by John L. Monk
Myrialla cupped my hand and gently removed the bag from my face. While I held my breath, she leaned in and kissed me—on the cheek. Even so, the press of her lips to my flesh sent my pulse caterwauling in my ears.
Somehow, I controlled myself, and in so doing kept my humanity.
With a glance up the hill, she said, “There is another who awaits an altogether different kiss. Until it is given, this ugly dome will remain. I want it gone. For both your sakes, make haste! I can only control my nature for so long. And though I hold you no ill will, know that when next we meet I will show far less restraint.”
As I focused on breathing through the bag, Myrialla turned and resumed her trek to the tree. Behind her, Lord Beast and his companions following like a troop of demented ducklings. I tracked their progress and noted how the mist sucked in behind them. More of the tree had become visible. Of Dory, there was no sign.
With a long last look at the disaster I’d barely escaped, I resumed my climb.
Melody lay in a silken gown on her back. A plush red pillow supported her head, and her body was wreathed in fresh flowers that perfumed the air. She’d been sixty-two when she died. The woman before me was in her twenties. Dark brown hair had vanished the gray away. Same full lips. Same dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks.
I touched her warm, living hand and followed the rise and fall of her chest.
“Melody?” I said. “Is it really you in there? After all these years?”
She didn’t reply or give any sign that she’d heard me. Until the conditions of the game’s sadistic quest system set her free, I knew she’d remain in everlasting sleep.
“I’m here now, honey,” I said. “I always will be. No matter what.”
I leaned in to kiss her—and hesitated.
If I kissed her, I’d be setting Myrialla loose on the world again. If I didn’t, Melody would sleep forever, the shield would stay up, and the dryad would have no others to feast upon except Lord Beast and his friends.
There was another option: I could kill Myrialla again. She only had 1 health point, and I still had my bottomless bag. But then I’d have to deal with Lord Beast and his friends—new enemies who would seek their revenge against me the way the Crimson Sigil had. With their higher-level resources, they could almost certainly pay for a so-called death machine to be used against me. For Melody, the penalty for my treachery would be far worse.
As if sensing my misgivings, the purple mist had returned, forming a barrier around us. Myrialla’s meaning was clear: if I tried flipping the script, she’d fight me with every tool in her arsenal.
Pushing away my misgivings, I leaned down and delivered the first kiss I’d had with my wife in the five years since her death.
When she opened her eyes, I said, “I love you, Melody.”
“Oh, Ethan,” she said, blinking sleepily. “What are you doing here? You said … You said you’d never do it. You said Everlife worlds were suicide. What changed?”
“I was wrong,” I said simply, and kissed her again. “The only thing that matters is that I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she said. “I always have, and I always will.”
Above her head, a golden orb said unnecessarily that she was telling the truth. No, I wasn’t looking for it, but I could always see them when people spoke.
“We’ll pick up again,” I said. “Start from where we left off. We can have a new life here. Together forever.”
She smiled hesitantly, and I kissed her again.
The name Curse of Knowledge had always struck me as overly dramatic. I could project myself through walls and eavesdrop on enemies. I could discern foes from a distance, understand languages, find water, and seek that which was hidden…
“Yes,” she said. “Together forever … I’d like that too.”
…but it was only now, staring at her golden orb as it turned black in the presence of her lie, that I finally understood it for the curse it was.
Chronicles of Ethan: Karma's Touch, Coming December 20th!
