When I woke up this time, I wasn’t hanging upside down, nor was I bouncing around. I was slowly coming back to myself, and I realized I was in pain this time. My arm hurt, and parts of me were burning with heat, but what broke through first was Sana’s words.

  “The Ancient, feeling bad for the child, knowing he would not survive, gave him the most precious gift. She caressed him in a warm embrace and said, ‘I name you Aegis.’”

  Something moved across my face.

  I jolted upright with a shout, slapping my cheek and brushing wildly at my skin. A small red-tailed lizard hit the dirt beside me and scurried off toward the fire.

  “Gah! What was that?”

  Laughter broke out all around the campfire.

  “It was just a Red Tail,” Jack said between chuckles.

  “It was on me. Doing something!” I said, rubbing my face. I still felt like they were on me.

  “Your blood and the fire draw them,” Kaylie replied with a smirk. “They are harmless.”

  I leaned in for a closer look at the fire where it had disappeared and spotted a few more of them darting in and out of the flames. They were about six inches long and looked like tiny dragons. Scales ran from their heads down to their tails, shimmering in the firelight. Their bodies were a bright vivid red, and I was pretty sure that was where they got their name.

  “How are they moving in and out of the flames?” I asked, watching them slip through the fire like it was part of some dance.

  “They have incredibly tough skin,” Sana explained. “They breathe fire themselves. Some believe they’re Attuned with fire magic, and the flames welcome them as if the fire is a part of their soul.”

  That gave me an idea. If this thing was that magical, and low-risk to me, maybe I could bring some back to Bolo or someone else to make some armor.

  “How strong is their skin?” I asked.

  “Why do you ask so many questions?” Jack huffed.

  Kaylie ignored him and answered, “Extremely. I bet you could try to cut one with your sword, but it wouldn’t work unless you hit it just right. But that might be because they’re also squishy on the inside. Why did you ask?”

  “If they’re fire-resistant and have natural armor, what if you could make armor out of their hides?” I said.

  They all looked at me like I was crazy.

  “They’re this small,” Sana said, holding her thumb and forefinger about six inches apart. “Are you going to kill hundreds of them and stitch them together? And what about the stitching? Wouldn’t it burn up in the flames?”

  Sana made excellent points. I had just woken up, and wasn’t thinking straight. It had absolutely nothing to do with me coming up with a bad idea.

  That was my story, and I was sticking to it.

  “No, I think he’s right,” Jack said. “If anyone knows how to work with something tiny… It’s Alf.”

  Kaylie groaned, Sana rolled her eyes, and Jack couldn’t stop laughing.

  Ignoring Jack’s laughter, I turned to the others. “Next time I’m passed out, can you make sure no animals are drinking my blood?”

  “It was a little lizard,” Jack said. “It was just licking some dried blood off you. You don’t need to whine about everything.”

  “I don’t whine about everything,” I shot back. “I just let you knock me out. Again! And it hurt.”

  Jack’s eyes lit up with excitement. “And it worked! Can you imagine how strong we could make your body if we beat you up every day and you didn’t complain?”

  I rolled my eyes. “You do know that’s torture?”

  Jack grinned and clenched his teeth. “A real man would love the opportunity you have.”

  “I am a real man. I just don’t think torture counts as an opportunity,” I muttered. “Anyway, how long was I out?”

  Last time I was out for some time, but it still wasn’t fully dark, so I assumed they just dumped me on the ground and started a fire this time.

  “Not long,” Kaylie said. “We just got here, started a fire, and Sana was starting a story that reminded her of your situation.”

  Judging by the dirt in my mouth and the way they altogether avoided talking about what happened to me, I was right. They definitely dumped me.

  “Great. Where were we?” I asked, settling onto one of the logs near the fire.

  “Let me start over,” Sana said, and then began her story.

  ****

  There once was a boy from another world. He was a traveler, just like you.

  He came through the labyrinth with only the clothes on his back and his mother’s ring. It was the only thing he had left of her after she died.

