Wednesday, August 27th, 2042, Capitol Hill, Seattle, Washington.


    Emmy’s virtual hub came into view—a faithful recreation of her old home office from the house she had shared with her ex-wife. It stung every time she dived in and saw it, but she could not bring herself to change it. Maybe it was too soon, or maybe part of her was not ready to let go of everything she had lost—not yet.


    With a quick click on the game’s icon, the hub faded, replaced by the deep greens and browns of the loading screen. The familiar hum of the VR interface greeted her like an old friend, and for the first time in a long while, she felt a spark of anticipation. This was not just another game—it was her escape, her chance to be the person she had always been underneath it all.


    Emmy reached out, her fingers brushing against the screen where the words “Create Character” glowed softly. She tapped the option, and the world shifted again. Sixteen glyphs appeared before her—each one representing a deity, a force that would shape her character’s life in the game. They spun lazily in the air, glowing with power, each calling to her in its own way.


    But there was only one choice that felt right.


    Emmy tapped an ochre-brown glyph, the symbol of Terra, the lady of spring, earth goddess of endurance. A detailed description floated before her, but she had already read it offline. Terra embodied resilience, standing steady through storms and standing tall when everything threatened to crumble. She was also the goddess of new life, of rebirth. In this way, she reminded Emmy of the Greek goddess Demeter, in her aspect as Khlo?. It was a fitting choice—Emmy’s life had been all about enduring and surviving, but now it was time for her rebirth.


    The lore about Terra’s clergy, the Guardians of the Earth scrolled across her vision: “Nature watchers, Terra’s priests oversee harvest festivals, the planting of crops and tests of endurance. Her followers embody the earth itself, unyielding and resilient, able to withstand pressure and emerge stronger. Terra blesses those who carry the weight of the world on their shoulders without faltering.”


    A soft image of Terra appeared as a homini—tall, robed in green and brown, with a crown of laurels on her head of long brown hair, and a crooked staff in her hand. Barefoot, but the grass seemed to cushion her every step.


    Emmy smiled faintly. Yeah, that’s the only right choice for me.


    With a flick of her hand, the glyph dissolved into soft brown light, and the image of the goddess faded. A warm, comforting sensation enveloped Emmy, like the gentle embrace of a mother. It was not just comforting; it felt like an invitation, a reassurance that she could step forward into this new self without fear. She leaned into the embrace, feeling a kind of tenderness she had not known in years—a tenderness that felt like coming home. It was a softness Claire had stopped giving her long before the divorce, if she had ever truly given it at all.


    A soft voice whispered, “Don’t hold back, daughter of mine. Spread your wings and fly.”


    For a moment, Emmy’s breath caught in her throat. Daughter. That was not a word anyone had ever used for her before. Did it have to stay that way? The word wrapped around her like Terra’s embrace, filling some hollow space inside her she had not known was still empty. But as quickly as it had come, the warmth left her, carried away by the wind, leaving a quiet ache in its place.


    Emmy opened her eyes and noticed the staff in her hand—her hand. For the first time, the hand she referred to was actually a feminine hand. She looked down and confirmed what she had heard about the game’s new tech. She was embodying her chosen deity’s avatar. Emmy could feel something had shifted during that embrace—something she had not noticed in the moment but could sense now. There was no discomfort, no lingering oddness at being in the goddess’s skin. In fact, it felt disarmingly right. Like it was okay to feel this way. Theories she had read online had mentioned the system warming the brain to the change, likening it to a pressurised airlock. Maybe that was the case, but right now, she ignored the why. She was feeling whole for the first time.


    A window prompt brought Emmy back to the present. “Choose your species,” it prompted.


    Emmy already knew what she wanted: sylvani. In the previous version, that species only offered one of the two alternatives—what they call the Shadow sylvani in this re-release. The tall haughty elves that reminded her The Lord of the Rings or Star Trek. No. She did not want to be tall, cold or to intimidate others. She had had enough of that in real life, with Martin’s five foot ten athletic frame making people step back or reflexively pull their children closer. Every time that happened, it broke her heart.


