He tucked the numbers away in his head for later, mental preparation, tactical planning. The quest-to-gold ratio, he realized, at this rate was going to be the family’s first real challenge in this world. Every decision mattered: which quests to take, when to risk combat, and how to stretch each coin to survive.

  Once everyone was back in the RV and the extensions were deployed for the night, the family transformed the front eating area and cockpit into a makeshift meeting room. James set his Slate on the driver’s table.

  “Okay,” he began, “what did we learn today?”

  “Really, Dad?” Jessie asked.

  “I’m serious,” James replied. “I’m trying to figure out where we all stand. Our skills, our abilities… they’re not normal for people like us. This world functions like a video game and like real life at the same time. It’s not normal. And I want to make sure we’re all coping.”

  “You’re not a psychiatrist, Dad,” Jessie shot back.

  “I know that,” James said, “but you’re all handling this far better than you really should be. This is a world where the average person expects monsters to kick down their doors at any moment, and they’re perfectly fine with it. Life is hard here. People work seven days a week just to survive. Adventurers put their lives on the line daily culling monsters, and you’re all just… accepting that?”

  He gave each of them a hard look, then locked eyes with Christine. He knew she wanted to leave and go home, but he was expecting the same sense of focus from the kids.

  “Well?” he prompted.

  Luke spoke first. “Honestly, when we synced with our phones and this… system… it was like all this information was just uploaded into our heads. Like we grew up here and learned everything as we went. It’s weird, but it’s not that bad.”

  “Yeah,” Nikki jumped in. “We were already doing part-time jobs at home for next to nothing, and we knew that after graduation we’d be stuck living at home for years. Here we can earn real money and get stronger at the same time. I do want to talk to my boyfriend, but obviously we can’t do that right now.”

  Jessie, curly brown hair bouncing as she moved, her brown eyes intent on the Slate in front of her, added, “According to the system, we basically already have the equivalent of a high school diploma from this world. What the system doesn’t teach us, we learned on Earth. I’m sure we can figure out a way back someday. Time’s still moving there. Look.” She held up her phone: 12:03, 24 seconds into the third minute of the day.

  James did the math. With it being around 6 PM locally, a full day here only took about four minutes of Earth time. “If my math checks out… a full year here passes before a single day on Earth,” he muttered. His head began to throb. “We were only supposed to be gone for two days.” Worst-case, they might never get back. Even if they do get back, Earth would barely notice.

  Christine, seated across from him with her brown-green eyes scanning their phones, let out a long breath. “Didn’t you fail math in school?” Her figure, heavier after three kids, was wrapped in light leather and a practical cloak. Like James, she carried a staff. “We need to figure out how to get home.”

  “You have fun with that, Dad,” Luke said, putting his feet up. Already, with his dark leathers and daggers at his hips, he looked like a native adventurer of this world.

  James continued, “But first we need to survive. We only brought enough food for two nights, coffee, soda, snacks.” That got everyone’s attention.

  At the mention of no caffeine, all three kids sat up straighter, eyes wide.

  He shook his head. Christine and he had always wanted more time together, just didn’t expect it to happen this way.

  Later, after dinner, James took the dogs outside to stretch their legs and give them some space to roam. The townspeople kept their distance from the RV and its unusual occupants, probably a good thing, James mused, as he stepped into the cool night air.

  Looking up, the full weight of their situation began to settle in. This wasn’t Earth. This was a completely different world. Two moons hung in the sky, each surrounded by faint rings of some kind of floating mass debris, larger or closer than Earth’s moon. One glowed creamy white, the other a deep, almost shadowed purple, barely illuminating its surroundings. James squinted, trying to gauge which was closer or smaller; the difference was hard to tell.

  His mind wandered back to his conversation with the guild leader earlier that morning.

  “There are many gods who could bring a person from another world here,” Kaelith had said.

  “Many gods?” James had asked, surprised.

  “Don’t you have gods in your world?” the guild leader replied, genuinely confused.

  “Gods… yes, but most people only believe in one singular being,” James said. “Are you saying gods are more than symbols of faith here?”

  “Symbols of faith? By no means,” Kaelith replied. “They are real, tangible, physical. Sometimes they even walk among us, pretending to be mortal. The rumor is that each has a home among the twin moons of Elyndra, Lumineth and Noctyra.”

