Evan sat in the small, fluorescent-lit conference room, his laptop open in front of him. The spreadsheet on the screen was a mess of numbers, formulas, and placeholders—an incomplete puzzle that he had spent the past week trying to wrangle into something coherent. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the familiar tension creep up his spine. It wasn’t the work itself that was the problem. It was the meeting that was about to commence.

  Cindy was already sitting across from him, scrolling through her phone, her expression unreadable. She was the Engineering Manager, sharp as a tack and with a knack for cutting through nonsense. Evan liked her, even if she didn’t always seem to notice his contributions. It was Matt, the Project Manager, who charged into the room next, all brisk energy and barely concealed impatience, that made Evan brace himself.

  “Alright, let’s get this over with,” Matt said, dropping into the chair beside Cindy and flipping open his notebook. “Evan, tell me you’ve got some solid numbers for the costing model. We need to finalize the budget so I can send it up the chain.”

  Evan took a steadying breath, his chest tightening slightly. He clicked over to the section of his spreadsheet that showed the current estimates. “Here’s the thing, Matt. The design hasn’t gone to the vendors yet, so the costs here are still rough estimates—based on previous projects, inflation adjustments, and some assumptions. Until we get vendor quotes, these numbers are placeholders. They’ll change.”

  Matt’s jaw tightened, and he leaned forward, pointing at the screen as if zeroing in on the problem itself. “We can’t work with placeholders, Evan. I need accurate estimates. The higher-ups are breathing down my neck about this, and they’re not going to accept, ‘Oh, the numbers might change.’ We need to lock this down.”

  Evan met Matt’s gaze, his newfound clarity of thought keeping him calm. A week ago, he might have fumbled, trying to appease Matt while simultaneously explaining why what he was asking for was impossible. But something had shifted in him since his encounter with Seralith and Lyrin. He wasn’t the same guy who bent over backward to keep everyone happy while running himself ragged.

  “Matt,” Evan said, his tone measured but firm, “I get it. You’re under pressure, and you need numbers. But I can’t give you accurate numbers without quotes from vendors. If I lock these numbers down now, we’re going to have problems later when the actual costs come in higher. And then everyone’s going to be asking why the budget didn’t account for it.”

  Matt’s face flushed slightly, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “So what am I supposed to tell them? ‘Sorry, we don’t have real numbers because Evan hasn’t figured it out yet’?”

  “No,” Evan said, holding his ground. “Tell them the truth. The design is still in progress, and until it’s finalized and goes to vendors, we can only work with estimates. It’s not about me not figuring it out—it’s about the process. Rushing to lock down numbers now is going to backfire. I’d rather give you a realistic timeline for when we’ll have accurate data than make promises I can’t keep.”

  Matt leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Well, if we go over budget,” he said sharply, “it’s going to be on you.”

  Evan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “If the costs go over, it’ll be because we didn’t have the information we needed at this stage. That’s not something anyone can control. But I’ll do everything I can to keep things on track once we have the quotes.”

  Matt shook his head, clearly unhappy but unwilling to keep arguing. “Fine,” he muttered, scribbling something in his notebook. “But don’t expect me to defend you when this blows up.”

  Evan gave a small nod, letting Matt’s parting shot roll off him. A week ago, that comment might have left him stewing, questioning himself. Now, it felt like water off a duck’s back. He knew he was right, and that was enough.

  Matt stood abruptly and left the room, muttering something under his breath. The tension in the room eased slightly, and Evan leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. Cindy, who had been silent throughout the exchange, finally looked up from her phone.

  “Well,” she said, a faint smirk playing at her lips, “that was something.”

  Evan glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. “What? Matt being Matt?”

  “No,” Cindy said, tapping her pen against her notebook. “You. You didn’t back down. Usually, you try to smooth things over, but this time you held your ground. I’m impressed.”

  Evan shrugged, though her words struck a chord. “I just told him the truth. If he doesn’t like it, that’s not my problem.”

