Sand crunched beneath my feet as I wandered another winding street, eyes fixed on the map hovering at the edge of my vision. My position blinked as a blue dot, creeping down a narrow lane bordered by white adobe homes. Each building wore splashes of blue paint and glittering mosaics depicting ocean waves—which made finding Rosamae's house a special kind of challenge, since they all looked nearly identical.

  If it weren't for the landmarks on my floating map, I'd never have found my own home. A thought occurred to me then: could I set my own markers?

  The word [Landmarks] appeared beneath the map.

  [Locations may be pinned on the map.]

  Another section expanded, displaying various pins—stars, skulls, dots.

  [You may select a pin and assign it an individual name and description.]

  I nodded slowly, watching the words fade. Who was talking to me, anyway? An idle thought, but no answer came.

  Funny—in all my years gaming, I'd never questioned tutorial text or interface prompts. Never wondered about the mind behind them. But now that I was essentially living inside one, I had to wonder: who was the architect of this world? The coder who seemed aware of my presence?

  I glanced up at the blue sky, a strange sensation settling over me like an invisible cloak. The feeling was…what? I couldn't name it. Maybe it was unique to people plucked from Earth and dropped onto alien worlds?

  Turning down another street, I emerged onto a small plaza centered around a fountain. A long line of people stretched from a tall adobe building painted in swirling, tie-dye blues. Men and women in simple tunics and trousers waited patiently, empty baskets in hand.

  What are they doing here? Getting handouts? I shrugged, looking at the fountain again. I recognized it from last night's walk to Rosamae's, which meant I was close. But four streets branched from this plaza, and I couldn't remember which I'd taken. I considered asking directions before remembering I didn't know her street name, or even if addresses existed here.

  Letting out a deep sigh, I massaged my temples, watching the line shuffle forward. A Tidewalker stood at a window, distributing what looked like food and supplies. As one person received their rations and moved away, a hooded figure stepped up and presented their basket.

  The Tidewalker's eyes widened. Though I couldn't hear the exchange, their expression twisted with sudden anger. The next moment, they hurled something that splattered across the hooded person's face. The recipient stumbled backward, basket tumbling as they crashed to the sand.

  "Hey!" I shouted, blood igniting in my veins as I ran forward. "What the hell is your problem?"

  The Tidewalker behind the counter gaped at me while others in line shifted uncomfortably, looking away. Their averted gazes only stoked my fury.

  "Why isn't anyone saying anything?" I demanded, gesturing to the fallen man. "Don't you see how screwed up this is?"

  I reached down and helped him up, his face dripping with pulpy slime. The line kept moving, the Tidewalker serving the next person as if we were invisible. Seriously? Oh my fricken gosh, why are people so stupid! I started toward the counter, fists clenched, but the man I'd helped caught my arm.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  A guard emerged from a doorway beside the window, wearing a breastplate of overlapping scales and a helmet shaped like a spiral conch shell. Yellow eyes gleamed within the shadow of his helm, gills opening beneath his cheekbones as he fixed me with an intense glare.

  "The Beachstrider already got his rations for the week," he said flatly. "Leave."

  I forced myself to breathe deeply—in through the nose, out through the mouth—trying to cool the rage boiling in my blood. I wanted to run up to that guy and sock him in the face. Instead, I gathered the scattered items that had fallen from the Beachstrider’s basket.

  "Come on," I said, picking up the basket and walking away from the crowd. The Beachstrider followed, wiping his face with a sleeve to reveal a pale, almost corpse-like complexion.

  I froze.

  A familiar corpse-like complexion.

  Those sunken eyes and long black hair—he was the one I'd seen sitting in the corner at the Masketeer Guild. He finished cleaning his face before holding out his hands for the basket.

  I swallowed hard as I handed it over. Fetch, he looked miserable. "Don't let that guy get to you," I said, nodding toward the window. "They're just assholes."

  He nodded, pale eyes dropping. Examining his gaunt features, I wondered… Was he homeless? A father or husband barely making ends meet? "I have food at my place," I offered. "I don't mind sharing."

  He shook his head. "No, thank you," he whispered, voice barely audible as he turned to limp away.

  "Wait!" I called after him, another question burning to be asked. "Do you know where Rosamae lives?" Worth a shot, even if they weren't exactly friends.

  He slowed, looking back with a frown before pointing to the leftmost street. "Most of the foreign exchange students live at the end of that street," he said softly, then continued on his way.

  I wanted to stop him, to force him to come to my—er, Zale’s—house. It was wrong to deny poor and needy people! And if he needed food, I’d give it to him… He won’t come, though. I knew that with a bone-deep certainty. With a sigh, I glanced over my shoulder and gave those jerks near the counter a dirty look.

  The guard watched me, face impassive, hands clasped behind his back. The sight of the food line and the distributor's sneering face made me snort in disgust before hurrying away.

  This world was little better than my own. Same old story—if you didn't have money, you didn't matter. I let out a sharp hiss through clenched teeth as memories surfaced: my sister denied treatment because of our father's empty wallet. I kicked the sand, sending a spray into the air as I passed a deep pool of water.

  Fish darted beneath the surface, vanishing into darkness. I hurried along, glancing at a larger pool on my left. Sand crawlers swam inside—all but one diving away at my approach. The remaining creature watched me, and I studied the familiar crack along the chitin on its back. Then it disappeared, leaving me to wonder how many of them had been attacked by those birds.

  I passed house after house, distinguished only by their unique painted patterns and mosaics. Though tempted to knock on doors, I hesitated. It was early still, the sun not yet risen, though the world grew steadily brighter.

  As I walked further down the street, the sound of sniffling reached my ears. Turning a corner, I found Rosamae sitting on her front steps, reading a letter as tears tracked down her cheeks. She wiped them away, shoulders trembling slightly.

  I hesitated, biting my lip. Holy crap, what was wrong? Should I interrupt? She'd shown concern for me—it seemed only right to return that kindness. I cleared my throat as I rounded the corner.

  Rosamae startled, hastily folding the letter and tucking it away. "Zale!" Her voice quivered slightly. "You're late." She grabbed a small pack and tossed it at me. I barely caught it, and before I could ask what why she was crying, she jumped to her feet, quickly wiping her cheeks.

  "My friend's meeting us at the northern tide pools with vital information about the competition. When I talked to him, he was thrilled to join our team. He, uh…takes a little to warm up to, but once you do you’ll love him!” She bounded down the stairs, her green spirit materializing above her shoulder. "Come on!" She hurried across the sandy street barefoot, displaying none of her earlier distress.

  I shook my head and followed, unable to hold back the question. "Is…everything okay?"

  She waved a hand. "It's fine, I'm fine. We have a competition to win, and I think our third ally will give us the edge we need."

  I studied her, noting how her cheerful facade didn't quite mask the shadows in her eyes. Whatever that letter contained, it had shaken her. But she clearly wasn't ready to talk about it, and I had no right to push. After all, I was keeping plenty of secrets myself. “So… Who is this friend of yours?”

  She flashed a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Another exchange student, like me, but he goes to the academy. Real nerd—one of the smartest guys I know. And he's going to help us win."