SAVE POINT 17

Rosabella

So, that thing I'd forgotten last night? Yep, it was important—so important, in fact, that it woke me up at the crack of dawn not even three hours later...

I rubbed sleep out of my eyes, trying to prop my back up straight in the purple, velvet-seated chair that could fit three of me. Honestly, it was getting hard even to lie to myself anymore. This wasn't a chair; it was an ornate, golden throne. A carpet stretched straight down the middle of the grand, Victorian-styled hall and ended here, at the foot of my chair. It might not have been red—it was actually tan and gold—but there was no denying this anymore: I was a puppet in a throne room.

I was a symbol of power and unity that these people desperately needed.

I was the show of order in the chaos and I was—fucking tired. What did a girl have to do to get a cup of coffee around here?

Golden archways of the ceiling stretched overhead like the endless sea of people waiting in line just a few feet away. Their eyes hovered on me whenever I gazed at their waiting forms—a seemingly endless snake of them wrapping around the marble columns in the room. But I didn't want to make eye contact. It was like looking at a physical to-do list that I hadn't checked off yet.

"Rosabella, the next visitor," Madame Constant-Frown-on-Her-Face (the wrinkled woman from the Welcome Back event and the kitchen—did she actually have a name? If so, no one had introduced me.) prodded me in the back with a boney finger, jolting me awake. How was I even falling asleep in the getup they had me wearing? They'd set a dressy, off-the-shoulders pantsuit made of some type of silken material out for me this morning which literally had me shivering. Did they jack the AC up to 1,000, or was I really just dreaming of being back snuggled under the covers?

Pay attention, right.

Stop dreaming of Sparo?

...Hmmm...deliciously 'not right'.

A shy smile slipped onto my lips as I lost myself, just for a quick minute, in the memory of my kiss with the dragon-non-dragon. Luckily, the young, peasant-looking girl dressed in rags, waiting in line before me, thought the smile was for her. She grinned toothlessly back, crushing all hot dragon thoughts. I watched her populate her Gamer tag over her head as she bowed low.

[SUSIEQ, PEASANT 5]

"Game Maker, thank you for seeing me!" she quipped breathlessly, the air whistling through her thick teeth, "My land is plagued by the darkness. I know you can fix it; I know you can. There's talk all over of how you fixed Talliger Heights."

"What is the name of your town?" I asked jadedly. I'd asked the question so many times at this point that it literally just slid, nearly automatically, off my bored, sleep-deprived tongue.

Every person in the entire line had a tale of darkness overtaking their town. And I had to address each one. And tell the name of the place to the attendant on my right who jotted it down, with a studiously scratching pencil, in the large notebook he had.

…All under the watchful eye of the wrinkled matron whose formal attire for the day looked like an old lady pantsuit on sparkly steroids.

At the temple, I'd used my Creator Magic and healed a huge chunk of The Game world. But there was more that still needed to be purged...by the look of the line wrapping around the room and out the grand doors at the far end, a lot more. Oh my God, I had a headache just thinking about it. I was far too thrilled as the young, peasant girl slipped to the side and there was that glorious space in line before another hopeless cause stepped towards me.

I leaned close to the weathered woman overseeing us all.

"I need a break," I whispered.

I didn't wait for her response as I went to stand, and the room fell hushed. The beehive-haired woman's lips puckered into a disapproving line. Not this again—not when the air distorted and there was that high-pitched—

Eeeeeeeeeeeeee—

"It's the darkness," I lied to her quickly, hoping that'd make her, and the terrible squealing in my mind, back off, "I need more root powder."

It worked. She took the bait. The high-pitched noise halted as neon letters flashed into view.

[System Reward: Well, You Got Away With That Lie +2 XP, 1036/1000]

[System Penalty: …Except Now MIRANDA, NOBLE 19 Thinks Your Constitution is Weak As Shit. Ever Want To Be Part Of That Sickly Ruler Crowd? Congrats, You’re Close, -10 Baddie Points, 710]

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Really, Miranda? At least the system would tell me the truth…and, now, I knew the old woman’s name. I swiped the text away and squinted at the woman. Her thin lips resumed their frown, but it was a worried frown, not a judging one. She beckoned to a guard, "Root powder—"

"Ma'am, as we mentioned, we're running out," the guard muttered back, clearly attempting to keep his voice an all-time low, "The only place we can get more is the Dragon's Sea Town."

"We'll send an expedition in the afternoon," the woman nodded, her voice hushed and urgent.

But I'd overheard. "Wait," I sputtered, "Can't I just use my Creator Magic to create more root powder?"

The guard and woman stared at me like I'd just stepped into the wrong conversation. The guard, a young man with curls of red hair, bowed low before addressing me, "Game Maker, CM isn’t able to create medicine. You can't create health packs or remedies."

