A luxury sedan pulled up in front of Kyra and the passenger door popped open automatically to reveal Tristis beaming at her from the driver's seat.

  "Did you walk here?" he said cheerfully.

  She'd adopted Benny's practice of meeting in a neutral location, in this case at one of Lacris-Cheree's many quiet residential streets.

  "I don't have a car," she explained.

  She stowed her bag on the passenger side and went to open the rear door. It turned out that getting the weapons to fit was harder than expected even in Tristis's spacious vehicle. She'd wrapped them together in a bundle to disguise their nature while in public, but the problem was the length. After much wrangling, they had to resort to lowering the back seats to open more space into the trunk, and only then were they ready to go.

  Throughout the drive, Tristis was virtually rocking in his seat from giddy excitement.

  Kyra spent the first couple of minutes acclimating herself to all the outlandish features around her. Sound system. Leather seats. The dashboard on her side even had its own TV screen with a movie selection.

  "Must be nice having rich parents," she mumbled.

  "Who says I didn't pay for this with my own money?"

  "Money you earned working in your family's business?"

  Tristis laughed, his mood impossible to sour. "You got me there. Figures you'd know everything about me."

  She peered out through the tinted windows as they rolled past a street of crash repairers. "How's your brother doing?"

  "I just came from the hospital actually. Sam is finally on his feet again. I got a peek when they changed his bandages. I don't think it's wishful thinking when I say that even third-degree burns can go back to normal."

  "You've been working your healing magic on him?"

  "Every day like you instructed."

  While Benny's notes had mentioned Tristis's talent for healing, it hadn't been given any emphasis. She took this to mean that his other abilities must be even more pronounced. Her disciple wasn't the only one looking forward to tonight's dungeon raid.

  But it wasn't his talents as a hunter that made him the top candidate. It was his parents. Tristis basically had one foot in both Charais Gamor's political and business communities This made him a vital key to controlling a continentwide hunters association.

  "Take the next right," she instructed. "Follow the road until we get to the old furniture factory."

  The factory had long since closed down amid competition from foreign imports. Even the lights over the parking lot no longer functioned, though that was probably to their advantage, as it meant less attention would be drawn to Tristis's car, sitting all alone out there.

  Inside the building had been gutted, all the machinery sold off and repurposed. Piles of defective materials sat around waiting for disposal trucks that never came. Scavengers had picked through and taken all the salvageable pieces, leaving behind only those too broken and misshapen.

  Tristis looked around like he'd just stepped into a new world. "Is this where we'll be fighting monsters?"

  "Not quite. Now be quiet for a moment."

  She listened carefully for any sign they weren't alone. Though the building was too open and cold to make good shelter, it was still wise to check. It wasn't just homeless she was worried about. Places like this were known to attract urban explorers.

  Not picking up on any other signs of life, she turned to Tristis. "Did you bring the equipment I told you?"

  He tapped his chest to demonstrate the knocking sound. "Steel sheets sewn in. But I couldn't find any chainmail on short notice."

  She checked his sleeves. Thick, layered fabric. "It will do."

  Laying down the weapons, she peeled away the blankets and held one out to Tristis, who tentatively accepted it.

  "A quarterstaff?" His enthusiasm blunted a bit from receiving such a dull weapon.

  "I believe it will suit you."

  Next she removed the skill sheets from her bag, selected one, and held it out to him.

  "Have a read of this. It will seem illegible, but just keep trying."

  A quiet minute passed that was interrupted by a gasp when the paper spontaneously disintegrated in Tristis's hands. His eyes became unfocused as the notification appeared in his mind, and then he looked at her and around at the dark factory with a renewed sense of awe.

  She smiled. "Infravision is nice, isn't it? Here's the next one."

  The next page disintegrated within moments of him laying eyes on it. That was staff proficiency. Appraisal took a little longer. Just one left.

  Five long minutes passed. And then another five. She stopped him there.

  "I'm sorry," he said despondently.

  Gift of fire. When he'd acquired the gift of healing from the simple observation of a healing potion in action, she'd taken it as proof of his magical talent. She supposed it was only fair, since she was struggling with one, that he should struggle with the other.

  "We've each got our own speed on certain things," she said. "We can try again later. For now, why don't you give your staff a couple of swings?"

  The effect of the skill sheet was to confer years of training through magic. This boy who had never picked up a weapon in his life was exhibiting the footwork of an expert and handled the staff like an extension of himself. The expression on his face amused her as he executed rapid flourishes and transitioned into low swings. He had the permanent star-struck wonderment of a child who had woken up one day in the body of a football legend.

