by K. T. Hanna
“Yep.” Laria’s brows furrowed to match her frown, and she seemed more angry than worried for a moment. “A few hours ago, this was bleak and black, and sunken and miserable. Now it’s light and bright, and very much exactly what we’d planned when we created the zone.”
“So, they managed to reset it then? It’s all back to normal then?” Shayla was relieved. She’d been up most of the night and just wanted to get home and take a nap. Not that she’d be able to with the guaranteed meeting she was about to have with Davenport. That wasn’t going to be fun. There was no way the AIs could hide that twelve players had been stuck in the game while it crashed. Or was there?
Laria’s eyes blinked rapidly and her fingers flew over the imprinted keyboard as she made checks and adjustments, the frown still in place. Finally, she stopped the whirlwind of activity and looked straight at Shayla, through the game that played in her vision. Confusion was present in that gaze, but so was a modicum of hope. “It’s all back to the way it should be, should always have been.”
“Great.” Shayla didn’t exactly put emphasis behind those words, because while it was great things were back the way they should be, it also wasn’t. Having it suddenly reverted meant they didn’t have answers as to why it had happened in the first place. “Any way we can reinforce it so it doesn’t happen again? Any idea what went wrong?”
“Not yet.”
That was Laria in a nutshell. If she didn’t know, she would find out, and if she couldn’t find out, she’d dig deeper. Sometimes it evolved into creating a whole new concept or code, or even way to interpret data.
“You know I’m going to have to meet with Davenport about this, don’t you?” Shayla spoke quietly, just in case someone was listening in at the door. She swept for bugs regularly, but the longer this went on, the less she trusted work being a safe place they could speak. Especially with James lurking around every corner.
“Yeah.” Laria hesitated briefly, her fingers pausing, twitching like they didn’t want to, as if they wanted to continue transposing the train of thought in her head onto the keyboard and into the world. “I’m not sure how to handle that one. Twelve people got locked into that limbo, to the world, while everyone else got booted. More specifically, eleven of those people were stuck there because of Wren, or at least, I’m assuming that’s why. It’s too much of a coincidence otherwise. But unless Davenport has access to data we don’t know about, how would they know?”
Shayla nodded slowly, an idea forming in her mind. She knew full well that Fable’s lead group being trapped inside was connected to Wren’s predicament somehow. And that if they got trapped in there once, they might be more susceptible to being trapped again. But how would Davenport know?
Which begged the question: why had he asked for them to include anomalies in the report as if he knew they weren’t being included?
Murmur turned around, taking in the entirety of Mikrum Isle. The castle was well on its way to completion. Even the upper levels were showing signs they’d be inhabitable shortly. Walls had been rebuilt, ramparts restored, and the square towers were almost there. Just the interior decoration, and some final touches to the outside were needed to make this once beautiful structure whole again.
Her friends all marched in through the great doors that if she wasn’t mistaken, had just been replaced, since they hadn’t been there last time.
The floors inside were still rough, but the grand hall seemed small in comparison to the ruins they’d just been in. She smiled. Small felt like home. It wasn’t imposing, it was cozy.
Murmur decided she liked cozy.
“You look like something’s on your mind.” Telvar appeared at her elbow, but she’d grown so used to it, she barely even blinked.
“You mean like everything?” Murmur raised an eyebrow, still surveying the hall while her friends all sat down and prepared to log out of the game. She could see them practically wilting with their need to sleep. Truth be told, she was tired herself. But first she had some things to do.
Sleeping at her “home” seemed to help, so that’s where she’d go after taking care of shit first.
“It’s good to see you back.” Telvar’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, and Murmur frowned.
“Is everything okay?”
He shrugged, that odd lacerta full body wave thing that he did. “Trying to figure out the ruins.”
“Didn’t think you had anything to do with that, but it’s startling to hear you say it out loud.” Did he even understand the concept of responsibility?
“We—” He stopped, eyeing her thoughtfully. “We weren’t directly responsible for the shutdown. It surprised us too, though in hindsight it shouldn’t have. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you all had to go through it.”
“As long as you’re working to try and prevent it ever happening again, I’m good.” Murmur realized she was irritated, maybe annoyed at the way the AIs had—or more accurately hadn’t—handled the thing. But if they hadn’t noticed it, hadn’t realized it was coming, what in the hell had worked around them so easily? Except maybe Thra, if her instincts were correct. “Thank Thra for me. That message, the one I don’t think we were supposed to get, helped.”
Relief flashed over Telvar’s features, as if he hadn’t expected her to say that. “That’s good. We weren’t sure if it would make it through intact.”
“So we were a huge topic of discussion, then,” Murmur noted somewhat absent-mindedly as she watched her friends wink out of vision.
“Yes, the whole region was. You disappeared, but all twelve of you were stuck in Somnia when the world server went down. We’re running diagnostics to determine the cause.” He sounded eager, not to please, but to get to the bottom of the entire problem.
Murmur smiled tightly at him, her thoughts digressing. “Some of the problems are the getashi.”
“What?”
