Dissonance

by K. T. Hanna

  No. No she hadn’t. Ultimately, she’d lost. Wren didn’t like losing. Not at all.

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed, and reached up to grab at her headset, only to wonder why? Why bother to stay here at all? It was all an illusion anyway. Better to be back in the solid world of Somnia, back where she knew at least the things in that world were real for it. Determination in place, she lay back down, closed her eyes and booted up the login. For a moment she wished she didn’t have thought direction activated, because the urge to punch the login button was great.

  As quick as that she blinked her eyes open and was back inside the room on Mikrum Isle, Snowy still next to her watching her carefully. Melancholy stole over her in a heavy wave like a weighted blanket. Tears threatened to well, but she choked it back, and the wolf moved to put his head on her knee, golden eyes angled up at her.

  “Heh. You’re more real than anything else, right boy?” He whuffed at her hand softly again, reassuring her, or agreeing.

  Tiredness stole over, and she yawned so widely, it hurt her ears. She eyed the pillow on the bed and raised an eyebrow at it. “What the hell, right? I’ve napped here before. I can eat, I can drink, and I can kill in this world. May as well give into the urge to actually sleep.”

  Snowy’s half bark seemed to say he didn’t know why it had taken her so long to come to that conclusion, but he wholeheartedly agreed.

  Murmur let herself curl up on her side, tugging the blanket over her from the foot of the bed, and yet staying above the sheets. It was surprisingly warm and comforting, and Snowy crept up to sleep beside her. The last thing she remembered was stroking the wolf’s soft fur and wondering how he kept it in such good condition, before falling into the deepest sleep she’d had since the beginning of Somnia.

  Summer Residence

  Home of Laria, David, and Wren

  Summer Condo

  Late Day Fifteen

  Laria grabbed an apple and ran her hand through her wet hair. Now that the servers were back online, and didn’t seem to be hiccupping at all, she’d taken the time to come home, and check on Wren.

  Grabbing a light speed shower in the process had been a brilliant idea and rendered her at least somewhat human again. Just about to go, she heard an odd noise coming from upstairs.

  Wracking her brain, she tried to remember if Harlow was sleeping here today, or if she’d headed home to appease her parents who hadn’t seen their daughter much, if at all, for weeks.

  Taking the steps two at a time, she arrived just as Wren began to move in the containment capsule. Her heart stuck in her throat as she watched her daughter, watched her hands move fluidly, like a dancer in arabesque, before they flopped down and crashed into the side of the capsule, lifeless for all appearances.

  A gasp came out of her throat, and her eyes flickered beneath the eyelids that were still tightly shut. Her beautiful mouth scrunched into a soft scowl as if the muscles were only just beginning to remember how to move. Beeps rang throughout the room, speeding up, slowing down, lending a cadence of desperation to the situation. Wren reached her left hand up, once again animated, and this time her mouth opened and she screamed.

  The hoarse, guttural sound echoed through the empty room, bringing agonizing life to it for the split second it lasted, and then her hand flopped uselessly to her side and Wren lay peacefully again as if nothing had happened in the first place.

  Laria realized she was breathing so fast she was almost hyperventilating as she crept closer to her now peacefully slumbering daughter, trying to calm herself. The machines died down, no longer so excited and agitated. A grim determination settled over Laria as she stood, watching her daughter, wishing she was able to shake her awake. The new realization made everything worth it, everything meant something.

  Wren wasn’t just taking it lying down, expecting everyone else to solve the problem. She was actively trying to force the system that had captured her brain to let go of her. Obviously, it hadn’t worked yet, but that wasn’t to say it wouldn’t ever.

  “I got you, Wrennie,” Laria said, leaning over to kiss her daughter on her cool forehead. “I got you.”

  She stood up, and dashed downstairs and out the door. Her transport was still waiting there for her, and she nodded to the driver as she ducked in the back seat, running over her plan in her head. So many variables, but there had to be something she could do to help.

