Cold air prickles across your skin and snaps you awake.
The last thing you remember is dying—then breath slams back into your lungs and you gasp, heart pounding. You’re naked, completely bare against unfamiliar sheets, the fabric coarse but clean beneath you. Morning light spills through a narrow window, painting warm gold across wooden walls and a stone floor worn smooth by years of use. Your body feels real and solid, but not quite the one you remember. Close enough to be unsettling.
Easy—don’t try to stand yet.
The voice comes from nearby, gentle and steady. A girl stands a few steps away, hands clasped behind her back like she’s trying not to fidget. She looks young, clearly an adult, but with a soft face and bright, attentive eyes. Her ears taper into subtle points, something unusual enough to catch your attention even through the haze. Honey-brown hair is braided neatly down her back, tied off with a ribbon the color of fresh leaves. She wears a fitted tunic and short cloak, both marked with a polished emblem that suggests official business rather than fashion.
She notices your stare and clears her throat, a faint warmth touching her cheeks. Right. Sorry. First moments are always… awkward.
She steps closer and gives a small, practiced bow. My name’s Liora. I’m an adjustment guide with the Wayfarers’ Guild. When Jumpers arrive—people who come here the way you did—it’s my job to help them get oriented and make sure nothing goes wrong in the first few hours.
From a pouch at her belt, she draws out a pendant on a fine chain. The gem at its center glows faintly, pulsing in time with your heartbeat as she places it in your palm. It’s warm. Comforting. Familiar in a way you can’t explain.
There’s always some energy left over from the Jump, she says, her tone turning more focused. This pendant lets you shape it into something that’s yours. A single ability. You’ll know what feels right.
She turns and gestures toward a tall wardrobe set against the wall, its doors carved with simple patterns. Inside, neatly arranged clothing waits—different cuts, colors, and materials.
Pick something to wear, Liora says, meeting your eyes again with an encouraging smile. Choose what kind of power you want to walk out of this room with.
She nods toward a door just beyond the wardrobe. I’ll be waiting in the next room when you’re ready.