Chapter One
Brittany had tried to quit twice.
Apparently, that was something you could fail at.
The first time, her boss had called her into his office, shut the door, and spent forty-five minutes explaining how essential she was to the company.
Brittany had walked in unemployed in spirit and walked out with a twelve-percent raise, three additional responsibilities, and the vague feeling she'd just been mugged.
The second time, Denise from HR got involved.
Brittany hated Denise.
Not casually. Not professionally. Not in the ordinary please stop scheduling mandatory wellness seminars during lunch sort of way.
Brittany hated Denise with the concentrated fury of a thousand suns.
Denise Patricia Whitmore. Forty. Divorced. One Labradoodle named Cooper. Allergic to shellfish. Peppermint gum chewer. Said circle back like punctuation and once described Brittany's desire to resign as "an opportunity to explore the underlying concerns contributing to her desire for transition."
The underlying concern was that Brittany fucking hated it there.
She hated meetings about meetings. She hated emails marked URGENT that had sat unanswered for six days before someone forwarded them to her. She hated training grown adults who had somehow survived childhood, learned to operate motor vehicles, and presumably filed taxes but needed Brittany to explain how to attach a PDF.
She'd once spent six months training a new hire who thought Excel was some kind of medieval weapon.
Six.
Months.
At thirty-five, Brittany had spent seven years in middle management, survived two marriages, accumulated no children, no pets, and absolutely no desire to acquire either.
Seven years.
Or maybe eight.
Whatever.
Too fucking many.
She'd once joked that she'd rather break her ankle than attend another Monday morning leadership meeting.
Then she'd actually broken her ankle.
They rescheduled the meeting.
Bastards.
But today was different.
On an otherwise unremarkable Thursday morning, Brittany walked toward the office with black coffee in one hand and her third resignation letter in the other.
This one was going to stick.
There would be no meeting.
No counteroffer.
No discussion about her future with the company.
No Denise.
Brittany had written EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY in bold.
Then underlined it.
Then, because Denise had broken something fundamental inside her, she'd Googled whether an employer could legally reject a resignation.
They could not.
Fuck you, Denise.
Brittany stepped off the curb.
Someone screamed.
A horn blared.
She looked up.
Truck.
Big truck.
Very close truck.
Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me.
Then everything went black.
▬▬ι═══════ﺤ ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ
Brittany woke to white.
Not soft white.
Not peaceful white.
Not Grandma is waiting at the end of the tunnel white.
Aggressively white.
Hospital fluorescent lights at two in the morning white.
Except there were no lights.
There wasn't anything.
Brittany looked down.
She seemed to have a body.
That was promising.
She wiggled her fingers.
Ten.
Also promising.
"Okay."
Her voice worked.
Excellent.
White stretched endlessly in every direction.
"Either I'm dead or Kansas finally got a decent hospital."
"Welcome, Brittany."
She spun.
A figure stood behind her.
Glowing.
Of course it was glowing.
Long robes fell around a body that seemed human enough, although Brittany couldn't have said whether the figure was male or female.
Beautiful, probably.
Its features seemed perfectly clear until she tried to focus on any one of them.
Brittany stared.
The figure smiled.
She stared harder.
"Am I dead?"
"Your previous life has ended."
"That's a very corporate way to say yes."
A pause.
"Yes."
"Truck?"
"Truck."
"Fantastic."
She remembered the horn.
Coffee leaving her hand.
Her resignation letter fluttering through the air.
After that—
Nothing.
Probably for the best.
Brittany rubbed her face.
"So what happens now?"
The figure's smile brightened.
"You have been selected for reincarnation."
Brittany's hands stopped.
"...Come again?"
"You will enter a world unlike the one you knew. A world of magic, malevolent spirits, sacred powers, and extraordinary abilities."
Brittany stared.
The figure continued.
"You will face great danger. Develop powers beyond anything possible in your previous life. Your potential is exceptional."
Something long dead inside Brittany twitched.
"Magic?"
"Yes."
"Like actual magic?"
"Yes."
"Not metaphorical finding-my-inner-magic bullshit?"
"Actual magic."
Oh.
Oh, fuck yes.
Brittany straightened.
"Continue."
"You will be given an important purpose. You will aid in the fight against forces that threaten humanity itself."
"Do I have a job?"
The figure paused.
"Not in the manner you previously understood employment."
"No boss?"
"No."
"No quarterly performance reviews?"
"No."
"Mandatory team-building exercises?"