  Cindy studied him for a moment, her expression thoughtful. “You’re good at this, you know,” she said finally. “You’re thorough, you understand the details, and you’re patient—even with people like Matt. I don’t think you hear it enough, but you’re a solid part of this team.”

  Evan blinked, caught off guard by the compliment. “Thanks,” he said, his voice quieter now. “That... means a lot.”

  Cindy nodded, her smirk softening into a genuine smile. “Don’t let him get to you. Some people just want something to blame when things don’t go perfectly.”

  Evan smiled back faintly. “Yeah. I’m starting to figure that out.”

  As Cindy stood to leave, Evan stared at the spreadsheet on his screen, the numbers blurring slightly as he thought over the conversation. He was capable—he knew that. But moments like this reminded him how unappreciated his work often was. He’d been in this role for too long, spinning his wheels, stuck in a rut while the world moved on around him.

  Still, there was something different now. He wasn’t just stuck anymore—he was moving forward. Slowly, maybe, but forward nonetheless. And for the first time in a long time, he felt like he had a purpose beyond the confines of these walls. A purpose that might just change everything.

  —-------

  Evan parked his car in front of Sarah’s house and took a deep breath before stepping out. The two-story suburban home looked as pristine as ever, the lawn trimmed, the driveway spotless. It wasn’t lost on him that everything about it screamed perfection—just like Sarah always wanted. He adjusted the strap of his watch, a small habit that grounded him when he felt tension creeping in, and made his way to the front door.

  Before he could knock, the door swung open. There stood Mark, Sarah’s boss-turned-affair-partner, exuding a smugness that immediately set Evan’s teeth on edge. Mark was everything Evan wasn’t—polished, expensive, and annoyingly self-assured. Today, he wore a tailored shirt with the sleeves rolled up just enough to show off a watch that probably cost more than Evan’s car. His perfectly styled hair caught the sunlight like it had been arranged for a photoshoot.

  “Ah, Evan,” Mark said, leaning casually against the doorframe like he owned the place. “Right on time. As Sarah says, you’re never late.”

  Evan forced a neutral expression, refusing to rise to the bait. “Jason ready?”

  Mark smirked, his eyes narrowing slightly. “He’s grabbing his bag. You know, you could always text ahead. Save everyone the trouble.”

  Evan’s jaw tightened, but he kept his tone even. “It’s a scheduled pickup. I didn’t realize knocking on the door was such a burden.”

  Mark’s smirk faltered slightly, but before he could respond, Sarah appeared behind him. She looked as put-together as ever, her hair perfectly styled, her makeup subtle but flawless. She glanced between the two men, her lips pressing into a thin line.

  “Evan,” she said, stepping forward and putting a hand on Mark’s arm, as if to physically hold him back from escalating. “Jason’s almost ready. He’s just finishing his snack.” Her tone was polite, but there was a familiar edge of impatience beneath it.

  “Great,” Evan replied, keeping his voice calm. “I’ll wait.”

  Sarah hesitated, then folded her arms. “You know, he’s been a little off this week. Maybe try not to get him too riled up today. He’s got a lot on his plate with school.”

  Evan raised an eyebrow. “He’s ten. The only thing on his plate should be pizza and figuring out how to beat the next level of his video game.”

  Sarah sighed, clearly annoyed. “I’m just saying, he’s been sensitive lately. You don’t always have to—”

  “Sarah,” Evan interrupted gently, “I’ve got it. Don’t worry.”

  Mark shifted beside her, letting out a dramatic sigh. “You know, Evan, if you spent half as much time listening as you do being defensive, this might go smoother.”

  Evan turned his gaze to Mark, his expression calm but firm. “Mark, if you spent half as much time minding your own business as you do inserting yourself into things that don’t concern you, this might go smoother.”

  Mark opened his mouth, but Sarah stepped in quickly, giving him a warning look. “Enough. Both of you.”

  Before anything else could be said, Jason appeared in the hallway, his backpack slung over one shoulder and a wide grin on his face. “Dad!” he exclaimed, running past Mark and Sarah to throw his arms around Evan’s waist.

