The city never slept.
Even this late, long past curfew bells and merchant last calls, Hano hummed. Softly, but still. A breeze carried the scent of alcohol and damp stone. Somewhere, a Mana-lamp flickered. Somewhere else, a wind chime rang against a glowing magical rune that never dimmed, day or night.
I sat by the open window, knees pulled to my chest, staring up, eyes fixed on a sky that refused to give me what I wanted.
The night sky was up there. The muffled stars peeked through like they were ashamed, faint pinpricks diluted by the city’s glow. Every few minutes, a breeze would shift the clouds just enough to reveal a tiny constellation or two. But no falling stars tonight.
“There is too much light,” I muttered. “Too much magic.”
Hano’s light pollution wasn’t electricity, but it was close, glowing crystals and lanterns fueled with magical fire of every color, glowing beacons marking guild houses, and runic sigils highlighting enchantment. A city trying too hard not to sleep.
It was not as bad as Earth; by that I mean Tokyo or New York, where the blinding neon light was strong enough to dim the heavens. But still… I needed clearer skies.
I’d hoped, naively, that tonight would be like that night.
The one that changed everything.
I had been in Sidi Bou Said, on my knees, in the garden of Manal's house. There was no ritual circle or magical chant. Just a wish and the stars.
I looked up and begged for more Magic.
I didn’t care how; I just wished and believed.
And something or someone must have heard me.
Because the next moment, I was in a new world, next to a portal hub full of strangers speaking a language I didn’t understand.
Was it a Mythic Miracle? A wish-based magic created by children's belief in shooting stars? Or something Divine? A leftover blessing from the Sufi mystic who used to contemplate the stars of that Tunisian town? Or maybe… just maybe, it was the same rift-making magic the Silent One was cursed with?
The more I learned about Magic in this world, the more questions I had.
I wasn’t even sure if my strong sky affinity had anything to do with it. Is it related to the stars? The way my mana hums whenever I see a falling star streak across the night sky.
Or is it because of Earth's overreliance on electricity? Maybe that’s why lightning magic was easier for me to control than for most natives.
Could I do it again?
Not just dream of home, but return. Visit for a short while, say I’m okay, then come back to this world and carry on my adventures.
That thought lit something behind my eyes. Something hungry.
I need to use the good old reliable scientific method.
I have a question: can I go back home?
My hypothesis is yes. If I wish on a falling star again, I can teleport.
The next steps are experiments, observations, analyses, and drawing conclusions.
Which means I need to go stargazing. Properly.
If I were going to figure this out, I couldn’t do it in Hano. Not with all this level of light pollution. I need altitude. Darkness. Maybe more sky mana?
Studying magic is my raison d’être. And right now, it should be once again my highest priority. I got caught up in events that didn’t really concern me. I’ve chased spiders and cults for silver coins long enough. It’s time I chase the stars instead.
From now on, I’m Anthropologist Alice once again, and not Freelancer Alice. Please ignore my awesome and priceless lightning spear artifact; that is just for self-defense.
The next morning, I dragged myself to the Freelancer Guild with barely any sleep and only one thing keeping me upright: I had a hypothesis.
My limbs were heavy, my thoughts slow, but the idea burned just hot enough to keep me moving.
The guildhall buzzed like always; echoing voices under vaulted ceilings, the clink of armor and coin, and that distinct blend of sweat, metal, leather, and overconfidence that never faded. I passed a junior clerk arguing with a lizardman courier about parcel fees, sidestepped two bruised freelancers loudly blaming their injuries on bandits, and cut straight for the front desk.
“Is Nada around?” I asked the nearest receptionist.
The guy blinked like I’d asked to speak to the Holy Lady herself. “Uh… Commander Marina promoted her. She runs reception now.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Huh. Good for her.”
A few corridors and a couple of wrong turns later, I finally found Nada tucked into what looked like a repurposed storage closet, except now it had been devoured by paper. Stacks of scrolls and ledgers rose around her like siege towers. She had ink on her cheek, two quills jammed into her tentacle hair, and the thousand-yard stare of someone dangerously close to a breakdown.
“Commander Marina must really hate you,” I said.
Nada looked up, dead-eyed. “Alice. I swear if you bring me more work, I will murder you with a quill feather.”