"No."
"Denise?"
"I do not know Denise."
"Best answer you've given me."
Brittany was in.
Actually, Brittany had been in at magic, but confirmation that Denise had apparently failed to achieve interdimensional travel really sealed the deal.
"How strong am I?"
"Your potential is among the highest available."
Available?
Weird word.
Whatever.
"Like chosen-one strong?"
"Your capabilities will depend upon your bond, development, and successful synchronization."
Brittany narrowed her eyes.
"That sounded suspiciously like corporate bullshit."
"I assure you, it is not."
"That's exactly what corporate bullshit says."
The figure didn't respond.
Brittany considered her options.
Technically, she didn't know whether she had options.
She should probably be more upset about being dead.
She knew that.
Thirty-five years was supposed to mean something.
There should have been people. A home. Something unfinished that made her chest hurt when she thought about never seeing it again.
There probably was.
When Brittany reached for it, memories came in pieces.
A kitchen.
Someone laughing.
A Christmas tree leaning slightly to the left.
Her mother's perfume.
A man's hand closing a cabinet too hard.
Her bathroom counter covered in three hundred dollars' worth of skincare she'd apparently died without getting her money's worth from.
Denise chewing peppermint gum.
That one came through perfectly.
Of fucking course.
Maybe getting flattened by several tons of truck did weird things to a person's memory.
Or maybe being dead did.
She'd worry about it later.
"Do I get a new body?"
"You will be capable of physical manifestation."
Brittany frowned.
"That's not what I asked."
"Your form will be determined according to function and bond."
"Human form?"
"Your manifestation will be appropriate to its intended purpose."
Brittany narrowed her eyes.
"You're doing the corporate thing again."
"I am answering your question."
"Poorly."
The figure waited.
Brittany sighed.
"Fine. Will I at least be hot?"
A pause.
Brittany pointed at it.
"That pause was unacceptable."
"Your appearance will be considered remarkable."
"Hot."
"That is not—"
"Hot enough. Continue."
"There may be an adjustment period."
"I just died. My Thursday is already fucked. Send me."
The figure raised one hand.
White light gathered around its fingers.
"Your new existence will differ greatly from your previous one."
"Magic."
"Yes."
"Power."
"Yes."
"No Denise."
"Presumably."
"Boss Babe Anime Remake."
"I don't understand."
"You don't need to."
The light grew brighter.
For the first time in years, Brittany felt something dangerously close to excitement.
No office.
No husbands.
No meetings.
No alarm clock dragging her into another day she didn't want.
She was going to another world.
She was going to have magic.
She was going to be powerful.
Maybe she'd get one of those dramatic capes that somehow never got caught on anything.
The light swallowed her.
"Good luck, Brittany."
"Don't need it."
The world disappeared.
▬▬ι═══════ﺤ ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ
Aiden had been waiting for this day since he was six years old.
Technically, that wasn't true.
He'd been waiting since he was twelve, when his System first activated and informed him that his combat aptitude qualified him for Academy placement.
But six sounded more impressive.
Fourteen sounded impressive too.
At least it did to Aiden.
Today, he'd finally ranked high enough to unlock a bonded Support.
Every fighter had a System. It tracked progression, measured skills, assigned objectives, and occasionally informed Aiden of things he already knew in an unnecessarily judgmental tone.
STAMINA DEPLETED
Yeah, no shit.
A Support was different.
Supports strengthened their Users. They could unlock skills, enhance abilities, improve combat efficiency.
And, most importantly—
They could manifest.
Aiden stood inside one of the glowing circles carved into the black stone floor of the Academy's Manifestation Chamber, trying very hard to look like someone who had not spent most of the previous night deciding exactly what his manifestation should look like.
Other newly ranked students occupied the circles around him.
A boy two rows over had already manifested an enormous double-headed axe.
Predictable.
Someone near the front held a silver spear.
Boring.
A girl against the wall stared openmouthed at two curved daggers glowing blue in her hands.
Better.
Aiden looked at the empty space before him.
His System flashed.
SUPPORT ASSIGNMENT COMPLETE
His heartbeat jumped.
Finally.
Another window appeared.
SELECT INITIAL MANIFESTATION
Aiden grinned.
He had been preparing for this.
Sword.
Obviously.
But not a normal sword.
A katana.
Long.
Sleek.
Black.
No—
Obsidian.
He wasn't entirely sure whether obsidian could actually make a good sword, but it sounded significantly cooler than black.
