Escape

When the last of Eyva's light faded from my fingertips, I got moving. It was hard to will myself to move. It felt like my entire body was pumped full of lead. Heavy. Unwieldy. But not because of a curse. But because of the weight of loss.

I hadn't felt loss like this before. Because I never had anything to lose.

But I pushed through. Because at the heart of my hearts, I was still a Fighter. No matter what, even if I had nothing, I would keep fighting. Hell, I had fought with nothing by my side for twenty eight years in my past life.

And because of Eyva's promise. That gave me a goal to work towards.

To lead a long, happy life.

She had hope that I could. Hope that manifested in spite of how shitty of a hand I had been dealt in this world, condemned to prison from birth and death at a year.

There must have been some reason for that hope. Maybe outside of Oria, in the wider, broader world, people were better. Less obsessed with their pride and magic. At the very least, from Eyva's stories, that was the impression I got.

That the world was good.

I put my hand to my chest, feeling heat there. I had on a loose, coarse shirt and trousers made of an uncomfortably scratchy, rough fabric. Looked exactly like generic RPG peasant wear. It wasn't exactly pretty or comfortable, but it felt quite sturdy.

I pulled my shirt down to bare my chest, and where my heart was, I saw a leaf shaped mark of bright, fiery orange on my skin. Eyva's last gift to me – her condensed life force.

I stood up and noticed that a small brown leather rucksack nearby. I rummaged within it and smiled wistfully when I took out an candied emberblossom.

Maybe not the last gift.

I reached deeper into the rucksack and blinked, wrapping my hands around a familiar, orb shaped item. I withdrew the Scry. A blue dot glowed at its center, forming an eye that stared at me.

"Scanning fleshmarkers.."

The orb glowed where I touched it with my fingerprints, recording them.

"Fleshmarkers recognized," said the orb in a calm, helpful, female voice. "Greetings. Please voice your name."

"Uldan."

"Any additional nominal marker to record? A surname, perhaps?"

I thought of my father and his family name. Huo. I rejected it. I despised everything about Oria at this point. All it reminded me of was that it was responsible for Eyva dying.

If, when I was stronger, I ever crossed paths with my father again, I would kill him.

"None."

"Your name has been recorded. Then, Uldan, I will be in your service."

"Are you alive?"

"I am not alive in a mortal sense," said the Scry. It floated away from my hand, staring level at me with my eyes. It projected a blue, scanning beam. "Your physical structure has been recorded, as has your voice. I am now fully coded to you."

"Can you think for yourself?"

"Negative. I am a Model C Scry."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I am a response-based intelligence. Given prompts such as questions, I will assist you, but otherwise, I am not operational."

"Can you help me fight? Can you cast spells?"

"Negative. As a Model C Scry, I am strictly an informational tool."

"Hm. Okay." The Scry was not really alive. It was basically just an assistant, then. Something like a floating dictionary.

Even with no combat ability, it would be very helpful, especially since without Eyva, I wouldn't know much about the details of this world. "Do you have something like a battery? A limit on how long you can operate?"

"I subsist off of residual mana in the environment utilizing a Grade 6th Grade Prism."

"A Prism?"

"Analyzing user data. Setting knowledge level to: low. Setting experience level to: low. I will now explain. A Prism is a miniature engine fashioned from mana crystals. All Prisms above the fifth grade possess auto-recovery systems to ensure constant functionality."

"Is it possible for me to learn how to make Prisms? Upgrade yours?"

"Negative. That information is locked behind an artificer's license, which you lack."

It seemed that the Scry had some information it could not tell me. Most likely related to actual trade secrets like how to make things or, most likely, casting spells.

Well, whatever. I couldn't complain at Eyva's gift.

I stepped over to the water's edge, looking down at the swirling Vortex. The rotating currents looked harsh, capable of buffeting me around and around if I fell into it.

Dangerous.

"Is that safe to get into?" I asked the Scry.

"Positive. The currents are relatively stable," said the Scry. "Projecting a Veil should protect you from any Swirl based turbulence."

"…And what if I can't project a Veil?"

"You will still reach your target destination, but you may fall unconscious due to a lack of sufficient protection from mana waves."

I rubbed my forehead, trying to think this through. I didn't want to fall unconscious again. That was an easy way to be a sitting duck ready to get hunted and roasted. Especially if I had people tailing me. They could just take the Vortex right to where I was asleep and execute me then and there.

"Say that I use this Vortex and someone else uses it after me. Do we go to the same place?" I said.

"Negative," said the Scry. "Vortexes require time to build up their transpositional waters after each usage. In addition, Vortexes of this size are not sufficiently complex and stable enough to link to the same location after each restoration.

Thus, it is recommended that if you have any companions, that you enter the Vortex together to prevent the risk of separation."

"Got it. That's good. At least that means if I have to use this, I won't get hounded by people that want to see me dead." I crossed my arms, still unsure of the Vortex. "Where exactly does this thing lead to?"

"I am unable to discern exact coordinates, but it will lead you approximately to the Barbas, otherwise known as the Shifting Plains."

"I have no idea what that is or where that is. Is it far from here?"

"It is located on the northwestern edge of the Lumian continent, approximately twelve thousand miles from your current location. To give you a better reference, I will project a map…" The Scry's eye dot blinked rapidly, signaling that it was loading the map.

Before it was done, though, a bolt of light slammed into it. The Scry's eye dot faded and it fell to the ground like a rock, a smoke trail laced with crackling electricity trailing behind it.

I immediately grabbed the Scry before it could fall into the waters below and shoved it into my rucksack, my heart racing.

"My homing spell hit, lads! The sleepless nights we spent tracking are finally going to pay off! Tonight, once we show off that boy's head, we will dine fine and long!" A faint voice shouted from a man that was still not visible, but judging by the volume, he would be here within a minute.

Faint orange lights, torchlights, flickered in the distance, down a winding corridor. The shadow of two, three, no five or more men, stretched long by the light, rushed forward, heralding the imminent arrival of threats.

Intruders.

Eyva had said they were far away, but she had evidently misjudged.

I had only a brief moment to consider what I would do. I looked down at my hands.

Soft. No callouses. Weak bones. Untrained.

I could not fight, not now.

I shook my head, clenching my jaw. I had to dive into the Vortex, even if it meant losing consciousness. I slung the rucksack over my shoulder, held it tight, the last of Eyva's gifts to me, and dove into the swirling waters below.

The cold of the waters assaulted me in a freezing instant. They did not hit my body so much as they hit my mind, instantly numbing it. I felt my consciousness whirled around by violent currents, twisted and pushed and pulled this way and that.

I could not see anything except dark blue, rushing water that disoriented me, and very soon, I started to black out.

I could only hope that Eyva was right. That this world was good.

That at the other end of the Vortex, I would be safe. That someone would take care of me.