The gates to Sablewyn were just coming ahead, which, all things considered, was a pretty solid promise of freedom. Especially as the countdown clock was getting to be pretty insistent about our approaching doom . . .

However, by the sheer number of city guards coming at us from every direction, decked out in full armour, and wielding weapons that looked as if they'd been forged in the heart of some unfairly difficult dungeon, I didn't think this was going to be a walk in the park.

Lia slowed, her gaze flicking on the mass of guards bearing down on us, and turned to me, a glint of resignation in her eyes. "Go," she said. "I've got a couple of abilities that will be able to hold the aggro for long enough for you to be able to sneak out."

"Fair enough," Jorgen said, stepping forward.

"Not fair enough!" I reached out and grabbed him by the collar, dragging him back behind us. This was what the Maker had scripted to happen, wasn't it? Lia was to do the whole hero self-sacrifice thing, and I was expected just to stand by and watch?

"Can we all just chill the beans for a moment!" I kept an eye on the closing guards. Despite all the obvious buffs they now had due to our Outlaw statuses, they still were looking pretty uncertain about things. "There's got to be a different option for us here."

"It was always going to turn out like this. Take my dad and get out when I pull them. I'll buy you as much time as I can. Once you get outside the walls, the Outlaw debuff will drop off, and you should be able to slip away."

"But why!" I said. "Why go down like this? And for someone who's let you down hard? Your dad doesn't deserve you to sacrifice yourself like this!"

"Hey!" Jorgen started to protest, but both of us turned and gave him the look. "Okay. Fair point."

Lia looked at me. Then she said, soft as snowfall, "I'm not doing it for him. There's something about Anchorfall. Something still waiting. And it's not going to stay quiet forever. You felt it too, didn't you? When we were near the Threshold?"

I didn't say anything. She didn't need me to.

"This world needs a Warden," she went on. "Not just someone who can swing a sword or light a torch. Someone who will stand the line."

"And you think that's me?"

"I know it is," she said. "The Veil doesn't just want any Warden. It wants you. Which means I want you there too. Because when things cross through the Threshold, you need to be the ones to meet them." She smiled then. "I'm not doing this for him," she said. "I'm doing it for what's coming. And for the one person I know won't run when it does. If this is what the Maker has intended for me, then I am fine with it."

My eyes landed on the figure of Jorgen, looking to all the world like the shiftiest muppet in the shop. Oh, hell no. I was absolutely not having Lia's death be the catalyst for this sorry example of a human being's redemption arc. Screw that idea. And the donkey it rode in on.

"Lia," I said, "I'm not going to let you do this. Trust me on this, but I don't think the Maker really has your best interest at heart here. I'm not leaving you here to go out like some tragic hero. That's not today's vibe."

"I don't know," Jorgen said. "I kind of feel that, seeing my little girl sacrifice herself once again to save my life, could be just the motivation I need to finally clean up my act. After witnessing her heroism, I reckon I'll probably make going straight stick, maybe set up a little Forge in her name and start making Epic-tier weapons that the Empire can use to get the upper hand over the Rebellion. To be honest, it kind of feels that this moment – Lia holding off Sablewyn 's guards in a doomed last stand - is the sort of activating incident that is probably the key plot beat in the tale of my life . . ."

He probably had much more to say in that vein. Unfortunately, someone punched him in the mouth, which obviously took him by surprise. Even more so, that it was me.

Standing over the unconscious man, shaking out my hand like I'd just slapped the arrogance off a drum kit, I sent up a quiet thought. Not to any Maker. To the person who'd thrown me face-first into this mess in the first place.

"You listening, Aunt M?"

Nothing.

I took a breath and tried again. "Look, I know you're probably busy unpicking metaphysical knitting or whatever a soul does when it's in limbo, but this - this right here - feels kind of important. Like, potentially one of those critical junctions that gets cited in one of those cautionary tales you loved so much."

Still silence.

Then, quietly, behind my left eye and three inches deeper than my skull, her voice: warm, weary, and already irritated.

Eli. What are you doing?

"What you tricked me here to do!" I said. "I'm trying not to let other people die."

You're not ready for this sort of confrontation. There may well come a time when you can directly confront the Maker, but not today. You need to withdraw and quickly.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"Right, well, the timeline didn't ask my opinion. There's a girl about to be butchered for bureaucratic convenience, and I am not going to sit back and let that happen."

That's all very admirable, my boy. But you do not have anywhere near the power to stand in the way of what is about to come down.

"I know! That's why we're talking."

Eli, I've already done far more to help you than I thought I would ever be allowed to get away with. If I interfere again, you will not be recognised by the System. You'll never be Guardian of the Threshold. That's not dramatic flair, that's rulebook fact.

"You brought me here. And you don't get to do that and expect me to let someone else take the blade in my place. I can live with being locked out from more progress, but I can't live with being the kind of man who lets that happen. Not in this lifetime. And I don't think you really want me to, either."

There was more silence.