“I come bearing solutions,” I said, carefully weaving between the scroll-piles. I know enough about bureaucracy to be helpful, and Nada was kind to me before.
“I heard you got promoted.” I smiled at her.
“I did. Hooray.” She gestured at the chaos with all the enthusiasm of a corpse. “Turns out every desk uses a different log format. One guy writes in red ink, another scribbles Soulit runes, and a third just draws stick figures and expects me to translate his feelings.”
“Oof,” I said. “And you’re supposed to compile all that?”
“Into a weekly summary for the Commanders. Which would be easier if I worked in a Dreamer sanctuary with infinite inspiration.”
“You’re not?” I blinked. “And here I thought you were the Guild’s oracle of contracts. The Ink Goddess of Bureaucracy.”
She narrowed her eyes. “If you don’t have a real idea, please leave me to die surrounded by the ghosts of poorly formatted paperwork.”
“All right, fine. Here’s a thought. You’ve got that ink ability, right? Can you replicate forms?”
“I can copy anything I touch with my own ink,” she said, pointing at her tentacle hairs. “As long as I’ve memorized the design.”
“Then make a standard form,” I said. “Boxes for name, quest code, location, difficulty, payment status. One clean layout. No more interpretive dance submissions. You print twenty per desk, pass them out. Done.”
Nada stared at me.
Then stared a second longer.
Then grinned like I’d just handed her the Holy Grail.
“Why didn’t I think of that?! That’s so simple… Yes! That’s perfect! I can make a clean master copy today. Maybe even enchant the papers with a sorting glyph... Alice, I could kiss you.”
“Just remember to spare me when the Bureaucracy nightmare you accidentally create becomes an unfeeling god,” I said.
“Bureaucracy is not a nightmare,” she huffed. “It’s a miracle.”
“Kafka would be proud. Or horrified. Possibly both,” I muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing. Listen, I actually came for something else.”
“Go on.”
“Do you know anywhere near Hano with a good view of the stars?”
She tilted her head. “Are you going romantic on me?”
“Scientific,” I said. “Theoretical, possibly mythic and definitely magical.”
“Ah.” Nada leaned back, tapping her chin. “Well, there’s a grazing village about four hours west. Low population, low magic, very clear skies. They’ve got an inn with milk baths, too. I heard it’s good for the skin.”
“That’s… incredibly tempting,” I said, mentally pairing stargazing with a hot soak.
“But if you’re really serious about star-gazing?” she continued. “You want the Sunless Reach.”
I sat up straighter. “Go on.”
“Ancient ruin in the mountains,” she said. “Built by the original Telepaths way before any rift was opened. There’s a sky mana anomaly there. It warps the light. The sun literally doesn’t reach the interior plateau. It’s perpetual night, all the time.”
My heart skipped. “That’s real?”
“Very. Locals say even torches burn dimmer up there. Sky-aligned mana is thick as syrup. It’s a haven for sky bloodline mages and sky affinity monster core farmers.”
“How far is it? What’s the danger level?”
“Not too dangerous. Five-day hike, or two days by carriage. There are a few villages at the base of the mountains. They trade in sky-related goods; moonlight meat, mostly.”
“Moonlight meat?”
“Moon Hares,” Nada said. “Teleporting pests with magenta fur, but absolutely delicious if you catch one.”
I grinned. “Sounds like a challenge.”
“The biggest threat is the sky-elemental. But also watch out for Astral Owls. They’re apex predators of the region. They have bioluminescence they use to camouflage against the night sky. They dive-bomb their prey. They shouldn’t target you... unless they’ve turned into monsters.”
“You said there are sky-elementals?”
Nada’s expression turned serious. “Avoid them at all costs. They’re like storm clouds with wind and lightning. Gorgeous, deadly, and way above your current freelance rank. They don’t hunt or eat, but they’re still dangerous. The sky cores are not worth your life.”
I nodded, brain already running through provisions, distance, supplies. “I think I need to go.”
“Well,” Nada said, already rolling up her sleeves again, “try the Merchant Guild if you want to hitch a ride. I hear some traders go up there at least once a week.”
“Thanks. You’re the best.”
“I know. Now get out of here before I conscript you into helping me with paperwork.”
