Umber’s First Darksday of Harvestfall, 1442, market plaza, city of Luminara.


    After Zyra insisted she would foot the bill for the meal, the two said their goodbyes. The guardian logged out for the night.


    Vaelith stood up from the table and was about to resume her search for a healer for their party when a sudden notification pinged—it was a virtual chat invitation from M-E.


    Checking on my progress so soon?


    She sat back down and willed herself into their private VR lounge. They had customised it together for calls like this one.


    They designed the area to look like a retro basement recreational room. A pool table monopolised the centre of the space. A large sectional couch sat in a corner, facing a massive wall-mounted TV with 5.1 surround sound system. All over, neon-coloured LED strips gave the room some moody ambient lighting.


    Looking down and still seeing the golden scales on her hands, even in this space, surprised Vaelith. Why am I still in my game avatar? But the memory of how long and uncomfortable calibrating to this body had taken, she quickly reasoned it likely was to avoid going through that process in quick succession. It probably would put people under too much stress if that happened whenever you switched between your regular and game avatar. Therefore, if you simply left the game behind to focus on other VR apps or options, the less of evils would be to keep you wearing that skin.


    That might make things awkward with calls with family. Jason’s family disapproved of his gaming, dismissing it as entertainment for the masses. At least they respected his teaching career—a practical, if not lucrative, profession, especially since he taught the children of wealthy elites.


    A few seconds later, M-E’s avatar finally appeared, green scan lines sweeping from head to toe in quick succession, a custom shader they designed together to imitate the teleportation special effects seen in the original Tron movie.


    The green-haired sylvani girl that appeared in the cosy lounge was nothing like M-E. She was short, although not as short as Vaelith, and had a slim dancer’s body. Vaelith recognised the blue eyes from the cropped picture M-E sent earlier in the evening. M-E was not as tall as Jason, but had an athletic physique. Seeing him go from a broad-shouldered five foot ten guy to a cute four foot something faerie-like character came as a surprise to her. Of course, she knew M-E frequently picked female character in games, but she had wondered if he would do that in a FullDive VR game.


    “Oh wow. You went with a Kindred dracan! Good job with her looks,” M-E said, as she looked her up and down.


    Vaelith blushed, feeling awfully self-conscious at the compliment, but also at the way the other girl was eyeing her. She wondered if she should point out she actually had not customised her appearance, so that she really did not deserve any credit for how she looked.


    She was about to mention that, but stopped herself. Learn to take compliments, she told herself. She opted for some simple show of gratitude, and to echo back the sentiment. That was only proper, right?


    “Thanks. Your character looks great, too…”


    The sylvani blushed, looking flustered at the compliment, too. She looked down at her feet, her hands behind her back. “Oh? Ah, thanks…? So, what’s your character’s name? Mine’s called Elyssia, Elyssia Windwhisper.”


    “Vaelith Dawnscale.”


    Vaelith searched for a topic to get the conversation started. She then remembered Elyssia’s earlier message about class choices.


    “You said you played an evasion tank?”


    Elyssia beamed. She eagerly jumped into info-dumping. “Yep! Martial artist. It’s a ton of hit points, but paper-thin armour. Mobile, high evasion, some self-heal, lots of cooldowns to juggle. It’s got that souls-like perfect guard timing mechanic. The main thing about it is its counter-attack mechanic!”


    Vaelith smiled. If she was not already certain that the sylvani was her best friend, this little display would have removed any doubts. She could recognise the enthusiasm and mannerism, no matter the body they inhabited.


    “That sounds pretty busy... A fitting pick for you, really.”


    Vaelith paused, biting her lip. She psyched herself mentally and opened to her friend, “So, I have a bit of a personal question…”


    Elyssia’s smile faded, her face turning serious. Her eyes searching Vaelith’s face for hints of what her friend was going through.


    “Okay. That sounds important. What’s up?”


    Vaelith hesitated, her fingers tracing the scales on her arm, the golden highlights catching the room’s ambient light. She drifted to the sectional and almost collapsed into it, the soft cushions enveloping her in a way that felt too natural—too comfortable for a body that was not supposed to be hers.


    Elyssia’s gaze followed her movements, her smile still there, but quieter now. She did not sit, opting instead to lean against the pool table. Her hands idly rolled the eight ball back and forth like it was a familiar stim.


    Vaelith felt her throat tighten as she tried to form the words. She took a deep breath and tried again.


    “So, I’ve just... been thinking about all this. The game, I mean. The way this body feels.”


    Elyssia’s smile softened, understanding without the need to say it aloud. “Yeah. It’s weird, huh? So different from my regular VR avatar. But even then, it feels so… real, I guess?”


    “More than just a game,” Vaelith said, looking at her own hands. Her voice came out quieter than she had intended.


