"Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets."

Paul Tournier, Swiss author (1898 – 1986)

Milly kept pace behind Xavier as they marched through the tall grasses of the plains, the four towers of the Castle of Glass growing distant behind them. The morning sun beamed down upon them, and she had to flap the bottom of her black hoodie to try to keep herself cool. The dry, steady breeze provided little relief as sweat trickled off her brow.

She felt something crawling up her arm, and she shuddered. Rolling up her sleeve, she found the tick near her elbow, slowly making its way towards her armpit. She snagged it between two fingers and tried to crush it, pouring her anger and fear into the act, but the tick was unphased. Eventually, she flicked it behind her, along with three others she plucked off the outside of her pants.

She glanced towards the southern jungle, where the gentle, cooling rain called to her. Its shade was a stark contrast to the stifling heat of the tree-sparse prairie they now traveled.

Plus, there are no ticks over there. Ugh, they are so gross!

“Tell me why we didn't start in the jungle,” she asked, trying to catch up to Xavier. Her legs burned from the exertion. He was a gym rat, easily able to traverse the wilderness around them. She, on the other hand, spent her days riding a bus and sitting at her desk. The only exercise she got was her weekend dumpster diving.

“Because we would get soaked in the rain,” he answered, as he scanned the rolling hill ahead of them. “I don’t know about you, but these are the only clothes I have. The last thing I want is to get them wet.”

She was surprised by his answer. No game theory. No technical jargon. Just a simple, practical reality—one she could easily wrap her head around.

“Plus, it’s a jungle,” he continued. “And it’s still morning. In a few hours, that jungle is going to be hot and humid. You'll beg for the easy, dry heat of the prairies after experiencing that hell.”

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you,” she muttered.

“Yes, I am,” he said with a confident laugh.

She couldn’t help but envy his excitement. Ever since they’d stepped out of the Castle, Xavier’s face had been lit up with the largest smile she’d ever seen. She'd even caught him humming once.

It’s as if I’m seeing the real Xavier for the first time. He’s having the time of his life, and all I can think about is how lost and scared I feel.

“Are you actually enjoying this?” she asked curiously.

Xavier stopped in his tracks. He planted the point of his sword into the dirt and leaned on it casually.

“Milly, I’m a shut-in. I work, exercise, and play video games. That’s my entire life. I have no friends, my father disowned me, and I’m always broke. My life is barely worth living. And if I died, no one would care.”

He took a deep breath, leaned his head back, and stared up at the beautiful blue sky. “But now I've been transported into a fantasy. Exploring the unknown. Fighting monsters. Finding treasures. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted. My dreams become reality. So, yes, I am enjoying this.”

His eyes glistened with child-like wonder, unable to contain his glee.

She stared at him as if she were meeting a stranger. With the exception of his obsession with video games and the gym, he’d never revealed that much about his life. She’d assumed he was just private—that he had a loving family back home and a plan for the future.

She never realized just how similar they were.

“My life isn’t anything spectacular either,” she revealed. “No friends. No family. Just a dead-end job with my depression to keep me company.”

He closed the distance and, very tentatively, gave her an awkward pat on the head. “So embrace the adventure.”

“Xavier,” she whispered. “I don’t know anything about video games. I don’t want to die here. I’m afraid.”

“So am I,” he admitted. “And doesn’t that make you feel alive? Besides, what’s to say we’d live any longer back home? A bus could hit you tomorrow and poof! That's the end of Milly Hawthorn. A week later, your belongings are in the trash and your landlord has rented your apartment to someone else. Your job at Acicentre has been filled, and the world keeps on spinning. No matter what happens in the God Contest, it must be better than continuing to live such a life.”

Since when did Xavier become a beacon of optimism and positivity? He was always so negative at work—complaining about Mr. Fredrickson and arguing with Calista. Is this what he’s like when he’s actually happy?

“You should work in the sales department, Xavier,” she suggested. She was still afraid, but his happiness was a refreshing alternative to the fear and anger that were consuming her.

“With those jerks? No way. You’re the only person I can stand around here. The only person I trust.”

He…trusts me?

“Thanks Xavier. I’m…glad you decided to take me with you.”

She stopped short of saying she trusted him.

I don’t know if I trust anyone. The last person I trusted was my foster father and he wasn’t someone I should have trusted.

“Unless I die, of course,” she added with an awkward laugh. “If I do, I’ll come back as a ghost and haunt you.”

Xavier snorted in amusement. “You’ve got the gloomy personality of a ghost. But I think you might be too introverted to pull it off. Haunting requires human interaction, after all.”

She slapped his shoulder playfully, and they continued along their way.

“So…umm…why’d your father disown you?” she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. As soon as she said it, she tried to take it back. “Sorry Xavier, you don’t need to answer that. It was insensitive. I’m just nervous.”

“It's fine. I don’t tell people because no one asks. Not that I would tell them if they did. People have always hated me, and I don’t need to add more fuel to that fire.”

He paused for a few seconds, considering whether to answer. He studied her expression and, sensing no ill will, finally answered.

“He disowned me because I changed my name,” he said, his voice dripping with venom against his father.

“That seems like a very petty reason to disown you,” she said sympathetically.

“Yeah, well, he thought it was pretty fucking unforgiveable. It wasn’t my fault he was so attached to the name Vivian. He threw me out of our home the day he found out.”

Milly mouthed a silent “Ooh” as she realized what he was actually saying. She didn't know how to respond.

