《Summoned Again?! The Reluctant Demon Mayor Chronicles》


 Please Hold for Summoning

    Morning in Graybarrow. The pub hadn''t been destroyed in weeks. The mushroom kids were playing catch with a glowing beetroot. Life was good.


    I sipped my tea with both hands, savoring the earthy bitterness. I was sitting cross-legged on a floating stump that only hovered when properly complimented¡ªtoday, it had chosen to rise because I¡¯d whispered, ¡°You¡¯re the most stable thing in my life.¡± It appreciated that.


    Unfortunately, that was the truth.


    I took another sip and closed my eyes, feeling the rare calm of a town not currently on fire, cursed, or both. Just cobblestone, morning sun, and the faint scent of baked rootbread from the nearby vendor stalls.


    Then the screaming started.


    Not panicked screaming¡ªGraybarrow had tiers of alarm, and this was somewhere between "someone¡¯s goat exploded" and "the gnomes are doing religion again." I cracked one eye open.


    A young apprentice sprinted into the square, out of breath, hair covered in something white and goopy. "Mayor! Sir! We need you. Urgent."


    I sighed and set my tea down. "If this is about those cookies Yuuhi made, I already classified them as food hazards."


    Yuuhi was our town''s witch. Bright-eyed, perpetually barefoot, and dangerously optimistic. And she... liked to experiment.


    "Worse," the boy wheezed. "The gnome cult¡¯s back and they¡¯re trying to bless the well with fermented cheese."


    Damn gnomes. Must be trying to turn our water into whey wine. Drunks.


    I snorted. "Of course they are."


    I groaned and stood. "Tell the others I¡¯ll go¡ª"


    But the air around me began to shudder, a high-pitched whine building like a migraine with opinions. The stump dumped me without apology. Crimson runes burst into light beneath my boots.


    "Oh come on," I muttered, glancing skyward. "What is this?"


    The portal detonated in a flash of searing red and yanked me out of Graybarrow.


    ***


    I staggered upright, blinking through the smoke and flashing lights, instinctively falling into a defensive stance. My ears rang. My brain protested.


    What in the actual hells?


    A shadow passed overhead¡ªa winged shape far too large to be comforting. I turned just in time to see a dragon sweep past, scales black as coal, mouth dripping molten fury.


    To my left, someone moved.


    A woman, fighting with deadly grace, blade carving arcs through summoned flame and shadow. Her presence was commanding, fierce¡ªa warrior locked in the middle of a battle I didn''t understand.


    I turned to her, my voice sharp. "What the hell is going on?!"


    She didn¡¯t even look at me. "You¡¯re my summon. Help me kill that thing and I¡¯ll explain."


    I stared, stunned. Everything around me¡ªfire, blood, screaming, a dragon¡ªwas already too much. Now this woman, mid-swing, was claiming I was her summon?


    My voice rose half a pitch. ¡°I¡¯m your what now?¡±


    She still hadn¡¯t looked at me. ¡°Just start hitting things. Big ones. Preferably the dragon.¡±


    I opened my mouth to reply, but a massive blast of fire erupted nearby, sending debris hurtling past us. The woman flinched, stumbling to a knee. One of her summoned hounds flickered out in a burst of smoke.


    "Okay," she coughed, clearly winded, "anytime now would be great."


    I blinked. "You¡¯re losing."


    "Brilliant observation. Anything else? Maybe a recipe for not dying?"


    I sighed, dusting ash off my shoulder. "Fine. But I¡¯m billing you for this. And don¡¯t expect follow-up service."


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    I stepped forward. The air shifted. A low hum thrummed out from me, deep and unnatural. Well, for anyone but me.


    The dragon turned.


    I raised one hand lazily, and the earth answered. A pillar of dark crystal erupted beneath the beast, impaling one of its wings and sending it screaming into the mountainside with a deafening crash.


    Everything went still for half a second.


    The woman turned her head slowly. "...Okay. What the hell are you?"


    I cracked my neck. "Retired."


    She stared at me for a moment longer, then turned just in time to deflect a swipe from a straggling shadow-beast. Her blade sparked on contact, and she grunted, pushing her weapon through its neck.


    "Well, Retired," she said, breathing hard, "you''re officially hired."


    I arched an eyebrow. "That¡¯s not how retirement works."


    "Neither is being yanked across dimensions by a summoning glyph that definitely wasn¡¯t supposed to work. Yet here you are."


    I glanced at the carnage still smoldering around us, then at her. "You did this by accident?"


    "Technically, the scroll summoned ''the strongest available ally in a five-realm radius.''"


    I stared at her flatly. "You''re lucky I was feeling... charitable."


    "Charitable? You leveled a dragon."


    "It was loud. I don¡¯t like loud."


    She wiped soot from her cheek and offered a hand. "Kira. Hero summoner."


    I hesitated, then shook it. "Nojin. Mayor of a very peaceful village that I would very much like to get back to."


    Kira smirked. "Well, good news then. I can send you back."


    I blinked. "Wait. You can?"


    Thank the old gods. Maybe this nightmare has a door.


    "Yeah. But also bad news. I can summon you back any time."


    I stared at her, aghast. "You mean¡ª"


    "Yep. Emergency dragon? You''re on speed dial now, Mayor."


    Of course. There¡¯s always a catch. Every time I think the universe has hit rock bottom, it finds a shovel.


    I looked to the sky and muttered something profane under my breath.


    "Hey, at least you didn¡¯t get stuck here permanently," Kira said cheerfully.


    I groaned. "Is this how you treat all your summons?"


    She shrugged, clearly unfazed. "Only the reluctant ones. Look, I¡¯ll make it up to you."


    I narrowed my eyes. "If you say anything about baked goods, I¡¯m out."


    "Please. I was going to offer my body."


    I blinked. "I¡¯m good, thanks."


    She¡¯s joking. Probably. Hopefully. Don¡¯t think about it.


    She gasped in mock offense. "Rude. You didn¡¯t even consider it."


    "I considered it. Then I remembered I like quiet evenings and not being stabbed."


    And I have council meetings in the morning. Not to mention whatever the gnomes are doing right this second to the well.


    Her blade sparked on contact, and she kicked a straggling enemy backward, sending it tumbling into a wall of arcane flame.


    Kira glanced over her shoulder at me. "So, are you like this with everyone, or just the women who summon you mid-apocalypse?"


    I gave her a dry look. "Only the ones who interrupt municipal budgeting."


    "Sounds like a blast."


    "You joke, but if you saw what gnomes classify as ''sanitation protocol,'' you''d understand true horror."


    She snorted, slicing through another beast. "You¡¯re oddly calm for someone freshly summoned."


    I shrugged. "I compartmentalize."


    Also, this isn¡¯t even in the top ten weirdest things that have happened since the mushroom kids learned how to teleport.


    Kira turned back to the fight, but there was a smile tugging at her mouth. "Well, Mayor Nojin, you¡¯re either the best mistake I¡¯ve ever made¡ªor the deadliest."


    I raised a brow. "You say that like those are mutually exclusive."


    Gods help me, she¡¯s going to make this a recurring thing.


    I could end this fight in seconds. Crush the rest of these creatures, silence the battlefield, and walk away. Maybe she¡¯d send me back faster. Maybe I could even salvage the rest of my morning.


    But if I do that... if I show her what I¡¯m really capable of...


    She¡¯ll summon me again. Every time. Without warning. Without hesitation.


    Dammit.


    I let out a guttural, frustrated roar¡ªhalf fury, half resignation¡ªand stepped forward. The ground shuddered.


    Darkness surged from my shadow like a storm uncoiling. With a single motion, I hurled a pulse of energy across the field. Where it struck, the air cracked and folded inward. Enemies turned to ash mid-charge. A second wave tried to regroup¡ªI crushed them under pillars of obsidian rising like jagged teeth from the battlefield.


    Screams echoed. Then silence.


    Kira, panting, slowly turned to look at the empty field of destruction. Her eyes widened.


    I exhaled, expression unreadable. "Happy?"


    She blinked. "A bit turned on, actually. But yeah, happy works too."


    I didn¡¯t answer immediately. I just stared at the field, then at her, and then groaned like someone who realized his tea was probably cold by now.


    "Right. Great. Now send me back."


    Kira tilted her head. "Already tired of me?"


    "Yes. And this war. And this plane. And being dragged away from serious business without notice."


    "But we just bonded," she teased.


    "I vaporized a dragon, not adopted a puppy. Send. Me. Back."


    She raised a brow. "Say please."


    "Do you want me to annihilate you?"


    Kira rolled her eyes. "You can¡¯t. Summoner. Summon contract. Magical hierarchy. I own your face right now."


    I glared. "I didn¡¯t agree to anything."


    She shrugged. "It¡¯s a one-sided contract."


    Of course it is. There''s a good chance I could overwhelm her magic and break the contract. But there''s an equally good chance that would kill her...


    And then what? Be stuck here? Spending my days trying to find a way back?


    No. Not worth the risk. Not yet.


    She waited.


    I exhaled sharply. "Please."


    She grinned and made a flicking gesture with her fingers. A glyph lit beneath me.


    "Wait," she added, smirking. "This might tickle."


    Light flared beneath my feet. The world warped. Magic wrapped around me like a taut rope snapping back into place.


    Just before I vanished, I muttered, "If someone burned down the tavern while I was gone, I¡¯m blaming you."


    And then I was gone, yanked backward through the realms like a coin flipping through time.


    I landed exactly where I¡¯d left¡ªon the stone patio in front of my home. My tea cup was still on the step, now cold and probably ruined by stray portal heat. The stump hadn¡¯t even bothered to float back up.


    The apprentice was sitting on a bench nearby, legs swinging, face pale.


    He blinked at me, opened his mouth, closed it, then pointed slowly toward the well. "The gnomes... they¡¯re still at it."


    I sighed and picked up my mug. "Yeah, yeah. I¡¯m coming."

 Today鈥檚 Forecast: Light Foam With a Chance of Wyverns

    It had been three days since I''d been summoned¡ªthree blissful, uninterrupted days without red portals, screaming skies, or sarcastic blonde women with summoning glyphs. Maybe it was a fluke. Maybe the scroll misfired. Maybe the universe finally decided to give me a break.


    By the time I reached the meeting hall, the trade delegation from Namaru was already seated¡ªtwo stone-skinned dwarves in ceremonial sashes and one tall woman who looked like her jewelry weighed more than her sense of humor.


    I was only five minutes late, which in mayor time translated to incredibly punctual, especially after being hijacked across realms to punch a dragon.


    "Mayor Nojin," one of the dwarves grunted with a bow of his head. "Shall we begin the talks?"


    I smiled politely. "Let¡¯s. And before we do, I¡¯d like to clarify that any strange smells wafting in from the well are entirely the gnomes¡¯ fault."


    The tall woman sniffed. "We assumed it was a local delicacy."


    "It is," I said. "For gnomes."


    Yuuhi, barefoot as always and seated cross-legged at the edge of the room, gave me a bright wave. I didn¡¯t ask why her hat was smoking. I didn¡¯t want to know.


    "The water should be back to normal soon," she called helpfully. "Mostly. Probably."


    The dwarves exchanged a glance. The tall woman cleared her throat delicately, as if trying to exorcise the memory from her sinuses.


    ¡°That is¡­ comforting,¡± she said. ¡°Though perhaps we should avoid involving water rights in the agreement until such¡­ spiritual matters are settled.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s wise,¡± I said. ¡°We can circle back once the cheese clears.¡±


    One of the dwarves grunted something that might¡¯ve been a laugh. The other opened a thick ledger and adjusted his spectacles.


    ¡°To business, then,¡± he said. ¡°Namaru is prepared to offer refined ore, fireglass, and barrel-aged duskpetal stout¡ªour finest export ale¡ªin exchange for a seasonal supply of your town¡¯s bloomroot and arcane-moss resin.¡±


    The tall woman added with a faint smirk, ¡°We¡¯ve heard tales of how rowdy Graybarrow¡¯s tavern can get. Consider this a diplomatic gesture... or preparation.¡±


    I gave a slow nod. "Ah. So you¡¯ve heard the legends."


    The dwarf with the ledger chuckled. "If half the stories are true, I suspect we may be underoffering."


    "Depends which half you heard," I said, folding my arms. "Was it the night the tavern exploded because the alchemist¡¯s apprentices tried to ferment lightning mushrooms, or the one where the villagers challenged a visiting envoy to a no-pants drinking duel?"


    Yuuhi perked up. "To be fair, both nights had excellent turnout."


    I cleared my throat. "Right then. Let¡¯s talk numbers before the tavern earns another footnote in the international incident registry."


    We were just starting to haggle over bloomroot weight conversions when the air shifted.


    A low chime echoed through the room, followed by the familiar hum of something magical and deeply unwelcome. The runes beneath my chair glowed crimson.


    "No," I said flatly.


    The delegation looked alarmed. Yuuhi sat up straight, her eyes going wide. "Is that¡ª?"


    "No, no, no."


    Too late.


    "I''ll be ba¡ª"


    The glyph detonated beneath me in a blaze of red, yanking me out of Graybarrow mid-negotiation.


    Again.


    The portal detonated in a flash of searing red and yanked me out of Graybarrow.


    ***


    I slammed into the ground with all the grace of a dropped sack of potatoes.


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    Snow. Great. Freezing wind. Even better.


    To my right, Kira spun mid-air and brought her blade down in a clean arc, slicing through a creature that looked like someone had fed a centipede to a wyvern and then insulted its mother. It shrieked and dissolved into a splatter of smoke and bone.


    "Oh good," I said, pushing myself upright. "You summoned me in the middle of an icefield full of centi-wyverns while I was in the middle of negotiations. Thanks."


    Kira, panting and covered in grime, gave me a quick glance and a crooked grin. "Was the negotiation trying to eat you? No? Then you''re welcome."


    I glared at her. "I was this close to closing a trade deal. Real progress. Economic development."


    "And now you¡¯re this close to being bitten in half," she shouted, ducking a claw swipe from another monstrosity.


    I groaned, brushing frost off my sleeves. "You have no concept of timing."


    "You have no idea how to shut up and swing."


    Another creature lunged.


    I raised a hand.


    It stopped mid-air¡ªfrozen in place by something far older and colder than the mountain winds¡ªthen crumbled to ash.


    I muttered under my breath, "I''m charging you overtime."


    Kira parried another beast with a grunt. "Do you always complain this much, or am I just special?"


    "I reserve this tone exclusively for people who kidnap me mid-negotiation."


    "Kidnap is such a strong word."


    "Summon, then. Without consent. During an active municipal trade session. So yes, kidnapping."


