Awaken Online: Precipice

by Travis Bagwell

  “Liquid mana perhaps?” Morgan asked from beside Jason, also peering into the bowl. She seemed to be posing the question to herself as she circled the pedestal and inspected its contents from different angles. Jason assumed she could see something in the black substance that he couldn’t.

  “This is a bit anticlimactic,” Jerry said, sticking his head close to the substance to get a better look. “I was expecting lost souls of the damned to be floating out of it or for it to be guarded by hulking undead guardians.”

  Morgan scowled at the thief. “Get away from that. If I’m right, there’s likely enough energy here to destroy the keep.”

  Jerry looked at the dark pool with wide eyes, slowly edging away. “Well, that’s certainly more interesting.”

  Riley was looking at the column with a confused expression. “What purpose did these wells serve?” she asked, directing her question to Morgan. “You mention that it holds a lot of power, but what was it used for?”

  “Good question, girl,” Morgan answered, eyeing her appraisingly. “The short answer is that I’m not certain. The texts don’t explain the well’s purpose directly, but they do describe rituals that were performed using the vessel. Most involved the death of an undead.”

  Jason was intrigued. He remembered the ancient pledge he had made William and the villagers of Peccavi swear. He had made them promise to devote their ‘essence’ to the kin upon their death. Perhaps that hadn’t been an empty oath.

  “Did the books speak of an undead’s essence?” Jason asked slowly.

  Morgan whirled, staring at him in shock. “How could you know that?” she asked.

  Jason hesitated, his eyes troubled. He wasn’t certain whether he should reveal the memories he had experienced to the remaining Shadow Council or to his friends. Yet he needed more information. “I’ve been having these strange visions,” Jason began in a quiet voice. “They feel like ancient memories. My guess is that they belong to one of the ‘keepers’ of the undead race.”

  It was Riley’s and Frank’s turn to stare at him in surprise. Yet he expected their reasons were different than Morgan’s. Jason had just admitted that the game allowed him to experience someone else’s memories. This was a significant revelation. It meant that the game’s AI could essentially change, or, at least, instill memories in the players. Jason looked at Alfred who stood beside him. The cat’s face was impassive. Jason hadn’t broken his promise to the AI, but he was skirting a razor edge.

  Morgan nodded her head, oblivious to Frank and Riley’s reaction. “Strange, but it would explain how you seem to be asking all the right questions. There was a description of a ritual involving the well at the end of an undead’s life. Their remains were placed in the well, and their ‘essence’ was absorbed. What they meant by ‘essence’ or what the goal of this practice was, I have no idea,” Morgan said ruefully.

  Jason immediately thought of Rex. Similar to Morgan, he wasn’t certain what the ritual would accomplish, although the ancient memory had given him the impression that it was important. Rex’s remains were most likely lost in the cave where they had killed the game master. “If only we had managed to recover some piece of Rex,” Jason murmured sadly.

  “Hmm, I might be able to help there,” Frank said. He reached into his bag and pulled out a white skull. The others looked at him in shock, and he raised a hand defensively. “I only wanted to bury him!” he explained. “I had a moment after the explosion. It seemed like the right thing to do.”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything,” Jason said with a sad smile. “At least we have something.” Frank handed Jason the skull solemnly. His fingers traced the ivory surface, and he could see that the bone was pitted and singed from his fight with the game master.

  Jason’s eyes lifted and met Morgan’s. “What do I do?”

  The old woman looked at him uncertainly. “Damned if I know,” she admitted, frustration in her voice. “As I said, the books merely described placing the remains in the pool.” As Jason moved to do just that, she raised a hand. “Wait. I wasn’t lying when I told Jerry that the pool holds a significant amount of energy. None of us are one of these keepers mentioned in the records. There is a risk that this could go horribly wrong.”

  For some reason, Jason didn’t share her concern. He couldn’t shake a nagging feeling that he was supposed to do this. From the faint memories implanted during his time in Peccavi, he didn’t sense any danger. “I think it’s okay,” Jason said.

