The door to Doreen's swung open inward, revealing a chaotic but undeniably homey tavern that looked like someone had raided a dozen thrift shops and called it interior design. Mismatched chairs and couches clustered around a stone fireplace like old friends sharing secrets. Various paintings—landscapes, portraits, a few that might have been abstract art or spilled paint—crowded the walls in overlapping layers. The other side featured communal tables with chairs that clearly came from different decades, all set for meal service.

  I'd been expecting something fantastic, like the portal room. This felt refreshingly normal.

  "I told you, I don't care what he took—you don't draw a fuckin' weapon in my house!"

  The sharp voice cut through the ambient chatter like a blade.

  Standing near the center was a small, brown-furred Vildar woman, who had to be Doreen. She clutched a massive jar of pickles under one arm, glaring up at three enormous Gaian men with the kind of fearless intensity that made you forget she barely reached their waists. The men had clearly abandoned a card game—blue coins and cards scattered across the wooden surface like evidence of interrupted greed.

  One man's face twisted with rage, his hand gripping a blade hilt. His buddy hung back from the dispute, wearing the universal expression of someone desperately trying to pretend he wasn’t there. The entire room had gone dead quiet, conversations dying mid-sentence as patrons turned to watch the brewing storm.

  About half the room wore Monster Hunter gear like mine. The rest sported everything from practical traveling clothes to thick black robes that looked like torture devices in this heat.

  "That bastard stole from me!" the armed man growled, knuckles white around his sword.

  Doreen didn't even blink. "I don't care if he fucked your father! You don't pull a blade in my house. Wanna beat the shit out of each other? Be my guest. But let go of that weapon before you regret it."

  The man's eyes flicked toward his opponent, completely ignoring her warning. Steel flickered in the light. "I'm not lettin' him walk away with my—"

  "I warned you."

  Doreen's voice dropped to a deadly quiet tone that meant talking time was over.

  What happened next defied physics.

  She hurled the pickle jar with casual precision, and the thing moved as if it had been shot from a cannon. One second the guy was standing there radiating righteous fury; the next he was discovering what "dropping like a sack of bricks" actually meant. The impact echoed through the room with a wet thunk that made everyone wince.

  The jar didn't even crack. It hit the floor, bounced once with a solid thump, and rolled leisurely into his friend's boot.

  The remaining friend stood frozen, wide-eyed and pale as parchment, staring down at his unconscious buddy like he'd just witnessed divine intervention. I couldn't blame him—my face probably looked identical.

  Doreen crossed her arms and surveyed both remaining men with the satisfaction of someone who'd just solved a problem efficiently. "You both pick him up and get him sober. I don't want to see any of y'all for work for a few days. We clear?"

  No arguments. They scrambled to grab their friend by the arms, hauling his limp form up with more panic than coordination. A few onlookers exchanged amused glances and barely suppressed snickers, but nobody was stupid enough to comment out loud.

  As the pair half-dragged, half-carried their unconscious cargo toward the exit, Doreen turned back to the room, her gaze sweeping over everyone like a disappointed teacher.

  "Fuckin' Initiates... Anyone else feel like causin' trouble today?"

  Not a soul moved.

  Satisfied with the universal display of sudden good behavior, she spun to face me. "You just gonna stand there gawkin', new blood? Pick up the pickles and follow me."

  I complied, following her down a narrow set of basement stairs tucked into the far corner. The wooden steps creaked under our weight, and thankfully, the air grew cooler with each step down.

  "Uhh, I'm Ben," I said, nearly stumbling as I tried to keep pace with her surprisingly quick stride.

  "Doreen," she replied, voice carrying that same rough-edged confidence I'd just witnessed.

  Now that I was close enough to really look at her, she fit this chaotic place perfectly. Where Lana's pristine white fur and pink ears gave her that clean, scholarly appearance, Doreen looked like she'd been through a few wars and enjoyed every single battle. Her brown fur stuck out in wild tufts, completely untamed, like she'd given up on combs years ago. The Monster Hunter vest she wore had definitely seen better decades—frayed edges, faded patches, and a collection of mismatched pins covering every available surface. Her darker brown ears were pierced multiple times with tiny hoops, giving her a perfectly rebellious edge.

  When she entered my aura, she looked at me with a raised eyebrow and fierce eyes. Vibrant amber that practically glowed with mischief, far more expressive than Lana's analytical dark gaze. They held the spark that said she wasn't just willing to throw pickles at troublemakers—

  I blinked at how much information I was getting through the aura suddenly. Like I could pick out details if I focused hard enough.