Matching handle.
Ancient designs along the blade.
Glowing ones.
Not too much.
He wasn't tacky.
Aiden paused.
Maybe a little more.
The System responded.
FORM ACCEPTED
Black light gathered between his hands.
Energy twisted through the air, taking shape piece by piece.
First the hilt.
Then the guard.
Then a long black blade extended outward until Aiden was holding exactly what he'd imagined.
No.
Better.
The blade seemed to drink in the chamber's light. Strange symbols glowed along its edge, old and mysterious despite the fact that Aiden had absolutely no idea what any of them meant.
It was perfect.
Aiden stared.
"Oh, hell yes."
▬▬ι═══════ﺤ ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ
Brittany woke up.
She couldn't see.
That was concerning.
She tried to open her eyes.
Nothing happened.
Okay.
Maybe reincarnation took a minute.
She tried to move.
Nothing.
Hands?
No.
Feet?
Also no.
She tried to breathe.
Nothing happened.
Brittany's panic arrived immediately.
WHAT THE FUCK?
No lungs.
No heartbeat.
No body.
No—
Something shifted around her.
Not touched.
Changed.
Brittany felt herself being—
She didn't have a word for it.
Stretched?
Compressed?
Built?
Oh, I don't like that.
Something formed around her awareness.
Long.
Hard.
Cold.
I REALLY don't like that.
Then a hand closed around her.
The instant skin met the hilt, something tore through Brittany.
FUCK!
A connection snapped open.
Heartbeat.
Breathing.
Heat.
Excitement.
None of it belonged to her.
Black markings erupted beneath the hand holding her.
They raced across pale skin in wild curling lines, twisting around a wrist, climbing an arm.
A boy gasped.
"Whoa."
Boy?
The markings reached his shoulder.
Kept going.
Across his chest.
Around his ribs.
The connection widened with every inch.
And suddenly Brittany could perceive him.
Not with eyes.
Through him.
Age twelve, maybe.
Messy dark hair. Bare chest. Lean arms. A grin entirely too confident for someone whose voice probably still occasionally betrayed him.
He was staring at something in his hand.
At her.
Brittany followed his attention.
Long black blade.
Obsidian-colored hilt.
Glowing designs.
Curved edge.
No.
She tried to move.
The blade didn't.
No.
The boy turned her toward the light, admiring the reflection along her edge.
Brittany's horror sharpened.
NO.
"Heh."
Do not fucking heh me.
The boy looked down at the markings spreading over nearly half his body.
"You're pretty possessive, huh?"
I'M WHAT?
"Nobody else's bond marks went this far."
He sounded delighted about that.
Brittany was considerably less delighted.
"Guess you really wanted me."
I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO YOU ARE.
He gave her an experimental swing.
Brittany's entire existence moved sideways.
OH GOD.
Another.
STOP.
The boy grinned.
"Perfect."
Something in their connection opened.
Brittany found a pathway that hadn't existed a second ago.
A way out.
She took it.
"WHAT. THE. HELL. I'M A SWORD?!"
The boy screamed.
Brittany screamed.
He nearly dropped her.
"DON'T YOU FUCKING DROP ME!"
He caught her with both hands.
His eyes were huge.
"You can talk?!"
"Oh, yay. He's observant. Must be that Academy education."
He stared at the blade.
Then his shock transformed into absolute joy.
"My Support is sentient."
Brittany went silent.
"...Your what?"
"My Support."
"I am not your support."
His System chimed.
A translucent window appeared.
BOND SUCCESSFUL
USER: AIDEN
SUPPORT: BRITTANY
Brittany read it.
Once.
Twice.
"No."
Aiden frowned.
"What?"
"No."
"But—"
"Send me back."
"What?"
"Wherever you got me. Return to sender. Wrong address. System malfunction. I don't care. Send. Me. Back."
"I can't."
"You haven't even tried."
"I just unlocked you!"
"Congratulations. Lock me."
Aiden stared at her.
Brittany stared back as effectively as a sword could.
His eyes slowly traveled along her black blade.
The glowing designs.
The obsidian hilt.
His expression became suspiciously pleased again.
"You're really cool."
Something dangerous happened inside whatever counted as Brittany's mind now.
"Did you make me look like this?"
Aiden hesitated.
That was enough.
"...Kid."
"I picked the manifestation."
Silence.
"Technically."
More silence.
"But the System made it."
"You picked this."
