When I sat down to write this, I thought that this part was the part that I’d be most excited to write. These days of joy and misery were full to bursting. But now that I get to it, I find myself wanting to hold onto most of it, to keep it close to me.

  I think the telling, though, can help me remember. Maybe I can see it more clearly if I let it go.

  The days after Bernadette and I became an item, were full of late night rendezvous, and stolen kisses in hallways, and also a lot of pain as Rachel recovered, and bad news as word of Caleb and the refugees trickled in. Bernie had added Caleb to the Kill Crew, but he hardly talked. Braelyn spent time teleporting to him, and back often, and so we learned more that way.

  The greatest tragedy in those days was news of King Caleb’s middle son, Pelas, succumbing to his injuries and dying.

  My work with Luca meant that I had learned more about magical healing now. Magical healing was supernatural in its effectiveness, but not as great as we imagined in The Game of our world. Spells to return the dead to life did exist, and Caleb had one, but they only worked on people freshly dead. A well preserved, and intact corpse was needed for resurrection magic. Even from the most powerful of clerics. So, some injuries or methods of death did not allow for revival.

  Removing the head, reportedly, is one. Though Luca theorized that it could be overcome should the head be reattached in the seconds of its removal. Another method to keep the dead from being brought back to life was void magic. Wounds caused by void magic could not be healed before first banishing the curse, and if one dies while under the voidcurse, something else can take your place.

  And some individuals just… refused to return to living. Sometimes their spirit simply could not be reached.

  The case of Pelas was one such case.

  Reportedly, Caleb shut down. Prince Xander and Queen Cerelia were forced to step up to replace him. Braelyn mentioned talk of moving up Xander’s coronation, but that was one of the few things Caleb had explicitly refused.

  I wished there was something I could do to help. But I was needed here.

  On the sixth day of staying at the Academe Arcane, it was decided that the whole crew, minus Caleb, would try interrogating Helena. That morning I woke refreshed and ready to take on the day, as Bernie had let me retire early the night before instead of, you know, keep her company until late into the night.

  Rachel was already at the mess hall, listening to Braelyn talk, and rubbing her bad shoulder absentmindedly.

  “I need you,” I sang, putting my hand on her good shoulder.

  She looked back at me, shocked at first, then conflicted. I could see a war between contempt that I would dare to assume she needed help, and relief because the pain did lessen. Magical healing didn’t only heal, it soothed. In the end she just nodded her thanks.

  I sat down next to her, and said good morning to both.

  The mess hall was mostly one large room, with rows and rows of long tables, no shock there, but with many more windows to let in natural light along with the arcane lamps. Most had already taken their food, delivered on trays carried by dumbwaiter from the ground floor, to their spots or to their dorms. Several returned trays at a row of dumbwaiters on the opposite side of the room.

  “What’s the news?” I asked.

  “Still can’t get into her messages, but we have her stats now,” said Rachel, as she handed me a crystal slate.

  “She’s strong,” I said, handing the slate back. “But her mental stats aren’t too impressive. We could probably trick her.”

  “Sure,” Braelyn said, “but is that the correct play?”

  “What have we tried?” I asked.

  “Not much,” Braelyn admitted. “Mostly just impressed upon her the importance of talking for good treatment.”

  “Good treatment?” Rachel asked. “Have we been treating her harshly?”

  “Depends,” Braelyn said. “She gets food and water. Basic necessities, but we haven’t been letting her read or play games.”

  “Solitary confinement?” I asked.

  “Not exactly,” Braelyn replied. “She can be pretty chatty with the guards I’m told.”

  “Okay.”

  I didn’t know a lot about the ethics of imprisonment, but I knew solitary was actual torture. As was withholding sanitary products, or sleep deprivation. So, nothing set my alarm bells off.

  The very little I understood about proper interrogation I got from cop shows, and spy novels. What I knew about it, you had to make them your friend, make them feel like the interrogator was doing their best to help in a system that sought to crush you.

  This was a glorified school. So, I wasn’t sure how scary it was by reputation. But if it was tied to Caleb, he seemed to have intimidated the whole continent.

  But she wasn’t a native. She was from our world. Caleb’s reputation may not help us.

  “What are you thinking?” Rachel asked.

  “Not sure. Have we talked to the DM yet?” I asked.

  Rachel cut her eyes at Braelyn, then back to me.

  “I’m not sure Braelyn knows much about them,” she said.

  “Well, why not tell her?” I asked.

  “Would she believe—”

  “What’s this?” Braelyn asked.

  I decided to spill the beans to her. Caleb trusted her with his slate for years. And she was sort of our biggest NPC ally.

  I told her that the Dungeon Master is the one that brought us here. We didn’t know this for sure, but it made for a better story. And that he was responsible for leading us through The Game. She already knew we were from another world, that was part of the prophecy, but she attributed it to her religion, that of the Warden Who Provides.

  “So you’re saying that you believe this person you communicate with through the magic slates, is like the Warden?”

  I looked to Rachel, who answered.

  “We don’t know anything about ‘the Warden’ other than as a source for swear words. But the DM gives us quests and updates our slate’s abilities.”

  “Interesting,” she said, taking a bite of a sweet roll. After chewing daintily and swallowing, she said, “but you haven’t explained why you don’t trust them.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “If they were trustworthy,” Rachel said, “they would be more forthcoming about why we’re here, and what we need to do.”

  “Don’t you need to defeat the former promised hero, and current bane of all the world, Inara?”

