What a fuckin’ week. It’s just been thing after thing after thing without any kind of happy ending, you know? I know it’s kinda childish to think people do get happy endings, that you’re going to meet your one true love and all will be well and one day you’re gonna be on your deathbed, smiling, knowing that it was worth it. Gods, I don’t even really know where I got that kinda thought from. Nobody I know has gone quiet into the good night. It’s been struggle, suffering, and bloodshed. Everything in between has been money and survival. Nothing more, nothing less. Gods, where do I even begin? It started when mom called me to do her a favor. Now, if you think I’m nuts, then you’ve never met my mom. I should have let the phone ring, or told her, like I have before, to just leave me alone.

  And now here I am sitting in a field of white flowers and grass and bathed in gummy sunshine, because this must be what happens to people who kick the bucket, right? You go to places like this to reflect for all eternity. This blows, I think, laying in the grass, staring up at the clouds lazily floating through the endless blue. The one time I go out of my way to help someone, and look where it gets me—shot through the head in freaking Dogway East.

  I’d rather just get ripped apart by some homicidal Werewolf instead of having my body get picked clean by whatever raider groups get their hands on me, but…I guess it doesn’t matter now. I finally tripped over some bad luck that I can’t just shrug and forget about. The nail through my foot should have been a warning, some omen.

  But I’m terrible at those, and don’t really believe in fate or karma either. Just shit luck.

  So…I guess this is eternity. I roll onto my elbow and pluck flowers out of the soil. They come away easily, their petals dancing through the breeze and over the hills beyond. It’s not that bad here. I mean, there’s no debt for one, or that damn Elf wanting her rent earlier than expected, or Ricky wanting his cash, or some disembodied lady getting her shit butchered and wanting me to help her, but again, what to do? Eighteen years, Kace. Eighteen years, and it ends ‘cause of some thug who wanted to make a quick buck. I laugh to myself and slowly sit back upright.

  I hang my head and let the breeze toy with my hair. I bask in the silence, for once letting it fill my mind. It almost feels like there’s been a weight I’ve just let go of. My mind feels gooey. A mess of thoughts and emotions I totally don’t want to untangle, so I let myself stew, staring at the grass blades I twist around my fingers like rings.

  When I sigh and finally look up, expecting nothing but grassy hillsides, I pause.

  And find a woman sitting opposite me. I startle and get to my feet, but she stays there in the grass, smiling at me the same way you would a child that’s just gotten freaked out from seeing an insect. She’s gorgeous. Drop dead stunning in her silver armor and its golden accents. I don’t recognize the symbol carved into her armor plating, this cycle and scythe crest shining a deep gold. Her sword lies on the grass beside her, long and sharp and if I saw it hanging around, I’d either try to buy it or steal it, the thing is so beautiful. Her face, though, has one long scar running from her left eye all the way to her jaw. Her eyes are solid stormy gray orbs, and her hair is this veil of blonde hair that falls around her shoulders, wavy and thick and brighter than sunlight. She pats the grass beside her, and I guess if she’s not attacking me, I don’t really have a reason to fight. Either way, she’d probably kill me, too.

  Her sword is nearly as large as me, so it wouldn’t be too hard for someone so armed for battle.

  But still, I sit opposite her, a little out of reach.

  She smiles. “Wary,” she says. Her voice comes from the wind itself. Everything around us moves when she speaks, from the grass to the flowers and all the way into my bone marrow. “But I don’t pose any kind of threat.”

  “Can you blame me?” I ask her. “I just had a slug put between my eyes by some two-bit gangster.”

  The woman laughs, and the flowers blossom and ripen almost instantly. “Yes, that is true. Quite the conundrum when metal pierces your skull like that. Believe me when I tell you I understand your predicament.”

  Judgin’ by that scar on your face, I’m not surprised.

  But I’ve gotta ask… “Who are you? And why do you know that? You’re not, like, an actual god, right?”

  She shakes her head. She’s got a braid of white hair hanging beside her face, one that comes loose in the wind, and one she takes a lot of care tucking behind her ear. “Oh, certainly not. They’re much too proud to come here and see one of their Mages in person. They would much rather send a message without stepping foot here.”