  He was weak, naive, and destined to die.

  When he entered this world, the Ancient saw him and wept because she knew his fate. But bound by law, she could not interfere. All she could do was offer him a choice of three.

  A choice between Strength, Power, and Knowledge.

  The boy, already frail, knew that Strength and Power would not save him. So he asked for Knowledge.

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  The Ancient sighed, weary of the same questions she had heard for eons. Who are you? Where am I? How do I get home?

  But this boy didn’t ask those things. Instead, his eyes lit up with the endless curiosity and imagination of a child.

  “I want to know all the answers in the world,” he said. The Ancient laughed, a powerful sound too large for the space.

  “Oh, dear boy. I cannot grant that. And even if I could, it would destroy you. However, since I cannot fulfill your request, I would like to make a suggestion. Would you like to hear it?”

  Though disappointed, the boy agreed.

  “This world is a place of magic and wonder,” the Ancient said. “I can give you a name to protect you on your journey. All I ask in return is a favor. Does that sound fair?”

  The boy nodded.

  She leaned in and whispered into his ear, “Your name is now Aegis. It means shield. It means protector of the worlds. It means guardian against the void.”

  The words struck something deep in him. He had not been able to protect his mother. He had watched her fade and could do nothing. That helplessness had carved itself into his heart.

  But this name. It offered something else. A chance to stand between danger and those who could not stand for themselves. An opportunity to become what he had once needed.

  As she spoke, the words took root.

  His bones began to harden. His skin grew tougher and lighter, taking on a smooth, stone-like texture.

  He didn’t grow stronger, not like a warrior or a beast, but he became something more enduring.

  He became a shield.

  ****

  “I’m so confused,” I interrupted. “How can changing your name make you stronger? Is it like a title?”

  Kaylie shook her head. “A title is something people give you after you’ve proven yourself. It’s different but similar. Magic is shaped by belief. When you believe your name means something, the world starts to agree. With a title, others believe it. But with a name, you believe it yourself.”

  “So if I believed my name was Aegis, my bones and skin would get stronger?” I asked.

  “It’s a story Sophia told me, so it’s exaggerated,” Sana said. “But that’s basically how magic works. Take Kaylie, for example. She’s fiery and wild, just like flame. So her Fire Magic is stronger.” She clapped her hands once. “Now, let’s get back to the story.”

  ****

  “Now for my request,” she said, smiling. “A group of bandits has taken a village, and a princess is with them. We’re in the mountains now. The village isn’t far. I ask that you go and free them.”

  As she vanished, the boy stood frozen, stunned not only by the changes to his body but by the weight of the request she had made. He wasn’t even an adult, and yet she wanted him to rescue an entire village.

  But instead of arguing, he followed the Ancient’s words and began his descent down the mountain.

  Eventually, he reached the village, only to find it too heavily guarded to approach. So he crouched in the tall grass outside and waited for nightfall. That was when he spotted someone slipping out through the edge of the village.

  He followed and caught up with them, and only then did he learn how dire the situation was.

  The villagers and the princess had all been bound and locked up. The bandits planned to sell them into slavery. There was only one key to open the chains, and if the guards were attacked, they would raise the alarm. A direct assault would end in failure.

  Aegis turned to the villager who had escaped.

  “I’ll distract the guards,” he said. “You get the prisoners out.”

  The villager shook his head. “You’re just a boy. You’ll get yourself killed.”

  But he didn’t understand.

  Aegis still held the belief and imagination of a child. He didn’t question whether he could be hurt. He didn’t stop to doubt or plan. He simply believed, and that was enough.

  Without another word, he stepped into the open and walked straight toward the gates.

  The guards shouted. Swords were drawn. Aegis didn’t flinch. He rushed them, slipping between strikes, yanking keys from their belts, and scattering them like startled crows. While the villager crept into the village to free the prisoners, Aegis held the front line alone.

  The alarm rang out.

