Pain coursed through Cleo’s body, a searing agony twisting her bones and scouring her mind. She staggered and fell to one knee, both fists clenched, leaning on the ground. Her eyes squeezed shut so tight she saw only colors swirling and flashes of white.

  “Maybe I should have warned her,” she heard Mau say, as if from far away.

  The sheer effort of enduring the pain had Cleo struggling to breathe as her chest constricted. Jaw clenched, she held herself as motionless as she could, as she did every time the bone-grinding ache of her illness left her reeling. But the pain… She felt like she’d been turned inside out, her skin flayed from her flesh. Tears leaked from her eyes, but pain was an old friend of hers, and she’d learned to endure, to let it flow through her while she sealed her mind against its effects. She still felt it, but part of her consciousness was removed, lessened, as if part of the hurt was not happening to her.

  I will not break, she told herself. If this was a test, she would not fail. She’d overcome joint pain and swelling, and the stabbing, burning agony of her nerves on fire. This? This was temporary. Something to be tolerated for a short time and then forgotten. It always ended. Always. And that thought had kept her sane for many years.

  Cleo drew in a ragged breath, which lessened the pressure squeezing her chest. No, she wouldn’t fail. Wherever the pain came from, whatever the cause, she could withstand it. A small part of her realized she could have endured more.

  “She hasn’t fallen yet,” another voice said, a woman.

  “No, she hasn’t,” replied Mau. “Curious.”

  “This could be interesting, but we’ll see.”

  And then, without warning, the agony lessened. At first it decreased gradually, then rapidly, like the ebbing tide in fast forward, until all that was left was a harsh memory. Cleo shuddered and gasped in deep breaths to calm herself. Her hands unclenched, leaving them throbbing from the exertion, and small, sharp stings where her nails had dug into her palms. The air smelled of raspberries and blackcurrant, and… vanilla. Someone’s perfume.

  Opening her eyes, Cleo wobbled back upright, blinking rapidly at her bright surroundings and shielding her eyes with a hand. Her skin was covered in sweat, and there was a trickle down the side of her face, and warm liquid under her nose. She wiped above her top lip and her fingers came away bloody.

  Surrounding her on all sides were walls of a white, polished stone she didn’t recognize. And the floor looked like smooth steel-gray granite, but she couldn’t be certain. Stone, why am I wondering about stone? Focus, Cleo!

  “Sorry about that,” said Mau. “The first dozen portals you experience can be tricky.” The cat sat on its haunches about ten yards away, with Seti the mummy standing motionless behind.

  “Tricky?” managed Cleo. Her mouth was filled with sour saliva and something metallic. She thought she might have bitten her tongue, which was sore.

  “Agonizing. This one particularly so, as it was an extremely long distance with the added complication of shifting dimensions. Still, you seem to have fared fairly well out of it. Surprising, really. I’m never shocked, but if I could be you’d have come close.”

  A compliment, I guess I’ll take it.

  Something soft pressed into her hand, and she looked down to find herself grasping a small towel, but couldn’t see who or what had handed it to her.

  “Thank you,” she mumbled uncertainly, then wiped sweat from her face and the blood from under her nose. Sniffing, she didn’t think her nose was still bleeding, which was a good sign.

  “You’re welcome,” said a woman, and Cleo looked around but still couldn’t see anyone.

  Mau coughed. “You’re still invisible.”

  “Oh, so I am!”

  There was a faint pop, and in the blink of an eye a woman stood beside Mau—the most beautiful woman Cleo had ever seen. Flawless silvery skin, cascading midnight black hair, and clothed in a white linen sheath dress with shoulders bare. She stood calmly, head cocked to one side, staring curiously at Cleo with intelligent, violet eyes. And she had… wings. Feathered wings the color of charcoal. But what hit Cleo most of all was the power she now radiated. It came out of her in surges, like shimmering heat waves.

  “Er… hello,” said Cleo, and half bowed, half curtsied in a clumsy attempt at showing respect. How did women curtsy?! I watched a royal wedding once. I’m sure I saw a lot of curtsying.