What is left of my here is limited. And thinning. I've had to bend everything just to keep you alive, Eli. The System already knows I've overstepped. One more push and—

A dry voice crackled through the ether like a disappointed voicemail from an angry librarian. Forsyth.

This is highly irregular, Margaret.

Do we really need to count favours, Forsyth? Because I distinctly recall a situation involving a furious Death Knight, a stolen kilt, and a very creative use of illusion magic where you were not so concerned about regularity.

That kilt was culturally significant, the voice of Forsyth snapped. And it wasn't an illusion, it was—

Focus, Aunt M said.

A sigh. The sound of someone polishing their spectacles mid-eye-roll.

Fine. I should be able to sneak through a very temporary buff. Twenty levels to Aggro Magnetism. Twenty seconds. But that will mean the slate is clean, Margaret.

"How's that going to help me? I can already aggro these guys as much as I need to! At which stage, they'll kill me"

At that level, your Aura will gain the Terrifying Intimidation buff. Anyone below Level 15 in the area will immediately register you as a high-threat anomaly. Psychologically, tactically, metaphysically... let's just say City Guard don't have a 'deal with this' protocol. They'll freeze up, said the voice of Aunt M.

"Oh."

Well, some of them will, Forsyth said. scream. Others will run. Some will wet themselves. Occasionally, they form a jazz band. Results vary.

"Do it," I said.

Eli, Aunt M said. Please understand this will be it as far as cards I have to play for you. I had hoped to keep this in reserve until you really needed it. There will be nothing more I can do …

"I understand. Thank you."

Brace yourself, Warden, Forsyth said.

The world buckled.

It wasn't a dramatic boom, more like reality took a cautious half-step back to re-evaluate whether it really wanted to be here. I felt a pulse rippled out from me, like I'd just shouted in a dead language no one had heard since the stars cooled.

A notification appeared. A new tag appeared above my head.

[Aggro Magnetism – Temporary Buff Active]

Level: 25

Status: Terrifying Intimidation (Enabled)

Duration Remaining: 20 seconds

The guards advancing towards us froze like statues waking from a bad dream. One took a step, paused, and actually whimpered. Another dropped his halberd like it had developed fangs. Then one of them broke. Turned. Ran. The rest followed like panicked sheep from a lit barbecue.

"Well," I said, "that's a level worth waiting for."

That's it, Eli. I need to move on now.

"Thank you, Aunt M"

This is your story now. If you want to be the Guardian, you've got to win the right. Alone.

"I get it," I said. "But just for the record, I'm really glad you brought me here. And I love you. Even if you do meddle like a cosmic stage mum."

There was a sniff. Then silence.

And somewhere in the ether, Forsyth muttered, I still want my kilt back.

"Eli... is this you?"

Lia's voice held awe, disbelief, and, just under the surface, a note of something else. Not fear. Not confusion. Something closer to respect. Maybe even the start of belief.

"Maybe," I said, as the Aura pulsed outward in steady waves. The air around me shimmered like heat haze, warping the world. "But there's a time limit. So, unless you want to find out how this buff wears off mid-sprint, now would be an excellent time to run."

She didn't need telling twice.

She scooped her father up over her shoulder like he weighed nothing and bolted for the gate, boots punching into the frozen mud. I followed, eyes locked forward, teeth gritted as the pressure built behind my temples.

The guards didn't move. Couldn't. One tried to raise a hand. It shook, stalled, then lowered again like he was convincing himself this wasn't real. Another began to mouth something. An order? A prayer? A scream? Then stopped halfway, eyes glassy, weapon dangling from limp fingers.

We passed within a foot of them all. Nothing. Just the wide-eyed silence of men watching something far above their pay grade flee through their jurisdiction.

That was the power of Terrifying Intimidation, I supposed. The knowledge that whatever I was, it wasn't something they wanted to test on a Thursday afternoon in full armour.

I felt it pouring off me, a tidal presence radiating out like a siren wail only the frightened could hear. Still, I couldn't stop smiling. Because, yeah. I'd just walked straight through a fortress worth of armed guards, carrying the world's most morally complicated warrior and her unconscious debtor dad. And no one had even tried to stop me.

It wasn't how I expected to make my mark in Bayteran, but I'd take this.

We hit the outer gates at speed. The guards there were already halfway through debating whether to wet themselves or pretend they were statues. I raised an eyebrow and a nod that said you're doing amazing, sweetie, and they parted like theatre curtains. The gate opened. We sprinted through it.

And we were out.

Into the trees. Into the cold. Into freedom.

We didn't stop until the road turned to slush and the wind began to bite again. The buff flickered off with a soft chime, and I stumbled slightly, knees buckling under the sudden absence of power.

The glow faded. The world stopped trembling. And I grinned. But even as the adrenaline settled and the high pulsed warm in my gut, a smaller feeling took root. Not guilt, exactly. Not fear. Just... weight. Like I'd opened a door that wasn't going to close again.

We kept moving, putting distance between us and Sablewyn's walls, but I couldn't shake the sense that I'd just done something irrevocable.

Like maybe, just maybe, this was the point where the story changed tracks, and I wasn't entirely sure where the new rails led.

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