by K. T. Hanna
Arita cocked her head to one side. “Yes and no. I am my own, yet I am and this is her responsibility.” She gestured to the castle surrounding them.
Several thoughts flitted around in Murmur’s head, slowly piecing the puzzle together, or at least a portion of it, anyway. Emilarth was also responsible for the ruins. The ruins they’d barely escaped from, the ruins that had crashed the servers, that had sent them all tumbling into limbo. She wondered if it was because Emilarth’s grip on her domains was somehow different than the others or if there were a specific reason for targeting one of the AIs over the others.
“But she’s only technically responsibly for you, isn’t she?” Murmur pressed the issue, even though if she were proven right, she still had no idea what it was she was trying to prove.
“Technically.” Some of Arita’s haughtiness returned. “You honestly didn’t think something was wrong with the castle? The cerberus? You really thought this was all me?”
Sinister laughed. “Of course we did. Last time we met you, you were batshit crazy enough to kiss Murmur and give her a leech stone. So, yes, we do think you’re crazy enough to redecorate. I’m not one to judge people’s personal style.”
Arita laughed, a rueful sound. “You have me there. I was new those weeks ago. New to this position, new to this castle. But I wouldn’t have turned my hounds into a cerberus. I’m far more direct with punishments.”
She sighed, and turned to face Murmur, hesitance in her stance.
“You can sense it, can’t you? The...” Arita paused as if trying to find the right word for what she wanted to say. “The darkness?”
Murmur balked. The very walls of the place felt wrong in a way, old and proud, disdainful of the way it had been treated. The wrongness flowed through every crack, through every beast, and every monster with a hunger set on devouring anything it could. Murmur nodded, suppressing a shudder at the thought that all she had holding the wrong at bay was her shielding. “I feel that something is off, but I can’t tell more than that. It’s why I shielded you.”
Because that had been the reason, and her friends turned to look at her in shock. She didn’t need to be able to read minds to know what they were thinking. They wanted to know why she’d done it.
“She was shaking, fighting her own actions. Her words weren’t her own, and she wasn’t channeling the same level or type of power she possessed last time we were here. It all felt different. Wrong.” She hated having to justify herself, but her friends deserved an explanation. Just because she could sense things didn’t mean she had a right to withhold what it was from them. Especially not now when they’d been through limbo together. “I thought, if the feel and the sensations the castle is vibing affect us, couldn’t they also effect NPCs?”
Murmur shrugged as the wave of recognition washed over her raid’s faces. “Seemed like the easiest way to get to the bottom of it.”
“Thank you.” Arita did, in fact, look relieved. She stood, more confident in her steps now, and turned slowly, taking in the entire massive throne room with a sad partial smile on her face. “I really did like it the way it was, you know. It had character, not just evil.”
She waved a hand, and the room warped. Murmur’s eyes almost crossed, and she became dizzy, clutching at Snowy for support, even though he wasn’t the steadiest right then. Sturdy tables reappeared, their edges carved with dancing dark elves, trees, and grapes. Matching, upholstered dining chairs popped into existence, complementing the decorations as they begun to reappear.
Banners cascaded down the walls, bouncing against the restraint at the top where it was secured. Royal blues and purples, deep reds and greens, all of them breathed life back into the place.
Arita’s eyes lit up with an unholy light as she pulled her magic from the gods knew where. Murmur watched, silently cataloguing the fluctuations in Arita’s presence, in her thought patterns, and in her perception. She’d been right, this was different magic. This was Arita’s magic.
The enchanter frowned as she watched Hazenthorne begin to turn back to what it was. This was the queen they’d met so long ago. How had she become so different, almost like something was controlling her?
Control isn’t always a choice.
Murmur wished she could glare at Riasli in person. Except a part of her worried that the voice wasn’t the rogue enchanter, that it was instead her own subconscious going insane.
Pay attention, little Murmur. Tick Tock. Tick Tock.
Shivers cascaded down Murmur’s spine like a freezing cold waterfall had suddenly emerged from her scalp. She forced herself to focus on Arita’s actions, to watch the queen for signs of how this evolving AI had been affected so deeply.
A platform built itself up under the throne, dark like fresh blood, with just that brown tinge which would take over when it died. Last but not least came Arita’s armor. That she reinforced, adding spikes to the elbows and a red sheen that Murmur couldn’t identify to the shoulders. She bit her lip as she turned back to the group and bowed deeply.
“I regret that I last gave you the leech stone, but your power bleeds outside of you, Murmur. Or at least, it used to.” The queen narrowed her eyes as she inspected the enchanter, chewing slowly on her bottom lip in contemplation. “You have more control, are more relaxed. You needed that.
“I should not have given into temptation and should have indeed given you a true pass stone, but I can also be weak. Perhaps you would have found out the trouble I was in sooner and come to my aid if I hadn’t been so selfish.” Arita walked up to her throne, her left pointer finger trailing along the sleek wood, eyes downcast.
Murmur wondered if the queen knew Murmur’s protection was still around her, still keeping her safe from whatever it was leaking into her soul. She was hesitant to pull her protection, given how badly it had influenced Hazenthorne before she intervened.