  James turned back to the sky. Beyond the moons, stars glittered more densely than he’d ever seen, even in the darkest camping spots back on Earth. An aurora shimmered overhead, colors twisting and stretching like liquid rainbows. His eyes traced constellations that didn’t exist on Earth, patterns that almost seemed to pulse. Almost like the system was marking points of interest, the same way the Slates had mapped guild locations and monster zones earlier. I’m a gamer, not a soldier anymore or a scholar. Not a hero. Why are we here?

  He pulled a lawn chair from the RV’s storage compartment and sat down. The RV’s lawn chair squeaked as he set it down, sitting with the dogs roaming around. Ruby nudged him with a ball, nudging him to play, and James obliged with a tired throw. It reminded him this world had mechanics he could actually manipulate: stats, abilities, inventory to some extent. He considered the herbs, the goblin encounters, even the Arcane Jackpot machine from the guild. Everything was a system waiting to be understood, optimized, and exploited.

  The city, quiet for now, was alive with sensory cues that screamed “danger and opportunity.” The smell of cooked bread, roasting meat, and spiced stews drifted through the cobblestone streets. Looking around, it was like someone had tried to build a real-life Renaissance fair and mashed it together with historical sites from around the planet. Buildings were a patchwork of eras: Roman stone villas, French Renaissance cottages, squat medieval hovels, and he could swear he saw a tori gate and Japanese temple in the distance. Towers pierced the night sky; archways connected rooftops unpredictably, and balconies jutted at impossible angles. To anyone else, it was whimsical. To James, it was a map waiting to be memorized: choke points, possible ambush areas, escape routes.

  Even the light of the moons offered tactical information. Shadows stretched unnaturally over streets and alleys. He noted patterns where monsters might spawn: goblin zones, the open areas for herbs, the guild’s safe perimeter. Everything was readable, if he could just keep his head and focus.

  He leaned back, letting it all sink in, letting the system-data layer overlay itself onto the real world in his mind. If I can analyze this correctly, plan our moves, and keep the family safe, maybe we can make this world work for us.

  The aurora shifted above, the two moons casting a silver and violet glow over the streets. James felt a mixture of awe, fear, and the familiar thrill of a new game he knew he was only beginning to understand.

  James pulled out his phone and opened his notes app, instinctively starting a checklist for what he needed to do here. His map app was still open, and when he tapped the location name, a small window popped up: “Thalindor.”

  James studied the map, squinting at the digital overlay layered over the chaotic streets. Thalindor, he murmured.

  He traced the town with his finger. Guildhalls, spires, fountains, symbols and labels marked important spots. Something in the air told him that if he wanted answers about this world or a way home, his first step would have to be gathering more information.

  James frowned at his phone. Huh. It still had some access to data, but calling and texting were locked. He tried both and was greeted with the same message:

  “Function locked.”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Strangely, he thought, I wonder why that doesn’t work.

  He tapped the browser app, and the screen flickered. Instead of a normal search engine, he was presented with a strange interface called The Widow’s Index. The layout looked like something out of the earliest days of the web, in dark mode, with spiderweb patterns around the edges. It was simplistic but fit the name at least. Across the top, a single line read:

  “Truth has a price.”

  The cursor blinked. Then paused as he started typing, just a fraction too long, before accepting his keystrokes. “Weird place to see lag,” he mumbled.

  He typed: Thalindor.

  Before any results appeared, a gray payment window slid into place.

  Enter Payment: 3C

  A smaller line beneath it read:

  Results preview unavailable until transaction is complete.

  In the lower-right corner of the page, barely visible against the dark web-patterned background, a thin line of text pulsed once:

  All purchases are final. No refunds. No chargebacks. No divine disputes.

  A second line appeared a moment later, almost smug:

  Overpayment will be accepted as tribute.

  The cursor blinked again. Waiting.

  He pulled three copper coins from his pocket while mumbling about microtransactions, shrugged, and dropped them on the screen. They vanished with a soft chime. The Index pulsed briefly, displaying a glowing spiderweb that slowly dissolved into mist. When it cleared, James was staring at a full fantasy-world wiki page, with a smaller version of the same map data he’d seen before, but richer, deeper, more detailed.

  The page listed:

  Thalindor

  Recorded Classification: Tier-2 Trade Hub

  Observed Status: Stable. Tense.

  Thalindor stands where coin changes hands and empires measure one another.

  Population: approximately 72,000

  Humans: 46,000

  Elves: 12,500

  Dwarves: 6,000

  Other: 7,500

  City Type: Tier-2 urban center, central trade hub in the Midrealm.

