"You've just been living two lives this whole time?" Misa asked, half impressed and half in disbelief. Her mother snickered at her expression.

"Is it that hard to believe?" Charise smirked a little. "It's not that hard."

"You're controlling two bodies!"

"Misa. You have a skill that allows you to split into an almost arbitrary number of copies of yourself and you control them simultaneously in combat."

"I don't control them," Misa grumbled. "They're all me. We just know each other well enough to work together."

"And I know myself well enough to work in two bodies." Charise grinned a smug grin.

"I don't think that's how it works, mom."

"Well, I'm the one with two bodies, so I get to say how it works."

Misa laughed.

It felt... good. It felt good to be able to laugh with her mother again. She'd spent some time with Orkas and Charise both after they'd been brought back from death, in that little bit of time they had before they had to set out to Elyra again — and she'd spent a little more time with her mother when she summoned her to help out in Fendal.

But this was different. The world was still at stake, yes, and there were many, many things they still needed to understand, but there was no ongoing crisis and no imperative for Misa to leave. Not yet, anyway. They did have a task, of course. They needed to figure out how to adjust [An Anchor of Heart and Home] so that it folded into Fendal and Teque as well as J'rokksur.

It was just that this was a part of it. Talking to her mother again, immersing herself in the idea of home, even though she was sitting in the middle of Fendal instead of in J'rokksur.

Many of the villagers from her home had come to visit, too. The walls may have been unfamiliar — the streets weren't the trampled-dirt pathways she was used to from her childhood, and the buildings were too rigid, too organized to be of orcish design — but with so many of the people she knew, people she'd considered almost as close as family...

Well, it felt like home again, anyway.

"Do you ever think about what you're going to do once all this is over?" Charise asked. Misa glanced up at her mother, surprised at the sudden question; Charise laughed. "Don't give me that face. Come on. You've been thinking about protecting your friends. What do you want to do after that?"

"I don't know," Misa admitted. She glanced down at her hand, flexed it once, watched her fingers open and close over the shaft of her mace. "But... This is the life I love, mom. There isn't an after for me. I mean, maybe when I'm old and rickety and stuck at home, I guess." She snickered.

"Adventuring, then?" Charise asked.

"Adventuring," Misa confirmed. "And helping people. And doing it with my friends."

"Meaning you haven't changed since you were five," Charise teased.

Misa groaned. "Mom."

"I'm not wrong."

"No," Misa admitted. "I know you haven't spent as much time with them as I have, but... they were my family while you were gone. They still are."

"Then why don't you tell me about them?" Charise smiled, clapping her hands once. "I'm sure there's plenty of new stories you have to tell. Oh! Let me get your father first. He'll want to hear the stories, too."

"Okay," Sev said. "Let me get this straight. You're all people I recruited in past iterations of Obreve?"

"Yes," Muchen said. Sev still wasn't sure what to make of this group of people — they didn't seem at all like the type of people he'd choose to work with. Not willingly, anyway. They were too serious by half.

He supposed he couldn't blame them, though, considering the circumstances. He was just used to something... different.

"And you've been helping keep things stable in each iteration," Sev said. "You guys keep your memories through every Reset?"

"Not entirely," Aisha said, glancing at the others. "It tends to filter in slowly, in bits and pieces. You said something about hacking the anchors so they'd restore more of our memories."

"I did?" Sev consulted his own memories for a moment. Sometimes, he felt like a stranger looking at his own history. "...I guess I did."

He couldn't remember how, nor did it really matter, at this point. The anchors weren't stable enough to handle any more modification of that sort, and they wouldn't be able to handle another Reset. Like it or not, this was going to be their last try at saving everyone and everything.

"But just to be clear," Sev added, "you don't actually know how we're going to solve this? I didn't leave behind some secret template or anything."

"Really wish you did." The one that spoke up was an enormous orc by the name of Gorash; he stood in the corner of the room, leaning against the wall. He was one of the less social ones here, by Sev's reckoning. "Woulda made things a lot less confusing."

"I was probably just as confused," Sev muttered.

This was... frustrating, he had to admit. Meeting these people felt like it should have given him a clue — something he could go on to start fixing everything. But everyone here was just as lost as he was. He hadn't learned anything. All they had was access to a bunch of old technology he no longer remembered how to use, and a few techniques to jailbreak anchors...

...actually, now that he thought about it, he'd initially dismissed the idea because most anchors were unstable. There was one anchor that was still stable.

Misa's.

"Okay," Sev said after a moment. "Let's break it down again. We've got three different types of anchors: The Prime Anchor at the center of each Kingdom; the Grand Anchor stored in a Vault beneath each Kingdom; and the regular reality anchors stored in every dungeon scattered roughly equidistant across the continent."

Aisha nodded. "Yes. The Prime Anchors hold together all the smaller reality anchors in the region and sustain the industry and civilization within each Kingdom. They're what allow more complex spells and technologies to operate. Smaller reality anchors can't do nearly as much. They mostly act as relays."

"What about Misa's anchor, then?" Sev pointed out. "She's got a reality anchor and it's essentially functioning as a Prime Anchor without being connected to or reliant on one. It's not like it's being supported by the Elyran Prime Anchor anymore."The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The others exchanged glances. "We aren't sure," Muchen admitted. "It's almost like it's got the function of a Prime."

"Might be all the reality shards you've been feeding it," Aisha said.

"Or just something about it being attached to a person instead of sitting in the Void," Muchen said thoughtfully.

Sev frowned, shaking his head. "Maybe the reality shard thing," he said, although he sounded unconvinced. "Or one of the system's adaptive changes."

"Or your weird friend," Gerald remarked. He'd been silent for most of the conversation — Sev got the distinct impression most of the others didn't like the guy, not that Gerald seemed to mind. He stood in the corner of the room, his hair unkempt, observing the discussion with a surprisingly keen gaze. "Metaphysically weird, that is."

"Who, Derivan?" Sev thought about it. "He might have used Patch to do something to Misa's anchor, I guess. I know he's tried to look at our systems a few times. But I think he would've let us know if he did anything this significant."

"You know him better than I do," Gerald said with a shrug.

It could've been a cumulative effect, Sev thought. Maybe a combination of a few different factors, along with the influence Misa herself no doubt exerted on her anchor just by being its host. The system was adaptive to a degree, and considering how often she pushed her anchor to sort through every adjacent reality and choice...

He could see it.

"You said I left behind manuals," Sev said eventually. "Things that explain how the anchors work, that kind of thing?"

"It's in the next room over," Aisha said, nodding toward a door. "Be careful if you go in there, though."

"Why?"

Gerald yawned. "You didn't wonder why we didn't contact your earlier about this whole thing?" he asked. "Your status effects."

Sev frowned. He hadn't thought about those in a while — one of his maluses changing to a four-letter word, still lost to the system. He still had the [Fatebroken] status effect, too, although he could feel its influence waning. "You know what they are?"

Gerald pointed, and Sev startled as a system window popped up at the man's command. "Don't see the point in obfuscating this one," he grunted.

[Fatebroken] [Malus]

Applied by [Sacrifice to the Lost]. Modified by <ERROR>. The choices you can make in any given situation are limited by the futures you have chosen to give up. The futures you have given up have been selected by an unknown entity. You are not your own.