“You can’t maintain this from a distance.” Arita wasn’t asking, she knew the facts. Her voice sounded so defeated, so different from the once confident queen who’d totally blown Murmur’s mind, so very not scripted.
“No. I can’t maintain it from a distance.” But perhaps she could transfer it to an inanimate object, like a protection stone. She lifted the still-wrapped leech stone from her inventory. “Do you have other objects like this? Ones that welcome magical enhancements?”
Arita nodded, her eyes flashing as she caught onto Murmur’s train of thought. She clapped her hands to the side three times, and a sudden small gnome appeared. Smaller than the player version, anyway. He leaned forward and bowed and handed her something in a small velvet pouch.
Murmur approached and they swapped respective packages. This time Murmur scanned the stone. There was a slight tug from it, toward her as she viewed it, but it appeared to be eager for her to enchant it, and not itself enchanted.
At least she hoped so. This could definitely go terribly wrong. Taking a deep breath, she accessed some of her kinetic energy, knowing she’d need a physical transition into the stone. It hummed, and she could sense tiny tendrils of power weaving their way through the tiny object. Almost like electrodes just waiting to conduct the electricity she inserted into it.
She really hoped magic worked the same way, at least theoretically. Slowly, she began to drizzle magic into it, shaping it in her mind, picturing and projecting the Shield Expansion she wanted it to perform. Just when she was about to give up, she felt a click from the stone, shaking through to her like someone had slammed a door.
When she looked down, all of the tiny ley lines were visible and staring back at her, sparkling with the energy she’d imbued it with.
You have invented a new skill. This skill allows you to imbue magical items with types of psionic force or magic. As this application of psionic talents wasn’t foreseen, this ability is still in the process of being named.
Innate Psionic Skill 1
Type: Tra
nsfer of power to an inanimate object
Cast: Specifically forced duration of time compliant with the type of ability being transferred
Duration: Dependent on magical capability of the object
Cost: Yet to be determined multiplication of the cost of the original spell’s MA
Effect: This skill allows you to imbue a magically charged item with one of your skill sets. You cannot gift active or detrimental skills to a person. It must be for protection purposes only.
Murmur grinned, even if the voice whispering in the back of her mind told her to be cautious.
“Well, what do you know? I just invented a skill.” She placed the small stone in Arita’s hand ignoring the looks she was getting from the rest of her raid.
The queen turned it over, eyeing it thoughtfully. “Thank you. This will help. I can’t hear or feel the castle anymore, if that’s even what this is. Maybe this will help me fix it.”
Stop interfering, you idiot! Just let what needs to happen happen!
Murmur could practically feel the anger welling from Riasli and flooding her mind, and she coughed with the nausea the sensation caused.
Arita looked up at Murmur as if she could sense the battle in the enchanter’s mind, her eyes deadly serious. “But you have to be careful of what you develop. Not everyone will be pleased that you can do this.”
Murmur nodded, knowing firsthand that the queen was right. She glanced around the throne room, sighing with relief at how much it looked like it had originally. “Did you do any of the alterations?”
Arita laughed. “Of course, I did. Spiders and minotaurs are a must, you know. But the other tweaks were almost as if the place took on a life of its own. None of my protections from Emilarth functioned properly. Granted, I think I would have been worse off had I not been in this position.” Her voice trailed off and she righted herself, her eyes flickering back to their black abyss.
“The only bad thing about this—” she indicated the pebble and let it drop into her pocket, “is that in order to give you the key I know you seek, I must be defeated in battle.”
Snowy growled, his hackles rising up, and the hellhound friends flanked him, all eyes on Arita.
She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes, and motioned for them to calm down. “Relax already. I’m not about to make you all fight me.”
The dark elf queen drew herself up to her full height, which would have been more imposing if she were standing on the dais. As it was, she was barely as tall as Sinister. She glanced around, allowing her gaze to linger on each of them in turn.
“Really,” she mused as she reached down to scratch one of her hounds behind the ears. “It’ll be enough if it’s just one of you.”
She flung her arm out so fast, Murmur didn’t even have the chance to react. The spear of darkness that seared through her chest brought agony with it, puncturing through her completely. Everything slowed down. The whole world paused. Somewhere in the background she could hear Sinister scream, at least she thought she could. She’d been wrong before.
Forestall Death wouldn’t activate, even though she attempted to initiate it a second time.
The in-game conditions for this spell are not met. Please try again later.
Murmur coughed, pain flaring through her body as she did so, thick liquid sputtering out of her mouth as trauma began to shake her body.
And then the world stopped.
Somnia Online
Tarishna Continent - Hazenthorne Castle
Day Seventeen
No. No.
Sinister blinked at Murmur, at the blood dripping down her chin, at the massive hole in her chest. None of her healing spells worked, because nothing could close a wound caused by dark magic like that.
She whirled around to Arita, ignoring the sadly whimsical smile on the queen’s face, and hurled the biggest Blood Bomb she could conjure at her face. The queen wasn’t fast enough to move completely out of the way, and it singed her gorgeous hair, dropping a clump of it to the floor as it scalded her cheek.