I left Nada’s office with a new plan in my sights: stargazing at the Sunless Reach.
The first step on my list? Find someone curious enough, or just bored enough, to come with me.
Lucky for me, most of my friends should’ve been somewhere on guild grounds. I looked around, hoping to spot any of them. I found Calr sitting with the giant boy, one of Yon’s Misfits. I think his name was Shingo. I approached them with a smile.
“Calr! You up for an adventure?”
“Oh! Sure. I promised Shingo I’d go rat hunting with him. Wanna come with us?” the red-haired boy asked brightly.
“No, I actually have a destination in mind outside of Hano,” I said with a sheepish shrug.
“Did you get one of your crazy ideas again?” He raised his eyebrows. “Like the one that led to us earning a dozen silvers chasing sewer rats?”
“Nope. This time it’s just me doing research. You know, scholar’s work.”
“Yeah, I’m out,” Calr said immediately. “I need to help my boy Shingo get enough coins to pay his guild fee.”
“Do you know where I could find Kan or Yon?”
I looked around again, just in case one of them had appeared. No luck.
“I don’t know about Yon,” Calr said. “He’s probably doing solo training after his arena loss. Some stupid Kindred thing like punching trees for enlightenment.”
That sounded about right.
“Kan, on the other hand, got scooped up by Ja’a earlier today. You’ll probably find them in the market.”
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Sure enough, I spotted Ja’a immediately. Partly because she was loudly interrogating a jeweler about “ethically sourced mermaid scales,” and partly because Kan was trailing behind her, carrying four bags and wearing an extremely stone-faced expression that could’ve meant help me.
“Let me guess,” I said as I approached. “You’ve turned Kan into your personal tour guide.”
“She’s under contract,” Ja’a replied cheerfully. “And we’re doing essential economic mapping. I need to understand the flow of luxury goods in Hano before I commit to a strategy.”
Kan gave me a subtle shrug. Which meant: at least Ja’a was paying her well.
“Any chance either of you is free for a little field trip?” I asked. “Climbing mountains, stargazing, or exploring old ruins. Very fun stuff.”
Ja’a raised an eyebrow. “Tempting. But I’ve got shops to visit, trade routes to chart, and a supply chain to tamper with. Plus, I booked Kan for the week.”
I turned to Kan. “Are you good with this?”
“She pays in silver,” Kan said flatly.
Fair enough.
“Do you know where Raik and Katar are?”
Ja’a waved vaguely toward the north wall. “Raik is off being noble, and Katar is his dutiful bodyguard. Something about a debrief with his brother, Commander Kitchi Agame the Seventy-First. Nobility stuff we common people don’t need to deal with: Legacy titles, family duties, land stewardship, and all that political nonsense.”
So... unavailable.
Which meant I was down to only one option: Vena.
I headed to the Holy Temple.
I found Vena in one of the back labs, hands busy sorting blood and stool samples. She wore dark green healer’s robes, her hair covered in a kerchief. A few piglets rested in cages behind her.
She looked up as I entered. “Alice! If you’re here to help… ”
“I’m not,” I said quickly. “Sorry. I’m planning a research trip: Magical fieldwork.”
She blinked. “To where?”
“The Sunless Reach. I’m studying the stars.”
Her face lit up for half a second. “That sounds amazing. But I’m…” She gestured at the lab, where several sealed jars floated in warm water. “We’re finalizing the Green Fever vaccine. We’re doing test runs after boiling the samples. Sir Price confirmed that pigs can contract Green Fever.”
“Sounds like you’ve got your hands full,” I said. “Literally.”
“I’d love to come,” she added wistfully. “But not until we confirm this actually works.”
I nodded. I understood. Still, it stung. But who am I to stand between someone and their research?
Nina arrived about ten minutes later, arms full of polished brass microscope parts and delicate glass lenses. It was a long shot, but I asked anyway.
“I’d get in the way. I’m not an ‘outside’ kind of girl,” she said, sliding a lens into place with surgical precision. “Besides, I’ve got twelve more scopes to assemble for the temple labs.”
“I think they’re planning to invite more healers to help with the vaccine effort,” she added, whispering now. “Trustworthy people from outside the temple.”
“Is that safe?” I asked.