    She selected the Wind sylvani. Small, agile elves with colourful hair and pointed ears. Known for their freedom, adaptability, and light-footed nature, they thrived in environments where others struggled, moving swiftly and gracefully through the world. They did not rely on brute strength. And they were small, cute. They looked harmless, child-like, fun-loving. Mischievous, perhaps, if you looked at them in a specific light. Qualities Emmy longed for people to associate with her.


    Emmy paused for a moment, her gaze lingering over the two figures in front of her—one male and one female, both androgynous in appearance. The first could easily pass as a woman. Emmy recalled the heated debates arguing about Link’s gender in the Zelda games, how Eji Aonuma had stepped forward and claimed “I wanted the player to think ‘Maybe Link is a boy or a girl.’”. It did not stop the debates. But years before Eji made his statement, Emmy had already chosen the way she saw it. She had named her save game “Emmy”. She even had the perfect excuse. You could not spell “Martin” with only four characters, a restriction imposed by the limited hardware and screen space. She smiled at the memory.


    Does it really matter which one I pick? She thought. Would anyone notice or care? She could play it safe and pick the male option, avoiding questions.


    But no. She wanted to pick the female one. Maybe she could lie and say she did not realise which one she had chosen? Would anyone believe me if I said that to their face? Her hand lingered in the air, stuck between the two options, a finger pointing towards the safer, male option. It would make things so much simpler if she could just pick that option. Could it satisfy her? But she knew how living a lie would be worse. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Back when she was younger, people could joke dismissively about picking the girl character because you would rather stare at a pretty character. That worked back when games were mostly in third person. But now that the game would make you feel what it’s like to be a woman? To have to deal with that shape at all times?


    So the question on her mind was: who mattered more? Lying to yourself, picking the easy option to please others? Or walking the path that made you happy and having to lie to anyone who asked why you did that?


    Claire would make a stink about it. Even before her now radicalised views on identity, she would assault Emmy with a barrage of questions about why she ‘always played women in games’. Even the silent, judging stares would drain all the joy of the experience. Years ago, back when people still played games on computer screens, it had already been so much simpler to just pick the male options.


    But the day their son was born, was the day when playing a female character online ultimately got relegated to be done behind closed doors. Forced in the closet, even in her escapes.


    She stopped hesitating, and with a furious roar, selected the female avatar. As the screen shifted, a slow, warm realisation crept in—she had done it. She had made the choice. And it felt good. Fantastic, even. For once, this choice was not about how others would see her—it was about how she saw herself.


    She felt the tension in her shoulders fade away. A tension she had not noticed until it was gone. It had been there, in the periphery of her senses, for decades, so she was not really feeling it anymore. Sure, sometimes, when she got a massage after a tough week, the therapist would comment on the stiffness there, but she brushed it off to work-related stress.


    She honestly did not know why she had hesitated. Screw what others may think. Everyone online would be strangers, everyone but Jason. And Jason would be the first to champion her if others had issues with her choices. Jason had seen Emmy play female characters in games before VR, and never had a problem with it. Perhaps he would mention something playfully about it. And sometimes, she felt he might envy her wistfully. Emmy would promptly invite him to join her—to match in-game, show everyone at a single glance they shared a bond outside of the game by displaying one inside the game. Not blood sisters, but game sisters. He had occasionally done so.


    Emmy smiled. She was creating her new character now. Someone told her not to hold back, so she returned to the screen, the default female sylvani waiting patiently for her to continue with the character creation. She had permission.


    Emmy knew that would not be necessary until a much later step, but she had her character’s name already figured out. Elyssia Windwhisper—that was the name that had come to her during the day as she daydreamed of this moment. It sounded delicate, almost whimsical, but there was strength behind it, a quiet confidence that reflected what she wanted to project in this world.


    She paused. Windwhisper? That had to be a coincidence, right? She had picked the name a long time before Terra whispered anything to her ear. She smiled. Maybe it was just fated to happen.


