by K. T. Hanna
Standing up, he slammed his fist into the wall. Real pain jarred into him amd cleared his head. Two people could play at that. Wherever she was, wherever she went, there was no way she would be safe from him. Even if she could stun him and pull him out of stealth, even if she could cast him out with a thought. All he had to do was adapt his thinking, adapt his actions, and he was certain the game would give him skills that reflected his play style.
Up until now, that’s exactly what it had been doing.
He took a deep breath and readied himself to dive in again.
Jirald had never been one to ask for help. Before this game, he’d never needed to be. Clerics were a one man army capable of felling practically anything, albeit slowly. As a rogue assassin, he had speed and damage out the wazoo, but his ability to survive when cornered or discovered was close to zilch. Or surrounded by crocodiles.
Bio break taken care of, a protein bar scoffed down, he took a final swig of water before picking his headset back up. Luckily, the foot of his bed was padded and the headset was fine. Good thing too, the damned thing had cost enough.
He climbed back onto his bed, positioning the headset correctly, lay down, and jacked in.
Jirald appeared in a safe spot, close to where Fable had bound. Not a sound except for the rustling of the long grass echoed through to him. No fighting or beasts growling, no clashing of steel or exploding of spells. Not even crocodile jaws snapping. He looked down at his pale locus body and its strategically draped loincloth. It had been hours since the incident. Each time he’d logged out to attempt minimizing the sheer overwhelming helplessness he felt.
Begrudgingly, he activated chat in his HUD. Time to see if Masha would come help him out. The man was insufferable, worse than Jirald’s dad. All of his raised eyebrows and knowing looks once Jirald finally gave in to his suggestions.
“Might be time to level, Jirald. Might want to not alienate everyone, Jirald.” He muttered under his breath as he began to send a message to the cleric he was mocking. But he was the only quasi friend Jirald really had in the game. His temper isolated him from everyone else. Which was fine by the rogue. He had much more important shit on his mind. Revenge for the stupid mace, and now this death and loss of experience. Murmur was in for a world of hurt. Making him lose a level, he’d make her lose two.
What? Jirald could practically hear Masha’s bored tone of voice.
It took the rogue a long time to finally return the message. It was almost as if his fingers didn’t want to admit to the defeat he’d suffered. I need help retrieving my corpse.
Oh, this should be good. Are you where I bound you?
He could hear the laughter behind the words. Masha was far too amused by this. Yes.
Naked?
Jirald ground his teeth before replying. Yes.
Excellent. Get ready for screenshots, I’ll be there as soon as I can.
“Fuck off, Masha,” he growled under his breath. The sound made him feel better, or perhaps it was the action. All he had to do now was wait for his guild mate to get to him and help him get his body and gear back. After everything was done, he’d be able to figure out exactly how to make sure Murmur paid for what she’d done. He owed her more than just a de-level.
Somnia Online
Mikrum Castle—Himmel Isle
End Day Five Post-Launch
Telvar watched Wren dissipate, his thoughts racing nineteen to the dozen. Perhaps he’d been too open with her, too forthcoming, but he needed to let her know her predicament. How else could they impose the very real threat of the unknown upon her? She could well be fine if she died in-game, but with the tenuous connection her mind had to her body, the odds of it affecting her real self were far too great.
“What happened?” Hiro stood at Telvar’s elbow, concern echoed in his eyes. “My men are all still disoriented.”
“Oh.” Telvar refocused his attention, sending out a random redefining thought to put the workers back into their usual state of mind. He tried to smooth his face and avoid the frown he knew he’d expressed involuntarily, as he filed the algorithmic error effecting them away to study later. “Sorry about that. Murmur had a bit of a turn.”
“She found out?” Hiro raised an eyebrow ridge.
“Yes, and in one of the worst ways possible. I should have informed her when I met her.” Except that wasn’t true, and Telvar clenched his teeth as some algorithmic sequence akin to anger welled in his gut. “Belius should have informed her long before I appeared. He was supposed to. She could have died numerous times before now.”
He stepped away, drawing warmth from the fire. Even after everything had been planned, Tel kicked himself for not taking a position as a starter class master. Waiting until Murmur was level thirteen had been risky at best, and downright irresponsible at worst. What if she’d died? Fucking Belius.
But what if nothing happened at all and she was just like any other player?
The thought rang through his head again and again, and he knew he’d have to perform more calculations in order to figure out whether or not dying in-game was really a danger to her. But it wasn’t something he could do immediately. He needed to implement checks and balances. He’d have to be sure.
Hiro’s eyes cycled through a series of colors, while he ran coded data through his system. Telvar waited patiently while his assistant worked through his own processes.
Finally, Hiro frowned. “Everyone seems to be back to normal. We can resume the rebuilding, if you’re sure. I mean, we could just magically make it appear.”
Telvar shrugged. “Where would the fun in that be? Also, too many people have walked past this island. They’ll think it odd if the castle is suddenly whole again. It needs to take work, take time...be observed.”