  As we walked down the hallway, small orbs nestled in wall sconces flickered to life automatically, casting everything in soft, warm light that made the underground passage feel less like a cellar and more like a secret hideout.

  "You want to tell me why the fuckin' Head Mistress of the Monster Hunters is about to walk into my house?" she asked as we rounded away from the stairs into what definitely felt like an underground tunnel system.

  I froze mid-step, nearly tripping over my own feet.

  "I, ugh... it's been a weird day, I—"

  With casual ease, Doreen bounded up a series of shelves mounted along the wall, perching at eye level like a cat who'd found the perfect vantage point.

  "Actually, the less I know, the fuckin' better." She held out her hand expectantly. "Pickles."

  I handed over the jar gingerly, watching her take it like it weighed nothing. "Take this hall to the end. The door on the left takes you down to the old pathways. Knock on the third door, and ask for Jeremy. The furthest we can take you is the Emerald Reaches—from there, you're on your own. Your Acolyte badge covers the trip."

  "Wait, wait, whoa... what?" I held up both hands, thoroughly lost.

  "We're getting you home to Merigold. I can buy you some time. If it were just Felix, I'd have him drunk and passed out within the hour, but Elena?" She shook her head grimly. "Hour if we're lucky. Go."

  I stared at her like she'd started speaking ancient Sumerian.

  "Merigold? I came here with them. Why... Who's Jeremy?"

  Doreen's eyebrow arched. "You're not a Valerian? Too plain to be a Summers... maybe a Noble? I can't get you to the Empire."

  I blinked rapidly. "What? I was just looking for a place to stay. I'm Ben Crawford. Uh... Unbidden?"

  The change in her expression was immediate and dramatic. "Oh... Oh! Maybe..." She shook her head, clearly recalibrating everything. "Let's just forget you heard anything about Jeremy."

  "Well, hold on." I gestured in the direction we'd been heading. "What if I wanted to go to this Merigold place? Jeremy's waiting, right?"

  A wicked grin spread across Doreen's face, showing off those sharp teeth. "Oh, I like you, Unbidden. Damn, so you're an actual Acolyte? How mad would Elena be if you just... disappeared? Would it piss her off? I'm in."

  "If I'm being honest, I'm not sure. She seemed like she wouldn't try to stop me if I wanted to leave." This visibly deflated Doreen's enthusiasm. There was definitely some serious history there. "But I think Diana might be upset? And definitely Lana—probably not a good idea."

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  It was like flipping a switch. Doreen's entire demeanor shifted to full alarm mode.

  "Nope!" She launched herself off the shelves and started shoving me back toward the stairs. Damn, she was strong. "No Jeremy for you. Out."

  It was all I could do to keep my footing as she herded me back up the steps with surprising persistence and way too much upper body strength. Before I knew it, I was back in the common room where Elena and Felix were chatting casually with some patrons.

  "No fuckin' way, Ellie!" Doreen's voice cut through the conversation like a fire alarm. "Who the fuck is this guy, and why is he sayin' he knows the Bitch? I deal with enough bullshit, so tell me what's going on. Now."

  Several patrons in Monster Hunter vests started moving toward the exits, but Doreen's sharp whistle stopped them cold. "Sit the fuck down. We'll all find out what's going on eventually."

  Every pair of eyes in the room swiveled between me and Elena, who was looking at me like I'd just announced I was their new king.

  Oops.

  "I'm doubting everything that's been said about you, Ben." She shook her head in pure disbelief. "I had a whole cover story prepared. We were going to take things slow."

  I matched her exasperated expression, feeling oddly defensive. "I was about to elope with Jeremy. You've had an hour to fill me in on this cover story, and we've said maybe five words to each other on the way here. Meanwhile, I've heard you tell the Carapax story like five times."

  "Oh, that was a good scrap," Doreen said with obvious appreciation. Several other hunters around the room responded with an almost ritualistic ‘ooh-rah’. “Is this your new apprentice or somethin'? Why's he an Acolyte?”

  "He's not mine," Elena said quickly. "He's... hers. Or maybe Chas's. We haven't discussed the particulars yet."

  "That's a couple of fuckin' names for such a scrawny guy," an Aldertree hunter called out from across the room. "He actually a noble?"

  "Something like that." Elena's tone grew more guarded. "I shouldn't say anything else, though. It's been an eventful afternoon. My mother's back and up to something—throwing her weight around everywhere. She even..." Elena visibly hesitated, like she was preparing for a reaction. "Even tricked Lana into working for her."