"I just told it what I wanted."
The blade began to hum.
Aiden swallowed.
"YOU MADE ME A FUCKING SWORD?!"
"It was supposed to be cool!"
"I HAD TITS!"
Several students turned toward him.
Aiden's entire face went red.
"Stop yelling!"
"I HAD ARMS."
"Everyone is looking at me!"
"LEGS."
"Please—"
"OPPOSABLE THUMBS."
Aiden lowered his voice desperately.
"I didn't know you were going to be a person!"
Brittany stopped.
That—
Okay.
That was probably fair.
She was still furious.
But fair.
The boy looked down at her.
"So... what's your name?"
Brittany almost laughed.
Of course.
This kid had apparently designed her like an accessory and hadn't even bothered to ask who she was.
Her name.
At least that was easy.
"Brittany."
He blinked.
"...Brittany?"
"Yes."
"That's..."
He looked at the sleek black katana he'd apparently spent actual time designing.
Ancient glowing symbols.
Obsidian hilt.
Black bond marks twisting over half his body.
Then back at her.
"...Brittany."
Her blade hummed.
"Finish that sentence."
The boy reconsidered his next words.
"Brittany is a very powerful sword name."
"I'm not a sword."
He looked at her.
Brittany had no eyes with which to glare.
Somehow, he seemed to feel it anyway.
"...Brittany is a very powerful person name."
A window appeared.
WISDOM +1
The boy gasped.
Brittany stared at the notification.
Then at him.
Then back at the notification.
"...Did I just level up your common sense?"
"I think so."
"Oh, fuck me."
He grinned.
Then, because apparently the universe had not finished punishing her, he straightened his shoulders.
"I suppose proper introductions are in order."
His voice dropped.
Brittany immediately knew she was about to hate this.
"I am Aethryn Shadowbane, Heir of the Black Flame, future First Blade of the Western Order, vanquisher of—"
"Aiden!"
Someone shouted across the chamber.
"You done bonding yet?"
Silence.
Brittany waited.
His ears turned red.
"...Aiden."
"It's my given name."
"Your name is fucking Aiden."
"Aethryn is my chosen name."
"No."
His mouth fell open.
"No?"
"Absolutely not."
"You don't get to decide that."
"Apparently I'm attached to you now, so I'm exercising whatever rights I have left. I'm not spending eternity calling you Aethryn Shadowfuck."
"Shadowbane."
"Aiden."
"I have a title."
"You're fourteen."
"I'm an Academy fighter."
"Can you drive?"
He frowned.
"What's drive?"
Brittany sighed through a respiratory system she no longer possessed.
"Exactly."
Aiden slid her carefully into the black scabbard his System had manifested across his back.
Darkness swallowed her again.
Brittany considered her new circumstances.
Dead.
Reincarnated.
No body.
Sword-shaped.
Bonded to a child named Aiden who wanted to be called Aethryn Shadowbane.
Maybe the truck hadn't been the worst thing that happened to her today.
Aiden started toward the chamber doors.
"So, Brittany—"
"Don't."
"I was just going to ask—"
"Whatever it is, no."
"But aren't you supposed to help me?"
Brittany went still.
Aiden kept walking.
"My System says Supports help their Users develop. You should be able to see my stats, help with skills, maybe unlock abilities—"
Seven years of middle management rose from the dead alongside her.
Meetings.
Training.
Questions.
Fixing mistakes.
Grown men appearing beside her desk with Hey, Brittany, quick question before stealing forty-five minutes of her life.
The exhaustion was as clear as anything she remembered.
"Kid."
"Yeah?"
"I have guided enough man-children through their growth arcs for one lifetime."
Aiden paused.
"What's a man-child?"
Brittany wished she still had a forehead so she could slam it into something.
"I swear to whatever gods run this place, I will find a way to impale myself on your stupidity."
Aiden looked down at the sword at his hip.
"But wouldn't that just be—"
"Don't."
He grinned.
Brittany hated that grin already.
A soft chime sounded.
A window opened inside her awareness.
INITIALIZATION COMPLETE
USER: AIDEN
SUPPORT: BRITTANY
WELCOME, BRITTANY.
Brittany stared at it.
Seven years of middle management.
Two divorces.
One truck.
One magical reincarnation.
She'd finally escaped her old life.
Finally escaped meetings.
Management.
Husbands.
Denise.
And somehow the universe had looked at everything she'd ever been and decided exactly what she needed in her glorious second life.