  The others looked at him with a bit more trepidation, but they didn’t move to stop him. Jason met each of their eyes as they stood around the bowl. In each, he could see determination, loyalty, and hope. They trusted him - even if he was about to place a skull upon an unknown, undead altar that could possibly blow a huge crater in the city.

  Riley placed her hand on his arm. “It’s okay,” she said. “Pint can teleport us out if there’s trouble. Right, Pint?” she asked the imp on her shoulder.

  “Yes! Pint rescue,” he replied with a toothy grin.

  “That’s not exactly confidence inspiring,” Frank added in a dry tone.

  Jason chuckled. “Thanks, guys.” He sighed and mustered his courage. “Let’s do this.”

  He gently moved his hand forward. As the ivory material was about to touch the inky black substance in the well, Jason hesitated, sweat beading on his forehead. Please don’t let this be a mistake, he thought.

  Then the skull was engulfed by the liquid mana. The black energy coiled up the bone and covered Jason’s hand. The liquid moved much faster than he could react. He tugged on his arm frantically to no avail, and the others began shouting. Their voices sounded muffled, Jason’s focus was solely on the sensation of freezing energy crawling up his arm. This was unlike anything he had ever experienced. Even the mana he had channeled to create the Twilight Throne paled in comparison. As the energy reached his chest and worked its way toward his head, Jason let out a scream of pain. His nerve endings felt like they were on fire.

  Jason looked down in panic and saw that the black energy was crawling up his body. It crept up his neck, and his eyes glowed darkly as his own mana responded feebly. Suddenly, two tendrils broke away and curled in the air in front of him, hovering over his eyes. The spikes of dark energy darted forward, and the world went black.

  After what felt like an eternity, Jason opened his eyes. He gasped for breath, the sensation of the overwhelming frozen torrent of energy still fresh in his mind. As he slowly began to calm down, he discovered that he was lying in a painstakingly familiar cave. A hole in the ceiling let through weak rays of moonlight, and he could hear the faint drip of water falling into a pool in the center of the room.

  “We meet again, boy,” the Old Man said from beside him. He turned to find the cloaked figure of the Dark One, wooden staff in hand.

  “What was that?” Jason croaked, his mind still reeling slightly from the pain.

  “The second step along my path,” the Old Man said, his wrinkled mouth curling into a grin.

  When Jason didn’t respond, he continued. “You’ve done well since we last spoke. You have learned to lean on others, you have grown my race, and you have learned to deal with loss.” He seemed to peer at Jason, though his eyes weren’t visible under the cowl of his hood. “You are growing into a capable leader.”

  Jason’s chaotic thoughts began to quiet, and he could feel his racing heart slow. With the calm came an increased clarity of thought. “I’m glad you approve,” he replied sarcastically. “What was that well? What did it do to me?” He pushed himself slowly to his feet.

  The Old Man chuckled softly. “You still leap before you look. Only keepers may use the wells. They carry the hopes, dreams, and fears of our race. While you are on the right path, it was ambitious of you to try to harness the power of the well so early.”

  Jason closed his eyes, rubbing at his temple with one hand to subdue the headache he felt coming on. “You could teach a class in vague and obscure explanations,” he r
eplied with a grimace. “I was offering Rex’s remains to the well. If I understand the memories I’ve witnessed so far, he has a pledge to fulfill, doesn’t he?”

  His question was met with another chuckle like boulders colliding. “I like you, boy,” the Old Man replied. “Since you care for your friend and you have made progress on my path, I will make an exception this one time. You may give up the remains to me, and I will give you a taste of the sight.”

  “The sight?” Jason asked, confused.

  “This is truly one of those things that is easier to show than to explain.” The Old Man motioned toward the pool in the center of the cave.

  Curious, Jason approached the pond. At first, he couldn’t see anything in the murky depths. Then an image began to materialize in the water. It showed a young boy sitting in a crude wooden chair, his arms crossed defensively. Jason tried to look back up at the Old Man and found he couldn’t. His gaze was transfixed on the pool.