    She grinned, breath fogging in the cold. "Still, sounds like you''re a little flattered."


    I obliterated a charging creature with a flick of my wrist. "Only because it means you have taste. Terrible timing, but taste."


    She laughed. A real one. Quick and sharp. "You know, you''re not what I expected."


    "Demon mayor doesn¡¯t paint a clear picture?"


    "I thought you''d be taller."


    I sighed. "Everyone does."


    Then I blew out another breath, my voice dropping into that dangerous, begrudging register I reserved for deep inconvenience. "Alright. Let¡¯s get this over with."


    We fought back to back now¡ªher dancing through the snow with crackling energy and steel, me moving slower, more deliberately. Controlled. Efficient.


    She shouted, "What¡¯s Graybarrow like?"


    "Quiet. Until it¡¯s not. Enchanted pastries. Floating goats. The usual."


    "Sounds chaotic."


    "That''s after I cleaned it up."


    She laughed again. Then paused. "Thank you. For coming. Even if it was forced."


    I didn¡¯t respond right away. Instead, I crushed the last centi-wyvern into frozen shards and let the silence settle.


    "You''re welcome," I said finally. "Now, please send me back before my negotiations completely fall apart. Just the thought of Yuuhi leading it terrifies me."


    Kira gave a casual little salute with her sword. "Deal. See you soon, Mayor."


    "No¡ªdon''t you da¡ª"


    Light flared under my feet again, and I vanished mid-sentence, the word still on my lips as the world snapped back into place around me¡ªright in front of the trade delegation.


    ***


    I landed exactly where I¡¯d been sitting¡ªright in the middle of my chair at the negotiation table, mid-lean, like I¡¯d never left. The dwarves stared. The tall woman froze, mid-word.


    Yuuhi gave me a cheerful wave from across the room. ¡°Welcome back. That took... four minutes?¡±


    I cleared my throat and adjusted my sleeves like I hadn¡¯t just obliterated ice wyverns in another realm.


    ¡°Apologies for the interruption,¡± I said smoothly, returning my attention to the ledger in front of me. ¡°As I was saying, the bloomroot output this season may be higher than projected, depending on rainfall and whether or not the farmers stop experimenting with magical fertilizer again.¡±


    The dwarves, to their credit, didn¡¯t comment on the glowing summoning glyph still fading from beneath my chair.


    Business resumed.


    It wasn¡¯t until later, once the delegation had gone and the sun dipped low behind Graybarrow¡¯s crooked rooftops, that Yuuhi found me leaning on the railing behind town hall, staring out at nothing.


    ¡°You looked tired,¡± she said gently.


    ¡°I fought ice wyverns. A lot of them.¡±


    She floated up beside me and leaned against the railing. ¡°You going to tell me what really happened, or do I have to guess?¡±


    I sighed. ¡°Her name¡¯s Kira. Hero summoner. She¡¯s fighting some war on a different plane. She had an ancient scroll to summon the strongest ally in a five-realm radius. Me.¡±


    Yuuhi hummed. ¡°Not surprising.¡±


    I gave her a sidelong glance. ¡°You¡¯ve always been a terrible liar.¡±


    She smiled. ¡°Still. You¡¯re stronger than you let on. Always have been. That¡¯s why I followed you here.¡±


    A quiet beat passed between us.


    Then she said, ¡°You know you could probably break the contract. Overwhelm the link. Shatter it.¡±


    I nodded slowly. ¡°I thought about it.¡±


    She waited.


    ¡°But it could kill her,¡± I said at last. ¡°She¡¯s not built to withstand a backlash like that. Not if I fought it.¡±


    Yuuhi nodded once. ¡°And you won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°No. I won¡¯t.¡±


    I looked down at my hands. ¡°I¡¯m not that person anymore.¡±


    ¡°You sure?¡± she asked, not unkindly.


    ¡°I want to help her,¡± I said quietly. ¡°Not just because I was dragged into this. Not because of some old reflex.¡±


    Yuuhi¡¯s smile widened just a little. ¡°She¡¯s funny.¡±


    ¡°She is,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°You¡¯ve always liked the funny ones.¡±


    I didn¡¯t answer.


    But then a horn blared in the distance. Not a festive one¡ªan alarm. Low. Urgent.


    I held up a hand, listening to the tone.


    ¡°South watchtower,¡± I muttered. ¡°That¡¯s the emergency signal for... gods, not again.¡±


    Yuuhi tilted her head. ¡°What is it this time?¡±


    We rounded the corner just as a group of villagers came sprinting through the square¡ªcovered in vivid pink foam.


    A moment later, a barrel cart barreled (literally) past us on its side, trailing bubbling sludge and faint sparkles. A few feet behind it, two apprentices were shouting something about "cleaning enchantments."


    I sighed. ¡°Experimental sanitation rituals again.¡±


    Yuuhi winced. ¡°That¡¯s what, the third time this month?¡±


    ¡°Fourth,¡± I said grimly.


    The foam had begun to rise in the middle of the square, burbling like a cheerful swamp of artificially scented disaster.


    One of the dwarves from earlier peeked out a window, saw the foam wave creeping up the street, and immediately closed the shutters.


    I just stood there, letting the chaos wash over me.


    Yuuhi nudged me. ¡°Should we...?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I muttered. ¡°Let¡¯s go deal with it before it fills the square again.¡±


    Because last time, it had swallowed two benches, a fruit stall, and part of the mayoral statue.


    Once we got them out, they were squeaky clean, though.


    So much for quiet.

 Starry Boxers and Spore Wars

    I woke up to silence.


    Which, in Graybarrow, is always the most ominous sound.


    No screaming. No explosions. No alchemical smoke billowing through the windows. Just birdsong, a breeze, and the unsettling sense that somewhere, something had gone right.


    Naturally, I didn¡¯t trust it.


    I showered. I was halfway through brushing my teeth, wearing nothing but a towel and my favorite starry-patterned boxer shorts, when the floor lit up beneath me.


    Red glyphs. A low hum.


    ¡°Nope. Absolutely not¡ª¡±


    Magic exploded around me in a searing burst of light, and once again, I was yanked through space and dignity.


    ***


    I landed face-first in dirt. Mint foam still in my mouth.


    I pushed up, spitting toothpaste, and blinked into blinding sunlight.


    Kira was already fighting. Again. A massive insectoid beast with blade-arms and far too many eyes hissed and slammed into her shield.


    She glanced over at me.


    Pause.


    Eyebrows raised.


    ¡°...Are you brushing your teeth?¡±


    ¡°Was, yes,¡± I growled, wiping my face. ¡°Some of us have hygiene.¡±


    Kira grinned. ¡°You look great, by the way. Very intimidating.¡±


    I glared at her. ¡°Summoning someone mid-bathroom is a war crime.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t exactly have time to send an invite!¡±


    The monster shrieked and lunged.


    I rolled my neck and stood up, boxer shorts fluttering in the wind like some deeply unfortunate battle banner.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I muttered. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with. The toothpaste is starting to foam down my chest.¡±


    The insectoid beast lunged at me.


    I didn¡¯t even flinch. I ducked, pivoted, and kicked it hard enough in the thorax to send it skidding across the field.


    Kira¡¯s blade sparked against its chitin a second later. ¡°Nice move.¡±


    ¡°Anger is a hell of a motivator,¡± I said, reaching up to flick mint foam off my lip.


    The creature screeched and charged again, but this time I met it head-on, grabbing one blade-limb mid-swing and slamming it into the dirt with a snarl. Kira took the opportunity to leap in and drive her sword deep into the creature¡¯s back.


    It shrieked. Twitched. Then dropped.


    Dust settled.


    Kira looked at me, panting. "You know, shirtless rage really works for you¡ªyou''re kind of a menace like this."


    I squinted at her. "Are you flirting with me while I''m covered in mint foam and bug guts?"


    She smirked. "Well, I¡¯m not not flirting. You¡¯ve got this whole ''grumpy summoned war god in boxers'' aesthetic going. It''s weirdly working. Are those stars?"


    I looked down. "Constellations, actually. There¡¯s a whole story arc across the back."


    Kira gave an approving nod. "I respect the commitment."


    I sighed and scrubbed a hand down my face. ¡°Can we get back to the part where you dragged me across the cosmos again without warning?¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°In my defense, you handled it beautifully. Like a minty meteor of vengeance."


    I groaned. "Just tell me this was important."


    "Border raid. Insectoid swarm. Couple towns over. They¡¯re not great with magic, and I was fresh out of backup."


    I folded my arms, toothpaste still clinging to my jaw. ¡°You know there¡¯s a difference between an emergency and an inconvenient Tuesday, right?¡±


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    Kira tilted her head, genuinely curious. ¡°Would this qualify as a Monday?¡±


    ¡°Next time, I swear I¡¯m showing up holding a loofah just to make it awkward for both of us.¡±


    She snorted, then added, ¡°You think this is excessive? I¡¯m the only hero this entire planet has. Lomel isn¡¯t exactly overflowing with backup. Just me¡­ and now, apparently, you.¡±


    I blinked at her. ¡°Not interested.¡±


    ¡°You keep saying that.¡±


    ¡°I keep meaning it.¡±


    Kira gave a short, tired laugh. ¡°There¡¯s an ancient evil trying to chew through the realms like a metaphysical termite. I don¡¯t have the luxury of waiting around for volunteers.¡±


    I crossed my arms tighter. ¡°Still not interested.¡±


    ¡°You fight like someone who¡¯s done this before.¡±


    ¡°I also brush my teeth regularly. Doesn¡¯t mean I want to be summoned mid-gargle to do it for someone else.¡±


    Kira opened her mouth like she was about to argue, but then paused, just watching me for a second. Not evaluating. Just... curious.


    ¡°I¡¯m not trying to guilt you,¡± she said. ¡°I just¡ªwhen you showed up, everything stopped dying. That¡¯s rare.¡±


    I didn¡¯t respond.


    She glanced down at her sword, then back at me. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t expect you to care about Lomel. Or the people here. Or me. But I¡¯ll keep summoning you until I can¡¯t. Because I don¡¯t have another choice.¡±


    I clenched my jaw and looked away.


    ¡°I¡¯m not asking for loyalty,¡± she added softly. ¡°Just that, if you¡¯re going to keep being yanked into this, you at least know why.¡±


    I exhaled. ¡°Fine. You told me. Great. Now send me back.¡±


    ¡°I also have a town full of people who depend on me,¡± I added. ¡°Just because it¡¯s not burning doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s not important.¡±


    Kira¡¯s expression softened. ¡°Then they¡¯re very lucky.¡±


    She turned, stabbing her sword into the dirt to rest. ¡°Unfortunately, the people of Prel aren¡¯t. All they¡¯ve got is me, standing between them and something that doesn¡¯t stop.¡±


    I stayed quiet, the chill finally creeping under my skin now that the adrenaline had worn off. I didn¡¯t want this. Any of it. Wars. Realm-eating evils. Ancient threats clawing at the edges of reality. I¡¯d done that dance. More than once. Left scars across skies and names in whispered stories.


    But she was trying. Really trying. Fighting with everything she had and barely holding on. And somehow still finding time to flirt with the grumpy guy in starry boxers.


    I hated that part of me¡ªthe old part¡ªrecognized the weight on her shoulders.


    I closed my eyes and muttered, ¡°Just send me back already.¡±


    Kira didn¡¯t say anything at first, but I could feel her eyes on me.


    The glyphs lit up beneath my feet.


    As the red glow began to rise, I looked at her one last time. ¡°Keep trying. But don¡¯t think this means I¡¯ve signed up for anything.¡±


    She gave a faint, crooked smile. ¡°Of course not.¡±


    And then the light swallowed me whole.


    ***


    I landed with a soft thump onto the bathmat.


    Still in my towel. Still wet. And now incredibly annoyed.


    I blinked at my own bathroom mirror, steam curling off the glass like none of the last ten minutes had happened. Except they had. My teeth still tasted like mint and monster.


    I braced both hands on the sink and exhaled slowly.


    This wasn¡¯t supposed to be my life anymore. No more armies. No more world-saving. No more ancient evils gnawing at the corners of creation. Just peace. Graybarrow. Town meetings and gnome brawls and overly enthusiastic mushroom people.


    I scrubbed a hand over my face.


    I looked up.


    A wide-eyed mushroom kid stared at me from the other side of the bathroom window, nose nearly pressed to the glass. Mycari always looked a little childlike¡ªround features, bright eyes, and voices that sounded permanently excited¡ªbut they weren¡¯t really kids. Just strange, spongy folk with unpredictable energy and a disturbing tendency to appear when least expected. This one had somehow climbed onto a suspiciously large mushroom that had sprouted against the siding.


    I jumped.


    ¡°Mayor Nojin,¡± it chirped, voice muffled by the pane. ¡°Don''t forget your meeting with the Council of Spores! They¡¯re mad about the mushroom thefts again!¡±


    I stared.


    The Mycari grinned. ¡°Don¡¯t worry! I think only one of them wants to duel you this time.¡±


    ***


    The Council of Spores met in the old greenhouse behind town hall. At some point, it had been repurposed into a sort of fungal civic chamber¡ªpart courtroom, part terrarium, part mushroom rave.


    I arrived, dressed this time, and still drying my hair with a towel when I stepped inside. The air was thick with spores, humidity, and the faint scent of truffle oil.


    Six Mycari elders stood in a semicircle, each sprouting a wildly different cap: ruffled crimson, golden fan, spotted indigo, and one that looked suspiciously like a shag carpet. They bowed in eerie unison.


    "Mayor Nojin," said the tallest, her voice polite and trembly with spores. "Once again, your surface-dwellers have been seen harvesting sacred bloomcaps on the southern ridge."


    "Technically," I said, "it was one guy. And he was trying to make soup."


    Murmurs of horror rippled through the chamber.


    "Sacrilege," hissed the carpet-capped one.


    "He boiled them," said another. "With salt."


    The chamber erupted in scandalized squeaks.


    I held up my hands. "He will be reprimanded. And I¡¯ll make him write an apology letter. In sporeprint."


    Several elders gasped.


    "That''s barbaric," whispered one.


    "Exactly," I said. "Have you ever tried writing in sporeprint? It''s like calligraphy with a sneeze. He¡¯ll suffer. Gently."


    That mollified them. Barely.


    "We request reparations," said the crimson-capped one. "And a guarantee of enforcement."


    "And snacks!" said the smallest elder.


    "You always request snacks," I muttered.


    "And yet it is tradition," she countered brightly.


    I sighed. "Fine. I''ll bring an offering. Dried mangoes and mushroom-friendly compost."


    They conferred in a chorus of squelchy whispers.


    "Acceptable," said the tallest at last.


