked, looping her arm through Kan’s without waiting for a response. “You should walk with me. I’ve got questions. Lots of them.”

  Kan blinked but didn’t pull away. That was enough answer for Ja’a.

  Vena looked toward the portal hub. “I should check in with Lady Sana.”

  “I’ll come with you,” I said. “Might be nice to see familiar faces after days of killing spiders.”

  The rest of the Misfits scattered; some headed for the Guild, others toward the market district, and a few drifted toward the slums.

  On the walk to the temple, I had a strange moment of disassociation. I was walking along a stone path in a medieval-looking city, complete with a magical portal network, and my brain was starting to feel familiar.

  Would I feel more at home here than in foreign Earth cities like Tokyo or New York?

  Do I belong here now?

  My musings were cut short by the sight of the temple doors. I’m here now, and those questions don’t matter. Not today.

  The temple was busier than usual. Not bustling like a market, but focused like a beehive in spring. Clerics and faithful moved briskly through the halls, some carrying water basins, others whispering over parchment. The smell of soap and boiled herbs hung in the air.

  We found Lady Sana upstairs on the sun terrace, her sleeves rolled up, squinting through the microscope.

  Lady Camille sat nearby, scribbling notes across a parchment, neatly writing in the holy script. I couldn't read a thing, since I only know Common. Between them stood glass plates glinting in he daylight. There were three sealed jars of blood, and another full of something darker, swimming in a basin of worm water.

  “Lady Sana?” Vena called.

  Sana didn’t look up. “Good. You’re back.”

  Camille sighed in relief. “We need your brain. Especially you, Alice.”

  “I am here to help,” I said, stepping closer. “What’s going on?”

  Sana straightened, brushing her hands on her robes. “We’ve been working on what causes the Green Fever.”

  Vena stiffened. “The disease that mostly affects children?”

  “Exactly. We've confirmed twelve cases. All children.” Camille tapped a parchment. “Same symptoms: high fever, green-tinged sweat, weakness in the limbs, abdominal pain. No magical residue nor a cursed signature. Which rules out most curses' affliction.”

  I crossed my arms in thought. “So, what are you thinking?”

  Sana motioned toward the microscope. “We took blood samples from three infected and two healthy children. And looked at both under the scope.”

  “And?” I leaned in. “What did you see?”

  She handed me a sketch. It was crude, but unmistakable: oblong with flagella. Spotted with what could have been surface receptors.

  “Salmonella,” I muttered. “Or something like it.”

  “You recognize it?” Camille leaned closer.

  “Yeah. It’s a bacterium, in my hometown, anyway. Causes typhoid fever. Spreads through contaminated water or food. Sometimes unwashed hands.”

  “That matches,” Sana said quickly. “We traced it back to the kids swimming in the East River.”

  Hmm, that’s where the sewer runoff is. I remembered that from my rat hunting week.

  “We also examined stool samples,” Camille added. “Same shape present. Moving. More aggressive.”

  “And not in the healthy ones?”

  “Exactly. Only in the sick.”

  “That’s a textbook infection,” I said. “You’re not dealing with magic. You’re dealing with biology.”

  Sana pointed at some sealed jars floating in warm water. “We’ve tried cultivating them, so we could try to make a vaccine. We added some water and sugar to the bacteria and kept them warm. They didn’t grow that much.”

  “Try adding salt too,” I said. “Or seawater, if you can get it. Some bacteria need a salinity boost to reproduce.”

  Camille wrote that down immediately. “Temperature?”

  “Body temperature is best. Maybe a little warmer.”

  Sana narrowed her eyes. “And if it grows, can we start making vaccines?”

  “Eventually,” I said. “But you’ll need an animal host. Something that can get infected but won’t suffer too much.”

  “Animals that get sick with the Green Fever,” Camille frowned. “We don’t have one, or at least not yet.”

  “Start by testing local vermin,” I suggested. “Rats, maybe. Or pigs, if you’ve got them. If you can replicate the symptoms, create a primitive vaccine by weakening the bacteria. Using heat, sun exposure, or a weak acid.”

  Sana nodded. “Too bad we don’t have an inquisitor here in Hano.”

  “What are you thinking?“ Vena asked.

  “I want to curse the bacteria using the Evil Be Damned miracle,” said Sana.

  “Evil Be Damned. What’s that?” I asked.

  "It's the keystone miracle for the Inquisitor class. It’s a debuff that works like a reverse of the Resolve miracle the knights have,” explained Camille.

