When the world ended, Sy felt the taste of soup in his mouth. Which should be impossible, since pixelated food shouldn't have a taste. Furthermore, neither should he. Virtual reality was an ingenious device with limitless possibilities, but the technology introduced to the public was only ten years old. It didn't have enough progression that only time could give, for it to allow a player within the virtual reality to feel the taste in his mouth.

More importantly, Sy felt. He could feel his own beating heart pounding in his chest, like a thunderous drum. Sy's hands shook when he felt his long dark hair flowing down around his shoulders like a waterfall. They felt silky smooth, like something you would buy at a silk shop. 

His haggard breath sounded loud in his ears, as he stood to his feet from the countertop.

"Are you well?" Sy's head whipped up, narrowing down on the woman on the other side of the counter, polishing the glass. He swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. The woman's brow raised elegantly, and said, "You look a little pale..., perhaps a cuppa would do? Jǫrmungandr recently brought in a good few bags of coffee beans from the fabled lands up north, and..."

"I feel fine, Vánagandr," He kept his gaze elsewhere, and anywhere but the beautiful woman. It was supposed to be an NPC, with a limited personality and set actions. It wasn't supposed to look at him with concern, despite her cool and cold eyes.

Vánagandr was a dazzling woman of native American beauty, made to look more like the beautiful Pocahontas, dressed in a bartender outfit. The clothes closely hugged her slim figure, leaving little to the imagination. Sy named her after the monstrous wolf, the son of Loki, and the fated killer of Odin. Looking closely, he drank in her appearance, and the slightly worried expression she wore.

"I'll... I need to go to my room. Yes, my room," She watched him closely, stopping her duties completely and watched him silently as he stumbled across the hall, tripping over the tables and chairs, and up the stairs toward his room.

Sy made it to his room and went immediately to the mirror set against the wall. He touched his face, softly, gently. Every sensation of every touch felt like the sun, warm and tingly. His every feature was perfect: the set jaw, sun-kissed skin, the golden eyes, and the perfectly arched dark brows. It was disgustingly perfect. 

His imagination made real, the avatar he assumed when connecting to his VR. He tried logging out, or called a GM. Nothing. No response. 

It wasn't supposed to be real. 

Immediately, Sy found a trash can by the cabinet and threw up. When nothing came, he dry-heaved. His shoulders shook, and his breath smelt terrible from the vomit. 

Sy was Sy, from Ontario, who goes to high school. He had friends, a family, and a dog he very much missed. He crumbled against the white wall and wrapped his long arms around his knees. The boy felt cold, and despite the avatar's heritage, the shivering wouldn't stop. 

"Are you alright?" Vánagandr again. She leaned against the door frame, her arms crossed. "You need... a physician. Though, I've never seen you get sick before." 

Sy rubbed his brow tiredly, sighing. "I'm fine. I'm just... not feeling too well," 

"A half-fae of the Summer?" The bartender snorted, then tossed him a small glass bottle the size of a toddler's fist. It was the corking kind. Sy caught the bottle and eyed it warily."I hardly doubt that, but the potion should help,"

The green liquid looked like something he would find in the sewers. If he was in the game, the glass would automatically tag it with a potion's name, and describe the effects in a small holographic box.

A memory did come to him, though. He knew this. It was a health potion, but a fairly advanced one: a high rejuvenation potion.  

"Also, there's...," He could hear the hesitation. Sy looked at her curiously, brows furrowed. "You should take a look outside," 

Sy's frown darkened, then uncorked the bottle and downed it in one gulp. He got to his feet quickly. Already, he felt the effects as the potion did its job. The body felt stronger, and the shivering stopped. 

Vánagandr followed closely behind him as he arrived down the stairs, and crossed the main hall, and opened the door out into the open air. The breeze felt cool against his warm skin, and the trees... Sy stopped. There were trees, the sun was out, and a warm breeze. The trees should be covered in snow, and the world should be blanketed in winter.

None of this made sense.

"Look," She said, nodding toward the oddly dressed pair.

One of them he recognized: Jǫrmungandr, the twin brother of Vánagandr. A powerfully built native American man that may have escaped the Men's magazine for health junkies right out of the cover. Standing at eight feet tall, he easily towered over both his sister and Sy. 

But that wasn't what interested him. It was the woman by the man's side, and the baby she carried. And a strange woman he'd never seen before, with dusky gray skin, and violet eyes. Those pair of ears were a foot long, slender and shaped like a bladed spear.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Sy realized she was nothing more than a young girl, with baby fat that hadn't quite matured.

There were tears in her eyes, but more importantly, he recognized the terror. The shivering, aching bone-deep fear was practically palpable around her. And despite the gentle giant's quiet reassurance and soothing voice, the girl only held fear. The baby in her arms, thankfully, hadn't woken up. 

The girl showed no resistance, and only looked resigned. Her clothes were torn, and dirty, caked with dirt and mud. The snow-white hair was tangled and messy, and dried blood congealed around the base of her skull. She must have been assaulted, and it looked to be a few days' old wounds. The girl had to be treated before infection settled in. 