    "Also," added the carpet-capped elder, "the duel is still pending."


    I paused. "From the last incident?"


    She nodded. "Councilmember Trith still demands satisfaction."


    Behind her, a Mycari the size of a fire hydrant pumped two stubby fists into the air.


    "Can we at least use foam swords this time?" I asked.


    "That is negotiable," said the crimson one. "So long as honor is upheld."


    I rubbed my temples. "It''s not even noon."


    The Council bowed again.


    "Blessings upon your surface fungus," they chorused.


    "And yours," I muttered.


    I sighed again and turned toward the door. Time to track down Ebbin¡ªthe guy who boiled sacred mushrooms¡ªand teach him the fine art of groveling in sporeprint.


    I stepped outside into the early light, the scent of mushroom spores still clinging to my sleeves.


    As I made my way through Graybarrow¡¯s winding streets, the memory of Kira''s voice lingered more than I wanted it to. That quiet desperation. The way she looked at me.


    For some reason, that woman had a way of making not caring feel a little bit like cowardice.


    I muttered under my breath and shoved the thought aside.


    Hopefully, Ebbin hadn¡¯t found another patch of sacred bloomcaps to boil.


    As delicious as they were.

 Sporeprint Apology

    I knocked on the warped wooden door of a crooked cabin nestled just inside the treeline outside of Graybarrow. Birds scattered. Something inside hissed¡ªor maybe that was the kettle.


    ¡°Ebbin,¡± I called, ¡°open up. We need to talk about soup and international fungus diplomacy.¡±


    There was a crash, a clatter, and what sounded very much like someone tripping over an animal.


    The door creaked open.


    Ebbin squinted out at me through a mess of uncombed gray hair and a beard that might have contained entire civilizations at a micro scale.


    ¡°Nojin,¡± he rasped, like a man thirty years older than he probably was. ¡°I was just making soup.¡±


    ¡°Of course you were.¡±


    ¡°I used different mushrooms this time.¡±


    ¡°Not the point.¡±


    He opened the door fully and waved me inside with a hand wrapped in three different bandages. ¡°Come in, come in. Tell me what the fungal tribunal wants this time. More compost? A decorative apology mushroom?¡±


    ¡°You know they¡¯re delicious,¡± he added as he shuffled toward the stove.


    I sighed. ¡°They are. No one¡¯s denying that. But those ones are off-limits. The Mycari grow them special. Sacred. Magical. Something-something cultural reverence. You can¡¯t just toss them into stew because they smell nice when they saut¨¦.¡±


    Ebbin snorted and poked at the fire beneath a dented pot. ¡°I¡¯ve been hearing things, you know. Word is, you¡¯ve been disappearing. Like¡ªpoof, gone. Folks say you vanish for minutes at a time, like some sort of magical hiccup.¡±


    I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. ¡°Yeah, well. Turns out some overeager summoner on another planet fumbled her scroll and accidentally yoinked me mid-morning routine.¡±


    Ebbin raised a bushy brow. ¡°You serious?¡±


    ¡°Deadly.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re still here, chatting with me about soup?¡±


    ¡°She keeps throwing me back when we¡¯re done.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Not like I have a say in the matter.¡±


    Ebbin let out a long whistle, then gave a raspy laugh. ¡°She? Figures. Bet she¡¯s got a pretty face, at least.¡±


    He pointed a spoon at me. ¡°Because no one makes you do anything, Nojin. Not unless you want to be there.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s persistent,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°That¡¯s code for pretty,¡± he said, stirring the pot.


    I pointed a finger at him. ¡°Let¡¯s get back to why I¡¯m here.¡±


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Ebbin groaned theatrically. ¡°Fine, fine. Lay it on me, Mayor.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re being formally reprimanded by the Council of Spores for harvesting sacred bloomcaps. Again.¡±


    He held up both hands in surrender. ¡°They were growing wild!¡±


    ¡°On their consecrated ridge.¡±


    ¡°They didn¡¯t label it.¡±


    ¡°They chanted a blessing over it for six days and built a mushroom-shaped cairn. You think that was just festive landscaping?¡±


    Ebbin grumbled into his beard.


    ¡°As part of your punishment,¡± I continued, ¡°you¡¯re writing a formal apology. In sporeprint.¡±


    He dropped the ladle. ¡°That¡¯s cruel and unusual.¡±


    ¡°Exactly the point.¡±


    Ebbin gave me a look somewhere between impressed and betrayed. ¡°You¡¯re serious. You¡¯re really making me do sneeze calligraphy for the mushroom mafia.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re a council, not a mafia.¡±


    ¡°They tried to duel me over a truffle once.¡±


    ¡°Because you cooked it in front of them! At their sacred brazier.¡±


    He waved a dismissive hand. ¡°It was poorly placed.¡±


    I rolled my eyes and stepped further into the cabin. ¡°You¡¯re lucky they didn¡¯t demand a finger.¡±


    Ebbin held up his bandaged hand. ¡°They might have. I can¡¯t remember what happened to this one.¡±


    He let out a low grunt, then glanced sideways at me. ¡°So, this summoner. She really worth the trouble?¡±


    I opened my mouth. Closed it. ¡°She¡¯s¡­ trying. Harder than most. And she¡¯s in over her head.¡±


    Ebbin snorted. ¡°Aren¡¯t we all.¡±


    He gave the pot a thoughtful stir, then muttered, ¡°Just don¡¯t let her drag you back into being who you were. You¡¯re a decent mayor, Nojin.¡±


    ¡°Low bar,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°Still counts,¡± he said, then added with a sideways glance, ¡°Even if you pretend you didn¡¯t build this whole town out of scraps and strays and make it feel like home.¡±


    I looked away. ¡°Yeah, well. Someone had to.¡±


    I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck. ¡°Look, you don¡¯t have to write a long letter. Just enough to keep the Mycari happy and stop them from waving spores in my face every other day. And stop stealing their mushrooms.¡±


    Ebbin raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°I¡¯d appreciate it,¡± I added quietly. ¡°Especially now that I can be yanked off the planet at any given moment.¡±


    Ebbin gave a begrudging grunt that might''ve passed for agreement. I left him to his pot and his muttering, stepping back out into the sunlight.


    The path into town wound between tangled underbrush and crooked trees. Halfway down the trail, a figure burst from the foliage to my right.


    ¡°Mayor Nojin!¡±


    I didn¡¯t even flinch. ¡°Barley.¡±


    What an idiot to think he''d given up.


    The preteen practically skidded to a stop in front of me, hair wild, cheeks flushed, and eyes brimming with desperate hope.


    ¡°Have you decided yet? About taking me on as your apprentice?¡±


    I kept walking. ¡°Still don¡¯t need one.¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯ve been practicing! I reorganized the potion pantry. And I''m getting much more handy!"


    ¡°Barley,¡± I said, glancing at him, ¡°help around town. Be kind. Learn from people. That¡¯s more useful than fetching scrolls and asking me for the twelfth time.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ you¡¯re thinking about it?¡±


    I sighed. ¡°Go see if Yuuhi needs help baking.¡±


    ¡°No way,¡± he said, shaking his head. ¡°Last time I tried one of her brain-boosting cookies, I couldn''t blink for two hours! My eyeballs stung like crazy."


    I grunted and kept walking. ¡°Good. Builds character.¡±


    Barley trotted after me, undeterred. ¡°So, where are you going now? Is it a secret mission? Another mushroom meeting? Wait, what if it¡¯s the duel? Are you gonna fight Trith today?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the plan.¡±


    ¡°Oh! Can I come watch? Or¡ªwait, should I warm up for a dramatic slow clap at the end?¡±


    I opened my mouth to respond, but the air around me shifted.


    Barley¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Wait. What¡¯s happening?¡±


    A low chime echoed from beneath my feet. Crimson lines traced into the dirt.


    I scowled. ¡°So soon? I was just there.¡±


    Barley stumbled back a step, eyes wide. ¡°Did you step on something weird?¡±


    ¡°Something like that,¡± I muttered, as the magic flared brighter.


    Barley looked around frantically. ¡°Are you gonna explode? Should I run? Should we run?¡±


    I turned and jabbed a finger at him as the red glow rose. ¡°If you really want to take a step toward being my apprentice, go duel Trith in my place.¡±


    ¡°Wait, what? Me?¡±


    And then I vanished.

 The Gift That Sneezes In Your Face

    The red glow faded, and I landed¡ªon my feet this time¡ªinto something shocking.


    Silence.


    No smoke. No shrieking monsters. No collapsing buildings or lightning storms. Just grass, sky, and a gentle breeze that smelled vaguely of cinnamon.


    I blinked.


    Kira stood a few paces away, not fighting anything, not bleeding, and¡ªmost concerning of all¡ªsmiling.


    ¡°What is this?¡± I asked slowly. "Where¡¯s the fire? The chaos? The part where something tries to eat me?"


    She shrugged innocently. ¡°What? I can¡¯t summon you for a friendly reason?¡±


    I narrowed my eyes. ¡°No. That¡¯s not how this works. You don¡¯t drag me across space unless something is actively exploding. What¡¯s going on?¡±


    Kira looked off into the distance like the clouds suddenly had fascinating secrets. ¡°Can¡¯t I just¡­ hang out with my handsome grumpy summon sometimes?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I said flatly. ¡°Try again.¡±


    She shuffled her boots, then clapped her hands together like someone very proud of themselves. ¡°Okay, okay. I might have something for you.¡±


    ¡°¡­What kind of something?¡±


    Kira beamed and reached into a satchel slung over her shoulder. "A gift. You¡¯ll love it."


    I took a cautious step back. "You¡¯ve never given me anything that didn¡¯t come with a claw or a countdown."


    ¡°This is different,¡± she said, crouching to the ground.


    Something in the grass chirped.


    I leaned forward just as she pulled back the folds of a blanket¡ªrevealing a small creature no bigger than a melon, covered in fluffy black fur with a horned nose, six stubby legs, and unnervingly bright golden eyes.


    It blinked up at me.


    Then it yawned. And in that yawn, I saw far too many teeth.


    ¡°¡­What is that?¡±


    Kira grinned. ¡°A baby drakehound. Extremely rare. Incredibly smart. Shockingly violent when threatened. Also, apparently smells like cinnamon.¡±


    I stared. ¡°Why do you have it?¡±


    ¡°Rescued it. Its den got destroyed by some monsters I was fighting, along with its parents. Poor thing has no one to take care of him. Problem is, I¡¯m always running around saving people and fighting beasts. Not really stable guardian material.¡±


    ¡°What does that have to do with me?¡± I asked. A chill ran down my spine as alarm bells rang in my head to run for my life.


    ¡°Come on,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯ve got a peaceful town. A whole forest. Weird mushroom neighbors. It¡¯ll be safe there. Plus, look at that face.¡±


    The baby drakehound let out a happy burbling growl and blinked up at me with big, innocent eyes.


    ¡°No."


    Kira tilted her head. ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I said firmly. ¡°Absolutely not. I¡¯m not taking care of a cinnamon-scented monster dog. I don¡¯t know what this thing is, let alone what it eats or whether it explodes when it sneezes.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t explode,¡± Kira said.


    ¡°That you know of,¡± I shot back. ¡°You dragged me away from home again, and I was just about to get out of dueling a very serious mushroom with a foam sword. You think I want to juggle town politics and babysitting?¡±


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Kira gave me a long, level look. Then she knelt beside the little creature and gently stroked its fur. ¡°He doesn¡¯t have anyone else, Nojin. He¡¯s small, scared, and doesn¡¯t belong anywhere. And I thought maybe... Graybarrow sounds like a great place and¡ª¡±


    I clenched my jaw. ¡°No.¡±


    She scooted the bundle closer.


    ¡°No.¡±


    The drakehound made a soft little sound¡ªsomewhere between a purr and a hiccup¡ªand blinked up at me with enormous, glowing eyes.


    Dammit, that thing is cute.


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    Kira folded her arms. ¡°So you¡¯re saying you¡¯re heartless.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m saying I have boundaries.¡±


    ¡°It sounds like you''re changing your mind, though?¡±


    ¡°I''m not.¡±


    She raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°I¡ªUgh!¡±


    I scooped up the drakehound with a theatrical groan. ¡°This doesn¡¯t mean anything. It¡¯s temporary. And you owe me.¡±


    The drakehound snuggled into my chest.


    The summoning glyphs lit up beneath me.


    ¡°What in the world is happening with my life?!¡±


    I vanished in a blaze of red light.


    ***


    I reappeared in Graybarrow with the baby beast still in my arms.


    The sound of cheers came from up ahead¡ªMycari voices, unmistakably excited. The duel.


    ¡°I¡¯ll check in on it,¡± I muttered, looking down at the stupidly adorable beast.


    The drakehound gave a soft warble and tucked its nose against my chest.


    I looked down at it.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get comfortable,¡± I warned. ¡°You¡¯re not staying. I don¡¯t do pets. Or guardians. Or whatever it is you are.¡±


    It blinked up at me and let out the tiniest little snort.


    I grunted. ¡°...Need to call you something, though.¡±


    I stared out toward the woods as we walked. ¡°How about... Roku?¡±


    The drakehound chuffed like it approved.


    ¡°Great. Now I¡¯m naming you.¡±


    I sighed. ¡°This is a terrible idea.¡±


    It had been barely a week since everything turned upside down. Since the first summon. Since I found out I could be yanked out of Graybarrow mid-step, mid-bite, mid-anything, and dropped into some otherworldly chaos. Dragons. Wyverns. Summoners with far too much hair and far too few boundaries.


    And now?


    Now I¡¯d apparently brought a monster dog home. Just what I needed¡ªanother unpredictable variable in a life already full of mushroom politics, gnome feuds, and magical sanitation mishaps.


    I looked at Roku again. He sneezed right in my face.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I muttered. ¡°I''m going to regret this.¡±


    ***


    Graybarrow did not react with what one might call grace.


    ¡°Is that a hellbeast?¡± asked Mrs. Tangler from her windowsill, clutching a broom like she might try to exorcise us both.


    ¡°It¡¯s adorable!¡± shouted one of the Mycari kids as Roku flopped on his back and wiggled in the dirt.


    ¡°Does it breathe fire?¡± someone called.


    Someone gasped, ¡°Is it dangerous?¡±


    ¡°Probably,¡± I muttered, ¡°but at least it¡¯s cute.¡±


    As I made my way down the street, the crowd parted around us, Roku trotting proudly at my side like he¡¯d lived here his whole life. A few gnomes peeked out from behind barrels, clutching half-fermented fruit and muttering about containment protocols, emergency foam, and whether the mysterious sneezy creature¡¯s sonic emissions could be distilled into liquor.