“Justicar Gray is the one approaching them,” Nina shrugged, her wings fluttering slightly with the motion. “I heard he went directly to Captain Lucy, the chief healer at the Freelancer Guild.”
That sounded serious. And above my pay grade.
I left through the temple gate and sighed.
“I can’t expect everyone to drop what they’re doing and get dragged into my shenanigans, I am not a crazy innkeeper, after all,” I muttered. “Fuck it. I’m going alone.”
The Merchant Guild was quieter than the Freelancers. A different kind of ambition hung in the air; slower, richer, and less likely to get me killed... but still perfectly capable of ruining my life.
I asked at the front desk if anyone was heading toward the Sunless Reach. The clerk pointed to a corner table where two merchants and a guard were finalizing route maps and cargo lists.
The older one looked up first.
He was sturdy for his age, skin weather-bitten, wrapped in a scarf that had seen too many winters, and boots that looked like they could crush rocks. He gave me a once-over, then nodded to his companion.
“Passenger or sword?” he asked.
“Neither… or maybe both,” I said. “I’m a scholar. But I’m also good with a spear.”
He grunted. “We’re heading to the southern pass near the Reach in two days. I’m Merten. This is my nephew, Tillo, and our guard, Feska.”
Tillo looked to be in his early twenties; wide-eyed and eager, with curly hair, round glasses, and a polite smile that lingered a little too long, highlighting his chipped tooth.
Feska, on the other hand, gave me a single nod. She looked more military than freelancer, with neat armor, a scar across her jaw, sword at her hip, and a quiet don’t even try aura.
“You’re welcome to ride in the second wagon with my nephew,” Merten said. “It’s not padded, but it beats walking.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Two days,” he reminded me. “Be ready.”
“I will.”
I had two days before we left, and I used every second.
First: research.
I dug through the sparse Freelancer Guild library, hunting for mentions of sky elementals, Astral Owls, Moon Hares, and the Sunless Reach itself. I learned:
- Moon Hares teleport short distances in response to sound.
- Astral Owls strike from above in total silence, then vanish.
- Sky Elementals ignore most creatures unless provoked, and they interpret mana flares as a challenge.
Good to know. Especially that last one.
Next: gear.
I scoured the market for supplies. A mad alchemist tried to sell me a “smokeless stove” that generated fire using “cursed salt”; I am pretty sure that was lithium dust. I passed… I wasn’t suicidal. Plus, with lightning magic, I’d manage to make fire with wood. But I did pick up a self-warming cloak, a compact cooking pot, and a utility knife, meant for food prep, but it could also work for cutting off tree branches in a pinch.
And of course: training.
My taser spear thrummed with energy every time I extended it. Channeling lightning through it felt smoother each day; it felt more and more like it was part of me. I spent evenings in the guild yard drilling the Kata Edmund taught me, and casting arcs of lightning until my arms ached and the ground beneath my boots sizzled.
By the end of those two days, I was packed, ready, and twitchy with anticipation. And tomorrow, I'd be on the road.
I was embarrassingly excited about riding in a carriage.
Sure, it was made of rough wood, the wheels squeaked with every bump, and the seating was just a glorified bench with a worn wool blanket. But it was still a proper carriage, or maybe a cart.
Still! It was cool!
I settled in beside Tillo, Merten’s nephew. Feska rode up front with the lead wagon, boots planted firmly, eyes scanning the road like it owed her money.
Merten was somewhere ahead, checking axle grease and wheel stability.
Tillo smiled nervously when I sat beside him. He pushed his glasses up his nose and tucked his hands in his lap like I was royalty and he wasn’t sure where to look.
I grinned. “So. How many years have you been doing this?”
He blinked. “Oh, uh... ten? Long enough for it to get boring.”
“Noted,” I said. “Then you better start talking.”
He blinked again. “Talking about... what?”
“I have questions,” I said, already pulling out my notepad. “What crops do the villages around here plant? Who maintains the roads? What’s the average distance between rest stops? Is that three-lobed flower by the roadside edible, or just a fancy red weed?”
Tillo opened and closed his mouth.
“Also,” I continued, pointing at the towering creature pulling our wagon, “what the hell is that? It looks like a Paraceratherium mated with a draft ox.”
