The morning at the Forged Brew was unusually bright.

  Dave squinted up at the endless continent-filled sky with a relaxed smile, enjoying a cup of coffee courtesy of Hyrei.

  Sundogs danced across the swirling clouds above, and the scent of freshly brewed Sunrise Blend coffee mingled with the sweet aroma of Snailcakes. Dave enjoyed the relative peace before the day truly began. Remicra was nestled beside him, scales shifting between a relaxed blue and contented violet. Cedez was humming cheerfully, petting her dark, lanky Kitlix.

  Dave took another sip from his cup and smiled.

  Things were finally going great for him. Thanks to the leather dress studded in purified mana gemstones he could hold Remicra as much as he wanted to without his skin chafing and peeling off and the insanity caused by his absorption of souls was gradually ebbing away.

  A new group of adventurers entered into the cafe trudging up the grassy field.

  A ginger-haired foxkin, leading two human women by their elbows.

  One, a redhead in a summery blue dress, radiated an almost ethereal beauty. The other, draped in Victorian black lace, moved with a predatory grace. They were an odd trio, drawing eyes without seeming to try.

  Dave watched as they were seated and began ordering, a strange flicker of familiarity sparking within him. He couldn’t quite place it, but something about the way the ginger foxkin moved, the confident tilt of his head, felt… odd, as if Dave knew him from somewhere.

  Remicra, her draconic senses far sharper than Dave’s human ones, registered their arrival with a subtle shift in her scales. A faint orange tinged the violet, hinting at a flicker of unease. Her violet-gold eyes narrowed slightly, her tail twitching beneath her chair.

  Cedez had a far more visceral reaction and nearly choked on her latte.

  “What?” Dave asked the dark foxgirl.

  “Foreigners,” Cedez hissed. Her blue eyes focused on the newcomers with an unnerving intensity. “Possibly disguised infiltrators.”

  “How do you figure?” Dave asked.

  “I don’t know their names,” Cedez replied. “I… know everyone’s names in Shandria when I look at them.”

  “Could they have gated from another Shadow city?” Remicra wondered.

  “Smell them, Remy. Really look at them,” Cedez said. “They’re… wrong. Superimposed on the world with some kind of clever illusion magic. The outfits are slightly off at the edges, blending into each other.”

  “Hrm,” Remicra frowned. “Yeah. You’re right. They don’t smell human.”

  Then, the ginger foxkin’s gaze locked with Dave’s.

  A jolt, almost physical, ran through Dave. It was fleeting, a flicker of recognition in those green eyes with specs of brown, a shared moment of… something he couldn’t define.

  Glacier capped mountains. Impossibly tall cedar trees. A native american woman with dark hair. Three eyed deers moving between the trees. A rusted van with a blue stripe. A phone screen with an animated avatar of a foxgirl maid. California landscape flying by.

  The images flashed through his mind, disjointed and nonsensical, leaving him disoriented. He blinked, and the feeling was gone, replaced by the mundane reality of the bustling cafe. The ginger foxkin, however, had already looked away, a slight frown creasing his brow.

  “That was weird…” Dave muttered.

  “What?” Remicra asked.

  “I saw… Earth, but it was wrong, different,” Dave said.

  “Skill Psychosis?” Remicra asked with a worried look.

  “I don’t think so,” Dave shook his head. “It happened when I looked at that ginger foxkin.”

  Dumpich, who was inhabiting a table with the other two healers, called Cedez to sing Dungeon Diver’s Lament.

  Cedez stood up from her seat, her Kitlix forming in her hands into her musical instrument. As Cedez sang along with Dumpich, her eyes kept drifting back to the ginger foxkin.

  When the song ended, and the polite applause rippled through the cafe, the ginger foxkin’s voice cut through the air, praising the performance.

  Dave watched as Cedez marched to the table of the odd trio and sat down. The wind coming from the Chasm behind them and the din of the cafe didn’t allow Dave to hear the conversation.

  “Remy,” he jabbed his girlfriend. “What are they talking about?”

  “She’s just asked if she can join them,” Remicra replied, tilting her draconic ears at the conversation.

  A dark halo flashed atop of the foxgirl’s head.

  “And… now I have no idea,” Remicra frowned. “She just muted the conversation.”

  “Should we go over there?” Dave asked.

  “I don’t feel like ruining our nice morning with whatever this is,” Remicra said. “If they’re foreign infiltrators, Cedez can handle it without involving us by notifying the City Watch.”