  Evan’s tension melted as he hugged his son. “Hey, buddy! You ready for a big day?”

  Jason nodded enthusiastically, his eyes lighting up. “Are we still going to the new playground? I heard it’s got slides and a ball pit!”

  “Of course we are,” Evan said, ruffling Jason’s hair. “You think I’d miss a chance to see if I can still fit down a slide?”

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  Jason giggled, and Evan glanced up to see Sarah watching them with a complex expression—somewhere between affection for her son and frustration with her ex-husband. Mark, meanwhile, looked annoyed, his arms crossed as he leaned back against the doorframe.

  “Be good for your dad, Jason,” Sarah said, her voice softening as she addressed her son. “And don’t let him spoil you too much.”

  Jason nodded dutifully, then grabbed Evan’s hand. “Come on, Dad, let’s go!”

  Evan gave Sarah a small nod. “We’ll be back on time.”

  Without waiting for a response, he led Jason to the car, buckling him into the backseat before climbing into the driver’s seat. As they pulled away, he glanced in the rearview mirror to see Mark and Sarah still standing in the doorway, their figures shrinking as the house disappeared behind them.

  ---

  The indoor playground was a kid’s paradise—bright colors, towering slides, and the hum of excited chatter filling the air. Jason’s face lit up as soon as they stepped inside, and he practically vibrated with excitement as he tugged on Evan’s arm.

  “Can we go to the ball pit first?” Jason asked, his voice rising with anticipation.

  “Lead the way, buddy,” Evan said with a grin, following as Jason darted ahead.

  For the next couple of hours, Evan watched as Jason climbed, slid, and tumbled through the playground with unbridled joy. He joined in when Jason insisted, squeezing through tunnels and laughing as he tried—and failed—to beat Jason to the bottom of a slide. The stress and tension of the morning faded into the background, replaced by the simple, grounding joy of spending time with his son.

  At one point, they sat together at a small table with a couple of juice boxes, Jason’s face flushed and his hair sticking up in all directions from the static of the slides.

  “Dad,” Jason said between gulps of juice, “this is the best day ever. You’re the best.”

  Evan smiled, feeling his chest tighten with a mix of pride and love. “You’re pretty great yourself, kiddo. We should do this more often.”

  Jason nodded enthusiastically. “Can we come back next weekend?”

  “We’ll see,” Evan said, though he already knew he’d make it happen. Moments like this were too precious to pass up.

  As they finished their drinks and Jason ran off for one last round of play, Evan leaned back in his chair, watching his son with a quiet smile. No matter what challenges he faced—whether it was at work, with Sarah, or in some otherworldly forest—Jason was his anchor, his reason to keep pushing forward.

  —------

  Evan woke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest as a strange rushing of air filled his bedroom. The faint scent of ozone tickled his nose, and a static charge prickled along his skin, raising the hairs on his arms. He sat up instinctively, fumbling for the bedside lamp, when his eyes caught the faint glow of light near the foot of his bed.

  “Evan,” a soft, familiar voice called, and his heart skipped—not from fear, but recognition.

  He turned, his eyes adjusting to the dim glow of the portal that shimmered in his room like a tear in reality itself. Standing in front of it was Lyrin, her silver hair gleaming faintly in the light. She looked almost as out of place as the portal itself, her violet eyes wide and apologetic as they met his.

  “Lyrin?” he said, his voice thick with sleep as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “What—what are you doing here?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, her hands clasped together in front of her. “I wouldn’t disturb you if it weren’t urgent.” Her gaze flicked to the portal behind her, then back to him. “Seralith needs your help again. There’s a village under threat—a squad of Irregulars from Vornath is planning an attack. We need to get there quickly.”

  Evan blinked, his sleep-fogged brain working to catch up. “Irregulars?” he asked, though he was already standing, his body moving on autopilot. “That sounds... bad.”