    With this positive idea in her head, she began adjusting the sliders for her character’s height, posture, and features. Elyssia was small—a mere four foot eight, the default height for members of her species—but she would be unstoppable. Emmy made her lean and agile, not bulky like a warrior, but finely honed like an acrobat.


    Riding the Wind sylvani’s cultural tendency of sporting brightly coloured hair, Emmy chose a bright green for her own, reminiscent of grass kissed by sunlight. She picked a styled, short, and almost boyish cut—practical, yet feminine. It made her smile. A haircut she wished she could have in real life but never dared to try, afraid of what people would say. But here, she could finally give herself the freedom she had always craved. Her skin was pale but with a warm undertone, like sunlight filtering through the trees. Elyssia’s eyes were bright, piercing blue, with an intensity and mischievous glint that Emmy had always wished for herself—a gaze that could command attention, even without saying a word.


    Emmy added freckles on the young Sylvani’s face, remembering the quote “A woman without freckles is like a night without stars.”


    Finally, she adjusted the elongated pixie-like ears until they brought a smile to her face.


    Perfect.


    From Terra’s height, Emmy looked down at the petite sylvani avatar. A sense of motherly pride washed over her. Was that her own feeling, or Terra’s? Either way, it felt right. Elyssia was hers, and she was ready. As she looked at her creation, no older than twenty, Emmy felt a swell of hope—a chance to turn back time, to live the life the world denied her. But this time, she would not hold back.


    Now, it was time to pick a class.


    The game allowed players to level up all available classes, but you had to start somewhere. The first class would determine your starting experience and your spawning location. Emmy did not want to make the choice lightly.


    There were eight starting classes, and Emmy’s hand hovered over the options. Three were DPS classes. Fun, sure, but everyone picked those. Two were healers—vital, but Emmy did not want to be the one quietly supporting from the back. She wanted to be at the forefront, leading the charge. That left the tanks.


    Her hand hovered over the three options for a moment, her thoughts wandering back to the days when she used to raid in the original game. She had played tanks often in games—big, brutish characters with heavy armour, massive shields—but this time was different. But she was done with walls. This time, she would rely on skills, her own ability to dodge, weave, and avoid damage entirely.


    She selected the martial artist class.


    The description popped up, detailing the class’s strengths in agility and avoidance tanking. Martial artists wore cloth armour. Their body was their weapon. They needed speed, reflexes, and perfect timing to outmanoeuvre and counter-attack their enemies. It was the hard mode of tanking—far more challenging than just standing there and absorbing hits. But Emmy had never backed down from a challenge, and she was not about to start now.


    Emmy grinned. This is it.


    With a click, Elyssia Windwhisper, the small and agile Wind sylvani martial artist, was complete. She wore a simple white cotton tunic and fitted hemp-brown breeches, sturdy leather gloves and boots—functional, if plain. But she looked ready for adventure.


    Emmy took a few screenshots, cropping one to show just Elyssia’s eyes and sending it to Jason with a message: “I’m all done with creation. Here’s a teaser!”


    The final confirmation screen appeared:


    “On Umber’s First Darksday of Harvestfall, 1442, Elyssia Windwhisper was born. May the sixteen watch over her as she treads paths no others dare to follow.”


    The darkness crept back in, and a new message glowed softly: “Welcome back, Emmy. Now it’s time for Elyssia to wake up.”


    A small wave of disorientation struck Elyssia as the game world loaded, but it quickly dissipated. The darkness faded, and she stood in a bazaar at the heart of a palisaded trade village. Wooden stalls lined the area, most of them covered in animal furs, while a few permanent stone-and-wood structures dotted the scene. The scent of fresh herbs and roasting meat reached her keen nose, and the quiet buzz of busy traders surrounded her.


    The vibrancy of the scene hit Emmy all at once. It felt real—almost too real. She looked down at her new body and marvelled at how natural it felt, how right.


    She took a few steps, testing the movement of her avatar. The lightness in her limbs was exhilarating, so different from the heavy, uncooperative feeling she had in her own body.


    This is me, she thought, her heart swelling with quiet joy.