  “The more harmful something is to the greater good, the weaker it gets,” added Sana.

  “Would that even work on bacteria?” I asked.

  “I don’t see why not,” shrugged Sana, “It works on insects."

  I grinned. “That sounds interesting.”

  “We’ve learned a lot from you,” Camille said. She truly meant it. It didn't sound like flattery.

  Just then, the door to the terrace burst open.

  Mosha ran in, her sandals slapping stone.

  “The lights have started!” she gasped. “The Holy Messenger is coming!”

  Sana and Camille exchanged glances. Camille capped her ink. Sana folded her sketches.

  “Alice and Vena, come with me,” she said.

  Camille remained behind in the lab, waving us off as we headed downstairs.

  “I’m staying here,” she said, one hand resting on her slightly rounded belly. “The stairs are too much for me. I am not going down just to get back up.”

  “Take it easy,” Sana called. “We’ll probably bring him here to see the lab anyway.”

  I followed Sana down the stairs.

  Deep down, I was thrilled.

  They’d listened. They’d tested. Not only that, but they’d also found bacteria. Millions of lives could be improved from this.

  We weren’t just guessing anymore. We were doing science in another world.

  I descended into the temple’s back hall. A few clerics and Faithful were gathered in quiet formation, their heads turned toward a shimmering golden light. It pulsed in slow, steady waves; too bright to be natural, too rhythmic to be fire. Some sort of Holy Arrival Point.

  Vena and Sana stopped just shy of the glowing ring, motioning for me to stand with them.

  “Okay,” I said, tilting my head. “So what exactly is a Holy Messenger?”

  Vena smiled faintly. “A newer class, it only appeared after the Third Holy War. They’re divine couriers. Chosen by the temples and blessed with unique mobility.”

  “Mobility?”

  “They can travel anywhere they’ve previously been, regardless of the distance,” Sana explained. “They just have to keep riding for one day and one night.”

  I blinked. “Like Teleporters?”

  “More or less,” Vena said. “It took me one year to get to Hano from the Kingdom of the Veil. A Messenger can do it in twenty-four hours.”

  “Can they carry people?”

  “Once per year,” said Sana. “Though they can carry messages and packages all the time. As long as it’s not too taxing for their horses.”

  “The horses are amazing,” Vena added with a dreamy look. “White-coated, tall, and blessed. All descended from Lady Laurel’s stallion.”

  That’s when the air changed.

  The light deepened to gold-fire, columns of radiance spilling across the marble floor. Wind stirred robes and parchments. I shielded my eyes as something passed through the wall like a mirage given shape.

  A tall white horse, completely translucent, glided into the room. Its rider shimmered like smoke made flesh. Both horse and man drifted through stone pillars as if they weren’t even there. He wore armor traced in silver and gold, and a white cotton headdress similar to a keffiyeh fluttered over his head. The cloak behind him looked like drifting mist.

  They floated, ghostlike, toward the glowing ring.

  With every step closer, their forms solidified. The hooves touched stone. The armor shone. The rider became real.

  When they reached the center of the ring, the light faded completely, leaving behind only a tall man and his radiant horse.

  “Prince Marrek of the Holy Kingdom of the Veil,” Sana said, stepping forward. “Welcome.”

  The Messenger dismounted in one fluid motion. He handed the reins to Mosha, who looked like she might pass out from excitement.

  Sana turned to me. “Alice, this is Prince Marrek, a member of the Veil royal family, and a Holy Messenger. Marrek, this is Alice Hecate, friend of the temple, and a scholar with a lot of knowledge.”

  Marrek gave me a courtly bow. “An honor to meet you, Miss Alice. And nice to see you as well, Cousin Vena.”

  “Good to see you, Marrek,” Vena said with a warm smile.

  I blinked. “Wait. Cousin? You’re royalty too, Vena?”

  “Pfff,” scoffed Vena dismissively, “I’m only fourteenth in line for the throne.”

  “Fifteenth now,” Marrek corrected gently. “Princess Juliana was born last week. She is Thomas’s daughter.”

  “Ah,” Vena muttered. “Good for him. He’ll make a good dad.”

  Sana turned to Mosha.

  “Stable and feed the horse. And brush him twice.”

  Marrek paused, placing a hand on the horse’s neck.

  “Thank you,” he murmured. “You ran well.”