Hard Mode Final Stats
Player Name: Ethan Crane
Player Level: 438
Next level: 3,573,245/5,000,000 XP
Species: Human
Age: 25
Classes: Sorcerer, Diviner, Diabolist
Health Points: 1,760
Current Health: 1,760
Health Regeneration: 880/hour
Mana: 18,910
Current Mana: 18,910
Mana Regeneration: 9,455/hour
Armor: 1/1
Avoidance: .51%
Gold: 74
Unused Class Points: 2
Unused Skill Points: 380
Unused Stat Points: 5
Lives: 16
MAJOR ATTRIBUTES: Strength: 51, Agility: 51, Vitality: 176, Intelligence: 1891, Comeliness: 21
RESISTANCES: Poison: 88, Fire: 1, Cold: 1, Acid: 1, Magic: 1, Mind Control: 945.5, Pain: 1
PERKS: Summon Apple, Kenning Man
ACTIVE EFFECTS: Flight
WEAPON SKILLS: Melee: 1, Ranged: 1, Hand-to-hand: 1
CLASS ABILITIES (Sorcerer): Acid Orb, Actinic Strobe, Bane Strike, Deep Freeze, Fire Guard, Fire Shield, Fire Whip, Flame Bullet, Flame Lance, Greater Acid Orb, Greater Ice Bullet, Greater Invisible Fist, Greater Lightning Bolt, Greater Poison Lash, Greater Rain of Fire, Greater Shield, Greater Sprint, Greater Zap, Group Shield, Ice Bullet, Invisible Fist, Light Rune, Lightning Bolt, Major Shield, Mighty Bane Strike, Mighty Fire Whip, Mighty Flame Bullet, Mighty Lightning Bolt, Mighty Shield, Mighty Solar Strike, Naroo’s Twisty Tangle, Poison Lash, Rain of Fire, Shadow Assault, Shadow Beam, Shocking Blast, Shrieking Gale, Shrink Ray, Solar Strike, Sphere of Darkness, Spike Blast, Weak Shield, Word of Death, Zap
CLASS ABILITIES (Diviner): Lurk, Discern, Reveal Weakness
CLASS ABILITIES (Diabolist): Ghanut, Sharadra, Trapzich, Buzilag, Dra’az, Mezheru, Krik-tzi, Urshuk, Angara, Zuxtu
ACTIVE GEAR: Robes of Flight
Karma’s Touch
Chronicles of Ethan Book 3
Chapter One
My wife, Melody, wasn’t allowed inside the Mediocre Marauder, and for the most absurd of reasons.
“She doesn’t exist, that’s why,” Bernard said after my third time trying to get her successfully across the threshold into the inn. Each time she got a foot inside, she disappeared, then reappeared ten feet outside.
“Of course she exists,” I said, pointing back at the door, currently propped open with a chair. Melody waved hesitantly from outside. “She’s right there!”
Bernard sighed. “She’s not a player, Ethan. Even if you think she is. Far be it from me to tell you who—or what—you can marry (though I recommend the bachelor life to all who will listen), but the sign in the window clearly states No Minions, and rules are rules.”
I’d seen that curious sign outside the Ward 1 versions of The Slaughtered Noob and Mediocre Marauder.
Helplessly, I said, “She’s not a minion. And it’s a stupid rule.”
In addition to being a bartender and a jovial source of quests and adventure lore for intrepid players, Bernard was also a god or something like it. By his own admission, he was over level 1,000,000. Which meant he could break the rules if he wanted to.
I told him as much.
“But I don’t want to,” he said. “It’s part of my imperative, see? Stickler for the rules, I am, and you should be too.” His voice grew a shade softer, ominously pitched to draw me in. “You can’t see it, but it’s inside you. Your karma. Something like a soul, your karma influences every little facet of—”
“Oh, stuff it.”
I returned to Melody and slammed the door behind me.
Melody had a worried, almost anxious look on her face. “What’d he say?”
“That he’s an idiot.”
“Really?”
“He used different words. Come on. I have a little gold.”
It had only been two hours since we’d quit the road from th
e Vale of Solace to arrive at the gates of Heroes’ Reach, the Ward 2 equivalent of Heroes’ Landing. Three days ago, after the glowing shield surrounding the ruins had evaporated, Jaddow had disappeared. I’d expected as much. He worked for Cipher, and his part in getting me to my wife was over.
Rita had left too, without saying goodbye. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. She was a friend and one whose debt I could never repay. But there had been that kiss. On the mouth. To my shame, I’d kissed her back.