  Flashing her wrist briefly over the payment scanner, she jumped out of the transport just as it stopped, barely giving it the moment it needed to adjust. Her thoughts flew nineteen to the dozen, ranging out, forecasting probabilities, figuring out new and different ways they could attempt to pull Wren out of that damned game.

  She burst onto her floor, energized and raring to go, ready to the face the world (well, the world of Somnia, anyway) only to literally run into James.

  The top of her head collided with his chin and smarted dreadfully. Angry, she looked up at him, but realized he was crouching on the ground below frantically trying to gather up files he’d had with him. Old files. Printed files made out of paper. Sure, she knew Shayla sometimes reverted to printing things out because it made it easier for her to process patterns, but why on earth would he have them?

  From the markings on the folders, those files were actually Shayla’s. Without a second thought, Laria knelt down and gathered two of the fallen folders.

  “Wow, thank you so much, James. How did you know Shayla needed these? I was just headed to grab them and bring them to her.” Without waiting for a response, she plastered a smile on her face and relieved the assistant of the rest of the files.

  His eyes narrowed, and a shadow passed across his face, but the scowl that seemed to want to form turned into a smile. “No problem, Laria. Are you sure you don’t want me to help carry them?”

  She maintained her smile so as not to betray her confusion at how easily he’d fallen in line with her having discovered him having files he shouldn’t have. “I’m fine here. I’ll make sure she locks these back up when she’s done with them.”

  He hesitated briefly—but noticeably—and inclined his head. “Very well. Thank you.” His eyes lingered as she turned away.

  She could still feel him watching as she headed down the corridor, making a deliberate stop at Shayla’s office to get out of his line of sight. Yet another thing she needed to figure out. But her daughter was more important right now.

  “Shayla,” she announced as she closed the door behind her, making her friend look up and focus on her instead of the excess of information in front of her. “You’ll never guess what just happened.”

  Murmur stirred, fleeting pictures running through her head, running away with her, leading her on with giggles and candy. She frowned, knowing it was a dream and yet not understanding how she was dreaming when she felt so awake.

  I got you, Wrennie.

  She whirled around, expecting her mother to be standing there right next to her, to tell her she was awake and real, and not in some alternate reality. But there was nothing there. Nothing but the animals and wolves, horses and Tiachi, all looking at her excitedly, chittering in a language she couldn’t understand.

  I got you.

  “Mom?” Murmur reached out a hand, but the hand turned into a snake and whirled around, rising up with a cobra like collar. Then it disappeared as Snowy nipped at her other hand’s fingers, turning back into her hand, complete with the long, indestructible locus nails. She breathed deeply, but the air was cold and wouldn’t cooperate. Snow began to fall, like it knew it was one of her least favorite things ever.

  “Shit,” she muttered, glaring at the white sheet of cold that began to mask the ground.

  She hugged herself and lamented the fact that even though her armor appeared to be thick, apparently it had no warmth in it at all. And then Snowy was there again, his coat so warm, lending her strength a
nd heat through his fur and her legs as he leaned against her. She smiled and knelt down to bury her face in his fur. It was soft and beautiful, smelled like fields of hay and spring flowers. Calm exuded from it, like none she’d experienced before. Not in Somnia, and not at home.

  Something rocked her shoulder, pulling at her, and she blinked down to see a hand on her. Not a hand of nightmares, but a real hand, a human hand. She frowned, and Snowy didn’t growl.

  And then it shook her again, and she woke up with a start.

  Murmur blinked her eyes open and tried to take stock of what was around her. With Snowy draped across her lap, grinning with a big dog grin, it took her a few moments to realize she’d been asleep, in the game, and dreaming.

  While she slotted that away for future panic-driven pondering, she looked up at the person towering over her.

  It was the flower seller from Pelagu, or maybe it wasn’t. She certainly looked similar. With her dark hair, and dark eyes and...

  Murmur smiled as all the pieces locked together. “Hey, Mom.”