  He reached into his satchel and gave the horse a glossy red apple, which it crunched gently from his palm.

  We followed Sana into her office. Vena moved ahead to prepare tea, setting out fancy ceramic cups and a small tin of dried flowers.

  We sat in a quiet circle, the hum of the temple fading behind the thick stone walls.

  “Any news from the Mythic Realm?” Sana asked as she poured.

  “Peaceful for the most part,” he said. “A few raids from Morr’s fanatics. Minor monster surges. But…”

  Marrek’s expression darkened. “The Doomcaller Sect is more active than ever. Their oracles are preaching about an incoming plague: something they say will sweep through the Mythic Realm. They claim one in ten will die from it.”

  Vena’s hands froze mid-pour.

  “How reliable are their predictions?” I asked.

  “Very,” Sana said grimly.

  “They also keep claiming the Holy Clerics already have the cure,” Marrek added. “But none of the three kingdoms: Crown, Helm, or Veil, has any knowledge of such a disease, let alone a cure. That hasn’t stopped the pantheon from blaming us. They’re furious. Goddess Shana even sent a warning to the High Temple: if the cure isn’t delivered soon, she’ll start blessing the Unholy brothels again.”

  I made a mental note to read up on Shana and the pantheon,

  Sana frowned and nodded slowly, then gestured to the desk behind her.

  “I don’t know anything about the disease, but we might know more about the cure,” she said.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  Marrek blinked twice. “Really.”

  “Alice here brought us knowledge. We’ve been validating it for months now.”

  She opened a case, revealing the microscope Nina had built.

  “This is one of two we’ve made. It allows us to see small things beyond the limits of the eye. We’ve identified the cause of illness in infections, living organisms that are too small to see otherwise.”

  Marrek leaned in, visibly impressed. “Is this knowledge from another realm?”

  Sana nodded. “And we’ve documented procedures. Camille’s notes, Alice’s explanations. We’re close to growing a sample of the fever-causing bacteria. We’ll send all of it with you to the holy kingdoms.”

  “Maybe the clerics and inquisitors can expand on it,” added Vena.

  “I want this knowledge to spread as fast as possible. Especially if it saves lives.”

  He looked at me then. “Will you come with me? If you leave with me tomorrow, I can bring you back by next year’s end.”

  I shook my head. “Thank you. But I have things to finish here.”

  Marrek bowed again. “I understand.”

  Sana stood and gestured toward the lab. “Come, we’ll show you everything before you leave.”

  “I guess this is my cue to leave,” I said, also rising. “It was nice meeting you, Lord Marrek.”

  As I turned to go, Sana called back over her shoulder. “If you see Nina, tell her we need more microscopes!”

  I left the temple and followed the path toward Nina's workshop.

  The street was quiet this time of day, the sun caught low between buildings, throwing long shadows and soft light. The smell of oil, iron shavings, and magic-thick smoke met me before I even stepped through her gate.

  I found Nina crouched behind the shop.

  She was standing over a disassembled spear laid out on a canvas tarp, her posture rigid and her eyes… clouded. Not vacant exactly, but glassy, like she was seeing through me instead of at me.

  The taser spear was broken down into its component parts.

  The Y-shaped wooden shaft had been split clean in half vertically, both sides smoothed and carved with small trenches. The copper wires were neatly coiled next to them, still faintly glowing. The metal prongs sat beside the shaft, perfectly shaped and polished, as well as two silver rings. All the pieces were here, carefully prepared, as if she were about to perform surgery.

  I approached slowly.

  “Oh, you’re almost done,” I said gently.

  She didn’t answer.

  Instead, she moved.

  It wasn’t a twitch or a startle. It was a shift. A flow, like a puppet guided by instinct. She turned, opened a nearby cabinet with practiced precision, and extracted a jar of glowing ember-colored liquid. Its label was hand-painted in curling script: Soul of a Nightmare.

  My spine straightened.

  “Nina?” I said.

  She didn’t reply.

  She grabbed a handful of cores from a nearby pouch: life, earth, fire, but mostly sky affinities, and tossed them into the jar too. The liquid shimmered, colors rippling through it like a storm behind tinted glass.

  She walked to me, plucked a hair straight off my head, and dropped it into the jar.

  “Aouch… hey!” I flinched, stepping back. “What are you doing? You’re freaking me out.”

  Still no answer.

  Then, because of course she would, Nina pulled out a pair of denim shorts.

  My denim shorts.