  More bandits poured in, surrounding him on all sides. One by one, they attacked, but their blows bounced off his hardened skin. They screamed, cursed, and fell back, but he stood unmoved.

  Then came their leader. The bandit king.

  Larger than the rest, cloaked in red and gold, his eyes burning with confidence. He believed too, not in hope or innocence but in fire.

  The bandit king raised his arms, and fire obeyed. It surged forward, racing through the village, devouring wood and thatch. The flames engulfed the boy, and yet he stood unmoved, laughing as the fire licked his skin.

  He knew who he was.

  He was Aegis.

  He could not be burned.

  But when the bandits saw that he could not be harmed, their fury turned elsewhere.

  They turned on the villagers.

  Unarmed, unnamed, and unprotected.

  They screamed. They scattered. Some tried to fight. But most fell.

  Aegis watched, helpless.

  He had charged through fire, faced blades without fear.

  But now, as the villagers screamed and fell, there was nothing he could do.

  He wasn’t fast enough.

  He wasn’t strong enough.

  He was just one shield, and there were too many to protect.

  And then she appeared.

  The princess, barely more than a girl herself, stumbled out from behind the chaos. Her eyes wide, face streaked with ash, she dropped to her knees in the dirt.

  She looked up. Not at him, not at the bandits, but at the sky.

  She prayed.

  To her father. To his father before him. To anyone who could hear.

  She cried out to the heavens. And this time, the heavens replied.

  The sky lit up.

  All at once, the darkened night turned white with lightning. Dozens, then hundreds of bolts cracked across the sky, coiling and shifting like serpents ready to strike.

  They rained down at random, wild and untamed. They arced toward bandits, toward villagers, toward everyone.

  And in that instant, he understood.

  This was why the Ancient had given him the name. Why she had chosen him.

  She had called him a Shield.

  But a shield of what?

  A shield of people.

  He stretched out his will.

  The lightning that sought the innocent bent away, drawn instead to him.

  One by one, the bolts curved from their paths and struck his body.

  Then ten. Then fifty. Then a hundred.

  He took them all.

  And when the final bolt hit, he fell.

  Silence followed the storm.

  Smoke drifted through the broken village. Embers glowed in the rubble. The air was still, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

  Aegis lay motionless, dust and ash clinging to his skin. Then, slowly, he stirred.

  His eyes opened to soft light and hushed voices.

  The princess was there, kneeling beside him, watching him like someone who had just seen a ghost rise. Her face was smudged with dirt and dried tears.

  “You lived,” she whispered.

  He didn’t answer right away. He sat up, weak but steady, and looked around. The village stood. The people were safe.

  His task was done.

  And yet…

  As he breathed in the smoke-sweet morning air, something settled in his chest. It was a quiet truth.

  He had been a shield. But a shield alone could not win. A shield could only protect. It was not enough to block the darkness. Someone had to strike against it.

  He looked at her, and her eyes burned with fire. It was not anger, but resolve. She had prayed, and the sky had answered. He had taken the blows, but it was her cry that brought the storm.

  She had always been the sword.

  Together, they could be whole.

  He glanced down at his hand. His mother’s ring, still clung to his finger. Worn smooth by time and heat, it glinted faintly in the rising sun.

  Quietly, he slid it off.

  He held it out to her.

  She looked from the ring to his face, her expression unreadable.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  He met her gaze with a tired smile.

  “A promise,” he said. “A shield and a sword. Together.”

  She looked at the ring, then at him again. And this time, she smiled too.

  She took it and slipped it onto her finger.

  ****

  After the story ended, Kaylie asked, “Did they get married?”

  “I’d assume so, but Sophia stopped the story there,” Sana replied.

  “They would make a beautiful couple,” Kaylie said, smiling.

  The girls kept talking about how perfect they were for each other. How they balanced one another. How they were each other’s missing piece.

  We sat around the campfire for a long while, just talking about the story, about nothing, about everything.

  And when I finally went to sleep, it was the first time I did so with a smile on my face.