“That’s a Burdrass, actually,” Tillo said, brightening. “Native to the High Bloodline Realm. Very strong and docile. This one’s named Rilka. She likes carrots, especially if they’re fused with earth mana.”
“You name them?”
“Only the ones we don’t eat.”
I scribbled that down. “Tell me everything you know about Burdrass. Skeleton structure. Digestive habits. Load capacity…”
He cleared his throat. “Well, their bone structure’s similar to a horse’s, but they stand on three toes…”
I don’t know how long we talked. Hours, maybe. I asked about everything: terrain layers, village naming conventions, plant strains, irrigation ditches, beetle infestations, and cart axle design. Tillo answered almost all of it. And when he didn’t know, he made a note to ask his uncle later.
At some point, I realized I’d basically turned our trip into a mobile anthropology lecture.
“Sorry,” I said eventually. “I might’ve melted your brain a little.”
Tillo smiled, ears pink. “No, I… I mean, this was great! I never get to talk about this stuff. You might be the smartest person I’ve ever met.”
“I may be smart, but I’m wildly uninformed about how things work around here,” I said.
“Your thirst for knowledge is very charming. Eh… Aaa… I mean inspiring,” he stumbled over his words.
I laughed, then fished out my phone. And my headset, a pair of wired earbuds that saved me the trouble of charging them. Which was lucky, here in a world without electrical wall outlets.
After a quick mana tap to charge my phone, I flipped through some songs and picked something mellow, a lo-fi mix I’d downloaded for background studying.
I gave Tillo one earbud from a wired mobile headset.
He blinked at it. “What is this...?”
“Dreamer artifact,” I lied smoothly. “It records music.”
He put it in. His expression melted into wonder.
We rode the rest of the way in comfortable silence, the landscape rolling past us, broken only by the occasional “what’s that?” from me or “this song is amazing” from him.
That evening, we stopped at a small mining village nestled into the slope of ash-grey hills. The inn was rough-hewn and loud, half-filled with local folk who kept to their side of the room, watching the newly arrived freelancers bumping shoulders with drunk miners.
The miners looked like imported labor, rough men who hadn’t yet integrated with the village or didn’t care to.
The place had one real draw: the busty barmaid, who moved between tables with practiced indifference while a dozen sweaty fools tripped over themselves trying to be funny, charming, or aggressively territorial.
One guy tried singing, two others started a flexing contest, and a third got into a bar fight just to “prove he was a man of action.”
I sat in the corner nursing something that tasted like burnt cinnamon and bitter bark, watching it all unfold like a poorly written play. Feska leaned against the wall near the door, arms crossed, clearly used to this brand of idiocy.
Tillo slid into the seat beside me and whispered, “Three fights already. Rowdy crowd.”
“The locals seem used to it,” I said. “The barmaid hasn’t even blinked once.”
“The idiots never bothered to look past her chest and notice the engagement bracelets,” Merten scoffed as he sipped his drink.
As if on cue, the woman in question strolled past her latest admirer, who now had a black eye and a broken bottle in hand, and walked calmly to the door, where a mountain of a man, probably her husband, was waiting.
He didn’t say a word. Just picked her up and slung her over one shoulder.
She waved casually as they left.
The entire inn fell silent in unified heartbreak.
I couldn’t help but smile. “Different realm,” I murmured, “same idiots.”
We stayed the night in a hostel-style room with multiple beds. Half were occupied with my traveling companions, the other half was filled with strangers. I struggled to sleep in the crowded room. I would have been more comfortable camping out.
The next morning, we were back on the road by first light.
The sun filtered through a low mist as we rounded a ridge. It was mostly uneventful, at least until we ran into a small problem: a herd of Steel Wool Rams.
Dozens of them.
They stood smack in the middle of the trade road, unmoving and unimpressed, their coarse metallic fleece clanking like chainmail whenever they shifted.
Merten groaned. “Not again.”
“We could be delayed for hours,” sighed Tillo.
Then a sharp whistle echoed from the ridge above.
A scruffy shepherd loosed a hellhound-looking mutt down the slope. It bounded toward the rams, tongue out and tail wagging like it wasn’t literally made of fire.
It barked once, deep and low, and the rams shuffled off the road like guilty schoolchildren.