  The same ones I’d sent to her last week to study after she asked about the fabric in our dreamscape.

  She soaked the shorts in the jar.

  The ember liquid fused with the cloth, glowing as the denim absorbed the magic, and whatever else was in that cursed brew. She cut them into thin straps and used them to bind the two halves of the spear shaft, weaving the copper wire through the channels inside the wood before twisting the metal prongs into their sockets with steady, mechanical precision.

  The fusion wasn’t craftsmanship.

  It was a mad alchemist’s experiment.

  Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, she stepped toward me and pricked my arm with the tip of the spear, just enough to draw a single bead of blood.

  I watched in stunned silence as the spear began to glow, shifting through blue, then gold, then red, then an earthy orange. Lightning and warmth radiated from it in pulses.

  And then it stopped.

  The light faded.

  Nina’s hands slipped from the shaft. Her knees hit the ground. She let out a single breath and started weeping.

  Not loudly. Just soft, wracked sobs. Her wings were trembling. Tears carving clean paths down her soot-smudged face.

  I rushed to her side.

  “Nina! Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s done. You did it.”

  But she didn’t answer.

  She was somewhere else.

  It took thirty minutes and a cup of tea before Nina was able to talk.

  “I did it,” she whispered. “I entered the Creation State again.”

  Her voice trembled with something between pride and exhaustion.

  “What happened? You were acting… really weird,” I said, still eyeing the assembled spear beside us.

  “I was connected to the dreamworld while awake,” Nina said, her eyes unfocused like she was still halfway between two worlds. “It’s an incredible feeling. I could see ten thousand threads of ideas all at once.”

  “Do you remember what you did? Or was it just a blur?”

  “Oh, I remember most of it,” she nodded, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “Those five minutes of pure inspiration advanced my understanding of soul alchemy and enchantment by at least a decade.”

  I glanced again at the spear. The shaft was flawless now; a seamless Y-shaped wood fused together with enchanted denim, the polished silver rings glowing faintly, and twin metal prongs glimmering like captured lightning.

  “What did you do with that soul jar?” I asked. “That wasn’t part of the original design. When we built the concept back in your dream sanctuary, we didn’t have any of that.”

  Nina’s lips twitched. “When you entered my shop while I was still in the fugue state, I noticed your soul had a similar echo to the Nightmare Soul I had in storage. Both of you share a predilection for teleportation.”

  I blinked. “Wait… I have what?”

  “It’s not really an affinity but something similar,” she said, matter-of-fact. “Since it’s not from bloodline magic. The Nightmare is a horse-like creature from the Contested Realm. It teleports to escape predators, but its bloodline affinity tests always come back blank. That means its magic is from an entirely different system.”

  “And I have something similar?”

  Nina nodded. “Your soul resonates with the same signature. I could feel it.”

  “So that’s why you put my hair in the jar?”

  “Do you know what happens when two souls interact?” she asked.

  “No?”

  “The stronger one consumes the weaker,” Nina explained, voice calm but intense. “Every living thing has a soul echo after death. When I saw the similarity between you and the Nightmare, I realized I could reshape the soul remnant.”

  “You can do that?”

  “Normally, I couldn’t. I am not a Souldealer after all,” she said. “The timing had to be perfect. I weakened the Nightmare soul by forcing it to fight remnants from other cores: fire, life, sky, and earth. Then I used your hair to anchor the outcome. Your soul became the mold that defined the final echo.”

  I stared. “That sounds like something you could never be able to do again.”

  “I couldn’t. Not in a million years,” Nina admitted. “Only in the Creation State.”

  “Okay,” I breathed. “But why the denim shorts? That felt... weird.”

  “Do you know how Soulbooks are made?”

  “Only vaguely,” I said. “You put a soul in a book, then Soulscribes modify it.”

  “Right. But here’s what most people don’t know: the material matters. The paper must be made from wood native to the soul’s birthplace.”

  My eyes widened. “So… my shorts were made on Ear… my birthplace. That let the soul echo bind to them?”

  Nina smiled. “Exactly. The spear shaft is made of Soulwood, native to the Soul Realm. The metal is from here. They’re not compatible with your soul. But the denim? That’s you. That made the bridge work.”

  I looked down at the weapon beside me.

  “Do you know what it does now?”

  “It’s part of you,” she said softly. “You can summon it into your hand, no matter how far it is. Once per hour, probably.”

  “What else?”