    Roku barked once¡ªbright and sharp. A flowerpot shattered three houses down.


    I froze.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I muttered. ¡°We¡¯re gonna work on that.¡±


    By the time I reached the town square, there was already a circle forming around the dueling patch where Barley stood¡ªout of breath, grinning, and holding a foam sword like it was a sacred relic.


    The duel between Barley and Trith was... intense.


    At least, by foam sword standards.


    Trith stood atop a mossy crate like it was the last bastion of honor in a collapsing kingdom, his oversized foam sword held aloft with dramatic, quivering tension. Barley, red-faced and panting, circled him with exaggerated footwork and what might generously be described as ''combat twirls.''


    "Face me, fiendish spore!" Barley shouted, clearly getting a bit too into it.


    "Your stance is weak, child of humans!" Trith boomed back, wobbling slightly as the crate shifted under his weight.


    Their foam swords clashed with a mighty fwump. Somewhere, a Mycari played an ominous chord on a flute that was definitely just a hollowed turnip¡ªaccompanied by a loose gathering of onlookers, mostly gnomes, taking one of their many daily drinking breaks.


    Then Barley poked Trith in the cap.


    Trith gasped.


    Staggered.


    And with a dramatic wail, toppled backward into a patch of soft moss.


    Barley raised both fists to the sky. "Victory is mine!"


    I looked at Roku. Roku barked once.


    Trith twitched dramatically, then lay still.


    I sighed. ¡°Good enough.¡±


    The crowd erupted in delighted, if confused, applause.


    I exhaled and turned to go.


    Behind me, Roku sneezed. Another flowerpot burst.


    ¡°Well, that''s not good.¡±


    As we turned the corner toward town hall, I glanced down at Roku. He was wagging his tail¡ªlong, whip-thin, and tufted at the end like a curling plume of smoke¡ªand sniffing the air with open curiosity.


    "You shatter one more flowerpot and I''m taking you back," I muttered.


    Naturally, he barked again.


    Behind us, a sign fell off a bakery with a melodramatic clang.


    I stopped walking. Slowly turned.


    Roku sat down innocently and blinked up at me.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said, narrowing my eyes. ¡°You''re doing that on purpose, aren''t you?¡±


    He wagged his tail once¡ªjust enough to ruffle a nearby flowerbed¡ªand gave me what could only be described as a knowing look.


    ¡°I see how this is going,¡± I muttered. ¡°You¡¯re trouble wrapped in fluff.¡±

 Chocolate Griffins Wait for No Mayor

    The air exploded around me in the usual burst of red light, and I hit the battlefield mid-roll, dirt flying, wind howling, and something very large and angry roaring in the distance.


    "You tricked me!" I yelled before I¡¯d even fully stood up.


    Kira was already fighting something the size of a barn, all claws and at least a dozen screaming mouths. She ducked under a swiping limb and glanced over her shoulder at me. "Good morning to you, too!"


    I stomped toward her, narrowly avoiding a fireball. ¡°You tricked me into taking a telekinetic hellbeast baby!¡±


    ¡°Telekinetic? Right, I may have forgotten to mention that,¡± Kira said, feinting to the left before slamming a glowing fist into the creature¡¯s leg. ¡°Very minor. He¡¯s still just a pup.¡±


    I sidestepped a jet of acid as it melted a crater in the earth beside me. ¡°He knocked a flowerpot off the shelf just by sneezing. You call that minor?¡±


    ¡°It was just a flowerpot,¡± she said innocently, hurling a bolt of lightning into one of the monster¡¯s mouths.


    Another mouth screamed in return¡ªhigh-pitched and furious. A tail made of bone and black steel whipped toward us, and I barely got a barrier up in time to keep us from being flung across the canyon floor.


    ¡°I¡¯m starting to think whatever made this thing is the same genius making your pet selections.¡±


    The beast shrieked again, flinging debris in a wide arc. I ducked, cursed, and pulled a barrier of flickering sigils into place just in time.


    Kira grinned as she launched herself skyward in a leap powered by pure magical recklessness. ¡°C¡¯mon, admit it. You like him.¡±


    ¡°I like being left alone! I like peace and tea and not being dragged into monster fights mid-sentence!¡±


    Kira landed beside me, panting. ¡°You always show up just in time.¡±


    I growled and cracked my knuckles. ¡°Because I don¡¯t have a choice.¡±


    She glanced sideways at me. ¡°So? What¡¯d you name him?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°The drakehound. Don¡¯t tell me you haven¡¯t named him.¡±


    I muttered, ¡°Roku.¡±


    Kira¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Knew it. You¡¯re attached.¡±


    I rolled my eyes. ¡°He needed a name. It was that or ''Hey You with the Tail.''¡±


    ¡°Roku suits him,¡± she said. ¡°Mysterious. Mischievous. Kind of adorable when he¡¯s not destroying things.¡±


    I snorted. ¡°Sounds familiar.¡±


    She winked. ¡°Let¡¯s save the flirting for after we win.¡±


    I groaned. ¡°This better not take long.¡±


    Then I turned to face the howling beast and let my magic boil up from deep inside. Roku was probably asleep on Barley''s boots again. Hopefully not chewing them. He seemed to think they were a chew toy, a pillow, or both.


    I dropped into a low stance, eyes locking onto the largest of the monster¡¯s mouths as it roared again, blasting the rocks behind me into shards.


    "Kira! What exactly is this thing?"


    "A rift-born amalgam!" she shouted, soaring over a claw swipe. "Twisted by Zerec the Hollow¡ªDevourer of Realms. He¡¯s been corrupting the border realms. This one slipped through. A lot of things have been slipping through lately. Unfortunately, I''m the only hero assigned to Prel."


    Zerec.


    I thought I¡¯d heard that name before. Somewhere.


    Didn¡¯t matter. This wasn¡¯t about old battles or buried histories. Just another summoned mess. Help Kira. Go home. That¡¯s all.


    The creature let out another piercing wail, all its mouths harmonizing into something awful and otherworldly. I didn¡¯t flinch. I stepped forward and raised one hand, willing the sigils into place with practiced precision.


    They spiraled around my palm¡ªbright, crackling, humming with force¡ªbefore snapping outward like tethered whips. Two of the beast¡¯s limbs locked in place as the bindings constricted. It staggered¡ªonly briefly¡ªbut long enough for Kira to drive her glowing blade between its armored plates.


    It shrieked. Floundered. But I was already in motion, boots striking scorched earth as I dashed forward and slammed a sigil-enhanced palm into one of its smaller heads.


    The impact collapsed its skull with a wet crunch, sending fragments flying like shattered stone.


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    Kira whistled. ¡°Showoff.¡±


    ¡°Trying to earn an early dismissal.¡±


    She twisted mid-air and came down hard, her sword cleaving through what passed for the thing¡¯s spine.


    The monster writhed, then collapsed¡ªhalf of it unraveling into black mist.


    Kira landed lightly beside me, panting from the effort.


    ¡°We make a good team,¡± she said.


    I didn¡¯t reply. I was too busy scanning the battlefield, half-expecting another horror to come crawling over the ridge.


    ¡°Zerec¡¯s corruption is spreading,¡± she muttered. ¡°Third rift-born this week.¡±


    I crossed my arms. ¡°Sounds like you need a better screening process. Or a wall. A big one.¡±


    Kira raised a brow. ¡°You really do a great job pretending not to care.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not pretending.¡±


    She gave me a look.


    A beat passed.


    Then she said, ¡°You¡¯ll still keep showing up.¡±


    ¡°Only because you keep pulling me in.¡±


    Her smile was small but satisfied.


    ¡°Ready to go back?¡±


    ¡°Very.¡±


    She waved.


    And the world blinked sideways again.


    ***


    I reappeared just outside my house in Graybarrow. Birds chirped. The breeze carried the faint smell of Yuuhi¡¯s latest cookie experiment. And there, sprawled across my porch like he owned it, was Roku.


    He blinked at me slowly, tail thumping once. At least he hadn''t set anything on fire. Or levitated it. Yet.


    Oh, please don''t tell me they can fly.


    I shuddered at the thought.


    ¡°Barley still watching you?¡± I muttered.


    A quiet snore from the other side of the porch confirmed it. The kid had fallen asleep halfway through reading aloud from something resembling a self-made ''Becoming a Hero: Apprentice Edition'' guide.


    I sighed, cracked my neck, and stepped over both of them to head inside.


    ***


    A few weeks passed.


    In that time, Roku had chewed through two broom handles, accidentally telekinetically launched a crate of Yuuhi¡¯s cookies, and mastered the fine art of sulking when told he couldn¡¯t come inside official meetings.


    Which he always did anyway.


    Roku had grown¡ªnot dramatically, but enough that his paws no longer made polite tap-tap noises across the porch and instead thunked with ominous weight. He didn¡¯t bark. Not really. But sometimes, in the middle of the night, I¡¯d hear the faint scrape of his claws and the low hum of shifting objects. Windows opening. Doors nudging. Once, he rearranged my bookshelf by color.


    Barley, of course, was delighted. ¡°He¡¯s practicing mental discipline!¡± the kid had said, proudly standing next to Roku while the drakehound balanced a teacup on his head.


    I stared. Roku stared back. The cup wobbled but didn¡¯t fall.


    ¡°¡­What for?¡±


    ¡°No reason! But it¡¯s cool, right?¡±


    It was.


    Which annoyed me.


    But the bigger surprise was what didn¡¯t happen.


    No crimson glyphs. No urgent summons. No sarcastic voice mid-battle. Not even a faint magical pulse. For weeks, it was quiet.


    Suspiciously quiet.


    Yuuhi noticed it too. She cornered me one morning while I was trying to pass off paperwork to someone else. ¡°You know she¡¯s probably giving you a break, right?¡±


    I blinked. ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°Kira. Hero girl. Summoner of horned mayors. She hasn¡¯t called you in a while.¡±


    I frowned. ¡°I hadn¡¯t noticed.¡±


    Yuuhi smirked. ¡°Liar. You¡¯ve been checking the porch for glyph traces like someone waiting on an overdue package.¡±


    ¡°¡­It¡¯s unusual, is all.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s probably trying to handle things herself for once. Maybe she figured you needed a rest.¡±


    I didn¡¯t like that either.


    Roku, meanwhile, had started lingering near the eastern edge of town. Standing still. Watching the mountains.


    Sometimes I joined him. And I¡¯d get that same feeling.


    The glyphs lit the air before I even reached the end of my tea.


    The familiar red hum flared around me, and for once, I didn¡¯t groan. I didn¡¯t roll my eyes. I stood up, adjusted my freshly oiled bracers, and muttered, ¡°Took her long enough.¡±


    Barley, reading a book upside down on the porch, looked up in shock. ¡°Wait¡ªwait, are you actually excited to get summoned?¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°Better than paperwork.¡±


    The magic flared. And I was gone.


    ***


    The red glow faded, and I materialized on my feet.


    I¡¯m getting better at this.


    Above me was a turquoise blue sky. A lazy breeze. No screaming. No monsters. Just Kira, standing there with her arms crossed and an expression that practically screamed mischief.


    I eyed her warily. ¡°This isn¡¯t another trick, is it? Because the last time I was summoned with no danger, I came back with a telekinetic hellbeast who organizes my pantry by color.¡±


    ¡°Adorable telekinetic hellbeast,¡± she said, completely unbothered.


    I jabbed a finger at her. ¡°You conned me.¡±


    ¡°You named him,¡± she replied smugly.


    I exhaled slowly. ¡°Only because calling him ¡®Hey You¡¯ wasn''t working.¡±


    Kira chuckled. ¡°You¡¯re welcome. And no, this isn¡¯t a trick. No monsters. No chaos. Just a favor.¡±


    ¡°That sounds suspiciously like a setup.¡±


    She held up her hands. ¡°Look, I¡¯ve been giving you space. There hasn¡¯t been much activity lately¡ªthanks to you, actually. So I figured I¡¯d cash in some goodwill and ask for a different kind of help.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes. ¡°What kind of help?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a royal ball,¡± she said. ¡°Big palace event. Prel¡¯s upper crust. Political elbow-rubbing. I need someone to go with me who won¡¯t trip over ceremonial protocol or try to duel a duke.¡±


    I stared. ¡°You summoned me to be your date?¡±


    ¡°Escort,¡± she corrected quickly. ¡°Professional. Totally platonic. And there''s a very high chance of no killing!¡±


    ¡°I have dirt in my boots from last week¡¯s amalgam fight.¡±


    ¡°And now you have time to clean up,¡± she said with a cheeky smile. ¡°Come on. You¡¯ll hate it slightly less than your last magical council meeting. There will be food. Music. Dancing. Fancy clothes. Possibly a griffin-themed dessert buffet. And you''ll get to try cuisine from another world¡ªPrel¡¯s finest. Besides, you earned it. You''ve been so dedicated to fighting off monsters you even did it in your underwear. Technically, boxers aren¡¯t allowed as part of official ball attire, but if you decide to show up in them again... I won¡¯t mind too much.¡±


    I scowled. ¡°You¡¯re never letting that go, are you?¡±


    Kira¡¯s grin turned positively gleeful. ¡°Not a chance. That image is forever burned into my mind now. Do you know how many people would kill to see a summoned warlord show up to battle in boxers covered in constellations?¡±


    I groaned. ¡°Remind me why I haven¡¯t accidentally incinerated you yet?¡±


    ¡°Because you secretly like me,¡± she sing-songed.


    She paused, tilting her head with a teasing grin. "Did you miss me?"


    I squinted at her. ¡°Only when you¡¯re not talking.¡±


    But a traitorous part of me actually had. This woman was dangerous.


    I turned away before she saw the hint of a smirk tug at my lips. ¡°Fine,¡± I muttered. ¡°When¡¯s the ball?¡±


    Kira opened her mouth to answer. ¡°It starts at the third chime after sunset on the fifth moonrise of Prel¡¯s high season.¡±


    I blinked. ¡°That¡¯s not a time. That¡¯s a riddle.¡±


    She grinned. ¡°It¡¯s standard for Prel.¡±


    I rubbed at my forehead. ¡°I¡¯m making Yuuhi figure that out. She probably has a chart. Laminated.¡±


    Kira chuckled. "Just don¡¯t be late. Not that you could be¡ªI''ll summon you. Chocolate griffins wait for no mayor."

 Thirty Percent More Brooding

    "You¡¯re sure you got the time right?"


    Yuuhi didn¡¯t look up from the kitchen table, where she was wrestling a cravat like it had personally offended her. "Prel standard time. Third chime after sunset on the fifth moonrise. I triple-checked."


    "And you converted that to our realm?"