  “Right,” Dave sighed. He watched Cedez chatting to the trio for a few minutes.

  They looked harmless enough, he thought, just a bit… flamboyant. The ginger foxkin was certainly dressed up sort of like a fancy butler. But in Shandria, outlandish was pretty much the norm.

  "She's definitely interrogating them," Dave commented, watching as Cedez thrust a shadow blade towards the foxkin’s neck who didn’t even flinch.

  "Let her," Remicra said, reaching out to stroke his hand.

  After a few more minutes, Cedez stood up, a wide, toothy grin on her face. She waved her companions over to their table. Dave and Remicra stood up and walked over towards the table occupied by Cedez and the odd trio.

  She rapidly introduced Dave and Remicra to them with a flourish. "This is Lord Protector, Christophorus, and his… fiancées, Lady Voltara and Lady Castabriella." She then announced.

  Dave blinked, taking in the trio up close. The ginger foxkin, Christophorus, had a surprisingly warm, almost familiar smile. Lady Voltara, the redhead in blue, had the most captivating ocean-blue eyes Dave had ever seen.

  “Quite the stunning lady you have there, Lord David. Seems like we share similar tastes in dragons who can change colors at will,” Christophorus said.

  “I don't quite understand your joke, I'm afraid,” Dave said, frowning at the foxkin. “Are your companions… not human?”

  "My Sovereign," the foxkin turned to Cedez. "I see that you're blocking out sound. Do you mind muting the view too?"

  Cedez nodded and shadows blossomed around their table. The sounds of the marketplace faded, and even the bright sunlight seemed to dim slightly within their little shadowy island.

  “Perfect,” the ginger foxkin grinned. Then he turned to the redhead and the black-clad woman. “Ladies, would you care to reveal your true forms for a moment?”

  Dave blinked.

  Reveal their true forms? What?

  Then, the redhead girl began to shimmer. It was subtle at first, like heat haze on a summer day, but then it intensified. Her blue dress seemed to ripple and dissolve, colors shifting and swirling like paint in water. Dave’s jaw dropped as the human form melted away, replaced by… feathers. An explosion of rainbow feathers, shimmering silver, blue, and all shades in between, unfurled from her back, wings spreading out, impossibly large and breathtakingly beautiful. Her human features sharpened, becoming more draconic.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Dave’s mind skittered to a stop like needle lifting off the record.

  Castabriella was absolutely perfect, a goddess in human form, one for whom he would do absolutely anything if asked. He recognized that he was being charmed with Charisma magic and switched his mind to the Sherlock-Dave-Sherlock chain and looked away from Castabriella’s radiant, mind-melting wings.

  Beside Castabriella, Lady Voltara was undergoing a transformation of her own. Her pale skin erupted in dark and white feathers, magisteel claws replacing her delicate human hands. Her Victorian black dress and hat vanished, revealing black and white feathery mane and wings, and armor that seemed to be made of polished metal. Lightning, faint but visible, crackled around her.

  Wings. Claws. A draconic, iridescent snout. A dark beak with sharp teeth.

  Both women grew considerably taller and now sprouted absolutely stunning wings.

  Dave stared, dumbfounded. He’d seen wings before, of course, in Shandria. Birdfolk were common enough. But these… These were something else entirely. They weren't just wings; they were living works of art, radiating power and an otherworldly, alien, predatory grace as each feather changed color or shape with each breath they took.

  “Holy shit,” Dave couldn’t help but declare, his eyes wide as he stared at Lady Voltara and Lady Castabriella. “Wings!” He glanced at Remicra, whose violet-gold eyes were practically popping out of her head, her scales now cycling through a rapid succession of shocked orange, red, and violet. Even Cedez, rarely surprised, had her jaw slightly ajar.

  “Wowza,” Cedez breathed out. “Now this, I absolutely did not expect.”

  “Yeah,” Dave nodded. “That’s definitely not something you see every day.”

  “What are you?!” Remicra breathed out, just as stricken by magic wings.

  “Interdimensional tourists,” Christophorus repeated cheerfully, as if revealing something perfectly mundane. “From Earth.”

  “Earth?” Dave choked, the word catching in his throat.

  “Oh, you know Earth?” Christophorus asked.

  Dave nodded, still trying to process the sudden avian and draconic transformations and the unexpected mention of his home world, glancing between the rainbows cast by colorful wings and electric sparks raining from the dark wings. “That’s where… I’m from too.”