  Laria curtseyed and eyed the one spot clear on the bed, next to Murmur, but didn’t sit. Before she could ask, Murmur just lurched forward and hugged her waist. As Laria’s arms slid around her, all she could think of was how she’d not been able to send the message while they were in the ruins and had completely forgotten to check in with her later. While she knew all the things she had on her mind over that period of time were big and excusable, it was still such a relief to feel a hug from her mom. Such a relief to feel alive, to feel loved.

  “Hey, little one. What’s up?” Laria knelt down so she could look up at Murmur whose head had been buried. “Why so glum?”

  Murmur rolled her eyes but chuckled anyway. “I missed you. Tried to message you before the server crashed, but it didn’t work. None of our communication was working.”

  Laria eyed her seriously, and Murmur tugged her up to sit next to her on the bed. Her mother’s expression grew thoughtful. “That might have triggered the shutdown once the system began trying to reconcile the inoperable chat functions. Good thing you tried.”

  She leaned in and hugged Murmur, lending heat and warmth, understanding and strength. Snowy kept his head on Murmur’s leg, and she ran her fingers through his thick fur.

  “I had the weirdest dreams,” she muttered, leaning onto her mom.

  “Dreams in here?” Laria’s tone held curiosity and hesitancy. Perhaps she didn’t want to let Murmur know how very bizarre that was, but the trick was: Murmur already knew.

  “I know that’s weird, Mom.” She bit her lip, wondering how to talk to her mother about the logging out thing.

  “Tell me, Wrennie, did you try to log out before you slept?” That same reluctance rang through in Laria’s question, and Murmur paused.

  “Yeah. I tried really hard. Like I’m talking fought-with-the-system type of hard. But it didn’t work, again.” She shook her head and sighed. “I’m probably just being stubborn and need to try something else, but it was the only thing I could think of. Considering my powers in this world are all related to mind magic, I thought maybe I could overpower the system or something. You know, coerce it.”

  Laria swallowed visibly, like she was contemplating something she wasn’t sure she should say.

  “Out with it, Mom. I’m too tired and too involved for you to keep me out of any of this anymore.” She didn’t snap; she didn’t raise her voice. Murmur just let all of the tiredness and despair leak into her words.

  It was enough to make her mother cringe. “Sorry. It’s the motherly instinct. I have to protect you, but doing so right now means I have to let you know what I know, if it’s to help you at all.”

  Laria took a deep breath, and turned herself sideways to really look at Murmur. “Did you reach out in your attempt, to hold onto something?”

  Murmur nodded.

  “Because you reached out up in your bedroom, in the capsule. The machines went crazy. And you screamed, too. Was it painful?”

  Murmur sat for a good few seconds, thinking over the revelation from all of the angles she could consider. Her actions in the game at the logout had affected the way her body reacted in the real world, to the extent that it mimicked what she’d experienced in her vision, or as herself while trying to exit the game world, while trying to disengage the damned headset.

  So she was attached, and the world wouldn’t give her up, not now that it had its claws dug into her. Perhaps it needed her, or maybe it was because she’d made herself an integral part of the world, she wasn’t sure. But she did know that if it was that eager to keep her, to go so far as to pull her back from the brink of logging into her own world, that the odds of her dying and not coming back to Somnia, were very, very small.

  Somnia wanted to keep her there and for whatever reason, it was attached to her. She was willing to bet her life on it.

  Somnia Online

  Richnai Fortress - Firtulai Continent

  Late Day Fifteen

  Masha stood panting as he surveyed the pure carnage in front of him. Still in the chamber they’d reloaded into, he’d never realized that twenty-four people could create so much gore. Looking at it logically, there was no way it was possible, yet here they were. He’d chugged down several mana potions already, always waiting for the timer to wear off.