  Districts:

  Market Quarter:

  Bustling in the day; cobblestone streets filled with merchant stalls, exotic goods, and street performers. Prices currently elevated 3–7% due to cross-border uncertainty.

  Oldtown:

  A maze of stone buildings and arches; houses narrow, streets twist unpredictably. Optimal for concealment. Suboptimal for retreat.

  Eastwood District:

  Townhouses, cafés, and small theaters. Increased private security contracts observed.

  Hearthside:

  Residential area with thatched roofs and communal wells. Refugee overflow expected within 10–14 days if western tensions escalate.

  The Spire:

  The city’s tallest tower district; arcane academies, guild halls, and temples. Magical observation traffic increased 12% over seasonal baseline.

  Dockside:

  On the river’s edge; warehouses, fishing docks, and smaller shipyards. River patrol frequency doubled. Several vessels registered to Solari-affiliated merchants delayed at customs.

  Notable Features:

  Central Fountain of Ages:

  Murals depicting heroes from human, elven, and dwarven histories. Recently defaced twice. Repairs ongoing.

  Thalindor Keep:

  Administrative and military headquarters. Garrison rotation extended beyond standard interval. Supply stores replenished above peacetime threshold.

  Guildhall Row:

  Dozens of trade, adventurer, and magic guilds. Mercenary contracts trending upward.

  Mystic Plaza:

  Public announcements and magical demonstrations. Crowd density declining after dusk.

  Economy:

  Trade and craft-focused; strong artisan presence in magical items, metallurgy, and enchanted textiles. Adventurers and mercenaries common.

  Insurance rates rising.

  Current Conditions:

  Evening rest.

  Western border rumors persist:

  Solari troop movements unconfirmed.

  Logistics caravans confirmed.

  Confidence Index: 63% and falling.

  “I wonder why it looks like a mishmash of every time period ever,” he mused to himself before copying as much as he could to his note app. He started to make his list.

  Get home

  Understand how we got here

  Gain power

  Learn more magic

  Build a nest egg

  Upgrade the RV

  He began jotting notes beside each item, trying to impose order on the chaos of the morning. Understanding how they had arrived here mattered, but not as much as staying alive. He circled one line, then frowned.

  “I’ll need to rearrange that later,” he muttered.

  “Rearrange what?”

  The voice did not echo. It did not travel. It simply was.

  James looked left. Then right. No one stood nearby. Only when a shadow slid across him did he look up and feel something ancient settle its attention on him.

  She waited above him, suspended as if gravity had never learned her name.

  A woman, a spider, a fusion of the two. Long black hair spilled downward like falling silk, brushing the air itself. Her upper body was human in shape, pale skin wrapped in dark silk fabric. Beneath, a massive, rounded abdomen connected to multiple segmented legs that anchored her to the side of the RV, a big red hourglass silhouette on her abdomen. The detail on the hourglass was so high in contrast that individual grains of sand could be made out, each one looking like a small skull in a sea of red.

  The hairs along James’s arms rose as he met her gaze. Six eyes regarded him, unblinking, reflective, arranged where six should never be. When a few strands of her hair drifted across his cheek and throat, he gasped and fell backward out of the chair.

  “It has been an age,” she said gently, “since someone touched one of my strands.”

  Her voice was soft. The threat was not.

  “You woke me,” she continued. “From a very long slumber.”

  “The hell are you?” James demanded, scrambling back.

  Luna and Ruby rushed to his side, barking a heartbeat too late. He glanced down at them. “A lot of good you two are as guard dogs,” he muttered. Their ears flattened in shame.

  “Oh, they could never have sensed me,” she replied, descending until her many legs touched the ground without sound. Despite her towering form above, her face aligned perfectly with his, as if she preferred conversations at eye level and her form adjusted to her will. “Predators do not announce themselves to prey. Or to… curiosities.”

  She studied him, head tilting slightly.

  “Introductions, then,” she said. “You may call me Nyssara.”

  A pause, heavy, deliberate.

  “And you are James.”

  His stomach tightened. “How do you know my name?”

  “You reached for me,” she answered. “You touched my web. You offered payment and asked a question.” One of her eyes flicked briefly toward his phone, still glowing faintly beside him. “Every thread of my web trembles when plucked, and I hear them all.”

  She stepped closer. The air felt denser.

  “I know what you fear and who you love. What you would trade if pressed.” Her smile was thin, knowing. “I knew of these things even as your offering finished vanishing from your hand.”

  James swallowed. “Then you know everything about me.”

  Her expression shifted, something like genuine curiosity slipping through.