  “You’re from Earth?” Christophorus leaned forward. “Are you a tourist too?”

  “No,” Dave sighed. “I was summoned to Arx by a bald, fat God-Emperor man amongst a million others. Ah, I might be getting excited over nothing,” he sighed. “I guess you're from one of the other bazillion alternative Earths, judging by how you're a fox and your companions are some kind of…” He trailed off, searching for a word, anything to describe the winged beings before him.

  “Cryptids,” Christophorus supplied helpfully. “They’re classified by humans as cryptids and they call themselves Omnids. A Quetzalcoatl and a Thunderbird.”

  "I see," David uttered.

  Cryptids were real? Aren’t cryptids supposed to be… creepy? These two were definitely not creepy. They were more like little gods, radiating magic power and femininity like nuclear reactors.

  “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The foxkin seemed to notice that his companions had thoroughly shocked and spooked Dave’s group. "Alas, we have breakfast to nom and much to do today. Why don't we exchange Voicecast so that we can start to slowly work on our joint mission of taking over Shandria from above and below?"

  The group traded voicecast bracelet taps.

  "My right hand man, Shash," the foxkin waved at an overly muscular man. "Will work with you on Arx to fulfill our part of the bargain as we'll be departing shortly back to our homeworld and likely won't be back for a while.”

  “What bargain?” Remicra demanded.

  “I’ll tell you about it later,” Cedez fired a wide smile at Remicra.

  “How long will you be gone, Lord Protector?” Cedez asked the foxkin.

  “Maybe a year and a half,” the foxkin replied nonchalantly. “Maybe less or more. It depends. I’m currently operating on a borrowed gate, going to try to make my own. Don’t worry though, I’ll set as much as possible in motion before we depart. In due time, the institutions I’m setting up in Undertown will be at your disposal, my Sovereign.”

  Cedez dragged Dave and Remicra back to their table.

  Dave’s head was spinning. Omnids. Cryptids. Alternative Earth. Interdimensional tourists. It was all too much to process at once, especially before he’d even finished his coffee. He glanced back at the table where the ginger foxkin and his no-longer winged, once again disguised companions were now digging into their breakfast, seemingly unfazed by the minor interspecies reveal they’d just pulled off.

  “What the hell was that?” Dave demanded.

  “Yeah, Cedez,” Remicra nodded. “Fess up. What was that bargain they mentioned?”

  Cedez grinned, a flash of sharp teeth in the morning sun. “Intriguing, aren’t they?” she said, ignoring the questions for a moment, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “Interdimensional tourists! Real ones!”

  “Cedez!” Remicra insisted, tapping a clawed finger on the table. “Out with it! The bargain.”

  Cedez sighed dramatically, but her smile remained. “Alright, alright. Patience, my scaled friend. The bargain is… well, it’s rather ambitious.” She leaned in conspiratorially, even though the shadow bubble still muted their conversation from the rest of the cafe. “Lord Protector – or Christophorus, as he introduced himself–wants to help me ‘fix’ Shandria.”

  Dave raised an eyebrow, a skeptical frown forming on his face. “Help you fix Shandria? Just like that? What’s in it for him?”

  “That’s the best part,” Cedez chuckled. “He wants Undertown.”

  “Undertown?” Remicra blinked. “That garbage heap district filled with addicts and criminals? Wait… is he some kind of an interdimensional criminal? Is that it? What does he plan to do with Undertown?”

  “Apparently, he likes a challenge,” Cedez shrugged. “He said he wants to build a proper city there.”

  Remicra’s scales shifted to a curious green. “A city? In Undertown? What?”

  “Exactly!” Cedez exclaimed, her eyes shining. “Imagine, someone actually willing to take on that festering mess! Anyways, he’s offering to clean up Undertown, and in exchange, he wants control of it.”

  “And you just… agreed?” Dave asked, trying to wrap his head around it. “To give away the bottom half of Shandria to some random interdimensional tourist?”

  “I don’t own Shandria,” Cedez pointed out. “I’m not actually the Sovereign. I’m Sovereign-adjacent, at best. Look, Dave, Undertown is a lost cause. The City Watch barely even bothers going down there anymore. It’s a breeding ground for crime, despair, and soon, dungeon monsters. If this ‘Lord Protector’ actually manages to do something with it, anything at all, it’ll be a vast improvement.”

  “What was that last part?” Dave frowned. “Dungeon monsters?”

