Arron covered his throat. If he could stop the bleeding long enough to—he pulled his hand back. It was clean. Feeling the skin again, where there should be blood and torn cartilage, he found smooth skin.

“Oh good, you’re awake. Don’t try to move just yet. The first respawn can be a little jarring,” a melodious woman’s voice said.

“What the fuck just happened!” The wet crunch when his esophagus buckled under the weight of the zombie’s rancid jaws was sickening. And if his heart pounded any harder, it was going to burst from his chest.

“You are safe here, hero.”

“Safe? A zombie just ate my face!”

“Yes. But not here.”

Arron jerked his head left and right. He was in a small clearing surrounded by marble benches, and a thin mist encircled it all about thirty yards across, muffling the sounds he knew accompanied this particular crossroads. He was back in Glendale.

And in front of him floated… an angel? He gapped, taking in the sight of her.

“I am Brynhild, caretaker of the recently slain, and I am here to help you rejoin your quest.”

Brynhild was easily eight feet tall. Her huge, feathered wings flapping rhythmically as she hovered above the ground. Leather and steal armor adorned her from head to toe, and two engraved, glowing hand axes hung at her belt. Her entire form was slightly translucent, and Arron could faintly see buildings and the numerous players through her.

And of course, the last person he wanted to see was coming towards him, scowling. The elf, Sevrin, if the dwarf could be believed, who threw him across the market earlier, passed through Brynhild’s body. Arron flinched as he got close, thinking the elf meant to kick him while he was down.

Sevrin walked right through him, like he was Patrick Swayze about to teach pottery.

Sputtering, Arron scrambled to his feet. It was a weird, disturbing feeling having someone walk through you.

“W-what the hell just happened?” He shouted. “Hell, what is still happening?”

Brynhild regarded him with pity. “As I said, hero, the first respawn can be jarring. Stop for a moment and take a breath. You are alive and currently protected by respawn. Those around cannot see you and cannot touch you. You are safe here.”

Players walked here and there, going about their business, entering and leaving buildings. But that mist made them… separate from him.

He lowered himself onto one of the marble benches and spent several moments breathing deeply to calm his frazzled mind and pounding heart.

In… and out.

And in… and out…

He realized he was no longer wearing his clothes, instead dressed in a white tunic cinched around the waist by a piece of cord and a simple set of sandals. Arron hung his head. “So… I died?”

“You did, hero.”

“And this is where I come when I die, to go back out and try everything again.”

“This is your spawn point, yes. From here, you may once again set forth on your quest!”

“Sure… right.” He spent a few minutes tamping down his disappointment at not making it to the Black Keep.

A zombie killed him. A cheap World War Z reject. He made it all the way to that portal thing, and because he wasn’t paying attention… He should feel ashamed. Especially when Bella had been so close.

Arron gritted his teeth and turned his focus on Brynhild. “So, what does that make you, an angel?”

Brynhild laughed a melodious, ringing laugh. “No. I am no angel, hero. I am a Valkyrie. Chooser of the slain, handmaiden to Odin, guide to Valhalla itself.”

“Oh. I don’t really know what any of that means, but okay, cool.”

Brynhild shook her head slightly, and Arron sat up a little straighter. Was that a glare? Why was everyone treating him like—

Aaron stopped himself. It wouldn’t do him any good getting riled because of some… not-angel. A lumbering rock-man moved through his misted circle, passing through one of the marbled benches. “Umm, why can’t the other players see me?”

“You are in respawn. While you are here, you are between worlds, and so are apart from those you see.”

“Oh. And my clothes?”

“When you fall in battle, the spoils of war go to your opponent do they not?”

That actually made sense.

Arron waited to see if the Valkyrie would say anything else, and when she didn’t, he took a deep breath and stood. He gave an awkward nod to the Valkyrie and she smiled back as he walked out of the circle.