"Bring her in, Jǫrmungandr," Sy barked, then he turned to Vánagandr. "Get her a proper health potion, and get her cleaned up. I'll prepare a hot cuppa and make sure Hel prepares a meal for both of them,"

Vánagandr didn't question him, but she did ask, "And the baby?" 

"Jǫrmungandr will take care of the baby," Sy sighed. "I'm sure the mother wouldn't want to be separated from her child, so keep them close," 

Vánagandr nodded, and went inside to prepare a bath at one of the private rooms. There were plenty of medicinal potions fully stocked inside, so it shouldn't be a problem. 

As the trembling girl drew closer, her eyes found his. Sy couldn't face what must be the anxiety, fright, and the horror, and stepped back inside. Ignoring her would be best, for now. The poor girl must be traumatized and would need some serious psychiatric help. Which, none of them were qualified for. 

It was a long time before the girl came back, wearing a freshly laundered sunflower dress. The way the girl's fingers bunched up against the hem of her dress, which bordered a few inches above her knees, was telling. Wasn't she used to wearing dresses? No, that didn't make any sense. The girl was wearing a dress when they brought her in, but... 

Ah. The bare legs. It must be the reason why she looked spooked. She must think they were going to use her as a prostitute. Wonderful. Their cultures must be significantly different if a sunflower dress was considered inappropriate. 

"Are you alright?" Sy asked gently, as the bartender carefully set the woman on the stool by the countertop. When she didn't seem to understand the question, he turned to Vánagandr in question. "Can she talk?" 

"She can speak, just not our language," Vánagandr bustled him out of her office, and dumped his prepared coffee into the sink. His weak protests were ignored. "What I gathered so far is not good. There were bruised marks all over her body. In some places, she was scarred horrifically, and more than likely raped,"

"Was?" He asked. 

"Was," Vánagandr confirmed. "The alchemical potions managed to get rid of all of them, and remade her skin naturally to what it once was. She should feel like a million talis,"

The bartender placed a hot cup of steaming coffee on the counter, right in front of the terrified girl. Vánagandr pointed, her voice slightly firm, and said, "Drink. It'll do you some good," She turned to face Sy with a sigh. "I had to be firm quite a few times, and I'm remarkably unfit for this role of motherhood. My brother is far more suited for the task,"

"I don't think the girl would appreciate strange men bathing her," Sy dryly replied, as he watched the girl take a slight sip. Her eyes widened in surprise, and quickly took larger gulps of the liquid, careful to not burn her tongue. "Do you know what's her name?"

Vánagandr shook her head, then shrugged. "I tried." 

"Her name is Alliea Lomendra," Jǫrmungandr said, as he came down the stairs, closely holding onto the baby. The child was awake now, giggling in delight, and playing with the man's thick, meaty fingers. "Roughly translated in our language, of course. I wouldn't want to spook her by saying her name out loud. The poor thing doesn't need any more surprises,"  

The girl, which he really needed to stop saying, leaped to her feet and went for her baby. Jǫrmungandr smiled gently, his pearly white teeth shining behind his short thick beard. "Here you go, little one," 

Alliea hesitated, before gently taking the baby from the man. She returned to her stool, and gently planted little kisses and played with the baby. A baby boy, if he was correct. The snow-white tufts of hair, and the violet eyes must be from the mother. Either that, or they were siblings.  

"And how did you know that?" Sy asked, a little curious despite himself. 

"Why... the spirits told me, of course," Jǫrmungandr said with a smile.

"Of course," Sy's lips thinned in displeasure. He forgot the man was a druid, then asked quite sarcastically, "Well, can your spirits translate for us?"

"Ah... well, no," Jǫrmungandr smiled widely, and said, "I, however, can. After all, I have been gifted with the speech of all mortals," 

Right. Of course. How did he forget? It was such a simple, long-time addition made to the NPC character when he first bought the game. Sy was barely a casual gamer, so his knowledge of the lore was pretty spotty at best. 

Vánagandr grunted with annoyance. "Yes, we know you smug bastard. Now, I'm gonna go and check on Hel. He should have prepared the meals soon enough," 

Jǫrmungandr sat next to the girl, and gently started a conversation with her. She must have been startled, by the expression on her face. Their conversation was long enough, that Sy left them to it, while he cleaned up the tables with a wet rag. It was also better than thinking about the family he left behind. He was still pretending as if nothing's changed. A role of his class, and his profession. 

Sy glanced at the pair. Jǫrmungandr patted her shoulders comfortingly, with a sympathetic smile. Alliea was now in tears, holding tightly to the child, close to her chest. He was glad Alliea became comfortable enough to trust them. The druid had a way with people, and his charming personality seemed to be winning her over completely. 

When the girl was directed upstairs, to her new room, Vánagandr followed with a full meal and a glass of water. Another meal will be sent up, specifically for the baby. Sy would make sure the boy gets a proper meal. 

Jǫrmungandr came over with a grim scowl. 

"I take it, the news wasn't well received?" Sy asked, concerned. 

"Alliea is an escapee from a purge," Jǫrmungandr looked displeased. And angry. "We'll need to help them," 

Sy's breath caught, his fists tightening. "A genocide...,"