    "Yes, Nojin. I even laminated a chart."


    "...Why?"


    She grinned. "Because I knew you''d ask. Also because I haven''t seen you wear anything remotely formal in a hundred years."


    I adjusted the collar of the sleek, high-collared coat she¡¯d foisted on me. It shimmered faintly, laced with thread that pulsed like starlight. Too flashy. Far too fancy. But she insisted.


    "You sure this isn''t cursed?"


    "Only if you try to skip the ball."


    I groaned. "I''m still not convinced this isn''t some elaborate trap."


    Yuuhi finally looked up, giving me a very slow once-over. "You clean up well. Still demon mayor chic¡ªjust with 30% more brooding flair."


    "I don''t brood."


    She raised a brow. "You wrote a two-page speech to the town council last week about the sanctity of your alone time."


    "That''s called effective governance."


    Roku padded in from the porch, now nearly knee-height and dragging what used to be one of Barley''s nicer shoes. He dropped it at my feet with a huff and sat.


    "Still not bringing you," I told him.


    He tilted his head and looked personally offended.


    Yuuhi snorted. "He thinks he''s your plus one."


    "He''ll have to settle for terrifying the village in my absence."


    Barley, naturally, appeared at the door right then. "Hey, Mayor! I polished Roku''s horns! You should take him!"


    "Go polish the town square."


    Barley frowned. "But it doesn¡¯t need¡ª"


    "Exactly. Preventative maintenance."


    Yuuhi raised a brow. "Don''t pick on him so much. He really does try."


    I sighed. "Fine. Barley, wait up."


    He turned hopefully.


    I pointed at him. "New task. Guard Roku. Make sure he doesn¡¯t eat anything important or cause too much havoc. Report back if he starts levitating livestock. Got it?"


    Barley saluted. "You can count on me!"


    Yuuhi handed me the cravat. "Alright. Deep breath. Big charming smile. Try not to threaten any dukes."


    "No promises."


    The glyphs flared to life at my feet.


    And with a flash of crimson light, I was gone.


    ***


    I reappeared in a blindingly polished marble corridor, beneath a chandelier so ornate it looked like it had been plucked from a celestial auction house and enchanted to sparkle judgmentally. The air smelled like roses, old money, and the kind of magical incense that gave you a headache and a vague sense of regret.


    I can''t believe I''m doing this.


    Kira was already waiting, leaned against a pillar in an elegant formal uniform that somehow managed to look both practical and stunning. Her coat was trimmed in silver, a matching blade sheathed at her hip, and her expression was that same cocky grin I was starting to suspect she practiced in the mirror.


    She gave a slow, appreciative look. ¡°Well, well. You clean up.¡±


    I dusted off the shoulder of my coat. ¡°Just trying to avoid being mistaken for a barbarian.¡±


    Kira stepped closer, eyes glinting with mischief. ¡°So, how¡¯s my favorite summoned companion?¡±


    I adjusted my cravat and gave her a flat look. ¡°Suspicious. Last time you smiled like that, I ended up saddled with a psychic menace who reorganized my pantry by color."


    She laughed. ¡°I prefer ''strategic delegation.''¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°You¡¯re lucky I didn¡¯t try to sever the contract.¡±


    Kira raised a brow. ¡°Would¡¯ve been a shame. Besides, you¡¯d miss me.¡±


    I didn¡¯t dignify that with an answer. Mostly because she wasn¡¯t entirely wrong. The way she looked in her outfit didn''t help.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Was it magic? The bond? Maybe. Or maybe it was something else entirely. The way she stood too close, always smirking like she knew exactly how aggravating she was¡ªlike she enjoyed it. Maybe that was the part I couldn¡¯t walk away from. Against my better judgment. Against every quiet vow to stay out of things like this.


    One day, I¡¯d test the boundaries of the summoning bond¡ªjust enough to earn a week of uninterrupted peace.


    ¡­Too risky. Might kill her.


    Still tempting.


    Kira spun on her heel, motioning me toward the grand ballroom. ¡°Come on. Time to show Prel¡¯s finest how to throw a proper entrance.¡±


    I muttered, ¡°Do proper entrances involve boots that try to assassinate your ankles?¡±


    She grinned over her shoulder. ¡°Only if you¡¯re doing it right.¡±


    I followed, the ridiculous boots creaking in a way that felt both regal and criminal. The corridor stretched ahead like it had been designed specifically to make people like me feel out of place.


    "Alright," I said under my breath, "start talking. Who exactly are we about to meet, and how many of them am I allowed to glare at?"


    Kira gave me a sidelong look. ¡°Officially? The high nobles of Prel. Unofficially? A bunch of prissy magic barons, ornamental dukes, and political ladder-climbers who think saving a realm is easier than picking out cufflinks.¡±


    ¡°So... a nightmare.¡±


    ¡°With really good appetizers,¡± she added brightly.


    We reached a set of massive arched doors engraved with constellations and forged from some kind of polished starlight-hued alloy. They shimmered faintly as we approached.


    Kira stopped just before them, giving me a quick once-over. ¡°You look fine. Just¡­ maybe try not to scowl too hard at anyone with a tiara. That¡¯s like, half the room.¡±


    ¡°No promises,¡± I muttered. ¡°But I¡¯ll do my best not to incinerate anyone wearing too much perfume.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take it,¡± she said, and reached out to push the doors open.


    What greeted us was an explosion of sound, color, and motion¡ªdozens of people in robes and gowns spun across a glittering floor, chandeliers of light magic spiraling lazily above them. Enchanted orchestras played from floating platforms. Servers wove between guests with trays of crystal flutes and glowing finger foods. Somewhere, something burst into delicate fireworks shaped like geese.


    I blinked. ¡°Alright. I admit it. This is a bit more impressive than I expected.¡±


    ¡°Prel doesn¡¯t do subtle,¡± Kira said. ¡°Try to enjoy it. Smile at someone. Eat something you can¡¯t pronounce.¡±


    I stared at a hors d''oeuvre that was gently floating on a cushion of air. ¡°What is this?¡±


    ¡°Probably a skyfruit reduction pip over puffed kelstar,¡± she said.


    I frowned. ¡°That sounds made up.¡±


    ¡°Most of high cuisine is,¡± she replied.


    A trio of robed officials noticed Kira and began to make their way toward us, all polite smiles and calculating eyes.


    I leaned over. ¡°How late is too late to fake my own spontaneous combustion?¡±


    Kira smiled sweetly at the approaching delegation and whispered back, ¡°Way too late. Besides, you wouldn¡¯t want to miss the dessert griffins.¡±


    I sighed, bracing myself.


    Time to dance with politics. And possibly actual dancing. Gods help me.


    We stepped further into the opulence of it all, and I could feel the weight of too many eyes tracking us¡ªKira with curiosity, me with varying degrees of suspicion. She didn¡¯t slow down, gracefully navigating between swirling gowns and chattering nobles like she belonged here. I followed, resisting the urge to hex anyone who sniffed disdainfully in my direction.


    It didn¡¯t take long before we were intercepted. Nobles, minor council members, and the occasional curious adventurer¡ªeach wanting a word with Kira, and by extension, me. I shook hands, bowed, nodded, made vaguely threatening smiles. Kira introduced me as her "trusted associate," which was as close to a diplomatic title as I was ever going to get.


    Still, the strangest part? I didn¡¯t hate it.


    The drinks were decent. The floating music was oddly pleasant. And Kira kept drifting close when she didn¡¯t have to, brushing her hand against my arm as she laughed too loud at some Duke¡¯s joke, then retreating just far enough to leave me wondering if it had been on purpose.


    We found ourselves on the edge of the ballroom eventually, tucked near a sweeping arch of flowering vines that definitely hadn¡¯t been grown with natural sunlight. Kira had a drink in hand and a mischievous glint in her eye.


    "You¡¯re not bad at this," she said. "I was expecting more glaring."


    "Still getting warmed up," I replied, then looked at her sidelong. "Why me? For tonight. You could¡¯ve asked anyone."


    She shrugged, smiling into her glass. "Because you don¡¯t care who¡¯s impressed. And because you wouldn¡¯t let me walk in here alone. Even if you¡¯d pretend to complain the whole time."


    I grunted. "You¡¯re very confident in my sense of reluctant chivalry."


    "It¡¯s one of my favorite things about you," she said lightly.


    I didn¡¯t have a reply to that. Not one I was willing to say out loud.


    So instead, I glanced back at the crowd. The glittering, ridiculous, unknowable crowd.


    And for the first time in a long time, I wasn¡¯t entirely in a hurry to leave.


    Just as Kira leaned in to say something else, I felt it¡ªan unnatural shift in the air. Cold. Pressurized. Wrong.


    My gaze snapped upward.


    Above us, near the highest chandelier, a ripple of shadow peeled itself from the ceiling. It spread like ink in water, coalescing into a humanoid figure cloaked in tattered smoke and voidsteel.


    Kira saw it too. Her eyes narrowed.


    None of the guests had noticed yet.


    I stepped forward instinctively, fingers twitching with gathering magic.


    The figure dropped.


    Screams started before it even hit the floor.


    He landed in a crouch that cracked the marble beneath him, rising with a slow, predatory grace. His armor bore the jagged mark of Zerec¡ªstylized flame devouring a circle of stars.


    He raised a hand.


    Guests began to stumble backward. A swirl of force gathered around his palm.


    I moved.


    One sigil. Two. I snapped my hand forward, throwing up a dome of protective light just before the force could detonate. The guests behind me shrieked as the blast rolled harmlessly off the barrier.


    Kira was already beside me, sword half-drawn.


    ¡°You,¡± the figure rasped, voice like rust and ash. ¡°Kennojin?¡±


    My breath caught.


    That name¡ªmy real name¡ªfell from his lips like a challenge and a curse.


    I didn¡¯t answer.


    His eyes flared. Then dimmed. A flicker of something like fear.


    ¡°You¡¯re alive.¡±


    Memories surged. Broken skies. Endless battle. That name¡ªZerec¡ªI''d heard it before. Azzerec, we used to call him.


    Guess I wasn¡¯t the only one who went through a name change.


    And this one¡ªthis was Wehyr. The Butcher of the Shattered Ring.


    He took a step forward.


    I didn¡¯t wait.


    I lunged.


    Steel clashed with magic. His conjured blade met mine in a flurry of sparks. I deflected. Redirected. Slammed a knee into his side and threw him back into a pillar with a burst of kinetic force. Marble cracked. He stumbled.


    I raised a hand. Glyphs flared. I could end it.


    He stared at me, blood trailing from his mouth. But there was fear now. Real fear.


    ¡°Zerec will¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know what he wants,¡± I snapped.


    The magic pulsed in my hand.


    I stopped.


    He was defeated. For now. And I wasn¡¯t about to let go of the life I¡¯d carved out for myself. Graybarrow still felt like something worth holding onto¡ªquiet, safe, and mine. And no one was going to take that away from me.


    ¡°Go,¡± I said, voice low. ¡°Tell your master the dead don¡¯t stay buried. And not all of them stay quiet.¡±


    He vanished into smoke.


    The ballroom was in chaos. Guards poured in. Kira moved to my side.


    ¡°You knew him.¡±


    ¡°Long time ago.¡±


    ¡°You just saved a room full of nobles.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not involved,¡± I muttered.


    Kira didn¡¯t press. But the way she looked at me said everything.


    Dammit.


    Everything had just shifted. And I couldn¡¯t unshift it.

 Not A Cake Person

    The ballroom had quieted slightly. The orchestra resumed with forced cheer. Guests began to drift back toward the dance floor, murmuring nervously but determined to pretend the interruption was simply a dramatic flourish.


    We stepped out onto the balcony to escape the noise, the night air brisk against my skin. Prel''s three moons hung overhead¡ªsilver, gold, and pale blue¡ªcasting layered shadows across the terrace. Stars nestled between them, low and sharp, while below, distant lights blinked across the city like scattered magic.


    I stared at it all, my thoughts drifting far from the ballroom. It felt like waking up from a long sleep¡ªlike some part of me had been under a spell, lulled into forgetting things better left buried. A name. A face. A time when I wasn¡¯t just Nojin.


    "You know," I said, my voice quieter than I expected, "Yuuhi said trying to calculate the time for this thing with Prel¡¯s three moons nearly broke her brain. Said they don¡¯t even follow the same arc across the sky half the time."


    Kira didn¡¯t laugh. Her gaze stayed fixed on the ballroom doors, more serious than usual.


    She spoke softly. "I work for The Concord of Ruhn, you know. Maybe we could¡ª"


    "I know who you work for," I cut in. "And I told you. I''m not getting involved. Bad things happen when I get involved."


    She turned to face me fully, brow furrowed. "Then who are you really, Nojin?"


    I flinched.


    Memories rose too fast. Pain. War. A monster. Regret.


    I exhaled slowly and looked away. "I''m Mayor Nojin of Graybarrow. That¡¯s it."


    Kira didn¡¯t press, but she didn¡¯t nod either.


    The quiet didn¡¯t last.


    The doors creaked open again behind us.


    A pair of nobles, decked in enough lace and sparkle to blind anyone within seeing distance, stepped forward with practiced courtly grace.


    ¡°Ah, yes! You there¡ªthe tall one with the grim expression,¡± one said cheerily. ¡°We simply must thank you for saving us all. Such panache. Such flair. You must come back in and enjoy the festivities.¡±


    The other nodded rapidly. ¡°Also, if you wouldn¡¯t mind standing nearby for the next hour or so. Purely for ambiance and not at all because we¡¯re terrified.¡±


    I stared at them.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Kira nudged me with her elbow. ¡°Told you you¡¯d be popular.¡±


    I groaned. ¡°I should¡¯ve stayed in my cabin.¡±


    But I followed them back inside anyway.


    ¡ª


    The ballroom hadn¡¯t fully recovered, but the nobles were doing their best to pretend it had. Some danced with renewed vigor, as though a brush with death simply added flair to their waltz. Others hovered near the exits, drinks in hand, eyes darting to the shadows.


    I stood near the refreshment table, arms crossed, sipping something called fermented skyfruit syrup. It was blissfully strong enough to numb my jaw.


    "You," a voice said to my left.


    I turned. A broad-shouldered figure in military regalia offered a crisp bow. Dozens of medals chimed softly along the front of his uniform, polished so bright they could guide ships home on a foggy night.


    "General Marcin of Prel''s High Guard," he introduced. "Your actions tonight prevented what could have been a massacre."


    "Just reacted," I said.


    Marcin chuckled. "Perhaps. But there''s not a soul here who didn¡¯t feel safer with you in front of them."


