The days were getting colder, and for all that Nika tried to tough it out and claim that neither she not Kyri needed anything from anyone, Kyri could tell the weather was taking a toll on her sister. The thing was, Nika wasn’t going to complain about it. Complaining was just a way of telling someone you weren’t as strong as them and letting them take advantage. Nika was a fighter, and one who could easily numb herself to the burning needles of the cold wind and the bruises she woke with after nights spent sleeping on rocks and sticks that seemed to grow out of the ground in the middle of the night, despite attempts to clear them away before settling in.

The twins had some cash, or rather, Nika had cash. Kyri was just a tag-along on her sister’s life. Same as it had always been. Nika fought, Niak won money, Nika went somewhere. Kyri followed. Kyri knew where Nika kept the stash of coins she’d won, however, and tonight, she was going to make the decisions for them. Even if Nika tried to kill her, it wouldn’t be permanent, and at the very least, “knife girl” as Nika had been called when the pair first wound up in this strange, foreign land, would get a decent rest.

Today, there was a brawl just behind the pub that Nika had entered into. Locals had long stopped marking her as an underdog and betting on her losing in the first minute, but travelers still saw a girl with minimal protection and significantly thinner arms as weaker than the brawny men who also frequented the area. Nika had a new skill, however: not only could she numb herself and send pain to her opponent through her magic, now she could give them the injuries she did sustain as well. Upside was that Nika could win quicker than ever now. The downside was that Kyri had started to sport both her share of camping bruises and her sister’s.

Nika jumped a few times, bouncing from foot to foot as she entered the ring, and Kyri shifted closer to the bag they shared. Her hand dipped inside as the fists began to fly. Kyri’s fingers closed around the small pieces of metal and withdrew them before she took the bag as a whole and walked next door to the small inn and rented a room for the night, with two beds. The man running the place seemed reluctant to rent a room to Nika at all, but Kyri reassured him that, although she often felt sorry for people who ran into Nika, it was more people who ran against her that Kyri felt sorry for.

As she returned to the ring, Nika had blood drips from the side of her mouth, and a few new stains on her shirt, but seemed otherwise uninjured and unhampered, while the man she fought against was covered in red marks that would soon be dark purple. It was only a few more minutes of grunting at escapes of air and effort, and groans of pain before the large man yielded, his hand rising to the sky, and Kyri could stop wincing at the beating both fighters were taking. IT was nice that Kyri wasn’t being forced into fights and arenas, but she still hated watching her sister, or anyone else, fight. Nika didn’t seem to care at her twin’s unease however. Fighting was what she knew.

---

Hours, and a lot of yelling about wasting money that didn’t belong to her, Kyri had washed and settled into the most comfortable bed she’d ever had the pleasure of sleeping in. The inn was warmed by a fire and the large, hot meal was settling in her stomach. For all that Nika had yelled, she seemed not to mind the small comfort that the room was providing. That was the last thought Kyri had before her head hit the pillow and she fell asleep, wrapped in the blankets.

She found herself dead when she opened her eyes. She didn’t remember dying, which had always been a slightly slower fade, but the monotone grays and whites of the world were familiar. Had she died of comfort? Had the food been poisoned? Maybe Nika had been angrier that Kyri thought she would be and had killed her. That kind of anger would have to override basic thought. Even Nika wouldn’t waste the energy of killing Kyri only to have her pop up again the next day. Especially since that would either draw attention and get her imprisoned – something Kyri knew her sister didn’t want to be – or force Nika to physically carry a corpse around without being seen, or risk drawing attention and being imprisoned.

No, sometimes else had to have happened, and with a day to kill in the Realm of the Dead, Kyri figured she should move along and figure out what had happened. Her last trip had been full of ghosts discussing the return of the Guide, who helped people find their way from life to death and the loved ones that waited unknowingly for them. Perhaps that was where she should start.

Kyri couldn’t say how, but her feet planted, one in front of the other, without much thought or input from her brain. She hadn’t been to this area of the Realm before, but somehow she knew the direction toward the zone 1, where answers awaited anyone looking for them. Surely the guide would be there. She heard whispers about an academy of some sort that the Guide was starting. It was all rumor, but it seemed the best place to start looking. If that didn’t pan out, she’d go to the library for help.

The journey was a few miles, 90 minutes’ walk at most, before the white building, or rather light gray building, loomed before her, with large doors that were lighter than they appeared to be, swinging open with little effort from Kyri. Another ghost sat at a desk in the entrance room, looking like they were directing people to the proper locations.

“Erm,” Kyri started, unsure of how to express her goal, “I’m aiming for death… no, I mean looking for the guide? Of the dead?”

How embarrassing that the words would jumble like that. The receptionist rolled their eyes and waved toward a group of chairs.

“You and everyone else. Just go take a seat. She’s very busy. Maybe she’ll see you, maybe she won’t. Depends on her schedule.”

Kyri