“I guess.” Hiro shook his head. “Seems very cumbersome to me. But that dwarf, Jinna is quite the planner. He’s come up with ideas I didn’t even think of.”
“You’re not human. They tend to think differently.” Telvar smiled. That right there was the crux of it. Murmur was human, driven by human goals and desires. He gave a small salute to Hiro and transported himself to where Murmur should be, close to Hazenthorne. Tracking her wasn’t always an exact process with the way she shielded herself now. He needed to watch over her, just for a bit.
But when he got there, the Fable group was no longer where he’d expected. He guessed they had a lot to discuss before attacking the castle. Frowning, Telvar got ready to leave when a flicker of movement caught his eye in the swamp.
Upon closer inspection, he realized they were Masha and Jirald, two Exodus members, the latter responsible for Murmur’s near brush with death. His frown deepened.
Not having borrowed another form, he opted for using invisibility, observing them carefully from a safe distance. The crocodiles, knowing what he was, gave him a wide berth anyway.
“I can’t believe she shot you over here.” Masha was laughing, an easy grin on his face, but his joviality was betrayed by a discerning expression in his eyes that Telvar hadn’t seen in many players so far.
“Shut up!” Jirald spoke through clenched teeth, pointedly looking away from the cleric. “Just help me loot my bodies so I can get back to it.”
“Lost a level, huh?” Masha’s jolly tone was in complete juxtaposition to his surroundings and Jirald’s projected mood. “Can’t see this going down well.”
Jirald’s glare spoke volumes, and Telvar balked at following them farther when the rogue whirled around and looked exactly in his direction.
“What’s got you spooked? Seeing Murmur around every corner are you?” Masha clubbed at another crocodile who’d ventured in close enough to attack.
“Screw you, Masha.” Jirald bent down, looting more items off this body, eyes still on Telvar’s hiding spot. Finally, the rogue looked back at his cleric. “I’m not spooked, I just don’t know what else s
he’s capable of.”
Telvar took the opportunity to transfer back to the isle, his own radar set to monitor Jirald’s movements from now on. He didn’t like the sound of Jirald’s fixation at all.
The problem with fighting with friends was that at some stage you either had to find new friends or try to communicate with the old ones again. Murmur sighed at all of the panicked messages and apologies that filled her chat boxes, filtering through them with a heavy heart. She knew they’d meant well. Hell, she knew they probably thought they were protecting her. She also knew they were kind of right, but more so, they were completely wrong. Not knowing had led her to be more reckless than she would have been, less tactical.
There was that sliver of a voice in the back of her mind that didn’t think they should have gone about it that way. The voice that thought they should have trusted her to be intelligent enough to handle the news by herself. Essentially, they betrayed her trust, they trapped her in a world and tried to trick her into believing nothing had changed.
And that was just it. They’d tricked her mind into believing she was logging out of the game, that she was, in fact, the way she’d always been. Smoke and mirrors.
Except, they were sort of right, weren’t they? Hadn’t she recalled to their home point and lost it? Her mental state, unstable and wild, had adversely infected those around her, causing them pain—as much pain as AI driven creatures could experience anyway. Had whatever disruption to the force she’d caused happened just because she was more attached to the world?
It was still difficult to wrap her head around what Telvar told her. Her comatose head, anyway, with her mind somehow stuck in the game. At least that was accessible by the headset.
She frowned, took a deep breath, and fired off a guild message.
I’m fine, I’ll be back shortly.
Murmur could almost feel the tension through her interface, like they were wanting to say something, anything, all at once. Fine. She wasn’t fucking fine at all. She needed to calm down, because right now, she’d give them fine.
After several seconds, a single message appeared.
Rashlyn: We’ll be waiting at the safe spot where the gargoyles were. Can decide what to do from there.
It made Murmur wonder if perhaps they’d started heading back, or devolved into rampant arguments. Whose idea had it been in the first place to keep such a huge piece of information from her? Somehow she doubted Harlow would have done it. The only other person it could have been was her mother. Her parents. They set this whole deception ring up. What the actual hell?
Did they really think she wouldn’t find out? She’d been comatose for two months and potentially much longer, but maybe they’d hoped? Were they just going to let her wallow in Somnia and hope she didn’t accidentally sever her consciousness?
Shaking her head, she stepped out from the cool dungeon entrance, up the steps and into the courtyard. It seemed Telvar was making good on his promise of repairs to the castle, by providing a dozen of his men. She hoped she hadn’t permanently damaged.
Maybe it would be up and running sooner than she thought.
Telvar was an AI. The thought hit her again, but with full realization this time. He ran the game and she got the feeling she wasn’t supposed to share that fact, at least not for now. She found herself not wanting to either. Everyone else had their secrets. Even Jirald had a weird obsession he wouldn’t explain. Now it was time for her own secrets.
In order to calm down she pulled up her stats, breathing deeply and losing herself in the soothing numbers.
Level Sixteen (16)
CONstitution: 22
STRength:10
AGIlity:19
WISdom: 12
INTelligence:31
CHArisma: 46
HitPoints: 240
MANA: 285
MA: 100
Abjuration:87
Alteration:82
Conjuration:89
Divination:90
Evocation:72
2H Blunt: 62
1H Piercing:68
She really needed to work on her weapon skills, because without her group she was screwed.