“I want one,” I said, dead serious.
Tillo grinned. “Are you fireproof? Only an Agame can pet those little Pyrohounds.”
Later that day, as the road curved through a patch of wild grass, something small and fast darted out from the underbrush.
A low growl followed.
Feska moved before anyone else could even stand.
She drew her sword in a blur and skewered the creature clean through.
It was a field rat, the size of a terrier, with beady red eyes and foam at the mouth.
Merten checked the cart. The Burdrass was fine, just startled.
“Field rats,” he muttered. “Stupid vermin had a death wish.”
Feska leaned down, poked it with the tip of her sword, and pried out a small core.
“Newly turned monster,” she grunted. “Probably a mana flare.”
“We will make sure to report this, just in case,” sighed the older merchant.
The rest of the day passed without incident. The sky turned soft gold as we passed the final stretch of road. My notebook was already half full, and my mana reserves were still steady.
And ahead of us, nestled at the base of the mountains, the first rooftops of a village came into view.
The Sunless Reach was near.
The air had turned noticeably chillier as we drew closer. Nothing freezing, just a creeping cold that made me realize how high we’d climbed. Hano had been warmer and more humid in comparison, practically a Mediterranean climate. This place was something else with thinner air, sharper wind, and a silence that clung to everything.
The road ended in a small village; stone houses clustered together, roofs steep for snowfall, and fences thick with old moss. The villagers were reserved but polite. They didn’t flinch when they saw my spear. Most just nodded, asked if I was a freelancer, and pointed me toward the inn when I said I was planning to hike the Reach. I said goodbye to my traveling companions, then headed toward the inn.
I bought dinner, something stew-like with too many roots, and a few drinks to go with it. While I ate, I asked the locals about the old ruins.
One old man, with a thick white beard and goat horns, said, “East trail’s the safest. The kids go up there all the time. They bring back star-flowers and brag about how long they lasted in the dark.”
“There’s been no elemental spotted in the last month, but be wary all the same,” added a man in his forties who could only be a lumberjack, with his callused hands and the sharp axe hanging from his belt.
I decided to stay and rest for the night before setting out an hour after dawn.
The sun was already up when I left the inn for my mountain hike, lighting everything in pale gold.
The eastern trail wound steadily upward, twisting between pale rocks and gnarled spiky shrubs; the only things stubborn enough to grow in this harsh volcanic terrain. The air grew colder and thinner with every step, and breathing became work.
I tightened my cloak. That self-warming cloak was a lucky find; I wouldn’t have gotten it if it hadn’t been on sale on Market Street.
Without warning, the world changed.
A chill washed over my skin like I’d stepped into a walk-in freezer. But that wasn’t the most disturbing part.
The day had turned into night.
I paused mid-step, blinking. The trail ahead still looked the same: a stone path, sometimes blocked by twisted brush or loose rocks.
But the world around it had shifted.
The sun was gone.
No twilight or fading rays. Just a clean and sharp severing. A midnight curtain.
I stepped back.
Golden light spilled over the plateau behind me, warm and familiar.
And the sun was up there.
I stepped forward again.
Gone. Like it was playing peek-a-boo with the world.
The line between day and night wasn’t gradual here; it was a knife’s edge.
I took a slow breath and stepped fully into the dark.
Night swallowed me.
And yet, I could see.
There was no magic to my sight. Just pure, crystalline starlight.
It blanketed the sky; millions upon millions of stars. So bright they outlined the pebbles under my feet and the fine hairs on my arms. There was no moon, but the heavens glowed like spilled glitter.
It wasn’t scary. It was majestic.
It felt... nostalgic. Even though I had never seen this many stars in my life.
The feeling was similar to back in Tunisia, in the garden behind Manal’s house, knees in the dust, eyes fixed on the meteor shower. Back then, I didn’t know what I was doing.
But right now, I have the chance to learn.
protagonizes, where they seize control of their narrative instead of drifting along a predetermined path. A character who sets their own objectives feels alive, thinking and choosing rather than merely reacting. Alice is free to do whatever she wants, even as the plot screams that the Old Realm Cult is the “important” storyline. She didn’t come here to save the world; she came here to learn magic, and that’s exactly what makes her story worth following.