  Dead silence crashed over the room like a physical weight.

  Then the entire place burst into laughter.

  "Oh. Hah. Sucks to be you," Doreen managed between laughs.

  I definitely looked as confused as I felt. Doreen slapped my leg with casual sympathy. "If Diana's back and she's interested in you? I don't think there's a ship in the city fast enough to get you away."

  Okay, Diana was sounding significantly scarier than the woman who'd served me tea and asked polite questions.

  "You said Jeremy's back in the city?" Elena asked suddenly, her tone shifting as the laughter died down. "That can't be a coincidence."

  Doreen nodded grimly. "This morning. Came in to cover for Alexander when he leaves." She spread her hands. "Now, what can we do to help?"

  "Acolyte Ben here needs a place to stay while he trains, and I hear the old Blackwood room is vacant," Elena said with practiced ease.

  Doreen's grin showed off those sharp teeth again. "I mean, have you seen it? He bein’ funded, or am I putting him to work?"

  "I'll work," I said without hesitation, feeling strangely confident about the arrangement. I'd worked in kitchens my entire life—there was always a kitchen somewhere that needed help.

  A kitchen on another world where magic is real? Hell yes, I was in.

  Elena shot me an approving look that felt like passing some kind of test, and even Felix raised an eyebrow in impressed surprise.

  "He'll work, then," Elena confirmed with a decisive nod.

  Doreen sucked air through her teeth, clearly running calculations. "Yeah," she said on the exhale, "we'll fuckin' find somethin' for you to do. Felix—" She jabbed a finger toward the stairs. "It's next to yours. Take him over there and try not to knock anything over."

  "Sure thing!" Felix practically bounced with childlike excitement as he motioned me toward the stairs leading up from the common room.

  "You live here?" I asked, following him into a dimly lit hallway that stretched further than seemed physically possible. "I would have thought you'd live in the tower with your mother."

  "Is living with your parents common on Terra? Or... Earth?" he asked with genuine curiosity.

  Touché.

  "Okay, fair enough." I conceded the point. "But you moved here with her, right?"

  "I work for her as an Arcanist—research and stuff. We got stationed here maybe eighteen months ago?" Felix explained, his voice echoing slightly in the narrow corridor. "Sylvarus isn’t too far away, so Nana made Chas take me on. He's awful at filing paperwork, though, so we get paid whenever he remembers to do it. Means I work for rent when he disappears for days on end. Like right now!"

  "And you don't end up owing back rent. Not a terrible deal," I said, genuinely impressed.

  "Exactly! Although if I have to clean the toilets up the street again, I might just move," he said with a laugh that held just enough truth to make it uncomfortable.

  "Oh yeah, toilets—where are they?" I asked because that seemed like important practical information.

  "Three doors up the street, maybe a block?"

  I stopped walking. "Three doors up the street?"

  Did they not have plumbing?

  "Yep!" Felix said cheerfully, completely oblivious to my internal crisis. "Most of the island is thick rock, so plumbing's tricky to install. Oh, wait—do you have plumbing on Earth? Pipes that move water around?"

  I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity. "Yes, Felix, we know how indoor plumbing works. Okay, centralized bathrooms. Got it."

  The hallway stretched much longer than I'd expected, like the entire upper floor was dedicated solely to bedrooms. The same strange orbs I'd seen in the tower provided light, nestled in chest-high sconces that looked hand-mounted whenever someone felt like it.

  Felix must have noticed me studying them because he grinned and tapped one. "Lantern orbs. They're rune-powered," he explained with obvious pride. "Pretty cheap, but not everyone uses them. You'll probably recognize the rune—it's basic but reliable." He gestured toward the glowing sphere. "It's a variation of illumination, similar to the one I was looking for when you found Radiance."

  Curiosity got the better of me. I picked up the orb, holding it at eye level. About the size of a golf ball, made of smooth glass that felt warm against my palm. A faint rune seemed suspended inside, like it were trapped in amber, pulsing with soft light.

  I blinked at it, and something clicked. I could see it wasn't wrong exactly, just... unfinished. Half-assed. In my mind's eye, I could almost trace where the rest of the pattern should go, like following a road that suddenly ended mid-journey. I tried doing something that felt like pushing the rune down its intended path. It resisted for just a moment before completing what felt like a natural loop.

  The orb flickered and brightened significantly, stretching our shadows down the hallway.

  When I looked up, Felix was gaping at me like I'd just pulled a rabbit out of a hat.

  "I thought you said your world didn't have mana. How did you do that?"

