by K. T. Hanna
“You think?” Masha quipped. Clearing his throat, he turned his attention from the rogue to the rest of the raid. “Heal up, and get ready to enter the fortress. We’re taking this down, whether others like it or not.”
He glanced through the raid, overlaying everyone with immediate status information and frowned. They’d gotten lucky. With all the rampant deaths most of their players had been close to or just past thirty. While it wasn’t ideal that they’d lost a chunk of experience, at least only one of them had reverted back down to level twenty-eight.
Mumbling spread throughout the group, but it wasn’t disgruntled. Instead, having Spiral drop in on them like that, and holding their own, seemed to have pushed wind into their sails where before uncertainty had been.
Masha would take his victories where he could.
Murmur stood outside the great doors, giving her mother a hug before she logged off. As she watched the character wink out of sight, she stretched and cracked her neck, feeling very alive and quite awake for the first time in several days. Sleeping in the game, it appeared, fixed her just as well as sleeping in a homey virtual reality. Maybe it had something to do with the minimal time compression that always made the gaming hours feel longer than they were.
A series of shivers ran down her spine as she contemplated the realization she’d had while her mother had been probing her on exactly what it was she’d done to elicit the reaction in the real world. They were too closely linked for Murmur’s conclusion to be a coincidence, and yet the thought that trying to test her theory required her death in-game was still chillingly scary.
Snowy nipped at her fingers, glaring at her when she looked down.
“What? I’m going to have to try it sometime.” She tried to pet his head, but he was having none of it. “Fine. I’ll wait until others are around me. Or until it happens organically. Regardless, I’m going to have to try it out. I can’t stay in here forever if I can’t even take an arrow to the knee.”
The roll of the eyes the wolf gave her shouldn’t have been anatomically possible, and she narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re not all wolf, are you?”
He declined to answer, and she sighed, looking back out and over the small island. They needed to level. They needed to get to another key. With two guilds hot on their tails, Murmur didn’t want to risk losing the narrow lead they’d managed to get. Granted they were a few levels higher than the others, and she was dreadfully close to thirty-five, but with all the crap in the ruins and the time it took them off their leveling course, the experience had been rough in comparison.
“Think we should try Hazenthorne now we’ve leveled and are a bit more aware?” she asked her companion, only half meaning it. A low growl emitted from his throat, sort of like a fuck yeah response and she chuckled. “You weren’t with us last time. I’m sure you’d make mincemeat out of her hounds if she attempts to set them on us again.”
Snowy opened his mouth and let his tongue lol out. He was definitely laughing, now whether it was at her or the hounds, she wasn’t sure. Glancing at the time in the corner of her view, she frowned. Surely the others would be getting back on soon, or had she misread the time before she attempted her own log out. Things were so muddled in her head, she wasn’t having the best time reconciling things since waking up.
“Mur!”
Practically jumping out of her skin and noticing her wolf laughing at her this time in the corner of her vision, Murmur spun around to see Sinister clutching her sides with laughter.
“So glad you’re happy,” she muttered irritably.
Sinister crouched down a bit and wormed her way up under Murmur’s chin. “Aw, come on, Mur. You know you love me.”
The words sent their own tingle through Murmur’s system, and it was like a sun dawned on the words, and on her, and on them. She looked down into her friend’s fathomless eyes and smiled more genuinely than she had in a while. “Yeah. You’re right, I do love you.”
The blush that suffused Sinister’s face caught the dark elf off guard, and she looked away, biting her lip, but caught Murmur’s hand in her own and squeezed tightly, like she’d never let go.
They were still standing that way when a few of the others blipped into the world, surrounded by a shimmer for that brief moment of transition. Murmur eyed the light, determined that she’d have access to it again soon. She glanced at Sinister who finally left her side, if somewhat reluctantly. The blood mage’s face lit up animatedly, her hands gesturing as she spoke to Beastial, who cringed before he laughed.
A small pang of what Murmur now recognized as jealousy flared in her chest. It was an odd sensation and something she couldn’t take the time to deal with right now. Even though she was certain Sin would despise the plan Murmur was forming, it would allow her to know once and for all just what the hang-up was with her condition.
With her mind this active, she didn’t for one moment believe that her body was only in Somnia, and knew full well that it was back home in a containment capsule. There was no way she believed she could be tricked into thinking death was real. She’d already gone through copious amounts of pain in the game.
And that was just it. The game appeared to want something from her, to need something from her. The world was solidifying, becoming so much more that it was intended to be. As Telvar said: Somnia was real, tangible. And, it appeared, very attached to her mind.
“You look like you’re deep in thought?” Jinna stood next to her, looking up, interrupting her thoughts.
She glanced down at him, not quite confident enough in her calculations yet to voice what she was planning to attempt. There were a few more pieces to the puzzle she could check before running the ultimate test. “I guess I am.”
“Need a penny?” he ventured.
“Oh, you’d need a lot more than a penny for these thoughts.” She sighed, unsure if she was just getting stir crazy, or being logical. What harm would there be in telling her friends? They might try to talk her out of it, but beyond that, they’d already proven they were up for some scary shit when it came to helping her.
