It took Leah approximately sixty minutes to realize her little brother wasn’t bat-shit crazy.

  She’d spent that entire time sitting across from him, listening to what could only be described as a ranting tirade. Ethan had talked in circles, jumping from one point to the next, insisting he knew where people were disappearing to, explaining why the world had turned to shit, how something fundamental had changed beneath everything they thought they understood. She’d nodded along, offered the right noises at the right times, and quietly assumed he’d started taking drugs.

  The truth was just too absurd to take seriously. Sure, she had seen crazy things. She was old enough to remember when the first people started going missing. The whole world turned to anarchy. For the first two years, everywhere was martial law, until finally the powerhouses of the world joined forces and brought back a slight semblance of normal. But listening to Ethan put the cherry on top. What he was talking about was even crazier.

  That didn’t mean she thought Ethan was insane, though. If anything, it was the opposite. Her brother had always been the grounded one. Too grounded, sometimes. A lot of that came from necessity. Life had forced him to grow up far too quickly, to see things no kid his age should ever have to deal with. He had grown up in a time of chaos, only made worse by bills, debt, responsibility, and still having to survive. It stripped the softness out of him early.

  The rest of it, though, was just who Ethan was.

  He was logical to a fault. Factual. He didn’t believe in things without proof. Fiction bored him. Fantasy annoyed him. He didn’t get lost in games or sports or whatever else kids their age were supposed to care about. While other teenagers talked about teams or consoles or parties, Ethan worried about money.

  That part had always hurt her.

  Not because she blamed him—but because she understood why. He wanted to help. Wanted to make sure the house kept running. Wanted to make sure she didn’t have to choose between food and rent. But seeing a kid shoulder that kind of weight made her feel guilty, even if he was just trying to help.

  She had done all she could, though. After their parents died, college stopped being a goal and became a joke. Leah dropped out early and took whatever work she could find. Cleaning, serving, stocking shelves. Anything to get them by. The first few years were brutal, but she had made it work, all while the world was turning to shit around her. She had kept him from getting re-homed and kept their family together. But it wasn’t enough for Ethan.

  One day, Ethan had come home and dropped a thick wad of cash on the kitchen table like it was nothing.

  She’d demanded to know where he got it, but he refused to tell her. She had pushed and pushed, but the more she nagged, the more distant he became, until finally she decided to leave it be and accept it for what it was. A lifeline.

  After that, more money followed. Not consistently, but enough to matter.

  So no—Leah never thought Ethan was crazy. He was smart, logical, and always wanted the best.

  But that didn’t mean he hadn’t hit his head. Or gotten mixed up with the wrong people. Or started taking heavy drugs. Those thoughts lingered right up until the moment she vanished.

  One second she’d woken up to see Ethan missing, the next she was gone.

  She had found herself in a desert. Blistering sun. Dry, cutting wind. Endless sand stretching in every direction.

  That was when the last of her doubts died.

  She’d been stranded there with only the backpack she’d been wearing and the spare journal Ethan had left behind. That journal was basically gold. It offered directions. Warnings. Notes scribbled in that familiar, messy handwriting.

  It had guided her long enough to survive. Long enough to choose a class.

  Which she had decided on Scout.

  She’d been offered other options. Mage, even. Ethan had underlined that one in the journal, outlining reasons on why to take it, along with other options he thought she would have available. He left detailed reviews with each option, and ultimately left the decision to her. But when she’d stopped and thought about it, it didn’t make sense.

  How would being a mage help her now?

  Maybe in the future she’d regret it. Maybe she could have turned into some powerful wizard like Gandalf. But her instincts had screamed at her to go with Scout if she wanted to survive.

  So she listened to them. And so far, picking Scout was the best thing she could have done.

  With that done, she entered the shop and had the much harder option of picking her first class skill. She couldn’t afford to spend much time looking, trapped in the desert, and standing around seemed like a stupid idea. She needed to get moving. So when she saw [Wayfinder], something about it clicked. It meant she wouldn’t have any attack skill if something came by, but she decided to bank on finding civilization instead.

  Three hundred and forty-nine PO disappeared just like that. It left her with an even two hundred in case she needed emergency supplies.

  The skill had proven itself almost immediately. Combined with Ethan’s notes, it had guided her through the dunes. It was hard to explain, but she could feel the skill nudging her in the right direction. Four days later, when she started questioning herself, she reached Mountford.

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  From there, things had fallen into place faster than she’d expected.

  The local guild—apparently the closest thing to a government now—had taken her in. The Valkyries, they called themselves. They’d questioned her, listened to her journey, which she conveniently avoided some questions, making sure to keep the journal hidden. The moment they learned she was a Scout, their interest had sharpened. From there, they practically begged her to join.

  She’d agreed rather easily, for two simple reasons. One, she needed a roof over her head. Two, she needed money for better items.

  And honestly, it wasn’t a bad place to wait. Ethan had promised he’d find her. She believed him. But she wasn’t about to sit idle in the meantime. If power was what mattered—as Ethan said—then she’d start building some of her own. And she had been. For the last week she’d been going on missions with Alice and her group. Nothing major—just escorting people to other settlements, getting supplies, that sort of thing.

  Now she was lacing up the boots the guild had issued her. In fact, most of her gear was issued from the guild. She wore loose trousers and layered robes that could be pulled up to cover her face against sand or prying eyes. Cream-colored, like everyone else in the Valkyries.

