Wood splintered. Bottles shattered. Reyn crashed through the bar of the Broken Shield like a meteor made of muscle and poor timing.

  "You'll have to pay for the damages," Marta said without looking up from the glass she was polishing. "And for a month of rent."

  "A month?!" Reyn struggled upright, picking splinters from her hair. It took her a second to realize where she was. "Wait, I'm back! Have I been gone for a month?!"

  "Give or take a few days." Marta set down the glass and picked up another. "We've seen you fall through the air here a few times, so I figured you'd be back eventually. Kept your room and your things intact. Didn't clean it though."

  Reyn stood, surveying the destroyed bar. Good Deeds was still on her back. The strange star-filled sword hung at her side. She was covered in blood, mud, splinters, and what might have been temporal residue.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  She checked the new sword, ensuring it had made the journey with her. It had. She'd need to name it, of course. In Bormecia, unnamed weapons were just tools. Named weapons had souls. But what did you call a sword that held stars and cut reality?

  Night's Edge? Star Cleaver? Portal Biter? No, none of those felt right. The Opener? Too simple. Reality's Bane? Too pretentious.

  She'd figure it out later. Probably.

  "I appreciate it," she said to Marta.

  Marta finally looked at her. Really looked. "Rough month?"

  Reyn considered the question. Dragons serving tea. Drowning in beauty. Hell's waiting room. Eternal war. The cemetery of all battles. Tea at the end of everything.

  "I've had worse," she said, then paused. "Actually, no. No, I haven't. This was definitely the worst month of my life."

  Marta smiled. "That's the spirit. Now get out of my bar until you can pay for it."

  Reyn headed for the stairs, dripping debris from everywhere and nowhere with each step. Behind her, Marta began sweeping up the wreckage with the patience of someone who'd seen stranger things than warriors falling through the ceiling.

  Though probably not many.

  A month, Reyn thought as she staggered her way to her room. Her head spun. The Pilgrimage had waited a month already. It could wait a day more for her to sleep off the experience.

  Void Cutter? Dimension Splitter? No, still not right. Maybe she'd just call it "the other sword" until inspiration struck.8