  “So you’re their messenger?” I ask, which is gonna be something. People believe in the gods, but the thing is, only really ancient texts talk about them, and the Five Guilds make very sure people don’t stop believing either. You’re taught songs in schools (I think), and according to what I’ve heard, kids perform plays about them, too. Are they real? Beats me. Ask the philosopher I live next to, because pondering endlessly pays nobody’s bills, I promise.

  “No,” she says, smiling softly. “I’m more of an…aid.”

  “And what’s that got to do with me?”

  “Quite a lot, actually,” she says. “Seeing that you’ve now reached the moment in your life that will require you to choose what happens next.” She pulls one of her legs toward her and rests her arm on it. She’s got this air to her that’s so…comforting. So homely and warm that a part of me almost wants to reach out and touch her, but I keep my fingers busy by plucking away at the grass. “For one, you could remain here alongside me for eternity. Life here is pretty great. You no longer hunger or thirst, and there’s no reason for you to continue to suffer. Once a millenia or so, a god will call upon you to do their bidding or ensure a prophecy, guide the dead or, as you would say, do their chores for them. Quite the calm existence, I must say.” Then her eyes twinkle, as if the swirling grayness in those orbs just lit up with lightning in the hungering depths of a growing storm. “Or you choose the less trodden path, and bare arms against the gods themselves.”

  The wind makes the grass rustle and hush, swaying and shifting around us in whispers.

  “What?” I ask quietly. “I’m sorry, you lost me at millenia.”

  “Their duties are quite easy, for one—”

  “No,” I say, leaning forward. “I don’t think you understand what I’m getting at, lady. I just fucking died, right? I just got capped in between my eyes, and now here I am in freaking Heaven or whatever, being asked to either become a house maid for people I thought didn’t really exist, or start a coup against literal freaking gods.”

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  She blinks, then nods her head. “Yes, that’s right. Two simple choices, both with eternal consequences.”

  “That’s insane!” I say. She has the nerve to giggle. I point my finger at her. “Stop screwing with me.”

  The woman holds up her gloved hands. “I do not kid, trust me. It is true that you have unfortunately died, after what was a grueling several months for you.” Her voice softens, and she reaches out for my hand. I pull away out of reflex, and she chooses to rest her palm against my knee. “You living until this point is testament alone to what you have been able to withstand for so long. A testament to your tenacity and the pure, unbridled faith you had in yourself to ensure you alone could face any problem and win. But for however much you tried, the universe had other ideas for you, didn’t it? Friend after friend, family after family, perishing in a never ending quest fueled solely by the goodwill that burns within your chest. And yet you do not concede to the world. That, Kacey, is why you’re sitting here right now in front of me. Your life has been a tragedy from the moment your father mistakenly thought he wore protection, to the moment your own mother put a knife in your stomach and left you to bleed.”

  My eyes narrow. I put a hand to my gut from her words alone. “Calling me a mistake, that it?”

  “No,” she says simply, her thumb still rubbing my knee. “I call you unfortunate. Pain, suffering, these things do not have to exist for you. Stay here with me in eternal bliss. You will age, but by the time you are old enough to drink, decades would have passed within the confines of Pangea.” She shakes her head. “Sorry, that’s her old name, isn’t it? Earth.” And then that gleam in her eyes shows itself again, and now the wind is colder, harder against my skin. “Or you forsake the gods and the path they have placed you on even before your conception. Retaliate against those who forged your tail even before you had the opportunity to put a blade to their throats and demand they stop. No single person on this Earth deserves to be controlled, not by the Fates, nor the Gods and their books of prophecy and their incantations of faith. You alone write your own destiny, Kacey, or rest in eternal bliss.”

  I stare at her for a long time, the wind lashing against me, making our hair dance violently.

  “You want me,” I say quietly, “to fight the Gods out of spite?”

  “Forsake them, yes,” she says, grinning. Starving. A wolf with an opportunity. “A child they damned for an ancestor’s sins heeds their own call and slays them with their own bullish writings. What a story, wouldn’t it be?”

  “You’re batshit crazy,” I whisper, and can’t help but smile. “And I kinda dig it, lady.”

  “Andrea,” she tells me. “Child of Prophecy to the Gods, Hero of Mages, servant to mankind.”

  “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of you.”