Her group.
It was hard to think about them that way right now, difficult to wrap her head around their betrayal.
Shaking her head and not letting herself think too much more, she activated Gate. Rings of light swirled around her from the ground up, dissipating into the air in a halo of sparks as the spell cast. She almost jumped, almost tried to cancel it, not quite sure what to say to the friends who’d decided not to tell her she was in a coma fighting for her life.
But then she was there, right in front of the safe place. Ruined pillars stared down at her, and the soft ground sank beneath her feet. She landed in the middle of her friends, in the middle of people who’d kept the truth from her. In the middle of people whose very silence could have killed her, just like Jirald’s hatred almost had. Her friends’ expressions were filled with hesitation, worry, and good dose of guilt. Their faces reflected emotions, such perfectly human expressions despite all of their differing species, that it made Murmur pause for a moment. She knew they hadn’t meant to hurt her, they had been trying to protect her. But in whose world did ‘protecting her’ include keeping knowledge from her that might save her?
Sin almost barreled her over, breaking the silence as she gripped Murmur’s waist in a tight hug. Tears wet Murmur’s chest as her friend buried her head. “I’m so sorry, Wren. I’m so, so sorry.”
She said the words over and over again like a mantra, as if saying them would somehow make up for the past, somehow make it all right again. Maybe, in a small way it did. Sin was rarely—if ever—contrite about anything. For her to be this emotionally charged meant she’d done her head in.
“It’s okay.” Murmur said, surprising herself. Her voice was soft, calmer than she’d thought she could be.
Things were clicking into place—her lack of hunger, her endless energy, the glitches in her room, how the game seemed to meld with the real world on occasion. While she didn’t understand the logistics of what had happened to her yet, at least now she understood why some things had been so abnormal.
“Really?” Sin lifted a tear-stained face. It was amazing that the game even got that right.
Mur managed a very small smile and gave her dark elf friend a small squeeze. “Yeah. I mean it. Had to go somewhere and let my anger out though. Luckily, dragons seem to be immune to psionicists losing their shit.”
While she’d meant to have a chuckle at it, the fact was that it was mostly true. The others regarded her with what appeared to mostly be relief, and yet she could still see the thin layer of guilt plaguing each one of them. Good. They deserved to feel guilty. They deserved to suffer too. Except that wasn’t going to get them anywhere, so she took a deep breath and clamped down on the rage that kept threatening to build and blind her.
“Guys. I get it. I don’t get the how, or the when, or even the what, but I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I know you didn’t know what to do.” She meant it too. It wasn’t all their fault, not only them, not really. They hadn’t gotten her to try the headset before she should have. They weren’t the ones who caused this mental displacement. No. That was on her parents, on Michael, the AIs. Whoever.
Sin laughed, but it was tinged with sadness. She finally pulled away from the hug. “I thought—I thought I’d lost you, but then I could see you here. In here? In here you’re as real as we are.”
The words hit Murmur like a ton of bricks and she plastered a smile on her face, willing herself to move instead of stopping in shock. “Yeah. It’s okay. I’m still as real as any of you.”
But a small voice in the back of her head asked how she could possibly be certain.
Murmur gazed at the courtyard in front of her. Somehow,
the fountain no longer seemed splendid, and the monsters had lost their appeal. Everything around her leaked a miasma of thoughts just out of reach—like a fog had lowered itself and hung at head height, while somehow maintaining its distance.
All of those thoughts like whispered madness at the edge of her consciousness.
She scowled at her lack of strength. Both in level and in abilities. If her mind was unique here, if her mind was indeed imprisoned here, then she had to strengthen it, to find ways to bend it and mold it.
There was no use giving into despair. If she did, she’d just wallow in it.
Slumping against the gazebo, she raised her eyes to the sky. Its dark grey clouds leant an anvil of dark to the horizon, heralding a storm that, constrained by code, would never make it to Mikrum Isle. Her own thoughts twisted in her mind, showering it with possibilities.
“Murmur?”
Her name echoed through her head, bouncing off the sides like a pinball machine. She giggled, a hiccup suddenly imposing itself in between her breaths. It only made her laugh more, harder. Her body shook, and she hugged herself, trying to stop her body from falling apart.
Murmur stumbled slightly, and hands gripped her shoulders, lowering her. The ground was soft and spongey beneath her like a comforting mattress of yielding soil and sun bleached blades of grass.
Was this a nightmare?
She shook her head, suddenly aware of water against her fingertips, running down her cheeks. Sobs wracked the tall and willowy frame of her locus body, a body that seemed more hers than she’d realized. Her runes glowed with a quiet concentration of power, and slowly, as she focused on the arcane sigils, her mind began to calm.
It took her what was probably several minutes to finally come around, to dig herself out of her own head, and realize that both Sinister and Rashlyn were cradling her between them, hugging her shoulders, shedding their own tears. They felt so real. It all felt so real.