The rage in Sinister took over. She pulled at the queen’s life, tugging and tearing, willing it to deplete, syphoning every drop she could in a fit of anguish.
“Sin.” Havoc placed a hand on her shoulder, a steadying hand, lending some needed grounding, some tangibility to her outrage.
She dialed it back and realized that she’d not been the only one to target the queen, and the NPC wasn’t even fighting back. She took the hits and just stood her ground. Not one special attack went off, nothing that could combat them. Her eyes remained on Murmur’s now lifeless corpse, a sad twist to the frown on her face, like she’d been expecting something more, something miraculous.
Her health dipped further, and Sinister gave into the frustration, screaming at her. “Why would you do that? Didn’t you know? And after we helped you.”
What if Mur was gone? Sinister couldn’t deal with that. She couldn’t have a world without Wren, not without the one person who never gave up on her, who always believed her. Even after she’d flat out risked her friend’s life, Murmur still loved her.
Wren couldn’t be gone.
“But I had to.” The queen could barely get the words out, so torn up was her face from attacks that she refused to counter. “She has to know; don’t you see it? She has to know for sure. You all do.”
Wren couldn’t be gone, could she?
Sinister watched in confusion as the other dark elf fell to her knees, coughing up blood and spitting out teeth. A sudden wave of sadness washed over her, and she pulled back, standing there, watching the demise of one of the most confusing beings she’d encountered here. “Know what?”
Arita’s smile held sadness. “You’ll see. You’ll all see. When I’m dead.”
Dead. Wren was dead.
She spat out another fit of blood and couldn’t even wipe the corner of her mouth this time, because her hands were useless. Every one of them hesitated. Killing anything when it was fighting back was one thing, but kicking someone who refused to fight back was another. The only one intent on her still was Snowy. When Arita spoke again, she was practically begging. “You have to kill me. It’s the only way. You need this key.”
Wren was gone.
By the end of it, it was one of the worst experiences of Sinister’s entire life. She knew she’d see Arita’s resigned face with all of the damage every time she tried to sleep. But she’d also see Murmur with the cauterized hole in her chest the size of a bowling ball.
With the macabre wall decorations visible through it.
With her mouth open in shock and her starry eyes glazed over.
Murmur was dead, and Wren was gone.
Sinister collapsed to the floor as the sobs shook her body.
The one thing Murmur was certain of was that she wasn’t dead. Not yet.
Limbo has nothing on this, Murmur thought as she floated through black stars. Thickness surrounded her again, like she was encased in slime, or goo, or something equally as gross. Yet it didn’t stick to her, or tangle her hair.
She closed her eyes, seeing the spear of black light impaling her over and over again. And yet. Here she was, still aware, still here. Somehow.
Where had her mind dragged her? Where had the game placed her? Which one was the real her?
Murmur?
The voice was hesitant, like it wasn’t sure she was there or that she could hear it. Who or whatever it was, she was quite certain it wasn’t Riasli. Maybe the rogue enchanter couldn’t reach her mind in here. Odd though, since it appeared she could get her claws in everywhere else.
“Yes?” she answered into the void. It felt like her words were swallowed by some ravenous beast, and its breath whooshed across her face, so acrid it made her eyes sting.
You shouldn’t be here.
The voice was faint this time, l
ess certain, as if it was trying to reach her from somewhere far away.
“Well, I am here, wherever here is,” she muttered, disgruntled. Her head was pounding, but she couldn’t even feel her own hands. Even though it was pitch black here, she was fully aware that the world was spinning around her.
Wait—we have recalculations to calibrate. Something went wrong. Stay where you are.
Murmur swallowed the mildly hysterical laugh that lingered in her throat and let out a sigh instead. “Really? Right here? I was going to go for a walk.” Because she had so many other options.
Her thoughts flit back to the fight, overanalyzing all of Arita’s movements. They were specifically deliberate, only targeted Murmur. She couldn’t feel her bond to Snowy anymore, and it figured that it broke when she died. Only had she really died?
She knew Forestall Death wasn’t working, or hadn’t worked because she’d been too far gone when she cast it. At least that was her theory. Why had Arita killed her? It was so unexpected, so sudden, she hadn’t even contemplated the possibility while they were trying to help her. Damn it, she’d even discovered a whole new spell form in order to help the ungrateful queen.
Murmur rolled, unsure of whether or not she stopped or moved in place. Sensations prickled up and down her body, like something was measuring her, weighing her. She wished the voice would speak again, even if all it did was keep herself out of her own headspace.
You died.
“No shit, Sherlock.” Murmur snapped, already irritated without having the bleeding obvious stated to her. “I know this. Now how do I get back to my character body? Or hell, to my real body?”
There was a pause, like all the stars rushed to a point at once. Murmur couldn’t fight the worry in her voice, the fear she felt inside. Was she stuck here? Was this death?
“Oh, wow.” She breathed the words out. What if this was all there was to the afterlife? Just endless floating in a sea of black sludge.
Working on it.
Maybe it wasn’t the afterlife then, maybe this was a portion of the game world she wasn’t supposed to see—a part of Somnia. Because the more she thought about it, the more that voice sounded decidedly like Telvar.