  “It can consume cores for repairs or extra durability. But most importantly, it amplifies your magic. Like a mage staff.”

  I picked it up.

  The moment my fingers wrapped around the shaft, a surge ran up my arm. Not hostile. Not foreign.

  Familiar.

  The spear felt like a third hand, like it had always been there.

  I took a step back and focused, channeling lightning into the shaft. Arcs of blue snapped between the prongs, dancing like eager snakes. I fired a bolt into a training post. The crack of thunder knocked dust from the rafters. I tried a lightning ball next. It was bigger, denser, and faster than I’d ever cast.

  Then I jabbed forward with the taser prongs.

  The strike melted straight through a training dummy and left scorch marks on the stone behind it.

  “Uh. That’s… strong.”

  “You’ll need to regulate your output,” Nina said, her voice dry. “If you want it to be non-lethal.”

  I lowered the spear, chest rising with uneven breath.

  She made this. From dream to blueprint to artifact. From our whispered theories to an object that felt like part of my body.

  I turned to her.

  “Thank you.”

  She wiped her eyes. “No. Thank you.”

  I spent another hour getting used to the feel of the spear: balancing it, channeling lightning through it, trying short combos. Meanwhile, Nina was scribbling like a madwoman, trying to put to paper every fragment of brilliance she remembered from her fugue state.

  The spear was perfect. Not just functional, but it was personal.

  “How much do I owe you?” I asked. “For the Nightmare soul and all those cores you used.”

  Nina scoffed. “Are you crazy? That soul has been sitting in storage for four years. I bought it on a whim, thinking I could reverse-engineer Soulscribing.”

  “But there’s no way all those materials cost only six silver.”

  “Girl, I’d pay you in gold if you could get me into the Creation State again. I’m the one in your debt.”

  “Oh really?” I grinned. “So, can we visit the Dream Sanctuary again?”

  Nina raised an eyebrow. “Alice, if you want to cuddle with a pretty Valkyren, you just have to ask.”

  It was already late. Nina offered me a bath and a spare robe, then we both retreated to her nest.

  When I entered her dream sanctuary, I didn’t linger.

  This time, I flew straight to the portal that connected to mine.

  The moment I stepped through, everything was just as I left it, somehow floating in this surreal dream realm.

  I opened my laptop and checked the Inspiration Bar.

  It was full.

  I guess surviving a spider siege, meeting nobility, getting a lightning spear, and watching legends fight will do that to a girl.

  I notice my computer was showcasing the time and date as if I was still on earth: 6 June 2025. I was isekai’ed around early March, so it has already been more than three months since I came here to this world.

  On a whim, I wondered if my dream internet could access more than just random Wiki knowledge?

  Could it connect?

  I opened a news site.

  The President of the United States is feuding with the richest man alive on social media.

  “No way,” I muttered. “This has to be a fake dream headline…”

  Still, I hesitated… then opened my Gmail.

  Emails. So many emails.

  Messages from professors, classmates, colleagues, my university, and… my parents.

  My heart sank.

  All of them were Worried, asking where I was, and asking me to write back.

  One subject line hit the hardest: From Mom.

  I opened it.

  It wasn’t angry or in her usual coldness.

  She was begging, begging me, to know if I was okay. She even apologized for how harsh she'd been about my choice of degree, for not listening, and for not saying she was proud of me sooner.

  …Asking me to just send a message.

  I covered my face with both hands. My throat burned.

  How could I have been so selfish? I was so wrapped up in this world that I hadn’t even thought about them.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

  I decided to try emailing them back. I didn’t know if it would work. But I had to try.

  First, I wrote to Manal, the only person who had an inkling of an idea of where I was. I explained everything. Not everything-everything, but enough. Where I was. That I was safe. That I hadn’t forgotten.

  When I hit send, half my Inspiration Bar vanished.

  My lungs tightened like I’d run a marathon.

  Still, I clicked back and started a joint email to my parents. I told them I was alive and safe. That I’d found purpose. And that I missed them.

  Send.

  The bar dropped to zero. My entire sanctuary flickered, colors draining away until it looked like an old black-and-white film.

  Then, Nina was suddenly beside me, hands on her hips.

  She switched her dream clothes to a cleric’s.

  “What did you do, you silly girl?” she said. “You’re going to have an unpleasant day tomorrow.”

  I slumped onto the floor, dizzy.

  I didn’t care.

  If that message reached them… I would call it worth it.