It all needed to burn.


    That was the only thought running through Lillian’s head as she piled all the furniture in the middle of the room, having the presence of mind to put the bigger pieces near the centre - they would catch the slowest and burn the longest, extending the life of the flame.


    She backed away from the pile, her eyes wild as she took in the sight before her, her entire life, her schoolbooks, their clothes, their knick-knacks, their shared memories, and at the centre was his favourite object in the world - his computer. The thing that had consumed his waking hours for months at a time, testing the bonds of their relationship repeatedly.


    She laughed bitterly at the thought, their relationship as if it had ever been anything more than her clinging to false hope that it would be better this time - that he would be better this time.


    It hadn’t started that way, of course. Once upon a time, they were in love and happy, he was working in IT and she was studying to become a social worker. That was before he had met the person who ruined everything for them.


    Lillian didn’t want to think about her. Not now, not ever.


    All she wanted to do was to burn it down like he burned their relationship to the ground. She shook her head, seemingly coming out of a trance, and picked up the can of gas she had bought for this specific purpose. She started splashing it liberally over the pile of their belongings, leading to the doorway so she could light it without getting caught in the flames herself.


    She knew what she was doing was crazy, that she’d go to jail for a long time, she just couldn’t bring herself to care. If the ship was going down, the captain was going with it.


    Carefully, she walked around the pile one more time to double-check everything had been added and doused liberally with the gas.


    As she drew near to the door, she fished out the lighter from her pocket and started fiddling with the mechanism, she didn’t want to fumble at the last second and lose her nerve. That did mean, however, that she wasn’t looking where she was going and couldn’t see it when her foot landed, and slipped, on a stuffed toy that he had given her.


    She lost her balance, dropped the just-lit lighter right on top of the trail she had made, and fell back onto the pile of furniture and belongings. Trying to right herself, she placed her other foot down underneath her, heavily, and managed to put it through one of the ugly bedside tables his mother had given them. The movement in the pile caused it to shift, the other bedside table pinning her leg inside its brother. Dark smoke had started to form from the gas-catching fire and eating away at the pile.


    Lillian was starting to panic, taking big gulping breaths of the smoke as she struggled to wrestle her balance back, but the angle of her stuck leg was causing her muscles to contract painfully, making it impossible. She ended up kneeling on the pile precariously while she tried to push the bedside table away from her side. Not an easy feat at the best of times, but the panic rising in her as well as the smoke starting to fill her lungs made it feel like pushing a boulder up a mountain. Again, and again she tried, getting more and more frantic as her throat began to burn from the smoke, and she started coughing; great, big, hacking coughs that shook her whole body. She was laser-focused on this one task, this one moment of desperation as she tried to free herself, so much so that she was only dimly aware of her mind starting to fail her and her head starting to spin.


    Flames were leaping all around her now, some even licking against her skin. Her desperate attempts to free herself were getting weaker and weaker as she realized that she was going to die. It wasn’t acceptance that settled upon her thoughts, it was annoyance - no, rage - she hated him, she hated that she’d loved him, she felt so stupid for how things ended up, she had a plan, and she’d messed it up. Curses started coming out along with the coughs, all the while she still pushed weakly on the now warm bedside table.


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


    It was the rage boiling over that did it, in one inhuman burst of strength she managed to get the bedside table off her leg, but she was too weak to lift it out. She collapsed back, coughing weakly, onto the pile of their life together burning steadily as she succumbed to the bliss of unconsciousness.


    Lillian was lying down, that much she could tell. However, she wasn’t, not really, because she couldn’t feel the familiar pressure of a surface pressing against her back. It was like she was floating horizontally, like in a pool, but that wasn’t right either. She tried standing up and her mind snapped upright, there was no call and response from her brain to her muscles. Her thought resulted in instant action. It felt oddly disconnected and it made her uneasy, like she wasn’t entirely all there at that time. Looking around, she saw that she was in a white room with no doors or windows. She also noticed she couldn’t see her body, almost like she didn’t have one, but that wasn’t right, she could feel her arms and legs and could sense where they were. She was not here in the literal sense of the word; it seemed like only her mind had been moved to this space.


    The whole thing felt wrong to her, and she got the sense she wasn’t supposed to be there. In fact, wasn’t she supposed to be burned alive on a bonfire she made from the mess their lives had become?


    That thought brought up so many emotions, but the feelings were distant and removed from her body. It felt almost like echoes, aftershocks of a life she was no longer connected to. As she was pondering the philosophical ramifications of the afterlife just being a white room, a table rising through the floor interrupted her thoughts.


    It was a featureless black, with the standard 4 legs and a large tablet sitting on top of it. Wanting to investigate, Lillian moved in that strange, disconnected, instantaneous way over toward the table and saw that the tablet had started a video. It looked like an infomercial for a tropical resort, featuring sweeping shots of beaches, and luxurious vistas, complete with a male voice talking about the various amenities this resort had. She tuned it out almost immediately, thinking that it would get boring living in the lap of luxury all day, every day.


    It’s not for me; I don’t have a stick that far up myself.


    Something in this weird space must have noticed the lack of attention, because the male voice cut out suddenly, and the video was replaced by a question with multiple answers.


    Who are you?


    <ol>


    <li>A leader</li>


    <li>A soldier</li>


    <li>A poet</li>


    </ol>


    Lillian wasn’t any of those, she didn’t have any leadership capacity, and she hated telling anyone to do anything. She also wasn’t just a follower, a good little soldier doing as they were told. A poet was what would fit the best, she assumed, but she also was not very creatively minded, preferring a good schedule and lists above freeform thinking, she wasn’t going to choose any of them.


    Again, this odd space seemed to respond to her thoughts and the question changed, without an answer.


    Who do you wish to be?


    <ol>


    <li>Ranger</li>


    <li>Rogue</li>


    <li>Warrior</li>


    <li>Cleric</li>


    <li>Hunter</li>


    <li>…</li>


    </ol>


    The list went on and on, listing every RPG class Lillian had ever heard of. This intrigued her, she had always been a gamer. Would it put her in a game world? Would she get to live out a fantasy story?


    One class stood out to her - Paragon Errant. The word errant implied that it wouldn’t be tied down or beholden to anyone, but the inclusion of Paragon is what interested her. To her, the word meant someone who was above and beyond anyone else.


    What does it mean to have those two words together?


    Ever helpful and responsive to her thoughts, the option expanded to give a brief description.


    <ol>


    <li>Paragon Errant</li>


    </ol>


    Committed to the upholding of the sanctity of life, the Paragon Errant protects and supports their community from the shadows. They claim no guild allegiance and therefore have no oversight and no protection. Beware the fool that treads down this path lightly.


    With that vague instruction, Lillian had no idea what the class even did, did they use any magic or weapons? Nevertheless, she was still interested, the “not having a guild allegiance” part implied that guilds were an important part of this world and not being a part of that whole deal seemed like it would be a good idea to her. The commitment to the sanctity of life reminded her of religions and cults but it was, ultimately, an ideal she agreed with.


    The warning at the end was worrying though.


    Would it be hard to do? Would people come after her for it? Would it give her the tools she needed to face those who would try?


    Lillian quickly skimmed through the list again, her eyes catching only on that same option. It felt right, to choose that one. She reached out and tapped it with her weird not-really-there finger.