She had his full attention now. It took a few moments for her to mull it over in her mind, trying to find the correct words. “I believe Riasli consumed not only a stray shard, but that she’s killed others for theirs. Mainly because the last boss we fought in there didn’t leave us a shard. Only the key.”
Telvar’s eyes contracted, and his lips parted in a fraction of a snarl. “Akelu wasn’t intended as a boss. We have to figure out how to resurrect him and adjust his role. He’s a hero. Not an opponent. Although, I guess he could be made an enemy of.”
The lacerta frowned and took a step closer to Murmur. “But you’re certain of this? None of the others got a piece? There wasn’t anything hiding in a corner?”
She shook her head. “The only thing hiding in a corner was my gorgeous ring that I can’t wear until I hit level thirty-five, which I need to get onto pronto. But before I level, I need to go and see Neva, and then I actually need to go and get some rest, because believe it or not, my brain is tired. I am tired. I could sleep forever. Just know, the getashi are part of whatever the reason was that zone changed so much.”
With that, she turned on her heel and didn’t look back as she headed into the crafting area. She could feel Telvar’s gaze almost boring a hole through her as she walked away, but she knew it wasn’t really directed at her. More at the situation they found themselves in. And she wasn’t at all surprised that he didn’t look like the getashi information had been new to him at all. There was Michael, for all intents and purposes dead, and still screwing things up.
She pushed that to the side, slotting it into a neat little compartment in her mind, where, she’d learned during their brief time in limbo, she could slot all of her thoughts and keep them separated, so the noise of other’s mind’s and emotions didn’t overwhelm her. The more she thought about limbo, the better the experience had been for her, even if she didn’t entirely understand what that experience had been.
Whatever it was, it had given her more control than she had when she went in there. Th
e ability to focus on tighter parameters. She got the distinct feeling that with just a little push, she’d be able to pluck thoughts from people’s heads. The realization thrilled her.
Walking through the partially finished keep—or castle, or whatever this was—she marveled at the amount of work that had been accomplished. Now there was a swinging door that hadn’t been there before. It separated the workshop from the rest of the abode.
Considering not too long ago she’d been able to just walk straight into it because the back of the castle had been missing walls, this was a vast, if slightly claustrophobic improvement.
Just as she was about to call out, the master crafter beat her to it.
“Murmur!” Neva’s face shone with excitement, and her ears twitched while her tail wagged. Her expression scrunched so much with her smile that she looked like a boxer for a brief moment. “Thank you so much! Some of the stuff from your last haul, well...I can’t even use that stuff yet. Or at least, can’t use all of it yet. Which is exciting. Discovering more and more recipes is fascinating.”
She paused and closed her mouth tightly, eyeing Murmur critically. “You look tired. You need to go rest.”
For a moment the youth that constantly hovered around the luna seemed dulled. Not suffocated, just not as apparent, like she’d often had to tell people to take care of themselves.
“I will, but first—” Murmur pulled out the gorgeous robe from her inventory. The pale silvery material glittered like a starry night sky, winking in and out, tricking the eyes with its movement.
“Holy shit,” was all Neva murmured, her eyes growing big and round as she reached for the garment. “Can I touch it?”
Her voice was so tiny when she asked the question Murmur had to double check she’d even heard it. “Of course. I can’t do anything with it. Pretty sure it’s not ideal for cooking recipes.”
That at least elicited a small laugh from Neva, who reached out reverently to run her fingers over the beautiful cloth. “Mur? This is magical. This is amazing. Oh wow, I wonder what I can make you with this.” She frowned, but more from concentration than anything else, and Murmur knew she’d made the right decision coming to give Neva this now instead of after taking a rest.
“I’m not sure. All I know is that it said I can’t wear it until level thirty-five.”
But Neva interrupted her, tone somewhat apologetic. “Um, not precisely. You need a Master Tailor, of level thirty-five skill or higher in order to craft this. So, while I should be able to craft this and do so well? I’m pretty sure it’s going to yield a higher-level item. I’ll get Hiro or Telvar to go over it with me first. Pretty sure I’m going to have to get some crystalized mana from Telvar to make the most of this.”
The luna’s excitement was contagious, rolling off her in waves. Murmur reveled in the amount of sheer giddiness that suffused itself into her sensing net, giving her a much-needed energy and morale boost.
Murmur resisted the urge to frown as a sudden realization hit her. Her sensor net hadn’t been this sensitive in, well, ever. There were so many aspects limbo had addressed, so many small things that might be much bigger out here. She needed to work through them.
“You okay, Mur?” Neva’s night eyes stared up at her, concern etched in her furrowed brow.
“Yeah, sorry. Keep spacing out. I must really be tired.” She paused, remembering something from what seemed like an age ago now. “Didn’t you want to talk to me about something the other day? I’ve been remiss to not get back to you sooner.”
Neva laughed. “It’s not that important. I’m good where I am. I love it here. It’s not too long a story anyway. I’m Ishwa’s little sister. Different mom and all. But I usually craft for Exodus. This time I just didn’t want to be the little sister anymore, if that makes sense. I know they always humored me, but this time I wanted to play my own way. And I wanted you to know that I’m not about to leave, and I won’t let him talk about the game at home, but I felt you should know since we’re kind of rivals. Yeah.”