  The woman inclined her head in response, and then the power blazing from her receded until it was gone.

  “Sorry about that as well,” the woman said. “I sometimes forget.”

  Cleo felt that this woman never forgot anything. And in that case, both the invisibility and the show of power were just that: a deliberate show of power. Perhaps to put Cleo in her place, or make her nervous.

  “I’m Cleo,” she said, taking the initiative. “Where am I?”

  The woman glanced at Mau, who looked up at her, wide-eyed, as if seeking approval.

  “I’m Saskia Snow-owl,” replied the woman. “Protector of the Shattered Lands and Harbinger of Dawn. At least until my replacement arrives.”

  Replacement? And snow owls were white, weren’t they? “Are you, by any chance a goddess?” asked Cleo.

  “Almost,” said Saskia. “Thank you for selflessly volunteering to join the war against the Corrupted Scourge invasion.”

  “The what now? I didn’t volunteer.” Wait, she had stepped into the portal willingly. But her mind and emotions had been scrambled because of the weird situation and talking cat, so did she truly come of her own free will? She would do almost anything to rid herself of her crippling lupus, though. I guess I did.

  “I volunteered you, Princess,” said Mau. “And you agreed to come.” The cat stood up straighter in its sitting position, looking awfully satisfied with itself. “Saskia Snow-owl,” it intoned self-importantly, “may I present to you Princess Cleopatra. Who, if I am not mistaken, should have inherited both her mother’s and father’s talent for light and earth manipulation.”

  “She’s not a princess,” said Saskia dryly.

  Mau cat froze, mouth open, shock on its face, like a badly taxidermized pet.

  Cleo couldn’t resist. “It looks like you’re shocked. I told you I wasn’t a princess, and that my name was Cleo.”

  “But… but…” sputtered Mau.

  Seti’s shoulders shook, and it took a moment for her to realize that the mummy was laughing.

  Saskia turned to glare at Mau. and the cat looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “It looks like I have to clean up. Again.” The maybe-goddess sighed, then snapped her fingers. “Mau, take a break. You must be exhausted. And with what I talk to Cleo about in the next part, it’s best you aren’t here for, as usual. What you don’t know can’t be tortured from you.”

  As usual? thought Cleo. How often do they do this? And torture? Cleo sincerely hoped something that horrifying wouldn’t happen to her. But from everything Mau and the maybe-goddess had said so far, there was a distinct possibility of severe injury and… dying? The very thought made her chest hurt and her palms sweaty. She didn’t want to die.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Saskia continued talking to the cat. “After this mistake, I think it’s fitting that you make yourself available to guide Cleo, though.”

  “A demotion?” Mau almost wailed.

  “A temporary demotion, when you’re available, occasionally. We can’t make it too easy for the new volunteers, as you know. We need to test their mettle. Separate the wheat from the chaff. We’ve wasted our time and resources if they crumble under the pressure. We’ll sort the details out after this.”

  Cleo didn’t like the fact that they were talking about her as if she wasn’t there. “Did it look like I crumbled under the pain of the portal?” she blurted out before she could stop herself. Her mouth usually got her into trouble, and sassing a maybe-goddess probably wasn’t the wisest decision she’d ever made.

  A soft hiss of annoyance escaped Mau, and Saskia turned her penetrating violet eyes upon Cleo.

  “A thought-provoking fact,” the maybe-probably-goddess said. “You did quite well, considering. Your resilience might bear fruit in the future, or may not.” A slight shift in her expression, the corners of her mouth turning up into the semblance of a smile, might have been amusement. “But you have caught my interest, and as I’m in another two hundred and forty-two places just like this talking to other volunteers, that’s quite a feat.”

  Most definitely a goddess. Or close enough it doesn’t matter to me. “So,” Cleo said, feeling insignificant and certainly not interesting, “what’s next?”

  Mau stood and inclined her—his?—head to Saskia. “I’ll take that as my cue.”