  “Oh, trust me. You and I will be very well acquainted.” She stands, holding out her arm. I grab her forearm and she lifts me off the ground. She’s tall. Way taller than I can probably ever hope to be. “But if you’re to choose this pathway, Kacey, I’ll warn you now that it won’t be easy. You are not my vessel, you are not my will—you will, and have always been, yourself. Be just that and even more.” She places her hand on my shoulder and gently squeezes. Warmth bubbles inside of me, filling my throat, making me smile. I’ve never felt cozy around adults, not once in my life, but she feels like security. Safety. But also more than that. She feels like a storm bottled inside of a woman. “Before you leave, tell me one thing: your deepest secret, your deepest ever desire, what is it, actually?”

  “I mean,” I say, scratching the back of my head. “It sounds kinda silly.”

  “There’s no such thing as a silly dream. They hold value to someone.”

  “Then…” I sigh. The wind silences around us. “I…wanna be like Alxeandria Thorne.”

  I wanna be the Guild Master herself.

  It sounds stupid, for someone like me to even get there. With my kind of luck, I’d probably trip and die the moment I reach her throne, let alone get anywhere close to any of the Five Guilds. It’s an idea I’ve had for years, one that’s played out in my dreams since I was a kid. Over and over again, standing in front of the world with that golden sword and billowing regalia and…Happy endings aren’t really for people like me, so I’ll focus on getting Jane her body back somehow, and figuring out who trashed my apartment first. Then I’ll pay my dues and keep saving my extra cash, which I would have used to pay for the Mageforge Entrance exam, if my apartment hadn’t been ransacked and my stash of Drachma stolen in the process. You don’t break into someone’s house and run off with their future in your pocket. That’s not how this shit works. My ticket out of that apartment was that apartment.

  Now someone has it, and I don’t play nice with other people.

  I hadn’t told Sabel because you keep those kinds of things to yourself. You go around telling people you’ve got several Drachma on you, and suddenly you’ve got the same thugs who killed me on your case. People would want their money. People would want to get rich and leave that shitty street and make it big. That was me.

  Until my home got broken into.

  Andrea smiles, proud, her teeth white, her cheeks full. “Whether or not you do it is up to you, child. But may your conviction and your hatred for the guilds burn brighter than any flame the Mage Queen can conjure.”

  I pause. “I never said I hated the guilds.”

  “Oh, trust me, child,” she says. “We all do, us warriors. Eventually.”

  “Say that I do,” I ask, “what do you actually want me to do about it?”

  Andrea leans in and lowers her voice. “Be the next to burn them all down.” With that, she grins wide. She opens her hands, and in one, a quill appears—in her right hand, comes a piece of paper. I take it from her after she gestures for me to read it, and it’s all in a language I cannot understand. Something I probably did learn in middle school but was too busy with mom on her misadventures. I look up at Andrea. “A contract,” she explains. “By any chance, you know what a Blessing is, yes? And what it can entail if you agree to having one embedded in you?”

  “I guess?” I say, shrugging. “Uber rare and damned expensive to get your hands on, if at all.”

  “Correct,” she says, nodding. “I’d explain what this Blessing Contract entails in full, but you’re currently needed far more back in your world than you are here. Rather, the time it will take for the Blessing to fully come in effect will take some time, and where you’re going… Well, I suppose it’s better you are not told the entire truth.”

  “Wait a minute,” I say, shaking the piece of paper. “You’re giving me, Kacey Summers, a Blessing?”

  “Yes!” Andrea grins even wider. “Now sign the contract, and pledge yourself to this omen.”

  Hm. Now, on the one hand, I could be selling my soul to some Demon that’s tricking me right now, and what that means could be eternal damnation, fiery pits of eternal hellfire, skin being stripped off my bones for all of time and beyond, but on the other hand… Fuck me, a free Blessing? You know how hard one of these things is to get your hands on? My entire family’s history practically boils down to us trying to hunt at least one of them down, and we’ve been at it for hundreds of years and have gotten a grand total of one. Even finding someone with a Blessing is a pain in the neck, but trying to get one off them is a nightmare come true, nearly impossible, like tricking an Elf out of their money, and here I am, about to get one on a silver platter. It sounds too good to be true. So many people in my family have died trying to find them. Close but no cigar every single time. And yet…

  And yet, I’m gonna be the one who gets it. Me. Kacey freakin’ Summers.

  Maybe I should hesitate, maybe I should think this through.

  But when fate looks you in the eyes, you grin and shake her hand. In this case, though?

  I sign my name on her dotted line.