    She turned to face Elyssia but quickly glanced away after they made eye contact. She pretended to focus on the holographic scoreboard above the pool table—a match they never actually played.


    Elyssia nodded thoughtfully, her green hair catching the LED lighting in faint glints as she turned the eight ball in her hand. “Yeah. You get used to it so fast, like it’s not even a shift. It’s more like...” She paused, searching for the right word. “Like it fits.”


    Vaelith felt something in her chest tighten at that. “Yeah…”


    Her fingers dug lightly into the couch cushions. She almost said more, but bit her tongue. Instead, she forced a small laugh. “It fits you, I mean. Your character looks like something you would’ve picked. Back, before VR came around, I mean.”


    Elyssia shrugged, the casual gesture betrayed by a slight blush creeping into her cheeks. “I mean, yeah, I wanted to try something different, but... not that different. Elyssia’s pretty much on brand for me.”


    Vaelith nodded along, though her thoughts spun. She tried to sound casual as well, but the words felt heavy as they left her mouth. “Actually, I didn’t really get a say in mine. Somehow, I messed up and picked my class first? And then? Bang! I was in the game. I think I might’ve missed the option to change appearance.”


    Elyssia blinked, surprise flashing across her face. “Wait, really? You customised nothing?”


    Vaelith shrugged, though it felt heavy, like she was revealing more than she intended. “Yeah. It kind of... just happened? I didn’t get to mess with any settings.”


    Elyssia tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes, but she didn’t push. “That’s interesting. You seem comfortable in it, though. Calibration’s wild. Are you… bothered by it? Want to have a do-over?”


    Vaelith glanced down at her hands again, flexing her fingers absently, her eyes focusing on the scales on her wrist. “Nah. I’m not bothered by it. Like you said, the calibration system’s doing its job. It was weird at first, but... not bad. And after a small period to get used to all of it, I’m all good now. I actually didn’t expect it to feel this natural, this fast.”


    Elyssia’s fingers stopped turning the eight ball for a moment as she studied Vaelith more closely, then gave a small, almost knowing smile. “It’s like the system just knows what works best for you, even if you don’t realise it yourself yet.”


    Vaelith’s stomach knotted at that. Does the game know something I don’t? “Huh. Yeah... Maybe?”


    A silence settled between them, not quite awkward but full of things unsaid. Elyssia resumed rolling the eight ball in her palm, the soft click-click grounding the moment. Then she spoke, her voice thoughtful. “You know, this glitch, or whatever it is... It’s kinda freaky, but it’s also freeing in a way, don’t you think? Like, who gets to say what feels right for someone else?”


    Was Elyssia alluding to how they were both in their game avatar, despite not being in the game world right now? She was right about one thing: some people would freak out about it. But their comfort about it did not matter, did it? If Elyssia or Vaelith were feeling comfortable wearing that skin, that was all that mattered, right?


    But Vaelith wanted to make sure this was what Elyssia talked about. “The glitch you’re talking about… Is that what’s going on with our avatars or... something else?”Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Elyssia’s smile lingered, but it did not reach her eyes this time. “Everything, I guess. People are quick to decide what’s normal for you. How you should look, how you should act. But maybe we’re the only ones who get to decide that. Maybe this game just lets us skip the messy part where we’re trying to figure it all out. Jump ahead.”


    Vaelith’s chest tightened. Elyssia’s words hit too close to home. She glanced at her friend, wondering how much Elyssia was really saying. Was she just talking about the game? Or was there some hidden meaning behind what she said?


    “Yeah,” Vaelith finally said, her voice quiet. “It does kind of feel like that. Like, here? You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone. You just... are.”


    Elyssia’s smile softened further. “Exactly. You get it.”


    Vaelith leaned back on the couch, staring at the moody lights reflecting off the pool table. “It’s still... weird, though. I mean, I know that consciously, I should feel weird about it, right? About... all of this?”


    Elyssia was silent for a moment, then spoke softly, almost cautiously. “Maybe? But maybe it’s okay to feel good about it, too. No use complaining about having a good time.”


    The words hung between them, and Vaelith did not know how to respond. Part of her wanted to agree, to admit that it felt good—too good. But another part of her feared how easy it was to feel at home in a body that was not supposed to be hers. How was she supposed to reconcile that? And why did Elyssia seem so calm about it?


    Vaelith glanced at Elyssia again. She had just one question she kept wanting to ask. The same she had asked Zyra. “Did... Did it take you a while to feel comfortable in your character?”


    Elyssia looked at her, really looked at her. She shook her head slowly before answering. “Not really. Honestly, I felt more comfortable with her than I ever did in any other game. It was like slipping into something that was waiting for me all along. Why?”


    Once again, her experience differed. Both Elyssia and Zyra did not have any issues with their calibration. Why was it different for her?