  “They are dangerous,” Lyrin said softly, her voice tinged with worry. “But you and I can get there the fastest to help. Seralith trusts you.”

  Evan paused, rubbing a hand over his face. “Alright,” he said, his voice firming as he shook off the remnants of sleep. “If Seralith trusts me, then let’s do this.” He grabbed the sword he’d taken from the thug during their last encounter, leaning against the wall in readiness. “I hope you’re ready to heal me again, though, because I’m not exactly thrilled about getting stabbed a second time.”

  Lyrin’s cheeks flushed faintly, and she ducked her head, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “I’m glad you’re willing,” she said softly. “And I’m glad to see you again.”

  Evan paused, her words striking an unexpected chord in him. He smiled, stepping closer to her. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad to see you too. Even if it’s at—” He glanced at the clock on his nightstand. “—two in the morning.”

  Her blush deepened, and she looked away from his nearly naked body, her hands fidgeting slightly. “I brought something for you,” she said, quickly changing the subject. She held out a bag that looked heavy, the metal inside clinking softly as she moved it. “Armor. I thought... well, you mentioned not wanting to be stabbed, and this should help.”

  Evan raised an eyebrow, taking the bag from her. “Armor, huh? Now we’re talking. Let’s see what we’ve got.”

  As he opened the bag, the voice of Alara echoed faintly in his mind, full of her usual brash confidence. It’s about time you stopped running into fights half-dressed. Let’s get you suited up, warrior.

  Evan smirked to himself, pulling out two items, one a heavily padded shirt, the other a long tunic of heavy cloth with overlapping metal plates riveted to the inside. It was sturdier than it looked, and he felt the weight of it as he slipped it over his head. Two metal pauldrons followed, tied securely to his shoulders with Lyrin’s help. Her fingers brushed against his skin as she worked, and he couldn’t help but notice the way her cheeks reddened again, her focus entirely on the task at hand.

  “Helmet too,” Lyrin said, handing him the open-faced piece with a padded interior.

  “Now I really look the part,” Evan said, adjusting the helmet and giving her a lopsided grin. “What do you think? Intimidating enough to scare off some Irregulars?”

  Lyrin’s lips curved into a soft smile, her violet eyes meeting his. “You look... like a true protector.”

  The warmth in her voice caught him off guard, and for a moment, they just stood there, the air between them charged with something unspoken. Before he could say anything, she gestured toward the portal. “Shall we?”

  Evan nodded, gripping his sword as he stepped forward. The portal’s familiar pull wrapped around him, but this time, he braced himself, the disorienting swirl of light and energy less jarring than before. When he emerged on the other side, the midday sun greeted him, casting its warm rays over a quaint village of thatched roofs and cobblestone paths. The air smelled of fresh hay and baking bread, but the tension among the villagers was palpable.

  Alara’s voice cut through his thoughts. Alright, focus. You’ve got a squad of eight to deal with—Irregulars are disciplined, and they’ll exploit weaknesses in the village’s defenses. You need to think strategically.

  Evan glanced around, taking in the layout of the village—the narrow paths, the open square, the high ground near the church. He could almost feel Alara’s confidence guiding his thoughts. Position yourself where you can observe their approach. Use the buildings as cover, and don’t let them outflank you.

  He turned to Lyrin, who was already scanning the area with a healer’s eye, noting where villagers had gathered in frightened clusters. “You’ll stay back and heal, right?” he asked, his voice softer now.

  She nodded, her expression serious but warm. “I’ll be ready to support you.”

  “Good,” Evan said, his gaze lingering on her for a moment. “We’ll keep them safe. Together.”

  Lyrin smiled, and for the first time since she’d appeared in his bedroom, the worry in her eyes seemed to ease. “I trust you, Evan.”

  Her words hung in the air, filling him with a quiet determination. He tightened his grip on his sword, nodding to himself as Alara’s voice continued to guide him. Together, they would defend this village.