By the end of the small speech, the girl had grown a bit flustered. While Murmur hadn’t been expecting the information, she didn’t really care that Neva was related to Ishwa. She’d barely had any contact with the gnome guild leader of Exodus, but he didn’t seem the bad sort. Probably took his little sister for granted a bit too long.
Now, if it had been Jirald, it might have had a bit more of an impact, but as it stood. “Don’t worry about it. As long as you’re happy here, and having fun playing, that’s all that matters. If it stops being fun for whatever reason, please promise that you’ll come and talk to me.”
Neva nodded, her face lighting up again. “I promise!” She gripped the material Murmur had given her gently and held it close. “And now I need to go and research how best to use this! Thanks, Murmur!”
Murmur watched the girl go, wondering just how old she was. Ishwa seemed older than Murmur and some of her friends, and yet...
She turned away, feeling for her sensor net, and drawing in some of the positivity that flowed into it from Neva to ground herself and deal with all the thoughts in her head.
Murmur wandered through the halls, the sounds of construction more distant now they had walls and some interior decorations. The upper floors were mostly still being worked on as it appeared only the husk was visible from outside.
Telvar didn’t seem to be around anywhere, which suited Murmur, because she didn’t know what to say to the AI right now. So many questions and feelings kept spiraling inside her. And every time they felt like too much, she simply reached out with her sensor net and allowed the positive energy in it to suffuse her. It cleared her head and allowed for more logical thought. Picking a room that was one of the farthest from any noise, she closed the door so it was, at worst, a dull thud.
There were two plain wooden beds in the room, each covered with a sheet and a blanket at the end. She climbed onto one of them, noting how the mattress felt comfortable and almost lulled her away from her original intentions.
No, she could sleep later. Right now, she had to try this again. There was no rush. They all needed rest. The others wouldn’t be back on for about seven more hours. And if she was being honest with herself, she really needed to figure this whole thing out. While she’d been determined before, now it almost seemed like she’d been given a new lease on this prospect of being unable to log out. Like the reasoning was dangling just beyond where she could grasp.
Taking a deep breath, she crossed her legs, and petted the place next to her on the bed. Snowy jumped up and curled into a ball, watching her with his head on his paws. It was like he knew that putting his chin on her knee would only distract her from the distinct concentration she required to do this.
Murmur closed her eyes and accessed the log out panel of her game. It floated there in her view, mocking her. Focusing on it, she envisioned the headset, and imagined what she thought the capsule would look like. She held her breath and activated the button, willing it to bring her back to her body, aching for it.
The black of her vision swirled in front of her, like a spinning top dragging her down further and further. The back of her head exploded with pain like someone had taken a baseball bat to it, and she felt blood drip down from her nose, tasting it on her top lip as if someone had punched her in the face at the same time.
Everything spun, and hurt, and careened out of control. Yet her grip on the images she put in her mind, on the directions she was sending her body and her brain, they remained firm, vivid, and true. No game had ever beaten her, she wasn’t about to start with letting this one.
Vertigo welled up inside her as the spinning continued, and her gut fought against her steel will, against her determination to rectify whatever it was that had happened to her, that had been done to her. She gagged as nausea overwhelmed her, fighting back from the gaping maw of an abyss that welcomed her, trying to coax her inside.<
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She screamed, pushing against it, fighting for all she was worth, running away, toward the direction she knew was home. Reaching out with her hand she stretched for it, willing it, trying to use her Thought Shielding to grab onto visual anchors and coerce them to do what she wanted instead of what it was forcing her to do. In order to force herself to wake up.
The pressure stopped suddenly, and sent her catapulting back, tumbling head over heels through nothingness until she smacked against something hard and unforgiving.
Murmur’s head throbbed so hard, she woke up. Bile rested on her tongue, and her stomach burned. She gagged again, but there was nothing left to bring up. Her eyes fluttered open, and she cringed at the sunlight hitting her directly in the face.
Even through the pain, she forced herself to take in her surroundings. Surely, with this level of real taste and smell and sensations...
But no. She was in her bed. Her bed at home. And the curtain was yet again the culprit, her permanent nemesis.
A feeling of despair so strong washed over her, and tears began to fall. Thick, hot, wet tears. Tears that felt utterly real.
But there was no capsule surrounding her. There were no wires connected to her, no bags collecting urine, no monitors quietly beeping. Just her, in her big bed, empty, devoid, without even Harlow.
Wren resisted the urge to curl up on her fake bed. Resisted the urge to scream, to shout, to do something other than just fade away. She didn’t even take her headset off. Sure, this time it had been more of a fight to eject herself, but ultimately, she’d still lost. And yet, if it was such an effort to come back, and she swore she got closer each time, perhaps she just had to develop her Somnian skills a bit more so it became easier to push that world away. It was all a possibility, wasn’t it? Hadn’t she almost done it?