Naturally, I didn’t tell Melody. I’d never kept secrets from her before, but here I was doing it now. Thank goodness we’d had the journey to occupy us. Time to think, and for her to get used to the new me: a reluctant adventurer in a game world I’d once derided as a suicide trap.
“How about there?” Melody said ten minutes later.
“Where?” I said.
She pointed at a large building on the other side of a moderately busy intersection. Sort of fancy, it had carved wooden panels of adventurers with sticks chasing terrified forest creatures. Hanging over the door was a sign reading, The Grind.
“Are you sure it’s an inn?” I said.
“Even if it’s not, we can ask about one inside. If I can get in…”
“You can if it’s player-owned,” I said.
I’d explained to her how most of the stores and restaurants were owned by players, whereas banks, Bernard’s inns, and Crunk’s Junk were not.
The Grind had no prohibition against Melody entering, and yes, it turned out to be an inn, though a strange one. Where the Mediocre Marauder had sturdy wooden stools, tables, and visible timber construction, this place had a finished interior and was decorated with a theme that matched the name. Along the walls were murals like the panels out front but of better quality. Each showed warriors, wizards, and arrow slingers battling a progression of bigger and more dangerous threats. It started on the left side, with squirrels and chipmunks harrying terrified noobs, then progressed to wolves, goblins, and greater threats at the opposite end of the room. Just to our right, closest to the door, were hellish beings from a nightmare dimension.
Somewhat comically, the clothes and equipment of the painted adventurers morphed too: from rags at first, then to faintly glowing mantles and sparkly shields. Fighting the creature to my right was a knight in semi-translucent armor swinging a sword with a lightning-bolt blade.
The odd motif didn’t stop at the murals. Near the door were rickety tables and uncomfortable-looking chairs. Mid-room, the chairs were plushly upholstered. Against the back wall, the seating looked downright kingly, with gold-inlaid tables and exquisitely carved thrones.
“What now?” Melody said.
“Let’s just stand here a moment,” I said. “Hopefully the owner will see us.”
The room was populated by about twenty-five people, catered to by a staff of young, pretty women. When I squinted the servers, I saw they weren’t players. That or they were higher level than me. Doubtful, if they were waiting tables.
“I think that’s him,” I said.
A man in thoroughly modern attire had made eye contact with me. Smiling, he hurried over, shook hands with Melody, and then me.
“Name’s Harry,” he said in a friendly tone. “Welcome to The Grind! How do you do?”
Chapter Two
I squinted Harry and saw he was a level 420 paladin.
“Lots of vacancies,” he said when we asked about staying. “Especially for high-levels, like you. Nobody stays in the emperor suite anymore. Not in years.”
“I don’t think we can afford that,” Melody said nervously.
Harry blinked in surprise. “But you guys are off the charts! How high are you, anyway? If you don’t mind me asking. I’m a nosey innkeeper. Part of my charm!”
Harry couldn’t tell my level for two reasons. One, I was higher level than him. Two, I was Hard Mode. He also couldn’t tell what level Melody was because she wasn’t a player.
“Mid four hundreds,” I said. “Both of us. Been on the road a few days.”
“Heard you walked in from the north,” he said knowingly. “Heard you rode out on a horse a week ago to that doomed raid.”
I tried to keep the shock from my face. Hard to believe how quickly word had traveled. Harder still the mundane details of my comings and goings.
“Sure,” I said.
“Helluva fight, or so I heard. Couple of turncoats—and a dastardly betrayal! Then all the men in Beast’s core group went missing. Which has me wondering: how did you get out? If you don’t mind.”
“Lord Beast,” I said.
Harry blinked. “He got you out?”
“No,” I said. “Everyone calls him Lord Beast. And I never stayed for the final fight. Uh … anyway, do we just pick a table, or…?”
Harry blinked in surprise. “Oh my goodness, please forgive me. Pick any table you like. Food’s pricier—and better—the closer you get to that side.” He indicated the far end of the room with the thrones. “When you’re ready to turn in, pick any room upstairs that opens when you look at it. The cost’ll be deducted from your coin purse. Neat, huh? High-level wizard cast that for me. Utility specced. Very rare.”