“Really? You’re not thinking of doing anything reckless, are you?” He stared at her, maintaining eye contact in a way she found it difficult to break.
“Not reckless, no. Just contemplating a lot of variables along with some of the new information that’s come along in the last day.” It wasn’t a lie. Her first inkling of the possibilities had been in limbo, where she could reach and read, hear and understand so much more than she’d been able to before. Like Somnia was letting her in, trusting her.
“Good. Don’t go being reckless. There’d be a lot of us upset if anything untoward happened to you.” He remained there, eyeing her like he could read her thoughts.
Murmur sighed. “I tried to log out.”
In his favor, Jinna didn’t move a muscle. All he did was continue watching her as the others gathered around slowly.
“You tried to log out?” Sinister sounded worried, but hope lingered at the edge of her words. “I’m taking it didn’t work?”
Murmur shook her head, and then shrugged. “Sort of, but not. It’s like the game doesn’t want to let go. But I think...”
She scanned her friends, watching their expectant expressions, the eagerness to hear what it was she’d experienced. Fine then, but she didn’t think they were ready for everything. Just a tidbit, and she’d give them the rest later.
“I managed to get my body to react. Mom told me. It mirrored what I did while trying to coerce the system into letting me out of the game.”
“Wait, what?” Mellow stepped forward, eagerness radiating from them. “Your comatose body reacted?”
Murmur nodded. “And I screamed. And then it stopped when I woke up in the fake house with the annoying curtains.”
“That’s so...” Mellow looked up at her and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, it’s fascinating, but you’re probabl
y not thinking along scientific research lines.”
“Wasn’t my first thought.” She chuckled to break the ice. “Anyway. That’s it for what happened while you were all asleep.”
Jinna grinned. “See? That penny was well worth it, wasn’t it?” He reached up to pat her on the shoulder in a fatherly gesture, a mild grin on his face before he turned to talk to Devlish.
Murmur watched her friends from the side, soaking in their vibes and their electricity. The sheer confidence and carefree nature of their every move. These were good people, and this was a new world.
Snowy poked his nose into the crook of her knee and barked softly. Twice.
“Fine. I’ll stop moping and join in.” He’d already trotted out ahead of her, clearing a path, beckoning to her. He kept glancing back to make sure she was following, his white fur glistening in the sun, though it wasn’t wet. Like a magical aura suddenly surrounded him, making him sparkly and transcendent.
Murmur sighed. She’d always thought he was much more than a common snow wolf. If that wasn’t proof, she didn’t know what was. Just as she was about to join her friends, Havoc stepped out, his smile grim.
“Laria called me.” He greeted without preamble.
Murmur winced. “Ah.”
She couldn’t think of anything else to say. Her mother wasn’t stupid and had likely picked up on some of Murmur’s train of thought, just by watching her expressions. Locus or not, Murmur knew her facial control wasn’t the best. And Harlow was way too complicit in Murmur’s antics for Laria to think she’d sway her daughter at all.
“Should I be watching you for signs of erratic behavior?” His tone held mirth in it, like he assumed it was a joke, and she didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise.
“Not erratic behavior. Never erratic behavior.” She grinned at him, hiding behind the stretch of truth. It wasn’t erratic if it was planned and premeditated. So she wasn’t lying.
He raised an eyebrow, the fact that he didn’t believe a word she’d said lying out there in the open for them to see. “Really, now? You realize you’re being highly suspicious, don’t you?”
“No,” she scoffed, and deftly diverted the subject. “But I do want to get out there and kill shit, and Hazenthorne, if I remember correctly, is a zone we owe a lot of butt kicking.”
She grinned to emphasize the point, but Havoc just continued to stare at her blankly.
“You’re going to have to talk about what’s going on in that head of yours, Mur, because I’m not going to stand idly by and wait for you to explode like a Molotov cocktail on us again.” His tone held a sternness to it she’d not expected from him, though in hindsight, she deserved it.
He had a point. The last time she’d bottled things up hadn’t ended well for any of them.
“Fine. I’m just not ready to talk about everything yet. It’s not explode-worthy, not that type of thing. I have to figure out a few more aspects before I can share it with you. If it’s not going to pan out, then attempting or sharing it is just a waste of everyone’s energy. Okay?” She really hoped he was fine with that, because Havoc could be stubborn like no one else.
He squinted at her, like maybe he could see into something about her and figure out if she was really being truthful. “Acceptable then. For now. Just don’t, Mur, okay? Don’t bottle it up and block us out.”
She smiled, gratefulness creeping over her. “Don’t worry. I’m not about to fuck up like that again.”
“See that you don’t.” He nodded and stepped aside, allowing them both to join the group.
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 and 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. Conside
ring 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.
Storm Entertainment
Somnia Online Division
Game Development Offices
Early Hours: Day Sixteen
Laria stared at the login screen in front of her, trying to let her mind wind down from the whirlwind that was her daughter. Perhaps that wasn’t fair, but she rarely felt in place with Wren. And yet Wren had actually needed a hug from Laria, for once. Her usually strong, independent, and logical girl had needed Laria to comfort her.