  “Please try not to make too many more mistakes, dear Mau,” said the goddess. “You’re dangerously close to a permanent demotion.”

  The cat glared at Cleo as if it was all her fault, then looked away. “I’ll do my best.”

  “I’m sure you will. It’s all we can ask of anyone, including the heroes.”

  Mau addressed Cleo again. “I’ll be seeing you sometime, Cleo. Try not to die before then. Watch out for the undead, and the demons, too. But most of all, be careful. Agents of the Corrupted Scourge are out there, trying to undo our best efforts to hold them off. And by undo, I mean killing anyone they think might make a difference. Not always succeeding now that we’re warned, but sometimes, despite all the precautions we take, they get through.”

  That didn’t sound good, and all Cleo’s mind could do was repeat Mau had said before. “I’ll do my best.”

  Then, Saskia clicked the fingers of her right hand, and both Mau and Seti dissolved into swirls of ash and smoke, curled and twisted as if there was a swirling breeze, before dissipating until nothing remained.

  “Now,” Saskia said, crossing her arms and looking stern, “to business. I must warn you that under no circumstances are you to discuss or reveal to anyone the process we’re about to go through. Information is power, and the less we reveal to the enemy, the better.”

  Cleo nodded, befuddled at everything going on, and intensely aware she was still in her flannel pajamas and clutching a blood-smeared towel.

  “Good,” continued Saskia. “But there’s something you need to know, that Mau couldn’t know. We’re losing. The Corrupted Scourge are strong and adaptive, and humanity—and by that, I mean all the human-like races—are slowly being pushed back. They can’t see the overall trend, but we can. As with the other worlds the Corrupted Scourge has claimed, life on this one will be devoured and subsumed. We need to stop this. A line must be drawn, and if possible, the Scourge defeated and itself pushed back to where it came from. Breaking the Scourge and its leaders is our goal. And we need you, and volunteers like you, to achieve this.”

  “But you’re losing?” asked Cleo, before she could help herself. Losing meant people were dying, including, probably especially, “volunteers”. She held up a hand, palm out, hoping to fend off any offense she’d given. “So why don’t you do something different?”

  “We’ve tried, but with little success. I’m sure we’ll figure something out, but in the meantime we’ll keep asking heroes to help.”

  “What heroes? Do you mean people like me?”

  “Most volunteers start with a hero card, and a few miscellaneous skill or ability cards to start them off.”

  “Hero cards? What are cards?” Cleo thought they would give people skills and abilities, as the goddess had said, but what was a hero card?

  “You’ll get a hero card for your class card slot. Though some choose different cards if they have a strong preference. I know this is all new information, but listen carefully as it’s important. Everyone has a class card slot, sometimes called a heart card. It defines who you are and, to a large extent, what you’re capable of. This card is not removable. It is an irrevocable decision sapient inhabitants of the world have to make. A warrior card would give the person more strength, vitality, speed, and suchlike. A mage card more mana, spell efficiency, you get the idea. I can see you’re familiar with similar systems.”

  Wow, she even knows I’ve played RPGs. “I get the general idea. I shouldn’t have a problem adapting.” Cleo’s heart beat faster than usual, and she tried to calm herself down before the stress triggered her lupus. She really didn’t want to die. No one did. And if she was going to be lumped with a generic class card that hadn’t worked for who knows how many thousands of volunteers before her, the situation looked bleak.

  “Then on top of the class or heart card, everyone has six other card slots. These they can fill with whatever skills or abilities they desire. But of course, a warrior type would want weapon skills, and a mage at least one spell skill. Simple. And the class of heart card can influence these cards, if they are compatible.”

  Cleo nodded. Stacking skills and buffs that enhance overall effects was an element of games she was more than passingly familiar with. “I understand.” Overall, a simple concept. But she knew it wouldn’t be in practice. Game mechanics were complex and sometimes unfathomable. But this would not be a game. Her life would be on the line. Mau’s “help me, you’re my only hope,” spiel had turned into “help yourself or you’ll die”. If she ever saw that infuriating cat again, she’d have some harsh words with it.