  Evan leaned against the rough wooden frame of an abandoned cart near the village square, his sword resting casually across his lap. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the quaint thatched rooftops and cobblestone paths. The village, while picturesque, carried an undercurrent of tension. Doors were shut tight, and only a few brave souls peeked out from behind curtains. The waiting was the hardest part, and Evan hated it. The calm before the storm always felt more suffocating than the fight itself.

  Lyrin sat beside him on the edge of the cart, her hands folded neatly in her lap, though her fingers fidgeted slightly with the hem of her green and gold robes. She seemed lost in thought, her violet eyes scanning the horizon as if she could will the danger into revealing itself. The faint glimmer of light from her silver hair caught Evan’s attention, and for a moment, he let himself forget the impending fight.

  “So,” he said, breaking the silence, “why is this village such a target? What’s got Vornath’s goons so interested in a place like this?”

  Lyrin turned to him, her expression soft but serious. “It’s because of the shrine,” she explained, her voice quiet but steady. “This village is home to a small shrine dedicated to Seralith. It’s not grand or imposing, but it carries her blessing. That blessing strengthens her influence over this region, offering protection, prosperity, and renewal to the people here.”

  Evan frowned, sitting up straighter. “And Vornath’s forces want to destroy it?”

  “Yes,” Lyrin said, a hint of sadness creeping into her tone. “If the shrine is desecrated, Seralith’s blessing will weaken, and Vareth—Vornath’s patron god—will be able to extend his own influence over the area. His blessings are... darker. They sow fear and discord, making it easier for his forces to operate unchecked.”

  Evan’s grip on his sword tightened. “So this isn’t just some random act of violence. It’s deliberate. Strategic.”

  Lyrin nodded. “Exactly. Vornath’s Irregulars are often assigned these tasks because of their expertise. They’re not like the regular army—they’re not just highly trained in combat, but also infiltration and sabotage. They’re sent on missions that require precision and skill, and they rarely fail.”

  Evan’s mind churned through this new information, piecing together the bigger picture. “So this isn’t just about a village. It’s about control—control of the region, control of the people, control of the gods’ influence.”

  “Yes,” Lyrin said, her voice almost a whisper. She glanced at him, her violet eyes filled with a quiet plea. “That’s why this is so important. This village may seem small, but its shrine is a symbol of hope and faith for the people here. If it falls, the consequences will ripple far beyond these borders.”

  Evan exhaled slowly, the weight of the situation settling on his shoulders. He looked at Lyrin, her delicate features marked by worry but also an unyielding strength. She had more faith in Seralith—and in him—than he felt he deserved. But he wasn’t going to let her down. Not now. Not ever.

  “We’re not going to let that happen,” Evan said firmly, his voice cutting through the still air. “We’ll hold the line. They’re not getting past us.”

  Lyrin’s eyes softened, and for a moment, the tension in her shoulders eased. “Thank you, Evan,” she said quietly. “Your resolve... it means more than you know. Seralith chose well when she brought you to us.”

  Evan chuckled lightly, trying to ease the weight of the moment. “Well, I don’t know if being dragged into another world to swing a sword is exactly what I’d call ‘being chosen,’ but I’m here. And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect this place.”

  Her lips curved into a small, shy smile, and she turned her gaze back to the horizon. For a few moments, they sat in companionable silence, the sounds of the village muted around them. Evan found himself glancing at her more than he probably should have, noting the way her expression softened when she wasn’t focused on the immediate danger.

  But then, Lyrin stiffened, her posture going rigid. Her eyes narrowed, and she leaned forward slightly, scanning the tree line beyond the village. “Evan,” she whispered, her voice urgent but calm. “They’re here.”

  Evan followed her gaze, his body tensing as he spotted the faintest flicker of movement among the trees—a shadow too quick and deliberate to belong to the wind or the wildlife. His instincts kicked in, and he stood, gripping his sword tightly as he turned to face the direction of the approaching threat.

  “Alright,” he said, his voice steady but firm. “Let’s show these Irregulars what happens when they mess with the wrong village.” Lyrin nodded, her expression resolute as she rose to stand beside him.