    Vaelith swallowed. “Did you also get some kind of vision or memory? Some knowledge of things only your character should know, like their backstory?”


    Elyssia’s brow furrowed. “Like… memories of people? Relationships your character had, that sort of thing?”


    Vaelith remembered her conversation with Instructor Daren. “Yeah. Did you get any of that?”


    Elyssia nodded slowly. “Mm-hmm.”


    “Do you think... the game messed with our heads?” Vaelith asked, the seriousness underneath the question palpable.


    Elyssia chuckled lightly, though there was a hint of nervousness behind it. “Not really no. I think it’s probably just giving us a bit of help. Fill in some blanks. You’d probably really struggle to walk around with that tail otherwise. Have you seen how it just folded as you sat down?”


    She shook her head. She had not really seen it, because she had already almost stopped paying attention to how her tail just seemed to always know what to do, and did it all on its own.


    Elyssia continued, “Really, I don’t think the game can fundamentally alter anything about who we are. Even if it could, it would be unethical to do so. There are probably built-in safeguards in our devices to protect against that kind of meddling. And I don’t think those devices have the hardware to do any of that. So yeah, I think it’s just giving us a hand. Little helpful nudges here and there.”


    Vaelith thought back about the two dream sequences she had lived through. The ones when she was still a student. She had to admit, the thing Daren pointed out to her? It was one of Jason’s flaw. It simply integrated part of him into Vaelith’s past. That was something they shared, not something that belonged only to her. “Yeah. I’m sure that’s all it is.”


    But in truth, Vaelith was not actually sure about that.


    They let the silence stretch out again.


    Elyssia finally plonked the eight ball she was playing with on the pool table and hopped to her feet. “I probably should get back to it. I’m not halfway to Luminara yet. Grinding slowed down, the MOBs’ levels keep increasing the further I go from my starting city.”


    Caught by surprise, Vaelith chuckled. Of course, she’s already fighting things. Typical M-E, always rushing into battle.


    Vaelith still had so many unspoken questions in her mind. But she stood up too, pushing them for a future conversation. She let out a small, sorrowful sigh. “I’ll go back to looking for a healer. Haven’t seen many priests around the city so far.”


    Elyssia’s gaze locked on hers. She smiled at her friend and gave her that look. The amused look of a friend who knew you all too well.


    “Have you tried their guildhall?”


    Elyssia did not linger or wait for a reply. She grinned, waved and vanished with the same teleporting effects she had earlier shown up with.


    Of course, their guildhall should have a higher concentration of priests than simply running around. Vaelith suddenly felt so dim-witted, but thankfully Elyssia was not there anymore to see how beet-red her face must have been. At least, going by how burning hot her cheeks felt.


    <hr>


    On the way to the guildhall, Vaelith’s question raised a few eyebrows, but she found her way there by following the instructions of helpful passers-by. She assumed they wondered how she did not know such an important location, but none pressed her with unkind questions. More importantly, however, she noticed they treated her with a level of sympathy and civility not usually extended to other players. Is that because she was a local to this city? Or perhaps her diminutive and unthreatening appearance endeared them to her?


    The priest guildhall was part of the Landing of Lights, a vast, elevated district of the city. It was the seat of power, housing most of the halls of the various seats of the Council of Light. The priest and crusader guilds held the two most important positions.


    Earlier in the market plaza, the magical lights had amazed Vaelith, despite the late hour. But now, in front of the Landing of Lights, she realized just how opulent this entire district was. The market plaza felt mundane in comparison.


    Giant, many-storied stained glass windows shimmered with colours that danced as the light shifted. Towering, magically charged crystals emitted a radiant glow, their refracted beams casting moving patterns across the ground like a divine mosaic.


    The smells of the rest of the city, both the enticing and repugnant ones, were absent here. Instead, a crisp, almost ethereal lemon and lime scent of pristine cleanliness lingered, contrasting with the rich and earthy smells of the market.


    As she approached, she crossed a nearly invisible boundary. A see-through magical wall of force that isolated the neighbourhood from the hustle and bustle of the city. Vaelith whistled appreciatively—Modern cities would kill for invisible, intangible sound-walls like these.


    Now, on the inside of the dome of silence, Vaelith noticed a harmonic melody that filled the air of the entire district. Soft, ethereal tones that seemed to resonate from the light itself, as if the entire district was humming with divine purpose, echoing the quiet awe stirring within her.


    Timidly, Vaelith stepped through the imposing cathedral doors that lead to the priest guildhall. The ceilings must have been at least eight stories tall. Majestic decorated columns stood proud, telling a cosmic tale of creation. Vaelith saw the images engraved, and recognised how they told the later half of the tale, starting from the moment the goddess Luxoria was born. She was, after all, the goddess revered by priests, so it made sense they would care about the chapters of history after she was born, more than those who came before her.