  “Oh right,” Cedez said. “Some idiot breached the wall between Abystall dungeon and Undertown. The undercity below Shandria is currently being flooded with magic-eating mites spreading out from Abystall dungeon. The Guildnet Mage Towers sealed Undertown with dimensional magic and the City Watch is now charging a pretty penny for anyone willing to pay to leave. I suspect that most people won’t be able to afford to leave and will die down there and get turned into dungeon sentinels.”

  “That’s really concerning,” Remicra said.

  “Not much we can do about it,” Cedez shrugged.

  “Getting back to the topic at hand, what kind of ‘help’ is this… Lord Protector offering?” Remicra pressed. “And what did he mean by ‘institutions’ and ‘at your disposal’?”

  “That’s where it gets even more interesting,” Cedez said. “He mentioned starting his own bank. A bank that ‘cares about its clients’ and ‘doesn’t eat their mana.’ Can you believe the audacity? He wants to compete with the Arx Bank!”

  “What’s wrong with the Arx Bank?” Dave asked.

  “They’re basically an Arx-wide gang,” Cedez explained.

  “Wait,” Dave said, eyeing his hexagonal bracelet. “The System bracelet… is eating my mana?”

  “Yep,” Cedez nodded. “Just a bit. It's also translating all languages into all languages and displaying System stats.”

  “Hrmmmm. I don’t understand why you’re trusting an incredibly suspicious trio of creatures from another dimension,” Dave said.

  “‘Cus they gave me this,” Cedez slid a yellow folder across the table towards them. “It details the Arx Bank’s dirty laundry. Crimes, corruption, Topaz drug sales, everything. Seriously deep, dangerous shit. The sort of information that gets you killed.”

  Dave picked up the folder, his eyes widening as he quickly scanned the contents. Names, dates, transactions… it was a meticulously compiled dossier, outlining a web of illicit activities. “Where did he get this?”

  “He didn’t say,” Cedez shrugged. “Lord Protector asked me to ‘execute the Arx Bankers for these crimes’.” She rolled her eyes. “As if I could just waltz in and start ordering executions.” She sighed. “Shandria is rotting from the inside, has been rotting… since I died, nineteen years ago. The High Lords are too busy squabbling amongst themselves, the Watch is stretched thin and exists pretty much entirely on bribes, and the Arx Bank is bleeding the city dry.”

  “And you think this ‘Lord Protector’ and his cryptid ladies are going to fix Shandria?” Dave asked skeptically.

  “I dunno,” Cedez shrugged. “Maybe they will, maybe they won’t. Honestly, by all accounts at this rate Shandria is doomed to fall sometime by the end of this year.”

  “An specifics as to why?” Dave asked.

  “Maybe an invasion, maybe a revolution,” Cedez shrugged. “The Seers are struggling with the specifics, they just know that something truly catastrophic is coming. Overall, things are absolutely effed and snowballing towards the city’s destruction. Once the Ward falls, Leviathan Nightingale will dissipate and then I’ll vanish too.”

  “I won’t let that happen,” Dave said.

  “Aww, aren’t you a cutie,” Cedez cupped Dave’s cheek. “You think that you can save all of Shandria from destruction? So sweet and brave! Lord Protector reminds me of you actually. He’s… like a broken mirror version of you. Yeah, that’s a good analogy.”

  Dave frowned.

  “Hang on,” Remicra said, looking through the yellow folder. “You knew about this stuff?”

  “I know about lots of terrible things going on in Shandria,” Cedez shrugged. “I can’t do shit about it. If I try to make big waves, the City Watch will turn on us, shut down our Cafe, arrest you two. The Scrutimancers and Watch Officers are basically puppets and hounds of the Arx Bank and Highborn Lords.”

  “The man who was with them, Shash,” Remicra said. “Is he an infiltrator or a local?”

  “A local criminal,” Cedez said. “An Assassin from Undertown. Works for the Gloomy Horse Pub aka Undertown Adventurers Guild, which is basically a front for a group of assassins, thieves and murderers.”

  “This doesn’t give me much confidence in Lord Protector's motives,” Remicra huffed.

  “What did you expect me to do?” Cedez shrugged. “I tried to scare that trio with my shadow blades, but Lord Protector wasn’t even afraid of my magic and his female companions turned out to be… absolutely terrifying. I’ve never met anyone or anything like them. Anyways, why don’t we make some yummy breakfast for ourselves and inject some positive vibes into all this spooky gloom?”

  Dave nodded. He finished his drink, stood up from his table and headed into the lighthouse with the girls.