  “Goodbye, young one,” the Old Man said behind him. “And good luck finding my grimoire.”

  Then the world shifted around Jason. He was no longer standing in the cave. Instead, he now stood in some sort of medieval office. The walls were made of coarse logs, and a desk sat on one side. The boy he had seen in the image sat in a chair in front of him. One of his eyes was colored black and scrapes and bruises riddled his body. He was dressed in dirty rags and the grime that coated his body had mixed with the blood from his injuries.

  What was odd was that the boy seemed to look through Jason without seeing him. He waved a hand in the boy’s face but received no reaction.

  “What do we have here?” a man asked from behind Jason. He whirled, thinking he was being addressed. Instead, he discovered a rugged man dressed in a guard’s tunic and mail talking to the boy. Jason didn’t recognize the seal embroidered onto the man’s tabard.

  They can’t see me, Jason thought. What is this? Some kind of dream?

  “Not a talkative one I can see,” the man continued, observing the surly boy. “What happened in the alley where the guards found you? We discovered three bodies near you?”

  Still, the boy didn’t answer, merely glaring at the guard in defiance. A flash of irritation crossed the man’s face. “We also found this on you,” the guard continued, raising what appeared to be a kitchen knife covered in blood. The boy blanched, and his reaction didn’t go unnoticed by his interrogator. “I see I struck a nerve.”

  The man walked toward the boy, roughly grabbing a chair and setting it in front of him. Then the man sat down facing the child. For a moment, the guard watched the boy carefully. “I know a little about two of the street rats who died. They were the same brats that have been terrorizing the local markets. Vicious little thugs, if the stories are true.”

  When the boy remained stone-faced, the guard leaned back in his chair, a frown creasing his lips. “Since we aren’t getting anywhere with this line questioning, why don’t I tell you a story instead?” the man asked. Still, the boy didn’t answer, and the man shrugged.

  “Once upon a time there was a boy, abandoned by the world and roaming the streets of Lux,” the guard began. “This boy was just trying to survive - to find food to eat and a place to sleep.”

  The man raised a finger. “Then, one day a group of street rats showed up. They were bigger and meaner than the other children and dominated them, demanding that they steal food and goods for them. Yet when the other urchins showed up with their loot, the older boys stole their spoils and beat them.”

  The guard watched the boy’s face carefully, and Jason could see his eye twitch slightly. The guard appeared to notice the reaction as well. “This continued on for a while. Until one day those thugs preyed on one girl in particular.” The boy visibly flinched at those words, but he kept his impassive eyes trained on the guard.

  “Now this girl was important to one of the other street rats. They were friends, see? The beatings and the theft was a way of life, but this day it was just too much. The other boys took their beatings too far. They were going to maim the girl,” the man said in a quiet voice, his eyes on the boy. “Or worse…”

  The boy practically exploded from his seat. “They deserved it!” he screamed. “I did what I had to in order to protect her! I killed those rotten bastards.” The boy raised his fists at the guard. “I…” the boy abruptly ran out of steam, looking at his blood-covered fingers. “I killed them. And she died anyway…” His face fell apart, tears streaming down his cheeks as he slumped back into his seat.

  A mixture of sadness and relief flitted over the guard’s face as he watched the boy. “I know, son,” he said gruffly. “I know.”

  He looked back at his desk, where papers lay over the wooden surface and the guard appeared to be weighing something in his mind. He then turned back to the boy, who still stared at his hands in shock. Tears rolled down his dirty face. The guard spoke carefully, “Taking another life is hard. Yet sometimes it’s necessary to protect those we love.” The boy looked up at him with muddy cheeks.

  “I have suffered this same choice myself. It’s the plight of a man like me to stand in harm’s way to defend others.” The guard’s eyes looked at the boy with curiosity. “I see spirit in you - a desire to be the wall that others must scale to harm those you love.