    The room reminded her of a church on Earth, with long wooden benches, all aligned and facing towards the back of the room.


    Only a few dozen people milled around, making the grand place feel empty and almost abandoned. But it did not come as a surprise to Vaelith, given the late hour.


    Players would be online at any time of the day, especially given the time zones and world-wide nature of the game. This meant public places like this probably never locked their doors.


    She assumed if she came during daytime on rest days, the place would likely fill up with believers. Vaelith did not do very well with crowds, and was glad to have arrived here on a work night.


    As she looked around, the name of the various rest days popped into her mind unbidden—Aquaran, Crostan, Hydrelle, and Frostelle—the vernacular names for Watersday and Icesday, this world’s equivalent of Saturday and Sunday. She frowned at the sudden flood of information. More helpful information fed directly into her brain. It felt both helpful, but invasive and highly unsettling.


    She shook her head, filing the notion away. Gathering her courage by taking a deep breath, she approached a homini player in white robes, a shimmering staff in his hands. “Hi, I’m Vaelith,” she said, her voice as steady as she could muster. She carried on, despite a knot tightened in her stomach. “My friend and I are putting together a party and we could really use a healer. Are you interested?”


    The priest raised an eyebrow, curious at first. “Maybe? Tell me more about your setup?”


    “Well, there’s me, I’m a mage. So we got DPS covered, and I can help with my support rituals. Then we have a wind sylvani martial artist tank—”


    His eyes suddenly narrowed, and he cut her off. “Wait, your tank is a martial artist? Do they know that’s a damage-dealing job?”


    Without waiting for her response, the priest laughed under his breath, dismissed her with a wave of the hand. He walked away.


    Vaelith stood there, feeling the laughter echo in her mind long after the priest was gone. The knot in her stomach tightened, and she shifted awkwardly. She pulled on the leather bandolier and fidgeted with the leather satchel containing her precious, heavy grimoire. The weight of the cathedral’s grandeur pressing down on her, a stark reminder of how small her efforts felt.


    But neither the massive cathedral nor her precious book felt as heavy as the rejection she just received.


    A small voice in the back of her mind wondered if this was just the first of many, and the knot in her stomach tightened even further as the thought lingered.


    Steeling herself, Vaelith moved to the next priest, determined to try again. This time, she spotted a Shadow sylvani priestess kneeled on a bench in prayer. Vaelith approached cautiously, giving her a friendly nod. “Excuse me, I’m looking for members for a party and I was hoping you might be interested in healing for us?”


    The priestess opened her eyes up, turning to face Vaelith. She smiled for a moment, but then returned to her prayers. “Sorry, I’m already in a guild,” she said, as though it explained everything.


    Vaelith wondered if that was a casual white lie. Is there anything wrong with the way I approach them? Is it my appearance that is working against me?


    Trying to shake off the second rejection, she spotted another priest who looked like he might be more open. His staff leaned against the stone wall next to him. The tall Northerner had his arms crossed and was just standing around, looking bored. Vaelith cleared her throat and approached. “Hi, I’m organising a group. We’ve got a tank on the way to the city and a DPS so far—would you be up for it?”


    The priest tilted his head slightly, studying her for a little over a second.


    “Come back when you gather the rest of your party,” he said dismissively. “Not interested in just waiting around.”


    But aren’t you just doing exactly that right now?! Vaelith wanted to shout at him how his answer obviously made no sense.


    A voice came from behind, startling her. “You probably should solo some of your starter quests before you ask people to team up, dragon-girl. Nobody parties at level one.”


    Vaelith turned around to face the tall, lean Noble burrovian who had walked up to her undetected, despite his impressive height.


    His words lingered in her mind, gnawing at the part of her that was not ready to quit. But admitting he was right felt like a defeat she could not face—not yet.


    “Plus, if you need a priest, just level up your mage class until you unlock the class-change feature. It doesn’t take long to get to that point, trust me.”


    His advice made sense, and Vaelith appreciated he did not dismiss or laugh her off immediately, but his suggestion was not the one she was hoping for.


    “Believe me, little girl. Nobody here will say yes and heal a small Wind sylvani martial artist. For starter, no one wants to mess up a cast just because you lose sight of the tank in the middle of the fight.”


    Vaelith did not know if she should feel appreciative. His blunt honesty was refreshing in a way, but it still left her feeling lost and stuck, with no clearer path forward than before.


    “I’ll… think about it,” she finally said, deflated.


    Vaelith limped back toward the cathedral doors, her hands gripping the leather bandolier so tightly her knuckles turned bone-white, the material creaking under the pressure. Her legs felt heavy as she trudged on, the weight of the rejections pressing down on her shoulders, knotting in her chest.


    Mage might have been a mistake. I should just have rolled a priest to begin with.