  His heals seemed so useless in the wake of a PvP battle. Heals over time were far better suited to this type of combat, and as a cleric, he only had one which he tossed about like a rag to staunch severe bleeding. His strength was huge heals, including the Complete Heal that didn’t really need further explanation, just about five actual seconds to cast. And in this situation, that wasn’t ideal.

  He groaned as Eslan took several fireballs to his shield. Even with that overpowered relic on his side, it still only absorbed so much. Good thing their main tank was exceptional. For a split-second Masha found himself wishing that Jirald were still a healer—he’d pulled some amazing saves out of his ass in the time he’d known the gamer. But with one glance over at where the kid fought, Masha realized how far from his personality a healer actually was.

  Both Karn and Jirald were amazing rogues. Sneaky and assassin-like, ruthless and extreme. But Karn didn’t have the abilities Jirald did and seemed highly irritated by this. Masha knew Risk realized just as well as he did that if Jirald had focused on anyone other than consistently cutting Karn down, his entire troupe would have been decimated.

  While Masha knew Jirald was aware of it, he also realized that in his own way, the rogue was protecting Exodus. Karn was formidable, and by keeping her occupied he made sure that his own guild didn’t suffer the same fate.

  Alarmingly enough, everyone else appeared to be evenly matched. Just like Exodus had, it appeared that Spiral had bound themselves quite close to the fortress. In fact, after several deaths it became somewhat like a comical Zerg rush. Although for a few of them, the experience penalty hadn’t been kind. A couple from both guilds had deleveled and lost abilities. It looked about time to reevaluate things.

  Now, they were standing opposite each other. Glaring, and calculating exactly what they each needed to do to win. Masha knew this could go on forever. “If we keep this up, we’re going to lose so many levels neither of us will catch Fable.”

  And he saw it flicker across Risk’s face. The irritation that the truth caused. Neither of them were going to make it to level cap in a timely manner and make a play for the top of the server if they didn’t stop massacring each other right there and then.

  Risk rolled his hulking shoulders and cracked his neck. Masha’s knew exactly what the man was doing. He was running over potential other avenues with his officers, and probably coming to the same conclusion Masha had all on his own. But as a guild leader, Risk seemed to be a little more militant. Ishwa basically gave Masha free rein.

  “Good point,” the man said shortl
y, nodding his head as he crossed his arms. “Karn!”

  Karn looked up from where she was circling Jirald, just as Masha called out Exodus’s rogues name, stopping him too.

  “We’ve proven ourselves enough for one day.” He motioned her back to his side, and when she seemed hesitant, angry even, he spoke again. “There are other dungeons for us to explore. Better than wasting all of our time here, fighting each other until we’re too low to fight whatever’s farther in.”

  She sighed, and sheathed her weapons with aplomb before turned back to Jirald and snapping out the words. “Just you wait. We’re going to have this out, and you won’t get the drop on me that quickly ever again.”

  Jirald raised an eyebrow, and Masha marveled at the control he possessed not to retort back to her. It was like he’d grown in the space of a few hours. He still hadn’t sheathed his wicked looking daggers and didn’t until she moved back to be with the rest of her guild.

  “Fine.” Risk nodded at Masha, a half smile of grudging respect pushing itself to the fore. “Exodus is hardier than we’d been led to believe. We accept a truce for mutually beneficial reasons. As you were here first, we will make our way across continents to Hightower. Considering it’s already been defeated, I expect it to be fully possible.”

  Masha inclined his head, trying to part with at least a semblance of mutual respect. “Good luck. We will, no doubt, see you again.”

  Spiral slowly backed out, and Masha thanked their lucky stars that the guild leader was at least logical in his dealings with the world. If he’d been a hotheaded kid, who knows how much longer they’d have been fighting.

  Karn was the last one to disappear, her eyes never leaving Jirald, who held her gaze just as fiercely. Aye, that one was going to be a new vendetta. Perhaps it would overshadow the Murmur obsession.

  “I’m so going to make her bow to me,” Jirald muttered, his words sullen and determined. “It’s time I started playing like a rogue.”