  “Are you decent?” a feminine voice called from outside.

  “I’m good,” Leah replied. “You can come in.”

  Alice stepped inside. The woman was tall and blonde. Confident in a way Leah suspected was fake. She wore the same robes, but somehow made them look better. It kind of irked her.

  “They suit you,” Alice said lightly. “Bring out the color of your eyes.”

  Leah resisted the urge to snort. Her eyes were brown. Dark brown. She didn’t see whatever Alice apparently did, but she let it slide. She had a habit of complimenting her—Leah was unsure why. She had already joined the guild, so what was the point in sucking up?

  Leah tied the final lace and stood. “Is it time?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject.

  Alice’s smile sharpened just a little. “Yeah. Are you ready?”

  Leah nodded, adjusting the fabric at her face as it brushed against her chin awkwardly.

  They exited the small room that was now Leah’s. It was a little place, made from clay. She hadn’t had time to decorate it—nor did she have anything to decorate it with. But she still glanced over it, eyes lingering where she had hidden the journal.

  It was early morning, the sun just beginning to rise into the sky. They made their way to the gate, where Chris waited.

  “Leah! Took you long enough!” he called out.

  He stood beside a guard. The two had obviously been talking. As they moved closer, she could see sleep clinging to the corners of his eyes. Either he’d just woken up, or he hadn’t bothered washing his face before leaving his room.

  “Morning,” Leah replied.

  “So what’s the plan today, ladies?”

  “We’ve got a bigger mission today,” Alice replied. “There’s been a group missing for the last couple of days. Now that we have a Scout on the team, we’ve been tasked with investigating.”

  Leah turned to look at her. What was she talking about? She only had one skill. Sure, it helped her navigate, but it didn’t make her a detective.

  “Um… I don’t think I’ll be able to find anyone,” Leah said. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  Alice continued, ignoring her entirely. “Last sightings were west of here. Arrow Town. So we’ll start there.”

  Chris nodded enthusiastically. “Sounds good. Maybe I’ll finally gain a level. Been stuck at nineteen for a month now.”

  “Alright,” Alice said. “Let’s go. I expect this to take at least a day, so I hope you packed properly.”

  That was clearly aimed at Leah, so she tugged on her straps in response, emphasizing her backpack.

  “Right… Harry, let us out.”

  The guard opened the gate. Alice walked out first, head held high. Chris followed. The guard muttered under his breath, “But my name’s not Harry.”

  Chris tapped him on the shoulder.

  “I know it’s not, bro.”

  Leah followed, still unsure why they were doing a mission like this when it sounded like they needed a detective more than anything. Surely there was a class for that.

  Outside the settlement, the desert stretched endlessly. Rolling dunes. All-encompassing heat. The vest beneath her robes quickly became uncomfortable. She’d decided early on that she hated the heat. Back home, summer could be nice. Here? She’d gladly take an eternal winter on the next level.

  The others didn’t seem affected. Their stride never slowed, forcing Leah to keep up. To make matters worse, Chris started whistling a stupid tune as they walked—and didn’t stop until they reached their destination.

  Arrow Town had no landmarks. It simply sat in the middle of the desert. Every other settlement Leah had seen had some kind of defining feature. This one didn’t.

  When they crested another shifting dune, the settlement came into view.

  It was small. The smallest Leah had seen so far. It had no walls or protections. Just a handful of buildings scattered across the sand. If she didn’t know better, she might’ve thought it was built by hand rather than system-granted.

  But she did know better.

  Nothing built by people lasted on the first level. The dunes erased it within days. Only places anchored by a system monolith endured.

  They reached what passed for an entrance—the point where the buildings began. A few people milled around, but otherwise the place was eerily quiet. No guard stopped them.

  “Who runs this place?” Leah asked.

  “No one,” Chris snorted. “Just look around.”

  Alice cut in. “We’re in Broken Dawns territory now. Though they seem to hold a loose grip over this settlement. Probably because of the lack of natural defenses.”

  That made sense to Leah. What was the point of holding a town that could be overrun at any moment?

  She glanced around, noting a group of men checking their packs and adjusting their gear.

  “I thought the Valkyries weren’t on good terms with the Broken Dawns?”

  “You could say that,” Chris replied. “Uppity bastards.”

  “They’ve got a monopoly on this level,” he continued. “We’ve tried expanding our foothold, but it hasn’t worked. Even with pressure from branches on higher levels.”

  “What does that mean?” Leah asked. “They’re stronger than the Valkyries?”

  “Easy there,” Chris said quickly. “It’s just politics. They’re not much on other levels. Just a few big shots throwing their weight around.”

  They continued through the town until Leah slowed and came to a stop.

  “I think we should head in there.”

  Chris stared at the run-down building she was pointing at, then back at her. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Leah didn’t understand it either. She just felt it. Like this was the right move. The best path forward.

  Alice studied her for a moment, then smiled. She linked arms with Leah and tugged her along toward the run-down bar.

  The door creaked open. The interior was dim, with only a handful of people sitting quietly at scattered tables. The sun vanished behind them, which was a relief, though it took a moment for Leah’s eyes to adjust.

  They approached the bar. A middle-aged woman stood behind it, her face sharp and hawk-like as she looked them over.

  “What’ll it be?”

  “We’re looking for information,” Alice said, sliding a misshapen piece of melted copper across the wood.

  The woman glanced down, then dragged the coin toward herself.

  “Alright,” she said. “Out with it. What do you need?”