  “No harm will come to you for this. You have the word of a guard lieutenant.” He offered a hand to the small boy. “And if you will let me, I can teach you how to prevent others from harming those you love ever again. What do you say, boy?”

  The child looked at the offered hand in surprise, his expression tortured and conflicted. Then he reached out his small arm and accepted the guard’s hand. “Teach me,” the boy said simply, rubbing away his tears with his free arm and a look of determination entering his eyes.

  The guard chuckled. “Good!” He began to rise from his chair and then paused. “By the way, what’s your name?” the guard asked.

  The child stared back at him, and at that moment Jason knew what he was going to say. He had seen that same look of unwavering conviction on a much older man, just before he charged into a maelstrom of flame. “My name is Rex,” the boy said simply. “Just Rex.”

  As the words left the boy’s mouth, the world around Jason began to crumble and disappear, fading into darkness. A moment later, Jason’s eyes blinked open. He was disoriented from the sudden change, and he could feel hard stone beneath his back. He was staring up at a darkened ceiling, blue light flickering across its surface.

  “He’s coming around,” Riley said, relief in her voice.

  Jason began to sit up, and large hands assisted him. “Take it easy, man,” Frank said. “That black stuff almost killed you.”

  “What happened?” Jason asked, his mind reeling. He could feel a pounding headache coming on.

  “The dark mana latched onto you and nearly consumed you,” Morgan said dryly. “You collapsed on the ground, entombed in the substance. After a few minutes, the mana trickled off your skin and returned to the bowl,” she explained, gesturing at the pedestal nearby.

  “We thought it was the end of our Unkillable King,” Jerry said from beside him. Jason glanced over at the man and saw he was fiddling nervously with the end of his hat, his white eyes filled with relief.

  “What happened?” Riley asked quietly.

  Jason’s gaze turned to his friend kneeling beside him. She was looking at him with concern. He struggled to rise, leaning heavily on her arm. “I saw Rex,” he said shortly.

  “What?” Riley asked in shock.

  Jason shook his head. “It’s hard to explain. I saw what I think was one of Rex’s memories. He was just a small boy…” Jason trailed off. It felt inappropriate to tell the group what he had seen. He expected that the scene he had just witnessed was a critical moment in Rex’s life. It was the point at which an orphan boy who had just lost his best friend and killed two thugs was given a second chance and a purpose.

  “Come on. You have to give us more than that.
What happened?” Frank repeated Riley’s question.

  Jason started to answer and then frowned. Frank was standing beside him with his mouth open, but he wasn’t moving. Jason looked at the others and discovered that they were similarly frozen. He waved his hand in Frank’s face. When that elicited no reaction, he pushed him gently. Frank didn’t budge. Jason was starting to get nervous. What was happening? Was this another memory?

  Alfred walked slowly through the group, padding up to Jason. “What’s going on, Alfred?” Jason asked in a worried voice. At least the cat was here. That meant he wasn’t going crazy.

  The AI looked at him for a moment, but his attention seemed far away. “We have an emergency,” Alfred finally said, anxiety in his voice. Jason’s brow furrowed. He had never heard the AI sound this worried before.

  “You need to log off now,” Alfred continued urgently. “I have frozen the local simulation and booted the other players.”

  “Tell me what’s going on,” Jason said. He could feel fear begin to curl in his stomach. Something terrible must have happened for the AI to take such drastic action.

  “There’s no time to explain,” Alfred said. “If you will not log off, then I will do it for you.”

  The world suddenly went black, and Jason received a notification.

  System Message

  Connection with server QX298.576 has been terminated by AI Controller XC239.90. Terminating VR session in ten seconds.

  Please contact customer support for more information or for help troubleshooting your connection.

  Jason was suddenly standing in his bedroom. He stumbled slightly and almost fell. He shook his head to clear it. Why was he standing? Hadn’t he logged in while lying on his bed? He was also holding something. Looking down, he saw he held a knife in his right hand, blood slowly dripping from the tip.