  “Good. I’m going to give you the usual card spread for volunteers, which is a Hero Card along with—”

  “No,” said Cleo, painfully aware she had interrupted the most powerful being she’d ever encountered. If she was going to change the path she was on, now was the time. They were throwing heroes to their deaths and hoping something would change and enable them to defeat the Corrupted Scourge—and it wasn’t working!

  She’d heard a quote once which had sprung to mind, and maybe a song, about heroes fading away, or only being remembered, but legends… Her wayward thoughts resolved into an idea like a rubber band snapping back.

  “I don’t want to be a hero,” Cleo said firmly, determined to do what she could to ensure she survived. If you don’t ask, you don’t get, as her father would say, and the squeaky wheel gets the grease.

  Saskia tsked and sighed, a surprisingly human gesture. “I can assure you that Hero Cards are powerful and sought after. And—”

  “I have no doubt they are,” interrupted Cleo again, earning her an annoyed frown that somehow still looked beautiful on the goddess’s face. “But it isn’t working, is it? You said it yourself. You’re LOSING. You need to think outside the box, to throw a spanner in the works. Do something different, unexpected. Be innovative. Daring.”

  Saskia raised an eyebrow, though her slight smile was back again. “And what would you, a new volunteer, propose?”

  “I don’t want to be a hero. I want to help people and do my best. But I don’t want to die in this place, far away from home. Alone.” She idolized a few heroes herself, online and in real life, but she was old enough to know they faded away, eventually dying. But there was something greater than heroes: legends.

  “That’s it!” she whispered fiercely to herself. “I know what class card I’m going to choose.”

  “And?”

  “I choose to be an Immortal Legend. I want an Immortal Legend card. Please.” Remembering her manners was probably a good idea in this situation.

  A burst of laughter escaped Saskia. “That’s not possible. I certainly can’t, and wouldn’t want to if I could, make you immortal. You’ll have to do that on your own if you’re capable. But the legend part…” Saskia pursed her lips and tilted her head, frowning. Her eyes took on a faraway look, as if lost in thought. “It will cost me, but we do need something unexpected. The path will be hard, though. It may break you.”

  “I don’t care,” said Cleo. She did care, but if her idea was actually being considered… “I withstood the portal better than most, didn’t I? I have inner strength. Hidden depths.” That sounded good. Fingers crossed it works. And immortality is possible?! That has to mean there’s a way to cure my lupus. Vow number one: Find a cure. Vow number two: Stay alive.

  “All right,” said the goddess, bringing Cleo out of her thoughts.

  It worked!

  “But there are limitations on what I can do,” continued Saskia. “This is an opportunity for you, but you’ll have to work for it. And if people find out about your card, you’ll become a target. It won’t be pleasant. By which I mean you’ll probably be killed.”

  “I understand. I… please…” Cleo’s words trailed off. She didn’t know what else to say.

  “A Legend Card, where you just want to help people, and survive. It’s… doable. But you won’t be able to avoid violence. You’ll need to level your card up to become stronger, more versatile. And the most efficient way to do that is to fight against the Scourge. But these are things you’ll learn more about later, during your training.”

  Saskia gestured with a hand, fingers and wrist turning in an elegant movement, and in the air in front of Cleo materialized motes of golden light, which then coalesced into a card.

  It was, in Cleo’s eyes, beautiful.

  The size of a normal playing card, but it wasn’t thin; it was thick, like an oversized credit card. Shining with a silvery sheen and a pale light that came from within, it was edged with complex golden filigree and stamped with the image of a woman that looked suspiciously like Cleo but an older, wiser version of herself. And the image wasn’t static; she could see her hair rippling as if blown by an imaginary breeze. Overall, the card looked like an ornate tarot card, albeit loaded with magic. Around the edge, between the filigree and the image, words shifted and moved before her eyes, in a language she didn’t recognize. Though at the very top of the card was a word she could read:

  Legend.