By now, I’ve opened the door fully, catching a glimpse of a bed in the dark room. From a pile of heavy blankets and pillows, someone rises heavily. Everything in my body is telling me to run away. Under silver waves of long hair, sharp green eyes look back at me. I flinch, and they turn behind me,

I sit right where I am for a long moment, before I force my legs to work. “Thank you for the advice.” I say dryly “But I don’t think I’d have the chance to follow. I’m returning to my world.” She snorts at that “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I don’t turn to look back as I open the door and leave.

Two days passed slowly. I did my best to sleep the whole way to Fenrir, but I’ve long since lost whatever it is that makes people succumb to sleep. Instead, my hours pass in a whirlwind of thoughts. What could the Church have to do with me now? When it did not care as I traveled across the country

I can’t sleep. I lay in the narrow bed with Lydia at my side, snoring. On a mat on her side of the floor is Gunter, sleeping soundly. I sit up, feeling nauseous. It’s the second night of our travels, and despite my string of hope that I might be randomly teleported to my own world, it hasn’t happ

“What’d you say, hag?” He growls “Look at her mark,” Lydia moves over to where Gunther is crouched, holding onto him “Look if you don’t believe me!” What? My world tilts once more as harsh fingers shove the sleeves of my coat and shirt, until the ink that spirals from down my wrist nearly all the