Sure.

I’d known that.

According to everyone here, I was supposed to have been dropped back in this Game and, suddenly, know everything so—

I bit my tongue.

"You know," I lied again, trying to brush the darkness thing under the rug, "I'm feeling better. Maybe it wasn't the darkness. I probably don't need that root powder right now. I just—I'll just go to my bedroom and rest for a minute—"

Swallowing quickly, I didn't wait for permission. I was feeling way past that. My breath caught in my throat as I brushed past Miranda and made a beeline for my bedroom. ...For my privacy.

Down the hall.

Past staring guards.

Past flashing windows—my steps were a jog, now, rapid like my breath.

In.

And out.

In and—

I’d made it.

I slammed the bedroom door shut behind me like it could, somehow, barricade me from all the forces here—trying to get at me. They were running low on root powder? Without it, I’d die. And, here in these formal atrocities, every moment was beginning to feel like death. There were so many rules...so many expectations and people staring. One wrong step and I—

Well, then, the air would distort, and I could barely STAND that ringing noise... What was I supposed to do?...What was I going to do?

Tears burned at the brim of my eyes. Where was Sparo when I needed him? He'd lifted me up last night. He'd made things better. But here in this still-dark bedroom? In that giant throne room? I was so alone. Even with all the attendants and guards...I felt alone. I hadn't even seen the majority of my friends since I'd been in this place. It was like they'd decided to lock me away, and I wasn’t their ruler, after all; I was a prisoner…again.

Even these outfits! I pulled at the silken fabric, wanting nothing more than to rip it off my body and replace it with something soft. I was freezing! Socks! I, at least, needed socks! My toes were ice!

I dove for the set of dresser drawers, my fingers flying. The smell of cedar wood hit me square in the face as I yanked the heavy drawer open, but I couldn't see much from the tears.

Blurring my vision.

Pouring down my cheeks with a speed I couldn't control anymore.

What was I doing here? What COULD I do? They even had a camera in here! They were watching me all the time—

...What? What was this...?

My fingers had been diving through the soft fabric pile in the drawer for socks, but they curled around a square piece of glossy paper—a—a picture?

[System Alert: Old Photograph Acquired +10 XP, 1046/1100. Object Will Be Placed In Your Inventory Unless You’d Like to View. Would You Like to View?]

[Yes] [No]

Uh, sure… I wiped at my eyes, and the black-and-white portrait came into view.

It was of a beautiful woman cradling a child. And the woman looked familiar. The woman...

My breath snagged. It couldn't be.

My hands trembled as I brought the photo closer. Was it my imagination or did she have my eyes...or, maybe, I had her's... She looked like the woman who’d been in Sparo’s memory of my mother—my mother? Could it be? I turned the photo over to find a shield and magnifying glass icon printed there. An Examination Opportunity?

“Examine,” I whispered.

[System Option Examined… +1 XP, 1047/1100]

[A Closer Look At The Photograph Indicates There’s Something Handwritten On The Back. Would You Like To View?]

[Yes] [No]

My breath caught in my throat. Absolutely, yes, view. The system beeped as the photo flipped over to reveal scrawled, black ink:

Rosabella,

I know its been hard for you lately with the baby; everyone’s been expecting so much of you. Just know I love you. You don’t have to be someone you’re not. Be your beautiful self—that’s when you shine brightest. That’s the girl I love. Upset the apple cart a little. Lord knows, they need it around here.

Always yours,

Ford

I stared at the handwriting—at the message—feeling the tears well up again. They overwhelmed me like an ocean wave from my core, crashing over my head.

Dad? My Dad had written this to—my Mom? And she saved it in this drawer—in this sock drawer all this time? Did that mean she’d been in this room? ...Had this been HER room?

My eyes scanned the dark curtains and canopy bed with a newness I couldn't describe. Even in the dark, there was so much light here. Because she’d been here. My birth mother had been...here.

Oh my God, I had a picture of my Mom! I could hardly believe it.

I flipped the picture over again with a haste I couldn’t deny any longer, staring at every curve and line in the woman's face. She looked patient and kind and...tired. It sounded like she felt like me: overburdened, alone, frustrated...maybe even caged by expectations. Neon letters flashed into view, interrupting my moment.

[System Reward: A Picture’s Always A Good Way To Unlock Your Memory! +75 MRP, 3870/6209]

I swallowed. In the letter, Dad had said—

A different surge welled up in me this time.

Not tears.

Determination.

Strong, healthy, alive.

Because I knew what I had to do this time, and I wasn’t afraid. I was finally not afraid of it—of myself.

Screw socks. I had a better idea.