“Yes, yes.” She waved him off. “As I’ve said, I don’t have a choice or notice when I get pulled from a Mission.” She turned to face him, her voice softening. “But I’m sorry.”
“What do you mean by ‘pulled’ and ‘disappeared’ for a mission?” Taren asked, then his gaze sharpened. “And how are you that old? What he did to extend his youth was...”
Rynna shivered, unable to suppress the chill that ran down her spine. She didn’t want to think about all the lives Kaelith had taken just to keep himself alive.
For you, a small voice sounded in the back of her mind.He was waiting for you.
She shook her head, banishing the thought. This was the hard part. Explaining something that sounded absolutely insane.
“I’m sent where I’m needed,” she began slowly. “Different worlds. Different times. Whenever there’s a threat so massive that failure means the end of everything, I get...inserted where I can help prevent it.”
Taren’s mouth dropped open slightly, disbelief etched across his face.
“That’s why I don’t really age much,” she continued. “I get...almost...reset every time I’m moved. I don’t keep detailed memories of previous Missions, only fragments and the accumulated skills.”
“That’s why you know the old ways of martial arts and rarely use the Source?” Taren asked. “And why you trained us in them all the time?”
“I don’t know if I would call them old ways, so much as foundational,” Rynna shrugged. “Every world has magic or power that people can leverage. And while it usually comes in different flavors or with different rules, at its fundamental core, it's all the same thing. Exerting your Will on the world.”
“Except…” Taren paused, thinking. “The Source is different, not part of the fundamental core.”
Well fuck. Her jaw dropped. That was it, wasn’t it? That’s what her instincts had been screaming every time she touched it.
“If that’s true.” She frowned. “We are well and truly fucked.”
She’d thought all the Outsiders had been locked away. Millenia ago.But how else would there be non-foundational power at play?
“You wouldn’t know as part of your mission?” Kaelith asked.
“No.” She shook her head. “I only get the knowledge that I’m on a Mission and…that I don’t really belong there.”
She dropped her head, the weight of her words hanging between them.
Kaelith’s fingers slipped gently into hers. “You belong here, Rynna. With me. With Fenn. This is real.”
“And with Fang Unit.” Taren nodded.
“Just like that?” She looked at them both, brows furrowing.
“What you’re saying fits with a lot of things I’ve discovered these past five years.” He paused. “Plus, you’ve never lied before. Don’t think I didn’t notice how you always skirtedaround truths you didn’t want to share. But you never lied outright. And I don’t see any evidence of Source manipulation from the snake.”
“Okay.” Rynna blinked, caught off guard by his quick acceptance. “So…”
“If you’re here, our world’s seriously screwed, and I’ve got bigger worries than that monster.” Taren turned to Kaelith, his gaze hard. “I still don’t trust you and will likely kill you when this is over, but for now...where is Guide Fenn? We need to end the horde and get to the real threat.”
Rynna tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. The memory of Fenn’s body being dragged into the void felt too raw, too fresh.
“They wounded him mortally and took him,” Kaelith exhaled. “We were escorting villagers back to the regiment, hoping to find Skarn, but it was a trap. The reanimated corpses of the Ember Demons ambushed us.”
Taren’s body went rigid. “I see. Tell me everything. But make it quick. We don’t have much time.”
“Time for what?” Rynna asked.
“Time to save him.” His smile was devoid of warmth. “And finally end that weasel Skarn. I can’t let Bran have all the fun on the northern front.”
“To save him?” Hope flared within her. “You heard the part about the mortal wound, right?”
“I did. I’ll explain on the way. We need to move.” Taren darted off toward the setting sun.