  “No,” she said slowly. “My sight ends this morning. Past that moment, there is only fog. You are… not woven into the pattern yet. The same for your hounds and your family. You carry unknown but known devices and travel in that strange mana cart, but that is all of you that exists on my web.”

  That, somehow, felt worse.

  She leaned in, her voice lowering, not a threat, not a promise, but something between.

  “I have watched kingdoms rise by asking me the right questions. I have watched gods fall by asking the wrong ones. But you, James, are the first to arrive already holding a map that leads to me.”

  Her six eyes gleamed.

  “I have… questions. This is a first for me, and I would like to know more.”

  James, despite himself, smirked at an inside joke only he understood. The joke was much more prominent to himself as he spoke to some form of arachnid.

  The RV door creaked open, and Christine poked her head out. “Honey, who are you talking to?”

  James glanced back at his wife, bracing for potential drama. But by the time he looked back toward Nyssara, she had shifted again. Standing before him was now an old, hunched woman, her thin hair a silver-gray mess pulled back loosely, with sharp, intelligent eyes peering out from beneath a worn hood. She gave him a sly wink. Clearly, she wasn’t into theatrics either.

  “Just a woman looking to pass the time,” James said quickly. “Her name is Nyssara.”

  Christine descended the steps, shaking her head. “He didn’t even offer you a seat or something to drink? You really have to ignore him,” she whispered to the old woman, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “He… misses those things. ADHD.” Nyssara merely nodded along, her expression unreadable, and James wasn’t sure if she caught the meaning.

  He ducked under the RV, rummaging through the storage box undercarriage. “Nyssara, would you like something to drink? I’m sure we have tea, or maybe hot cocoa. We were prepped for camping after all,” he asked, trying to steady his voice as he shook off the surprise of her additional transformation.

  “Tea would…” Nyssara began, pausing. “…what is hot coco?”

  James grinned. This should be interesting. “Let me get you some,” he said, dashing inside.

  Christine stayed outside, observing the strange, ancient woman. There was a weight to Nyssara, an aura that suggested she was both patient and patientless, as if she had seen centuries pass and knew exactly how little of it mattered. Her presence carried that faint undercurrent of danger, but not the aggressive kind, more like a test, a challenge, a game you didn’t want to lose.

  Meanwhile, the kids, exhausted from a day of adventuring, had already set up their sleeping areas in the RV and drifted off. Luke sprawled across the raised bed, daggers still at hand; Nikki tucked herself into a corner with her bow resting against the wall; Jessie lay on the floor near the kitchenette, shield propped up like a guard tower.

  James returned, holding a steaming mug of cocoa. “Here we go,” he said, handing Nyssara the mug. “One hot cocoa. Careful, it’s hot.”

  Nyssara accepted the mug with a measured nod, her multiple layers of posture, both elderly and somehow imposing, making James suddenly aware of just how much of the world she probably saw that he didn’t. “Thank you,” she said, her voice calm, melodic, but with a subtle edge, like a hidden blade sliding from a sheath. She gave the mug a strange look, artwork from some other land she had never laid eyes on painted on the sides.

  James took a cautious sip of his own cocoa and asked lightly, “So, uh… are we your first? People not from this world?”

  Nyssara’s gaze shifted to the sky through the RV’s extended awning. “I’ve walked in and out of the world many times,” she said slowly. “Some arrive unbidden. Some come because someone or something wants to see how they will adapt. Curious. I’m not sure how you came to be here. Could be lucky and unlucky, in ways you do not yet understand.”

  James blinked. “Lucky?” He exchanged a look with Christine, who raised an eyebrow. “I think she just might mean it literally. And figuratively. Both at once.”

  Nyssara smiled faintly, leaning back in a chair she had been offered. “There is much you do not yet grasp. Patience, observation, and humility will keep you alive longer than brute force in this world.”

  James, taking mental notes while careful not to show his nerves, muttered to Christine under his breath, “Yeah… game mechanics, stat points, world-building, and cryptic godlike observers. Check, check, check.”

  Christine only shook her head, muttering, “Of course you always attract the weird ones.”

  James sipped his cocoa again, eyes darting to Nyssara. Okay, keep it casual. Don’t panic. Don’t get cursed. Don’t get turned into a quest marker…

  The night settled quietly around the RV, the moons of Elyndra casting their eerie purple and creamy-white glow across the campsite. The dogs curled tighter, Nyssara observed silently, and James wondered just how many layers this world still had to reveal.