“I’m impressed,” Melody said.
Harry said, “If you have any good stories about the big fight in the Vale, everyone’s dying to know what happened.”
“I was only there for a little bit,” I said with regret.
Harry’s smile faltered briefly, then returned in force. “Breakfast lasts from seven until nine. Enjoy your stay. And if you change your mind about the emperor suite, I promise you won’t regret it.”
Melody and I thanked him, waited for him to leave, then found a seat in the middle of the room.
“Kind of pushy,” she said.
“It’s a thing with innkeepers, I’m convinced of it. Bernard’s even worse.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
An uncomfortable silence followed where I watched her stare at the table. I knew that silence all too well, having endured it at one time or another over half my life. She was trying to maintain her composure, and I thought I knew why. Coming here, to Mythian, was supposed to be the fulfillment of a secret dream: life in a fantasy world with magic, adventure, and virtual immortality. Instead of that, she became a prize in a perverted quest, the winner of which would have used her, destroying her in the process. When that didn’t happen, she’d gotten me, her husband. Someone she didn’t want to live with anymore.
It was time for us to talk.
“You signed up with Everlife,” I said quietly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
The question had been eating at me the whole way from the Vale, but I’d been too afraid to ask.
“I couldn’t,” she said. “I’m not sure if we should talk about it. Not yet.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“You shouldn’t be.”
The black truth orb floating over her head suggested she felt otherwise.
“If you’d just told me…,” I said.
“If I had, would you have signed up?”
The question hung between us like a storm cloud ready to burst. The married answer was yes. But that wasn’t necessarily the honest, or complete, answer. When she was alive, I’d been deeply opinionated about the retirement worlds. I’d joined a political group that opposed them, protested, written papers about them—anonymously signed, to keep my teaching job.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “Maybe.”
“No, you wouldn’t have. Because, that’d mean suicide, as you defined it.”
“We’re not the same people, Mel,” I said. “We’re copies.”
“You know who also isn’t the same people? Dead people, Ethan. That’s who.”
“We could have had twenty more years together.”
Pounding the table, Melody shouted, “Not in my case! Dementia. Cipher told you that. Or are you addled too? This is why I didn’t want to talk about it.”
The room quieted as everyone pa
used in their conversations to see what the commotion was.
Melody stared at the table some more and I didn’t say anything. What could I say? She was right. But telling her that wouldn’t help.
One of the serving women said, “Fancy something to drink? Bit of food? Won’t find nothing tastier in these parts.”
“Do you have bourbon?” I said.
I really needed a drink right now.
“Yes, indeed,” she said with a big smile. “Calibrated. Best whiskey in the four wards.”
The truth orb over her head turned gold when she said it was calibrated, then black after the boast.
“Fine,” I said. “Melody?”
“Wine,” she said.
The woman smiled. “Also calibrated. Best wine in the four wards.”
Black again.
The woman left. A few minutes later she came back with our glasses. I started to pay with the coins from my fight with the bridge guardian, but she stopped me. She’d started a tab.
Before she left, I said, “Ma’am—what did you mean when you said calibrated?”
“The drinks?”
I nodded.
“The alcohol effect works no matter how high your vitality is,” she said. “Costs a bit more, but worth it for serious drinking.”
Her orb was gold again.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure, sir. Enjoy!”
When Melody reached for her glass, a cowled patron walked by and bumped her elbow. The glass tumbled to the stone floor and shattered.
“Quick!” the patron said. “It’ll stain!”
“Oh, no!” she said.
Melody bent down and started scooping the small pieces onto one of the bigger pieces. A warning to be careful died on my lips. We were in town—a sanctuary. Nothing could hurt us here, even if we jumped head-first off a tall building. Or so I’d thought.
“Ouch,” Melody said, drawing back her hand and sucking her finger.
She was bleeding.