    I hated that. Not the gratitude, but the implication. The reminder that even in another world, at another time, in another life, I was still expected to be a shield. A sword. A deterrent.


    "Thank you," I said instead.


    He gave a respectful nod and moved on.


    Kira appeared beside me, plucking a tiny dessert shaped like a miniature griffin from a nearby tray. "So how does it feel to be Prel''s newest party sensation?"


    "This drink might be a potion."


    I set the glass down with a quiet tap, eyeing the glittering griffin-shaped dessert in Kira¡¯s hand. "That thing better not roar."


    She snorted. "Only if you poke it in the wrong spot."


    I sighed and leaned back against the table, watching as a pair of nobles tried to out-curtsy each other across the room. The music swelled again, strings trilling with exaggerated elegance.


    "So," Kira said after a beat, her tone lighter but careful, "you gonna dance, or just glower dramatically from the sidelines all night?"


    I gave her a long, flat look. "I¡¯m not sure you remember who I am. I don¡¯t do dancing. I do glowering. It¡¯s in the name. Mayor Nojin. Local curmudgeon. Broods at parties."


    Kira popped the dessert into her mouth and grinned. "Mmmh, that''s good. Well, if you''re gonna glower, at least do it near the dessert table. You¡¯re starting to attract more fans."


    I turned slightly¡ªsure enough, two younger nobles were whispering and occasionally sneaking glances in my direction.


    I stared into my drink, swirling the syrupy liquid like it might reveal some secret worth knowing. Kira nudged my elbow.


    "You''re doing it again."


    "Doing what?"


    "Brooding so hard I can hear the walls getting jealous."


    I didn''t answer. Not right away.


    She leaned in a little, voice quieter, playful but with something underneath. "Come on. Just a little smile. Maybe a toast. You¡¯ve survived worse nights, haven¡¯t you?"


    I gave her a sideways glance. "Are you drunk?"


    She raised an eyebrow, looked down at the empty glass in her hand, then shrugged with a self-satisfied smirk. "Define drunk."


    I sighed. "That¡¯s a yes."


    Kira grinned. "I¡¯m tipsy at best. You¡¯re just grumpy because they haven¡¯t carved your face into a cake yet."


    "Not a cake person."


    "Clearly not a party person, either."


    "I''m not a ''saving the ballroom from assassination attempts'' person, but look how the night¡¯s going."


    She laughed, then lifted a new drink that somehow appeared in her hand. "To reluctant heroes and desserts shaped like animals."


    I tapped my glass against hers with a soft, reluctant nod. "To whatever this is."


    We drank. The taste was sharp, unfamiliar, and just slightly too sweet. But for the second time tonight, I didn''t hate being here. Not entirely.


    I''m Mayor Nojin. Nothing more. Nothing less.


    At least, that''s what I kept telling myself.

 The Hill with the View

    We didn¡¯t leave the palace until long after midnight. Or at least, what counted as midnight on a world with three moons and no sense of linear time. Kira assured me we¡¯d stayed through the important parts¡ªspeeches, ceremonial dances, and a toast so long it might¡¯ve broken time itself. I endured them all with the stiff patience of someone who knew dessert was at the end of the tunnel¡ªonly to discover the chocolate griffins came with mandatory conversation.


    There was no food fight. Just a lot of formality. And boredom.


    I found myself missing Graybarrow''s chaos. I missed Barley¡¯s commentary, Roku dozing off with his nose in a soup bowl, and the weird, goofy rhythm of a town that made no sense¡ªand somehow worked.


    Instead of using any of the palace¡¯s official magic exit protocols, Kira waved off the suggestion with a half-smile. "I don¡¯t need that," she said, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face.


    Kira raised one hand and whispered a soft incantation. A swirling oval of light unfurled in the air beside us¡ªa teleportation gate, shimmering faintly with gold and violet strands.


    "Come on," she said, already stepping toward it.


    "Where are we going?"


    "That would ruin the surprise." Her grin was infuriatingly smug.


    I hesitated. Then sighed. "If I end up in a pond, I¡¯m hexing your boots. They''ll always feel just a liiiiiitle too tight."


    Kira tilted her head, eyes gleaming. "Are you drunk?"


    "Just drunk enough to regret trusting you," I said, deadpan.


    "Understandable," she said, and stepped through.


    I followed.


    The magic folded around me, weightless and fast. When it cleared, we stood on a quiet hilltop, the palace a distant silhouette behind us.


    We were upright, not in a pond.


    Kira crossed her arms and smirked. "See? Smooth."


    "Mildly nauseating," I muttered, brushing dust off my sleeve. "But better than exploding sigils, I suppose."


    The road ahead sloped gently through moonlit hills, the outline of a watchtower barely visible on the far ridge. The calm around us felt earned this time. Not fraught with tension, just¡­ there.


    We walked in step, the grass bending beneath our feet. The stillness between us wasn¡¯t awkward¡ªit was thoughtful. As if the world was listening too. Insects chirped faintly beyond the trail, and a lone blinkbug bobbed along ahead, its glow pulsing like a lazy heartbeat.


    I glanced at Kira. Her eyes were on the road, arms folded loosely behind her. The hem of her coat whispered along her legs. For once, she didn¡¯t crack a joke or fill the space with noise. She just¡­ walked.


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    And that loosened something inside me. That rare ease that didn¡¯t need words or meaning. Just being here, under starlight and moons, with someone who didn¡¯t ask more than I could give. The wind carried the clean scent of damp grass and woodsmoke from the town below. It felt like a night that promised nothing¡ªbut still gave peace.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t say where we¡¯re going,¡± I said finally.


    Kira gave a soft shrug. ¡°Just wanted some air. And a little peace. Away from¡­ everything.¡±


    We crested the next hill. A lone tree stood near the path¡¯s bend, its leaves whispering in the moonlight. Beneath it, a bench made of dark wood and stone faced the horizon.


    ¡°You brought me to a bench?¡± I said.


    ¡°It¡¯s got a great view,¡± she replied, and walked over to sit down.


    I joined her, the bench warm despite the night chill. We sat in silence for a few beats.


    ¡°Still thinking about what happened?¡± she asked.


    ¡°No,¡± I lied.


    Kira didn¡¯t call me out on it.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got this look,¡± she said quietly. ¡°Like you¡¯ve lived through something huge and decided not to talk about it. Like you¡¯re keeping the whole storm locked behind your teeth.¡±


    I stared out across the hills. ¡°Not everything needs to be shared.¡±


    She nodded slowly. ¡°No. But some things need to be uncarried.¡±


    We sat with that. The wind tugged at the grass around our boots.


    ¡°Do you ever miss it?¡± she asked.


    I didn¡¯t need to ask what she meant. She probably viewed me as some ex-hero who''d left Concord for an easier life. It was a common enough occurrence in my day.


    Close enough.


    ¡°Sometimes,¡± I said. ¡°But missing it and wanting it back are two different things.¡±


    Kira was quiet for a long moment. Then, gently, ¡°Maybe... you just miss parts of who you were.¡±


    I didn¡¯t answer right away. The bench creaked beneath me as I leaned back, the stars overhead watching without judgment.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be that person anymore,¡± I said. ¡°The one who fought. Who commanded. Who broke things in the name of fixing others. I just want to be the mayor of a strange little town with mushroom festivals and unexplainable weather patterns. I like it. I love it, actually. Graybarrow makes sense to me.¡±


    Kira turned to me, her expression softer now. ¡°Sounds like a lovely place. I think I¡¯d like to visit sometime.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you will,¡± I said, my voice quiet but certain. I could open a portal to Graybarrow right now¡ªone thought, one flick of the wrist¡ªbut doing that felt like crossing a threshold I wasn¡¯t ready for. Like inviting the past into the present and daring it to change everything.


    She looked at me carefully, then gave a small nod. ¡°Then let¡¯s keep things simple. If I need help, I¡¯ll call. You keep running your weird little town. And maybe¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­Maybe we take more nights like this,¡± I finished for her.


    A smile tugged at her lips. ¡°Might not be so bad.¡±


    ***


    When I reappeared in Graybarrow, the scent of old wood and distant cinnamon wrapped around me like a welcome. Outside, the town lay hushed beneath a sky dusted in stars. Inside, the only sound was the faintest snore.


    Barley was curled up on the couch, one arm flopped over Roku¡¯s now-sizable back. The drakehound¡¯s tail twitched once, but he didn¡¯t lift his head. A half-eaten pastry lay on the table beside them, forgotten mid-snack. They¡¯d both fallen asleep with the fireplace casting gentle orange light across the room.


    I pulled a blanket from the back of a chair and tucked it around them without a word. Barley murmured something in his sleep, soft, like a dream barely spoken. ¡°I¡¯ll help. Just like the mayor does.¡± Then he curled tighter into Roku''s side, the drakehound giving a faint huff in return.


    I stood there for a while, letting the quiet sink in.


    Enjoying the kind of stillness that hummed with the comfort of small, ordinary things. A half-finished snack. The muffled snore of a child. The rise and fall of a drakehound¡¯s steady breathing.


    Okay, that part is weird.


    But there were no assassins. No world-ending threats. Just this strange, wonderful town and the people in it.


    My people.


    I exhaled, and for a moment, something in me unclenched.


    If I was ever meant to be anything, it was this.

 It Doesnt Work Like That

    The morning after the palace felt suspiciously normal.


    Which, in Graybarrow, meant at least two things had already caught fire and someone had mistaken a weather charm for a cooking spell during breakfast.


    I made my tea, poured it into my favorite chipped mug, and walked out to where my floating stump hovered dutifully beside the porch. I¡¯d told it that no one supported me like it did.


    I sank into the mossy seat, savoring the creak of old bark beneath me as Barley stood in the yard holding out a sock like it was a sacred offering.


    Roku stared at him with the intense suspicion of someone who¡¯d once been tricked out of a treat. The sock disappeared into his mouth a second later.


    The town was already bustling. Smoke spiraled lazily from chimneys, the scent of something spicy and slightly scorched drifting through the air. Yuuhi¡¯s voice echoed from her window as she argued with her oven¡ªagain. From farther down the lane came a loud crash, followed by a multilingual string of swears and the clatter of upturned produce. A typical Graybarrow morning.


    I smiled. It wasn¡¯t perfect¡ªnothing in Graybarrow ever was¡ªbut it was mine. A mess I understood. A rhythm I could live with.


    It lasted exactly twelve minutes.


    A distant voice cracked through the otherwise peaceful square.


    "Mayor Nojin! Urgent dispute at the west end!"


    I turned, mug still in hand, to see a Murmoth gliding toward me. Her wings twitched, more agitated than graceful, and her eyes looked distinctly underslept¡ªlikely because she was. Murmoths were nocturnal by nature. Seeing one active in the daylight usually meant something had gone terribly¡ªor dramatically¡ªwrong.


    "The shadows flicker where frost dares challenge flame," she murmured, wings quivering with residual tension.


    "Let me guess," I said.


    "The sundial situation," said a broad-shouldered Terracyn ambling behind her, his stone-like brow furrowed. "They¡¯re arguing again."


    He handed me a folded note scrawled in flowery cursive and stamped with a faint splash of copper.


    "The Murmoths were caught trying to turn back the sundial," he explained. "They said it would give them more night. The Kindlings caught them and accused them of trying to steal time."


    I took a sip of tea and sighed. "They know it doesn¡¯t actually work like that, right?"


    "Not the point," the Murmoth said delicately. "The symbolism matters. The hourglass speaks."


    "Sure it does."


    I looked down at Roku. He gave a long-suffering huff.


    "Alright," I muttered. "Time to play diplomat over metaphors and sunlight."


    As we walked, a Kindling child darted past, waving a tiny sign that read Time Thieves Will Burn. Behind her, a Murmoth fluttered down from a rooftop, trailing charcoal sketches and muttering about temporal oppression.


    By the time we reached the sundial¡ªan old bronze disk surrounded by a semicircle of benches and overgrown flowerbeds¡ªthe standoff had fully bloomed.


    The Kindlings gathered in a heated knot, dramatically demanding restitution for temporal vandalism. The Murmoths stood beneath the shadows of a flowering arch, cloaked in gloom and muttering about celestial injustice.


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    "Enough!" I called. "No more tampering with town timepieces. And from now on, if you want to protest something, you have to do it in a language the average townsperson can understand. Preferably not metaphor. Or infernos!"


    Graybarrow. A place where even the passage of time had a personality.


    And somehow, still exactly where I belonged.


    As the crowd began to disperse with a mix of huffs, flutters, and smoldering indignation, The Kindlings muttered like extinguished torches, and the Murmoths drifted into the alley shadows with what I assumed were poetic complaints about artificial time constructs.


    Roku padded up beside me, dropped the now slightly singed protest sign at my feet, and blinked. I scratched behind his horn.


    "Let¡¯s hope they don¡¯t try to start a petition to remove the sun next," I muttered.


    Roku sneezed, a burst of blue sparks puffing from his snout like confetti. The sparks hit the nearest planter, which promptly floated two feet into the air, spinning slowly like a confused carousel.


    I stared at it. Then at Roku.


    "Really? Again?"


    He sneezed a second time, and the planter landed back down with a light thud.


    "Better," I nodded, before taking a deep breath and starting the trek back home.


    Yuuhi was waiting on the porch when I returned, one hand on her hip and the other holding a tin of what looked like dangerously experimental cookies.


    "Well?" she asked as I stepped up. "How was the ball? Did anyone try to kill you before dessert or after?"


    "Technically before," I said, brushing a leaf off my sleeve. "But the griffin-shaped chocolate survived."


    Barley, who had apparently been loitering just out of sight, emerged from behind the woodpile with suspiciously perfect timing and flopped onto the steps beside Roku. "Was there dancing? Did you dance? Did Kira dance? I bet you kissed after you were all pressed up together."


    I stared at him. "Keep that up, and I¡¯ll make you catalog all the mold in town."


    Yuuhi smirked and popped open the cookie tin. "Here, Barley. Try one of these."


    He squinted suspiciously. "What does it do?"


    "It¡¯s supposed to¡ª"


    "You¡¯re giving out magically enhanced cookies again?" I interrupted, exasperated.


    "They¡¯re mostly stable," Yuuhi said with a shrug.


    Barley had already backed up two steps, shielding Roku with a dramatic arm motion. "I like my limbs the way they are, thanks. And so does Roku. He''s very attached to his tail."


    I pinched the bridge of my nose and muttered, "I faced a cosmic assassin in formalwear, and somehow this is more exhausting."


    Roku gave a soft woof that sounded suspiciously like agreement.


    I escaped to the kitchen not long after, clutching what was left of my tea and pretending I didn¡¯t hear Barley ask Yuuhi if licking the cookie would still count.