  Leaving her disciple to accustom to his new abilities, Kyra went in search of the portal. Her first go-around turned up nothing, and worriedly her eyes were drawn up to the rusty HVAC ducting that snaked along the ceiling overhead. Surely not.

  The second time around she went slower and thankfully noticed the shimmering inside a loose stack of broken pallets. Tossing the refuse aside, she called Tristis over.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Do you see it?" she asked.

  He leaned in for a closer look. "Is it that strange static in the air?"

  His words trailed off when she reached for the anchor, and he became mesmerized by the red tear that opened in the fabric of space. Though she'd become inured to it now, much as a tower climber to heights, this was her disciple's first exposure, and the goose bumps that rose up along his neck brought those earliest memories flooding back.

  "Magic can be a frightful thing," she said.

  "Everything since you entered my life has been like one big dream," he replied.

  "Soon enough it will feel far too real," she said. "Step on through."

  The eyes he turned on her were like saucers. "I have to . . . I have to walk into it?"

  "We both will." She touched him reassuringly. "I understand you're afraid."

  "It looks like it will delete us."

  "I promise that it won't," she said gently. "Would it help if I stepped through first?"

  "Not that I don't trust you. It's just . . ." His voice was cracking. "Maybe I just need to see."

  She smiled at him and turned to the portal. Back straight and chest high, she strode confidently through to show that it warranted no fear.

  She emerged in a cave system where the air felt damp and the faint whiff of rotten eggs teased her nose. The only light came from the glowing mushrooms punctuating the mossy walls.

  A long minute passed with no sign of her disciple. She swallowed her impatience and waited a minute more before returning through the portal.

  Tristis was standing rooted to the spot and on the verge of tears.

  "I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry . . ."

  In another timeline, this boy became a decorated hunter. Kyra reminded herself that this was his early days. Even the most grizzled veteran was once a green recruit. And she was dealing with a rich boy whose childhood had been preparing him for the boardroom. You can't throw a kid like that into a trench and expect him to start digging right away.

  "It's all right." She kept her voice soft and soothing while shoving down the doubts inside. "The first one is always the hardest."

  "I d-don't want to let you down," he stammered. "B-but looking at that thing . . ."

  She wrapped her arms around him. He was bigger than her, yet somehow seemed so small. Barely more than a child, and far short of the warrior she expected.

  "Would it help if we went through together?" she said.

  "Let . . . let's try that."

  She grabbed his hand. Cold and clammy. "Step in time with me. No hesitating."

  He nodded.

  Three steps to the portal.

  From the first step his breathing halted.

  At the second his eyes were closed.

  At the third his grip tightened.

  And they were through.

  On the other side she gave him a moment to settle his nerves. Monsters didn't usually roam near the entrance, and she would hear them coming with ample warning.

  It appeared that the portal was the worst of it, as her disciple's spirit of wonderment had returned. He ran his hand along the uneven wall before plucking a mushroom to sniff at it.

  "This place feels so real."

  "Everything that happens here is real as anywhere else," she said. "Stay alert and keep your weapon ready."

  The tunnel trailed deeper into the cave, gradually sloping down and wound by unpredictable curves. Behind the sulfur she picked up a hint of blood and signaled to Tristis. They crept forward until they came around a corner to a pit wolf picking at the flesh of a fresh kill. Sometimes dungeons spawned giant rodents that were preyed on by the other monsters.

  She turned to Tristis. "An easy opponent for your first battle."

  One of the weakest monsters, and it was alone. She couldn't have hoped for a better scenario.

  Her disciple stepped forward with his quarterstaff ready. The wolf raised its head and snarled. Saliva dripped from its blood-stained fangs.

  Tristis became rooted to the spot. The tip of his quarterstaff bobbed unsteadily.

  "You've got this!" She called out words of encouragement. "Trust in your abilities."

  The wolf stepped in front of its kill, the fresh smear of blood against white fur creating the illusion of a larger jaw. Its growl, deep and guttural, made the boy take an involuntary step back.

  "Focus!" she snapped.

  The boy lengthened his staff. Not a useful change in stance but an action rooted in fear, an instinctive desire to keep the danger at a distance. His feet were halfway undecided between breaking and running.

  There was a sinking feeling in Kyra's stomach. This was the disciple she chose. The success of this timeline—and her destiny—depended on this boy. She was going to be sick.

  "Let's regroup."

