"I suppose we're closing in on the bit where you chuck me out," I said.

Aunt M looked at me over the rim of her glasses. "Correct. Can't have you loitering. You'll end up tearing the pocket apart if you stay too long. And frankly, I quite rather like my little afterlife cottage."

I looked around. The walls were becoming… hazy. Not quite transparent, but certainly smudging at the edges, like reality had become an old pencil drawing rubbed once too often.

"Before I go," I said. "There's a whole bunch of somethings I need to ask."

"I can't promise you a whole bunch of answers, my boy. There's rule-bending, which I am very much here for, and then there's risking serious displeasure. However, feel free to ask away."

"Okay, well, number one is 'were you killed by the Maker?'"

Aunt M laughed so hard I thought she was going to explode. "By that rule-obsessed fuddy-duddy? Oh, don't be silly, Eli! Trust me, once you get a few more levels under your belt, you'll see just how facile the squabbles of Rebels and Empires are. I'm sure they seem all big and pressing and important right now, but the universe is far bigger and more impressive than you've experienced thus far."

"Then what killed you?"

Aunt M sobered a little at that and stirred the chalk runes on the table absentmindedly with her finger. At her movement, they began to spark and shine. "That's a question that gets perilously close to things you are not yet allowed to know. However, let's see how far I can push it. Okay, think of it like this. I experienced a… catastrophic harmonic boundary failure. Due to… enemy action, there were far too many strands being pulled at once. The Threshold isn't meant to be stretched so tight, and I had a choice to make. Well, not really a choice. It was what I was there for. And I didn't 'die' in the way you're thinking. But, rather, I came apart in too many places to remain functional."

"You came apart?"

"Yes. I've not been destroyed, obviously," she reached forward and tapped my hand. Although she was still solid enough to make contact, I could see the table through her skin. "It's more that I have been permanently and irrevocably scattered. I think your fool of a father would pipe up around now and say I always had been." Aunt M looked at me, really looked. "I made a mistake, at the end, Eli. I was too confident that there was nothing I would not be able to somehow muddle through. And I was wrong. Very wrong. Which is why I'm trying to avoid the same thing happening to you."

"You think it will?"

"Not if I have anything to do with it." She stood and moved towards the kitchen counter, I could see the tunnels of the cavern through the walls of the cottage now. "My boy, you're somewhat in a unique position right now. The System will always try to stabilise itself by generating Wardens. I was one. You are another. Hopefully, you will meet up with others over time. However, you must remember that there's more layers to all this. You've been picked not because you're especially suited to this sort of role, but because I vouched for you with all the right beings. You're stubborn, Eli. And Loyal. And, I think, just about smart enough not to break under strain with enough help."

I tried to think of something clever to say, but the only thing that came to mind was: "Oh."

"That's the spirit." Aunt M smiled. "You've done so very well thus far, Eli. But now, I'm afraid, you've got to leave before everything starts collapsing."

The floorboards beneath us started creaking, but not like wood under pressure. It was more like the static of a corrupted audio file replaying itself on loop. I could now see stone underneath them, with flickers of moss. It looked like Bayteran was bleeding back through with avengence.

Aunt M was washing up the things in the sink, sluicing out her tea mug – the one that said 'Quantum Mechanics Makes Me Hot' on it. "Last few thoughts before you go. Grab a cloth, you can dry. Until you can't. Try not to drop anything. You've had a crash course in system integration and subclass lattice mutation. I should just be able to drop some lore on you before you're pulled back."

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

I stood and walked gingerly over to her and picked up the tea towel. I'd done this for her so many times before that I fell into an easy rhythm. So much so, I almost managed to ignore that the world around me was vanishing away.

"I always meant to tell you more," Aunt M was saying. "But then there was that unfortunate incident with the Tallyman, the breadcrumb wards misfiring, and of course the small matter of me being ripped across three adjoining realities like a damp sock."

"Which sounds unpleasant."

"Oh, it was." She passed me a plate that I struggled to grip. "The Threshold is so much thinner than most people think. And that's the key thing. Most beings treat Bayteran like some sort of magical dumping ground for all the things they don't want in their own realm. But it's a real place. With rules and with consequences. You don't just get isekai'd there for a power trip. Most beings who hang around there have either been exiled there or drafted in some way."

"Which was I?"

"You were vouched for, Eli. By me."

She dripped a finger in the water and came up with a bubble of foam. She stuck it to the window before her. "This is where you are now. Your Anchorfall – cool name, by the way," she said, putting another bubble a little distance away from it on the window and connecting them together with another streak. "And this is Halfway Hold. These are your tether points. Your Threshold Anchor is your foothold, your stabiliser. It keeps you sane. And alive. But, and this is the most important thing I need you to hear now. Because it gets better," she said. "Eventually, if you stabilise the link enough, you can walk between the two like going upstairs."

"Which is what you could do?"

"For years," Aunt M said proudly. "That's what being a true Warden means. What being the Guardian is. It's not just managing territory, it's actually bridging between the realms. That's what lets you fight against shadows that don't attack in just one place."

The cottage gave a soft groan. The wall behind her peeled away in strips of light.

"Before you can think about moving up in the universe, you've got to get that bridge working, Eli," she said. "I always found I was a far better Warden once I had more than one realm to care about."

"But I thought the Maker ran the System?"

"Oh, don't fall for that," she said. "He's, at best, a bad administrator. And only on Bayteran. In the grand scheme of things, he's the smallest of small fry. Being a Warden is where it's at. When the Veil tears, when a celestial being gets a bit frisky, someone has to do the actual work. That's what your job's going to be."

"And being a Guardian?"

"More than that," she said. "Much more."

The air shimmered. Her outline flickered.

"You're going, aren't you?" I said.

Aunt M nodded. "Just a shade, now. You've seen as much of me as the laws allow."

"Wait, but how do I stabilise the Anchor? And if I do, can I get back home?"

"Pay attention to what pulls, my boy. Look at what stays consistent between the worlds. It won't be obvious. It might be a place, or a person, or something smaller. A thread."

I thought about everything that had happened already since I'd been shot in Aunt M's attic. And she was telling me I'd barely scratched the surface. "I'm so not ready for this, am I?"

She touched my hand. Her fingers were soft, but light as dust. "You're not. But you're stubborn. And that's better than ready."

The light was going. Not just from the walls, but from her. Aunt M's colour washed out to ghost-grey, then blue, like ink left out in the rain. "You'll wake up confused," she said. "Probably lying on something uncomfortable. That's the rule. Magical transitions never happen near a memory foam mattress."

The table faded. The mugs cracked into dust. My sheep mug was the last to go.

She stepped forward, put one translucent hand on my shoulder. "Eli. If you only remember one thing, remember this. You are not alone. The Veil has cracks. So does the System. And through those cracks, others will fall. Others will rise. You'll meet them."

"Will I meet you again?"

A pause.

"In pieces," she said at last. "But some pieces are the important ones." The roof pulled upward, unfurling into starlight. Her outline became lines, then chalk, then wind. "And one more thing," came her voice, already breaking into static. "If you ever meet the Tallyman—run. Or hit him with a chair. Actually, both."

Then there was only white.

Then cold.

Then the stone beneath my spine and the smell of moss and blood and everything else Bayteran had to offer. The chalk was gone. The tea was gone. But the weight of her expectation—yeah, that I could still feel.

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