    The light spilling through the window had that golden, end-of-day warmth that made everything feel briefly, fleetingly perfect. I set my mug down and leaned on the counter, exhaling through my nose and letting the calm settle in. The presence of the familiar.


    This was the rhythm I understood. A kitchen that smelled like hung spices and the lingering scent of Yuuhi¡¯s latest brewing experiment from her own cottage down the path, the dull rattle of wind charms outside, the low murmur of town life winding down.


    I once halted a battlefield long enough to stop a charge¡ªjust a binding sigil cast into the dirt, quick and precise. I¡¯ve disrupted enemy lines with little more than a well-placed spell and a reputation they didn¡¯t want to test. Back then, I stood in Concord¡¯s Hall of Records, where the oaths of peacekeepers were etched into basalt columns that shimmered with living runes.


    And somehow, this mattered more.


    A light knock interrupted my thoughts.


    Yuuhi peeked in. "They¡¯re gone. Barley¡¯s outside testing cookie resilience on garden stones. I didn¡¯t stop him."


    "Good call," I said.


    She came in, holding a cookie that glowed with ominous pride. "Want to talk about it? The ball?"


    "I¡¯d rather talk about this cookie and whether it¡¯s planning something."


    She held it up. "Caramel basil surprise. Unless it decides to go rogue."


    We both stared at it for a second.


    Then she perched on the table¡¯s edge and tilted her head. "You alright, Nojin?"


    I hesitated.


    She waited.


    "I¡¯m tired," I said, voice low. "But I¡¯m where I need to be."


    Yuuhi didn¡¯t push, but she didn¡¯t leave either. She broke the cookie in half and offered me a piece. I took it, chewing slowly as the basil hit stronger than expected.


    "I saw someone at the ball," I added after a pause. "Someone I never thought I¡¯d see again. One of Zerec¡¯s old generals. Wehyr."


    Yuuhi¡¯s brows lifted. "The Butcher of the Shattered Ring?"


    I nodded. "He tried to kill everyone in the ballroom. And then he recognized me. Called me Kennojin."


    "Because that¡¯s who you are," she said gently.


    I shook my head. "Not anymore. That name belongs to someone who thought he could fix the world with force and fire. Who believed in peace so much he tried to impose it."


    Yuuhi stayed quiet, the weight of history thick between us.


    "I left because I saw Concord becoming the very thing I once tried to tear down," I said quietly. "I was tired of cycles. Tired of pretending the good guys always knew best. So I walked away. Built something small. Something real."


    Yuuhi tapped the edge of her cookie against the tin. "You think it¡¯s going to find you again?"


    I didn¡¯t answer.


    But the answer sat with me all the same.

 Build Something Beside It

    The town meeting was supposed to start at noon.


    Naturally, it didn''t.


    The Terracyns refused to begin until the sunbeam hitting the town square had reached the third tile. The Gnomes insisted it was already past teatime and were halfway through their third round of fermented root cordial. A Mycari had turned the speaking podium into a mushroom nursery. Tiny caps were sprouting from its wooden base.


    I leaned against the fountain''s edge, arms crossed, sipping lukewarm tea from my chipped mug and watching it all unfold with the resigned patience of someone who knew better than to fight Graybarrow¡¯s sense of timing. There was none.


    Yuuhi sat nearby on the stone bench, sketching something in the corner of her spellbook with a faint frown. She hadn¡¯t looked up once, which probably meant the drawing was intentional this time.


    "Do I want to know what that is?" I asked.


    "Improved seating," she replied without glancing up. ¡°One that will hopefully keep the peace.¡±


    "We¡¯re still pretending the benches are sentient, then?"


    "You¡¯re still pretending they¡¯re not? This place is full of magic. It gets into everything."


    The crowd¡¯s hum rose and dipped with theatrical intensity. A pair of Kindlings were arguing over the layout of the flagstones, claiming it failed to reflect the seasonal temperament of the town. One was glowing a dangerous red around the collar.


    I took another sip. "Yuuhi, remind me why we hold public meetings outdoors?"


    She grinned. "Because no one wants the fire council near drapes."


    Fair point.


    Barley jogged up a moment later, flushed and out of breath, clutching a flyer that looked more singed than printed.


    "Mayor! We¡¯ve got a bit of a¡­ minor complication."


    I lowered my mug. "If this is about the sundial again, I swear¡ª"


    "No, no," he said quickly. "Someone swapped out the town bell with a yodeling fish. One of those enchanted ones that sings when it senses movement."


    I blinked. "It sings?"


    "Yodels. With enthusiasm. Every time someone walks by."


    Yuuhi glanced up, entirely too calm. "Technically, we never said the bell had to be non-sentient."


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    I rubbed at my temples. "We''re revising the charter. Today."


    Before I could respond further, a heavy tread approached from the edge of the square. A Terracyn elder¡ªElder Loam¡ªstopped in front of me. He was old, even by Terracyn standards, his skin a weathered stone patchwork of mossy lichen and vein-thin cracks.


    "Mayor Nojin," he said with slow gravity. "Might I request a private word?"


    I nodded and followed him to the edge of the garden path, where the noise of the meeting dulled behind us.


    "It¡¯s my son," Elder Loam said. "He returned recently. We¡¯ve not spoken in a decade. We had words. Stubborn ones. And now... I fear the silence has settled too deep."


    I listened, feeling the weight behind every syllable. Terracyns didn¡¯t rush emotion. They let it settle in layers, like sediment and stone.


    "You want me to talk to him?"


    "No," he said, then paused. "I want to know how you moved forward. When the past keeps walking beside you."


    That gave me pause.


    "I didn¡¯t," I admitted after a beat. "I just built something beside it. Something new. Something small. Most days it helps keep the noise quiet. Other days... not so much. But it¡¯s mine."


    Loam¡¯s gaze lingered, distant and thoughtful. "Then maybe I need to learn to build something beside it too. Even if the weight never quite leaves."


    He turned and left with the kind of calm that didn¡¯t need to win¡ªit only needed to endu


    re.


    When I returned to the fountain, the meeting had somehow devolved into a sock-puppet reenactment of the Sundial Incident. Yuuhi was holding back laughter, Barley attempted to animate a fourth puppet without permission, and the Mycari were rooting for both sides while the gnomes cheered and drank, barely intelligible.


    I sat back and looked at the sky again.


    No call came.


    And still, I found myself listening for one.


    Graybarrow would always need a mayor. Someone to wrangle metaphors, mediate plant-based disputes, and occasionally rewrite the town charter to outlaw cursed aquatic instruments.


    But that didn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t be ready when something else knocked. Just in case.


    ***


    Later that afternoon, I found myself taking the long path out toward the Terracyn grove. It was quiet out there¡ªcooler too, under the deep-shaded trees where even the wind moved like it had patience.


    I spotted him sitting near the stream¡¯s edge. Younger than Elder Loam by centuries, but already weathering at the edges. His name was Oren, if I remembered right. He was tossing pebbles into the water, one after another, each one leaving a small ripple that didn¡¯t last long.


    "You don¡¯t have to say anything," I said, stepping close enough for him to hear. "I just came to see if you wanted someone to not talk with."


    Oren didn¡¯t look at me, but after a while, he gave a small nod.


    We sat there like that for a while. Two people who¡¯d said too little, or maybe too much, to the ones who mattered most.


    Eventually, he spoke. "I said things I thought would make him let go. Didn¡¯t think it¡¯d work so well."


    I didn¡¯t try to fix it. Just leaned back, watching the wind draw patterns across the stream.


    Sometimes, not filling the space was the only way to share it.


    After a time, Oren sighed. ¡°He used to bring me here when I was a stoneling. Told me the stream taught patience better than any sermon.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Seems it stuck.¡±


    He cracked a small smile. ¡°Not enough, maybe.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll figure it out,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re both still here. That counts for something.¡±


    Oren nodded slowly, then stood. ¡°Thanks for coming, Mayor.¡±


    ¡°Just Nojin,¡± I replied, rising with him. ¡°Mayor''s only the title they let me get away with.¡±


    As he walked back toward the grove, I turned¡ªand felt the tug.


    The summoning circle flared to life at my feet, Kira¡¯s mark stitched through it.


    I exhaled once. Then vanished into the light.

 Best Kept Buried

    I landed on a ledge that barely held its shape. Beneath it, the terrain warped like soft wax, rivers of ley-energy bleeding through cracks in the ground.


    Kira stood nearby, already yelling at a frantic scholar who was halfway buried in a large crevice. Her coat was singed, hair tied back in a crooked knot, expression sharp with focus.


    She didn¡¯t turn when she heard me, just said, "Glad you came."


    I adjusted my coat. "That supposed to be your way of saying you missed me?"


    She snorted. "Let¡¯s not get ahead of ourselves."


    "Just trying to match the tone from our charming ballroom escape."


    "You looked miserable the whole time."


    "Yeah, but in a refined, noble kind of way."


    She grinned at that¡ªquick, honest, and gone just as fast. Then she pointed toward a jagged rift in the hillside. "It started three days ago. The ground¡¯s been warping, magic going wild. Local mages can¡¯t stabilize it."


    I walked toward the rift. The earth groaned under my boots.


    I closed my eyes and reached¡ªnot with brute force, but with the quiet precision that once made entire armies hesitate. Not many people knew how to thread ley-lines anymore. Even fewer had the patience. It was delicate work. Intimate. You didn¡¯t tame a wild river by damming it. You learned how it wanted to flow.


    I murmured a sigil under my breath and slid a hand across the fractured stone. Threads of energy shimmered, resisting at first, then yielding. I wove a stabilizing lattice beneath the rift¡ªlike stitching torn fabric back together.


    Except in this case, the fabric could destroy the entire planet.


    By the time the ground had stopped pulsing, the glowing cracks dimmed. Even the air felt less strained. I let out a breath and staggered a little, knees heavier than they should¡¯ve been.


    "You alright?"


    "Yeah. Just haven''t done anything with that sort of finesse in a long time."


    Kira reached into her coat and handed me a flask. The contents burned like spiced iron, and I coughed.


    She dismissed the scholar and assured him everything would be okay for now.


    We sat near a bent tree that leaned over the ridge, half its roots exposed. I let the breeze cool my face.


    After a while, Kira spoke, "You used to do things like this a lot, didn¡¯t you?"


    I didn¡¯t answer.


    "People started asking around about you," she said instead, voice a shade more careful. "The nobles heard the name Kennojin mentioned."


    I winced. "Should¡¯ve known better than to show up. Probably made a mistake going at all."


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    Kira didn¡¯t argue. Just watched me with something unreadable in her eyes.


    "So... what really happened?"


    I traced a glyph in the dirt with my finger. It shimmered faintly before fading. Kira leaned forward slightly, the wind tugging at her blonde strands.


    I didn¡¯t answer right away. Just kept tracing the design as I wrangled with the maelstrom of thoughts and memories I''d suppressed for so long.


    Then, softly, "Some things don¡¯t break all at once. They change. Slowly. Into something you don¡¯t recognize."


    She studied me.


    "So I stopped trying to fix it," I added. "Built something beside it instead. Well, not really beside it. More like... as far away as possible. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere mine."


    "Graybarrow," she murmured.


    I nodded.


    She looked out toward the horizon, fingers fidgeting with the cork of her flask. "Sounds... kind of nice. You really care about it."


    I didn¡¯t respond right away. Then, quieter, "I do. It means everything to me."


    She glanced at me, expression unreadable for a breath. "I really would like to see it someday."


    I hesitated, then said, "Okay. Soon. I just... feel that it''s best to keep these two worlds separate for now."


    She smiled¡ªnot her usual grin, but something softer. "Of course."


    We let the breeze speak for a while, carrying bits of dust and something like comfort.


    Then I looked over. "You okay, Kira?"


    That made her blink again. Like it hadn¡¯t occurred to her I might ask. "Me? Yeah, sure. I''m fine."


    "I mean it. All this¡ªbeing a hero of Concord, running off to fight or fix whatever the Circle decides. Can¡¯t be easy."


    She let out a breath and leaned her head against her knees. "It¡¯s not. You make friends, then you lose them. You save people, then get sent somewhere else before you even see if it worked. It¡¯s like... trying to fix a leak with a colander."


    I stayed quiet.


    "But it¡¯s been less lonely," she added, voice softer now. "Since you started showing up every once in a while. Even if you grumble the whole time."


    "I don¡¯t grumble. I mutter. There¡¯s a difference."


    She smiled again, faint and honest.


    Eventually, I pushed to my feet. My limbs ached in a way that wasn¡¯t entirely physical. "It should be stable enough for a while."


    She scanned the ley-rift, then gave a small nod. "Yeah. You did it."


    I turned to go, but her voice caught me. "Thank you."


    I gave a faint smile that felt more like surrender than gratitude. "You''re welcome."


    She activated the dismissal, and the sharp red lines glowed underneath me.


    "Who was Kennojin?" Kira called out.


    I paused at the edge of the glyphs, then turned slightly over my shoulder. "Someone buried a long time ago," I said. "Let¡¯s leave him there."


    ***


    I poured myself a second cup of tea and stepped out to my usual place. The floating stump waited as always, hovering an inch off the porch. I muttered, "You''re the best piece of wood around."


    It rose another inch.


    I sat and watched Roku sleep curled in a warm patch of sunlight, one paw twitching as he dreamed. His tail gave a lazy thump when he sensed me nearby.


    "Don¡¯t worry," I said to him. "Still not joining anything. Still not saving the world."


    He didn¡¯t stir. Just let out a soft huff.


    I leaned back, tea warm in my hands. That other world¡ªKira¡¯s world¡ªstill pulled at the edges of mine. But Graybarrow had roots. People. Problems that could be solved with a look, or a laugh, or sometimes a well-placed biscuit.


    I closed my eyes, letting the rhythm of the village settle into my bones. Children shouting near the fountain. A soft thump from a distant window. The clatter of dishes and the muttered complaints of gnomes trying to fix something that never worked right in the first place.


    Yuuhi once told me that peace wasn¡¯t the absence of danger. It was choosing to stay anyway. Choosing to tend what was small and beautiful, even when the storm never ended.


    Maybe she was right.


    I sipped my tea and watched the sky dim, stars peeking out between clouds. Roku shifted closer, tail curling against my boots.


    The past should stay buried.


    And if it didn¡¯t¡ªwell.


    That was a problem for another day.

 All According to Chaos

    "Are you excited for the festival, Mayor?" Barley asked brightly, bounding up the porch steps with a clipboard nearly as tall as he was. "Because the gnome brewers just challenged the Mycari spore dancers to a public performance duel, and we may need extra insurance. Again."