  She pulled him back around the corner and watched the wolf cautiously return to its grisly meal.

  "I'm sorry," the boy was muttering. "I'm sorry."

  Such a far cry from the extraordinary hunter described in Benny's dossiers.

  But the potential had to be there. She just had to draw it out. She had to.

  "Gather yourself and we can try again," she said.

  He nodded and closed his eyes. Ten breaths later they were open again. "I'm ready."

  "Are you sure? You can take your time."

  "I want to do it now."

  There was a spark of determination in his eyes, but it was mixed in with fear and mania. He wasn't his right self, and this decision wasn't of his right mind. It would have been best to lead him back out of the dungeon. But if she'd cared about what was best for him, she wouldn't have walked him through the portal. She wouldn't have taught him magic. She would never have dropped into his life.

  She followed him around the corner once more. The pit wolf was more aggressive for being disturbed a second time and immediately adopted a lower posture, ready to pounce.

  The boy, to his credit, while trembling, gathered the courage to inch forward.

  The pit wolf lunged. Kyra had her sword ready to intervene. But the boy surged forward, meeting the attack with his own.

  Contact! The staff pressed into the wolf's chest. Unprepared for the shock that rippled down his arm, the boy lost the opportunity to follow up. He stumbled while the wolf crashed behind him, and both scrambled to regain their stance.

  All her disciple's fear and doubt had burned away and been replaced by rugged determination. All he'd needed was the proof of that one small success.

  The two combatants met again. This time Tristis knew to brace himself, and this left him in prime position while the wolf was scrabbling, and he brought the staff down heavy on the creature's neck.

  His hands were shaking from the come-down of adrenaline when she approached. "You did well."

  His eyes lit up at her praise, though uncertainty and guilt continued bubbling behind the lens. "I've never killed an animal before."

  "Don't rich boys grow up hunting rabbits on their family's land?"

  "It's my brother. Dad brought some game home once. Sam was so upset. He's the reason I never joined Dad on his trips, and eventually Dad gave them up too."

  "Your brother really loves animals, huh?"

  "I do too," he said quietly, gaze wandering down to the dead pit wolf.

  She pointed at his arm. "Better take care of that."

  The sight of the gash seemed to come as a surprise to him. With some pressure from his hand, the wound closed up, and then he turned to her in confusion.

  "That took almost no effort. My therapy on Sam leaves me completely drained."

  "Privilege of a hunter, I suppose," she replied.

  That first victory was the turning point for Tristis. In the subsequent encounters, he charged in confidently, striking down monster after monster. Kyra couldn't help comparing his performance against her first night in a dungeon, and if you ignored the initial hiccups, it was clear who was the better talent.

  It wasn't just that he started at a higher physical baseline. She could see something more to him. The reason he'd been featured in Benny's list of potential recruits. The seed of greatness was there.

  But great talent or not, it was impossible to start out without injuries, and though his were fewer and less severe, he didn't have the benefit as she did of a master with the gift of healing. And so it was after a particularly nasty battle with a giant bat that this adventure had to come to an end.

  He was applying pressure to his neck with both hands, but it wasn't enough to stop the blood from billowing through.

  "It isn't closing," he said, the panic rising in his voice.

  "You're out of mana."

  It was precisely for this occasion that she'd brought along some healing potions. She poured the contents of a vial through his lips and he gulped it all down.

  The outflow stopped, and color returned to his cheeks.

  It was bad luck that his last injury before running out of mana had been so severe. She'd hoped it would be a lighter one that could be treated later. Now she was down one precious healing potion. This way of training simply wasn't sustainable. Her inability to acquire the gift of healing was holding everything back.

  "You've done well tonight," she said. "Now you can stand back and enjoy the rest of the show."

  "You're going to fight?" He sounded like a boy who'd just found out that his aunt would be racing in tonight's monster-truck rally.

  "Just make sure you stand well back."

  It was a needless warning as he could barely keep up with her running from one encounter to the next without pause. Unlike her training sessions with Benny, she didn't have hold back on her magic, and the combination of sword and fire felled all the monsters with ease.

  It was when she was fishing through the pockets of the defeated dungeon boss for treasures that Tristis, watching behind her, couldn't help asking, "Were you just showing off for my benefit?"

  "I thought I could be a source of inspiration," she replied. "You're capable of so much more than you can imagine."

  "I'm already fully commited," he said. "Wherever this journey takes us, I'm with you all the way."

  If he could say that after everything he'd been through tonight, she was ready to rely on him.