Xavier watched her in silence, muscles tensed as if he expected her to lash out.

“He...sounds like a terrible father,” she replied awkwardly, breaking the silence. “Xavier suits you far better.”

“I like to think so,” he responded with a tiny sigh of relief. “And I’m better off without him. Now it's your turn.”

“My turn for what?”

“To tell me your biggest secret,” he said casually, bending down to inspect something in the dirt. “You know my secret now, so it seems only fair that I know yours.”

“You’ve never asked me about my life before,” she said, as she tried to stall for time. It felt like a wave had swept her away from the shore and was trying to drag her down into its depths. “Never ever.”

Can I be that brave? Xavier trusted me with his secret.

“Well, we were just work colleagues before. Frankly, I didn't want to know more about you. People come and go so fast at Acicentre that it hurts to get attached to anyone. But our situation has changed now, hasn’t it? Nothing like a deadly contest to make one want to know their party members better.”

“So it took us getting sucked into another world for you to finally express an interest in my life?”

“Yup,” he said, unabashed. “Pretty much.”

Milly huffed as Xavier rose to his feet, his inspection complete. He adjusted their course north, following a narrow animal path that led to a nearby hill. “We’re getting close.”

“Close to what?” she asked. She struggled to keep up with him as he walked faster, brushing the long grass away from her face as they strode through the prairie.

“Our first encounter,” he said simply.

“Our first what?” she asked, thoroughly confused.

“Encounter. Fight. So keep your eyes peeled.”

“Peeled for what? Xavier, I have no idea what’s going on. Stop being a know-it-all and just tell me what you’re doing!”

He stopped and sighed, pointing to the mud under their feet. “You see these footprints? Four clawed toes. About the size of a child’s footprints. Definitely not a deer. If this place is built like a video game, that means there are monsters.”

“Monsters? Like, a Frankenstein or a werewolf?”

“God, I hope not. We’d be fucked. No, if this follows standard RPG logic, enemies near our starting location should be lower level. Easier to fight. We’re going to find whatever this is and kill it. Boom! Experience.”

“Do we have to? I don’t want to kill anything.”

“You will if you want to survive,” he answered without hesitation. “Besides, it’s just a game. Kill things, get stronger.”

Milly fell silent, as Xavier led them along the trail.

Is this a game? Xavier clearly thinks so, but…

She ran her hand across the grass and gazed back at the northern mountains. She closed her eyes as the wind blew through her hair, and she sneezed as the dust tickled her nose.

But what if it’s not just a game? What if it’s something more?

A few minutes later, they stopped at a fork in the trail, and Xavier knelt to inspect the footprints.

“By the way, you didn’t answer my question,” he said as he chose the trail on the right. “What’s your deepest, darkest secret?”

“What?” she stammered, her anxiety spiking. “Oh, umm…I…”

“Oh my god, Milly. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I don’t care that much,” he laughed as she grew more uncomfortable. “You can keep your secrets.”

I’ve kept it buried since I was fifteen, but it haunts my thoughts and my nightmares. The only person I’ve ever told since my foster father’s trial was my psychiatrist, Dr. Anthony. She said keeping the secret buried was slowly killing me. Is it time to tell someone? Can I be that brave?

“I-I’ll tell you. I might be dead tomorrow anyways,” she decided, rolling up the sleeves of her hoodie. “Please don’t judge me.”

She held her wrists out, revealing the deep, self-inflicted scars she kept hidden from the world.

“I was fifteen,” she started, her voice quiet but unexpectedly steady. “My foster father was abusive. He would get drunk, and then he would get violent. It happened after a really bad night. I tried to hide in my closet, and he…he…”

Her voice cracked, but she swallowed hard and continued.

“After he was…finished…I filled the tub and climbed in and…you know. I felt so dead inside, and I just wanted it all to finally be over. My foster mother found me. She called the ambulance. There were doctors and police. A trial. I was the key witness and I was forced to re-live that night over and over again. He got three years in jail. I got these scars, and endless nightmares.”

She stopped and waited for him to respond, afraid of what he might say.

To her surprise, Xavier simply shrugged. “That’s shitty, Milly. Looks like we both drew the short straws when they were handing out parents.”

That’s it? That’s all the response I get? No questions? No judgement. That's just so…so Xavier!

She stared at him in disbelief, and couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, I guess we did,” she said, the laughter blunting her fear.

“Now, are we done being all deep and emotional and shit? We’ve got better things to do.”

She nodded, feeling a little lighter.

They continued weaving along the animal path, Xavier in the lead. Though her fear still bubbled below the surface, for a brief moment, her personal darkness receded, and she let herself feel the hope she’d denied herself for so long.

Her past—her soul—had been laid bare, and she had survived.

And if I can survive that—if I can face my past—then maybe, just maybe, I can survive this God Contest thing too.

Non-Canonical Aftermath:

“Okay, forget the jungle. What about the beach?” Milly complains as they march through tick-infected grass. “Seriously, these things are disgusting!”

“Two words,” Xavier answers. “Sand fleas.”

“No one would choose ticks over sand fleas,” she counters. “Ever.”

“Well…the beach is full of sand,” he attempts, grasping at straws.

“Yeah, that’s what makes it a beach. What’s wrong with that?”

“Well…I don’t like sand. It’s coarse and rough and irritating – and it gets everywhere,” he explains.

She picks a tick off her hoodie and flicks it at his nose. “That’s it! I’m turning around. Sunny beaches, here I come!”