  "I... don't know. I just kind of knew I could?" The honest answer felt inadequate even to me. "Remember the Light rune I mentioned? The one that shoved itself into my head before I got here?"

  Felix let out a low whistle. "Runesmithing is a valuable skill to have. It's normally taken up by Adept Arcanists, who study for years to make techno-magic. I dabble in it myself, but adjusting someone else's work..." He shook his head in amazement. "That's not easy. Can you make it change color?"

  I nodded and focused on the orb, watching it shift through several colors with barely a thought. Each change sent a small static shock through my hand as mana did whatever magical thing it needed to do. Red, blue, green, and a warm golden yellow that reminded me of sunrise.

  "I've got a couple of Arcanist friends who might find a use for that talent," Felix said as we reached a door at the very end of the hallway. "Or even teach you more techniques, if you're interested."

  "Wait, I can learn to make techno-magic?" The possibilities hit me all at once. "Sign me up. That has to be a way to make decent money, right? If getting to the Central Lands is as expensive as everyone keeps hinting, I'll need every advantage I can get."

  Felix squinted at me with something that looked like newfound respect. "You're awfully adaptable. Not many people would outright agree to hunt monsters, work for a Vildar, and submit themselves to magical experiments."

  I laughed, feeling lighter than I had since arriving in this world. "I don't think anyone's ever called me adaptable before. Felix, magic fucking exists. I agreed to an adventure—I'm damn well gonna have one."

  Felix clapped me on the shoulder with surprising force and grinned while swinging the bedroom door open. "Your room, Acolyte Curtain-Guy."

  Stepping into the room was like entering a kaleidoscope of bad taste, making the common area look restrained by comparison. The bed dominated the space with a headboard that someone had apparently attacked with a bedazzler—gems of every conceivable color creating a rainbow explosion that clashed horrifically with deep purple satin sheets. The walls struggled under the weight of gaudy tapestries and paintings that looked like they'd been stolen from an outlet store, each piece fighting for attention in the worst possible way.

  A massive gold-framed mirror commanded one entire wall, reflecting a chandelier that belonged in a ballroom, not a bedroom. The floor disappeared beneath an overly plush red carpet drowning in embroidered patterns—animals, runes, geometric shapes that seemed to follow no theme except "more is better."

  Even the curtains committed crimes against good taste, thick velvet monstrosities that looked looted from a pharaoh's tomb.

  What made it all worse was that someone had turned this assault on the senses into a storage unit. Crates, chests, boxes, and entire suits of silvery armor created a maze through the room, like someone had been using it as a warehouse for years. The air hung thick with dust that made my nose itch just breathing it.

  "Chateau Blackwood," Felix announced with a shit-eating grin. "The room Chas's family owns, anyway. Don't ask me how all this stuff got here—I'm not sure anyone actually knows."

  He plucked another lantern orb from the wall and tossed it to me casually. "Take a couple for your room, just put them back in the morning. Now, if you don't mind, it's late, and it's been a really long couple of days..." He paused, laughing as he realized who he was talking to. "I mean, you've got me beat there—but that portal really kicked my ass."

  The mention of being tired hit me like a physical weight. That accidental nap in the strange meeting room had been more of a "blink and wake up confused an hour later" situation than actual rest. Now, suddenly, I realized how much my entire body ached. Every muscle felt like I'd been carrying heavy furniture up stairs for hours.

  "Yeah, sleep sounds perfect," I managed, stifling a yawn. "Anything I need to know? Do monsters get stronger at night? Does everything glow? Multiple moons?"

  Felix's eyebrows shot up in exasperated amusement. "Lock your door, and breakfast is at dawn. Where did you come up with that? Monsters getting stronger at night would be an absolute nightmare."

  I shrugged, too tired to feel embarrassed. "We have a lot of stories."

  Felix shook his head in fond disbelief and headed for the door. "Try not to get buried under all that junk. See you in the morning, Curtain-Guy."

  Once alone, I navigated the obstacle course of storage containers toward the bed, more stumbling than walking at this point. Without bothering to move any of the boxes, I took off my shoes and threw myself onto the mattress with the reckless abandon of someone checking into a five-star hotel.

  The bed was way too soft, way too plush. I sank into it like quicksand made of satin and down feathers, the purple sheets somehow being both luxurious and completely ridiculous.

  Despite the visual assault of the room, the gaudy chandelier, and the lingering smell of old dust, I was asleep before my head fully settled into the pillow.

  But even as consciousness faded, one thought lingered in the back of my mind:

  Who the hell was Jeremy?