  Bernadette and I had unpacked some of our feelings about that particular revelation, that Sofia was also the Evil Queen, but we hadn’t really all talked about it as a group. I was furious at her, but also conflicted. Bernadette seemed to see it very black and white: Sofia needed to be put down.

  I was so upset with her that I didn’t argue, but something didn’t feel right to me, even now. Even now that she seemed so callous, so far gone. But I was also lost in the wake of the incredible violence she had caused, the hurt to my friends, and in my newfound love affair, so I didn’t dwell on it much.

  “Sure,” I said, acknowledging her statement.

  Just then, arcane lights flickered and dimmed, indicating the change of the hours.

  “Ah!” Braelyn said, “I must meet Gate Captain Bibblepuck. Loop me in if you decide anything big.”

  She gave Rachel’s hand a squeeze and left.

  I had a dumb idea. But I hadn’t heard anyone mention it, yet.

  “So, speaking of the DM,” I said, “what if we just asked to go home?”

  “Shit,” Rachel responded. “Why didn’t we think of that before? What if he says yes? What if it’s that fucking simple.”

  “I doubt it,” I said, and Rachel made a noise of agreement. “But we should probably still ask the asshole.”

  I took my slate out of my new Academy satchel, and messaged the DM right away.

  I stared at the slate for a moment, and upon seeing no response, let my arms hang at my sides.

  Bernadette walked in, and slapped my ass.

  “Hey!” I said.

  She gave me a quick peck on the lips.

  “Y'all are disgusting,” Rachel remarked.

  Bernadette shrugged. I gave a smile that I hoped was apologetic, then wrapped my arm around her. She squeezed me back, removed herself, and sat next to Rachel.

  “What are we doing?” Bernie asked, grabbing a sweet roll.

  “We were figuring how best to approach interrogating Helena,” Rachel said. “Before your… partner?”

  “Partner,” Bernie agreed.

  Revelations of our newly committed romantic relationship went over fairly well. They’d been rooting for us all along, after all. Rachel quickly moved into a position of disapproval of heterosexual PDA, but I felt like that was mostly just in good fun. If there was any ‘best friend becomes jealous of the friend who landed a girlfriend’ vibes, I would have picked up on it. Right?

  If there were, that just meant that Rachel had to man up, and actually ask Braelyn out. The fact she wasn’t actively hitting that, when Braelyn was sending out all the signals made no sense to me.

  Braelyn, before she left, had her hand actively on top of Rachel’s! From what little I knew about women who like women, that was basically hussy behavior.

  “Before your partner messaged the DM,” Rachel continued, “asking if he could go home without finishing the quest.”

  “Shit,” Bernadette said, chewing rudely, “why didn’t we think of that sooner?”

  “He hasn’t messaged me—” I said, right as my slate vibrated.

  “Hold on,” I said.

  “What did he say?” Rachel asked.

  I messaged him back, typing furiously.

  I looked up and said, “he’s just dodging the question.”

  That brought noises of frustration from everyone.

  I sighed, sat down next to Bernie and showed her my texts. She hummed, then handed it back. My slate buzzed. He’d finally answered.

  I sighed and tossed my slate on the table.

  “Let me see,” Bernie said. She read the slate. “This is something.”

  “Is it?” I asked. “I feel like I’m talking to a brick wall.”

  “Let me see,” Rachel offered. She read as well. “Okay. No, this is something.”

  “What do you got?” I asked.

  “Well,” Rachel responded, “I think this means that the ‘DM’ is a role you have for a long time. We can be reasonably sure that the same DM that spoke to Sofia when she first got here is the same one you are speaking to now. It also seems that this person believes that there are rules he must follow. And that he is playing this role for our benefit.”

  “Okay, so how does that help us?” Bernie asked.

  “If we can figure out what role he wants us to play, what story we need to tell, then we know the rules of The Game.”

  “But that’s just the quests. That’s back to square one,” I added.

  “Not necessarily,” Bernie offered. “He said ‘quest or quests’ and that he ‘procures them’ for us. Maybe that means we could potentially get a quest to go home that isn’t defeating Sofia.”

  I thought for a moment. I picked up my slate.

  The DM didn’t answer right away. I sat down again and chewed food I hardly tasted. He answered.

  I showed Bernie the messages.

  “That wasn’t a no,” she said.

  We filled Rachel in.

  “So,” she said, “we may not have to lie to Helena at all. If she joins us, she could possibly go home with our quest, not hers. There’s a chance we get an ally out of this. An ally with fat tits.”

  “Woah,” I said.

  “You haven’t seen ‘em?”

  “How big are we talking?” Bernie asked.

  “Guys,” I added. “She’s our prisoner. Let’s not sexualize her.”

  “Just stating objective facts,” Rachel said.

  “Also,” I said. “The DM could pull the rug out from under us, and change the quest we have. We may not benefit at all from turning her.”

  “If we have to turn her,” Bernie said, “I should probably give it a try. Points in seduction and all.”

  “She may not be bi,” I cautioned.

  “Oh, so you’re thinking you should go for the seduction play?” Bernadette teased.

  “Worked on you,” I said.

  Bernie kissed me on the lips.

  “Groooosssss,” Rachel groaned.

  Mark entered the mess hall, his cape billowing behind him.

  “They’re delivering food now,” he said. “If we’re to interrogate the girl, we should do it while she’s in a good mood.”

  I looked around at Rachel and Bernadette, who both shrugged.

  “Yeah, sure,” I said, “let’s go do it. I’ll fill you in on the way.”