    I blinked at him. "The... festival?"


    Right. The Founding Festival.


    It was the single most chaotic event on the Graybarrow calendar. Neighboring towns came from all over to participate, bringing everything from performance troupes to enchanted pie contests. Some sent their quirkiest performers, others sent entire guilds. Graybarrow ran five overlapping parades, three simultaneous musical showdowns, and hosted a brewing feud that technically qualified as a magical siege and a public safety hazard.


    I sighed, set down my lukewarm tea, and muttered, "How did I forget that was this week?"


    Barley opened his mouth, but a flurry of shouting from the square cut him off.


    "He said my brewing lacked bite!" yelled a furious gnome¡ªPibbin¡ªas he swung wildly from a flagpole by the seat of his trousers.


    Yuuhi descended from a rooftop, exasperated and sparkly with what looked suspiciously like enchanted jelly. "Mayor, we need a ruling. Again."


    I squinted toward the smoke curling up from the square. "Someone tell me what Pibbin did this time."


    Barley raised a clipboard. "He dumped volatile fermentation fluid on someone else''s root keg. Said it was ''scientific sabotage.''"


    A furious voice echoed from somewhere above: "It was a precision experiment!"


    I sighed. "Pibbin¡¯s suspended for the next hour. Both legally and literally."


    Yuuhi pinched the bridge of her nose. "He¡¯s rigged a barrel-launcher."


    "...Of course he has."


    I stepped into the square.


    Even before Barley reminded me, there¡¯d been plenty to deal with¡ªenchantment failures, animals acting strange, and ill-advised magical experiments. The gnomes had gotten into another licensing argument over their distillery carts. The Mycari escalated a prank war involving bioluminescent spores and mildly hallucinogenic toadstools. The Kindlings wanted to monologue about civic pride over fire-pylons during lunch rush.


    Just another week in Graybarrow.


    And now, I realized with a groan, it was about to get even worse.


    The Founding Festival was only a few days away.


    Typical.


    "Mayor!" Barley reappeared, this time skidding in with wild eyes. "The ribbon charms! All of them!"


    "Define ''problem.''"


    "They¡¯re spelling things."


    I would literally rather fight a dragon in my underwear again.


    We followed the glow toward the town fountain, where the enchanted ribbons¡ªmeant to dance cheerfully in the breeze¡ªwere now corkscrewing through the air in a twisted spiral.


    Yuuhi arrived and peered up. "Is that... a limerick?"


    Barley winced. "A rude one. About goats."


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    I narrowed my eyes. The ribbons flickered and rearranged again.


    NOW ACCEPTING SACRIFICES.


    I took a deep, steadying sip of tea. Uselessly cold.


    "Barley," Yuuhi barked, storming over with her sleeves rolled and eyes blazing, "did you steal from the restricted scroll bin again?"


    Barley shrank. "It was just a scrap! Nell said it was probably fine! The label was faded! I wanted to help."


    "It was labeled Caution: Sentient Templates, in burn-etch and glow-ink. In three languages."


    "Well, the glow wore off!"


    FEED ME THE STRONGEST GNOME.


    Barley, still hunched and guilty, glanced up. "I mean... if it wants the strongest gnome..."


    He hesitated. Then mumbled, "We could offer it Pibbin."


    "Tempting," I said, deadpan.


    We spent the next hour wrestling the rogue enchantment, calming enraged gnome brewers, and negotiating a ceasefire between the Kindlings and the poetry booth. The Mycari attempted a synchronized teleportation rehearsal that ended with half of them inside the bakery and one inside my filing cabinet.


    By nightfall, I was scorched, sticky, and absolutely done.


    Back on my porch, Roku lounged by the door. Barley idly flipped a fizzing pebble. Yuuhi leaned on the railing, sipping something pink. Too pink to be natural.


    "You going to survive the festival, Mayor?"


    "Maybe."


    "The betting odds are even."


    I sighed.


    ***


    The following day arrived with the faint scent of burnt dough, a Kindling shouting match two blocks away, and¡ªthankfully¡ªa complete lack of dramatic summoning glyphs.


    I¡¯d half-expected that crimson glow under my feet again. It didn¡¯t come. Not for several days.


    Part of me was relieved¡ªthis town was a spark away from combustion, and the festival was already falling apart. The other part... missed her. Not that I¡¯d admit it. Especially to her. Kira wouldn''t let me hear the end of it.


    I rolled my shoulders and headed toward the square.


    Preparations had progressed¡ªor at least mutated. The square was a mess of optimism, poor planning, and weaponized enthusiasm.


    Gnomes bickered over barrel sizes. A Mycari trio tried to hang spore-lanterns that floated off the moment they turned their backs. Someone had enchanted the weather charm to be ¡°cheerfully random,¡± which now meant rotating between sunshine, sleet, and confetti storms every five minutes.


    And beneath it all, something felt... off.


    Magic thrummed in odd pulses. A cart levitated three inches off the ground, then thunked back down without warning. The air tasted faintly of static and lavender. Familiars were acting jumpy. Even Roku refused to step past the edge of the forest trail that bordered the town.


    Yuuhi joined me near the eastern path, her eyes narrowed toward the woods. "Something¡¯s wrong with the weave. You feel that?"


    I nodded. The tension wasn¡¯t just festival nerves. It hummed underfoot, subtle but sharp, like standing on the edge of a spell that hadn¡¯t quite finished forming.


    I motioned to Roku. "Stay."


    He didn¡¯t argue.


    Yuuhi looked like she wanted to follow, but I waved her off. "Keep an eye on Barley. And maybe Pibbin. Especially Pibbin. He always drinks excessively during festival time."


    "Take this," she said, tossing me a stone with a ward sigil etched deep into its face. It pulsed once, gently. "Just in case."


    The woods greeted me with familiar shadows and loamy quiet. I walked the edge slowly, letting the subtle shifts in the weave guide me. Something had been tampered with.


    Near the base of an old root-twisted oak, I saw it: the faint gleam of something angular and out of place.


    I knelt.


    A beacon.


    Concord made.


    Buried halfway in the earth, worn by time, likely long dormant¡ªuntil recently.


    The casing was cracked. Dirt shifted oddly around it, like an animal had dug too close and jostled the mechanism.


    I brushed more soil aside, revealing the activation runes¡ªdim, but faintly humming.


    Something had turned it back on.


    Just enough of a pulse to stir the weave.


    My jaw clenched.


    So that''s what had been meddling with the town''s magic.


    No wonder the animals were acting strange.


    I disabled the core with a flick of intent. Then I stood there a long time, letting the silence settle around me, the weight of old memories stirring beneath the roots.


    Concord Tech didn¡¯t just turn up by accident. They''d planted it this far in the Outskirts...


    Bastards.


    I didn¡¯t tell Yuuhi.


    Not yet.


    But as I stood under those tangled boughs, one thought wouldn''t leave me alone: Kira.


    It had been days since she''d summoned me. The quiet should¡¯ve been a relief, but it wasn¡¯t. Not entirely.


    Back in town, the chaos would only escalate. The festival would grind ever forward, whether we were ready or not. And if she did summon me again¡ªwell, maybe it was time to take a little initiative.


    That evening, I found Yuuhi scolding her apprentice, Nell¡ªa sharp-eyed young mage usually buried in books, now elbow-deep in something fizzing and ominous. Her gloves smoked faintly, her robe had acquired at least three new scorch marks, and her hair looked like it had lost a battle with a lightning spell. Probably had. Nell had insomnia, a reading addiction, and questionable boundaries when it came to forbidden spellcraft.


    ¡°If Kira calls on me in the next two days,¡± I said, ¡°I¡¯m inviting her to the festival. Portal and all.¡±


    Yuuhi didn¡¯t look up. ¡°Took you long enough.¡±

 The Invitation

    (Kira)


    I stared down at the envelope on my desk.


    It was old-fashioned. Handwritten. Sealed with crimson wax pressed into a sigil I didn¡¯t recognize¡ªhalf circle, half sunburst, and a jagged crack right through it. The kind of seal that said, "I used to rule things," whether or not the sender admitted it.


    I broke the seal.


    Mayor Nojin of Graybarrow cordially invites you to the Founding Festival.


    I blinked.


    "...What."


    The ink shimmered faintly, reacting to the pulse of my magic. Subtle rune-work. Clever, and far too on-brand for him. I set the letter down and started pacing.


    He wanted me to come to a festival.


    A festival.


    I stopped at the window, staring out at the Concord training fields. Perfect lines, perfect uniforms, perfect people pretending they weren¡¯t slowly boiling under the surface. Meanwhile, somewhere on a forgotten planet, a retired demon lord was hosting a festival.


    Honestly, it sounded like a trap. Or a joke. Or¡ªworse¡ªa genuine invitation.


    Still.


    I could hear his voice in the phrasing. Formal but dry. Slightly sarcastic, probably sincere. I hadn¡¯t even known he could send letters across realms. Maybe he had help. Maybe he just guessed. But of course it had found me.


    He always showed up when it mattered.


    I smiled.


    ***


    When I summoned him, I wasn¡¯t sure if I was expecting him to arrive dramatically or grumbling. Nojin stepped out of the portal like he¡¯d just come from grocery shopping.


    "Wasn¡¯t sure you¡¯d summon me in time," he said, adjusting his scarf. "So I sent a letter."


    "To an undisclosed location on another planet?"


    He gave me a look. "I have my ways."


    I crossed my arms, amused. "You invited me to a party."


    "A festival," he corrected, already sounding defensive. "And the whole town wants culture and mild chaos. You bring both."


    "That sounds like flattery wrapped in insult."


    "It¡¯s Graybarrow. That¡¯s a compliment."


    He looked... different. A little more rested. A little less like the weight of five realms was sitting on his spine.


    "You actually want me there?"


    "The festival''s been hijacked by over-enthusiastic mushroom children, the gnomes built a mead fountain without asking, and someone enchanted the mayoral bell to chime whenever someone lies about their baking prowess. Yes. I want you there. I need a buffer."


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    I laughed. "So you miss me."


    "I miss predictable disaster. You qualify. Come to the festival."


    ***


    The portal dropped me just outside the town gate.


    I stepped out and immediately ducked as something small and fiery zipped overhead, shrieking with joy and trailing streamers of fire. Somewhere nearby, a bloated, floating creature with too many eyes and shimmering wings was reciting rhyming couplets about soup. An apple cart wheeled past on its own, creaking like it had an opinion about everything.


    Graybarrow.


    I blinked at the oddities swarming around me¡ªand then saw him.


    Nojin, leaning casually against a post, holding two mugs. One was steaming. One was glowing.


    "Wait, you came through first?" I asked, walking up.


    "Wanted a moment to bring you a drink," he replied, shrugging. "Felt like the considerate thing."


    I raised an eyebrow. "Do I get to choose?"


    "No. I already decided which one suits you."


    He handed me the glowing one.


    "Figures," I muttered, sipping. It tasted like lightning and apricots. Weirdly good.


    The main square pulsed with life. Tents were being set up. Someone was singing in four-part harmony¡ªwith themselves. What looked like one of the mushroom kids Nojin had mentioned¡ªa Mycari, maybe?¡ªwas doing some sort of spore-dance off to the side, while a trio of squat, tinkering figures (had to be gnomes) argued over where to hang a crooked banner that read "Mild Explosions Only, Please."


    "This is chaos."


    "This is order. We¡¯re just not used to this kind."


    He showed me the town.


    There was a bakery that sold cupcakes capable of inducing lucid dreams. A smithy run by an earth elemental who did his best work during full moons. A library with a sentient index that judged you silently.


    Children darted by with glowing paper wyrms. A pair of witches bartered over magically aged cheese. Everyone seemed busy and half-mad, but the madness had rhythm.


    Nojin pointed things out casually. The bridge where a goat duel happened. A tree that allegedly grants wishes if you yell at it long enough. The hill where he almost lost a chess match to Yuuhi''s apprentice, Nell.


    I was trying not to smile too much.


    Eventually, we reached a little pond ringed with lantern-glow mushrooms. A toad the size of a watermelon blinked up at me and croaked a perfect scale.


    "Normal?" I asked.


    "Tuesday," Nojin replied.


    I turned back to him. "You¡¯ve really made something here."


    He didn¡¯t say anything right away. Just looked at the water.


    Then, quietly: "That was the point."


    I nodded. "I think I¡¯ll stay a couple of days. If that''s okay?"


    He looked surprised for a heartbeat¡ªeyebrows raised, the faintest hitch in his breath. Then he actually smiled. Not a smirk, not a polite quirk of the mouth, but a real, genuine smile. It caught me off guard.


    "Sure. I¡¯ll find you a room."


    I hesitated, then said, "I¡¯d like to stay with you. If that¡¯s alright."


    He paused again. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face, but then he nodded. "Alright."


    He exhaled, like he¡¯d been holding the moment in. "Try not to explode."


    I grinned. "No promises."


    I watched him wander back into the bustle of the town, and I lingered a moment longer by the pond. The place was strange, unstructured, borderline unhinged¡­ but it worked. The people were smiling. Working together. Laughing. Everyone seemed to love their odd little town¡ªand somehow, they all loved their mayor.


    Everywhere I¡¯d been lately had felt tense, heavy with pretense or control. But here? Graybarrow breathed.


    I wish more places could be like this.


    "Did you try the glowing one or the steaming one?" a woman¡¯s voice asked nearby.


    I turned. She was tall and elegant, hair in a loose braid, a single silver ring on her finger that pulsed with light. Her presence had the kind of quiet confidence that only came from age, knowledge, or both.


    "Glowing," I replied, holding up the mug. "Apparently, it suits me."


    "That tracks," she said with a warm smirk. "I¡¯m Yuuhi. You must be Kira."


    Her voice tugged at something in my memory. Familiar, though I couldn¡¯t say from where.


    "Nojin''s talked about you," I said.


    "Hopefully only the good parts."


    We both laughed. I liked her immediately.


    We walked together back toward the main street. She pointed out a few things I hadn¡¯t seen¡ªan alchemy stall with shelves that floated and rearranged themselves, a joke shop advertising "cursed items, no refunds," and a murmoth¡ªpracticing his dramatic poetry to a group of silently attentive frogs.


    "I get the feeling this place doesn¡¯t sleep," I said.


    "It naps aggressively and at the worst possible times."


    I glanced at her again. That voice.


    Why did it sound like something I should remember?


    But before I could follow the thought, a Kindling whizzed between us, laughing madly, and we both instinctively ducked.


    "Careful," Yuuhi said. "They¡¯re still learning about spatial boundaries."


    "Right," I muttered. "And combustion."


    She grinned. "You''ll fit in just fine."