According to Irish legend, a fairy may decide to replace a human child with one of its own. This way, the fairy gets to live among humans for whatever purposes they desire while the human is turned into a slave, a comfort, a soldier, or what have you.

Usually, this is done in infancy, but if they want, fairies can take the form of any human they desire. You can tell this replacement, this changeling, is wrong because it appears sickly. Or sometimes it displays far too much intelligence. Or it eats too much or it overly enjoys the fiddle.

And sometimes, you should be able to determine that you’re dealing with a changeling in lieu of a child when he or she attempts to feed you to a giant otter and, when that doesn’t work, persuades you to invade someone’s home, break into their office, find a secret door, and oops, now you’re in a fairy dungeon and you have become target practice for a rabid army of juiced up children.

Sadly, this did not become obvious to us until we came face to face with the original. Observation skill, my ass.

The boy, Senan, explains this to us while we wait for Éogan and Afric to gain consciousness. Apparently, that’s half the reason why they cram the kids inside the flowers. The bluebells are some kind of cloning mechanism. Or more of a transformation mechanism that feeds a child’s likeness to whichever young fairy is keen to try out the human side of life. Infinite changelings. Then, when the changeling has been burned or the body itself doesn’t seem particularly useful, they dump out the original copy and turn them into weapons.

Senan doesn’t know why they want a bunch of pint-sized killing machines, but his guess is that they just kinda hate humans and find it funny to fuck with ‘em.

Sounds familiar.

Eventually, Afric wakes and immediately launches into a barrage of demands and questions that rival both Luci’s ferocity and the changeling’s arrogance.

In other words, she’s fun.

Then, the boy of the hour awakes. The moment his eyes snap open, he lunges for his sister, grabbing her by the collar. Luci shuffles backwards.

“Where is it? Where did you hide it?” shouts Éogan.

“Let go of me!” With a pout, Afric shoves him away. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, you did. I saw you steal it.”

I cross my arms, surveying the fight. “Aw, so the both of you are thieves.”

Éogan glares. “I haven’t stolen a bleedin’ thing. She took an amulet.”

“An amulet?” Elias questions.

The other boy, Senan, gasps. “She didn’t!”

Afric tugs something from the cinch of her shirt and tosses it across the cavern floor. “There! I didn’t wear it yet. You don’t have to be such a lout.”

Before anyone has a chance to act, I snatch up the necklace. It’s an exact copy of what the other children wore. “Where did you get this?”

“Took it from the fae, I did,” she brags. “Wanted it on my own terms. Soon as they woke me up, I was killin’ the lot of ‘em.”

“You were not,” Éogan scoffs.

“Was too!”

“Were not!”

Ugh, kids.

I hold the necklace to the light of the blossoms, that violent shade of blue glinting off the silver pendant. It’s beautiful. The cord is just simple braided leather, but the pendant is a glimmering interconnected weave of lines and spirals. If I’m right, it’s a type of celtic knot.

I don’t know much about celtic knots other than the drunken tattoos a couple of my pseudo-Irish friends got in college. They’re supposed to symbolize positive ideals like love and strength and loyalty and all that nice shit. I don’t know what this one means. I doubt it’s nice. It looks a bit like an explosion.

Holding it, the pendant isn’t just beautiful; it’s nauseating. The longer I focus on it, the more it feels like I’ve been spinning in circles.

Accessory Acquired!

Legendary Chain of the Fae

A necklace of power and consequence.

Bound Item

Requirement: None

Level 1 Ability(s):

Payment (passive): Once worn, the participant receives the “Unforgiven” status. This status is permanent across all regions.

Level 10 Ability(s):

Doom Clock: Mark a critically injured individual of equal or lower level within 5m. The marked target will explode after 5 seconds. Explosion extends within a 1m radius.

Level 15 Ability(s):

Chain Reaction: Individuals that are hit by the explosion also become marked by the Doom Clock.

[This is a Bound Item. This item cannot be sold. Once worn, it becomes bound to the participant. If removed, it will enter the bound participant’s inventory. It cannot enter a participant’s inventory until worn.]

Holy shit. Like… holy shit. The absolute damage we could cause with this thing - friendly fire and all.

“Don’t wear it!” shouts Éogan.

“Yeah, no, I gathered that.”

“Can I see it?” asks Elias.

I place it carefully in his hands, like it’s a bomb ready to detonate. “Careful.”

As Elias examines the amulet, Luci glances our way but doesn’t bother asking to see it. I think she knows the answer. She just doesn’t want to hear it.

Dammit. I should have let her see it before handing it to her uncle. I need to show her I trust her. Because I do trust her. Right?

When I look at Ron, he just throws his hands up and laughs. “Don’t ask me. I ain’t touchin’ that.”

“What’s ‘unforgiven’?” I ask Éogan.

He stands. “I don’t know. It’s what they call the others. I just know that when you wear that, you change. Some can use it once and be grand. I’ve ne’er seen anyone come back from using it twice though. Like a fella on the lash. They don’t know when to stop. They turn… cruel. And the more they use it, the worse they get.”

“So there are kids in here with those amulets who just use it once and stay themselves?” If that’s the case, it could be useful, so long as we have the willpower to use it only the once.

Afric grunts. “They stay themselves, sure. They’re just dead.”

So maybe the game designers just put this in the region to fuck with us. Although it probably wasn’t them. This reeks of Earth’s sour retribution. Some kinda take on WMDs or whatever. As if any of us commoners ever had any say in that.

Elias slips it into his bag. “No one will touch it. We’ll leave it behind when we transfer.”

Quest Updated! THE PROBLEM WITH MAGIC

You’ve received an item that could help you in the battle against the sorcerer.

Objectives:

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

- (Optional) Retrieve a weapon worthy of defeating Sorcerer Laserian: Complete

- Deal with Sorcerer Laserian: In Progress

Well, shit. “Lord Cathal told us the guy was surrounded by undead,” I say. “We may need to use it, if only the once.”

“If it comes to that, I believe I should do it,” says Elias.

I laugh. “Why? You think you have more willpower than the rest of us?”

He stares.

“Yeah, I don’t know why I asked…”

“But I’d rather we find another option,” Elias replies.

“Well, we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.” I clap my hands together. “Alright, who’s done with this fairy joint?”

“Are we goin’?” asks Senan. “You’re savin’ us then?”

“Yup, that’s us,” I say. “Savior of children.”

And with that, we file out of the atrium of child-birthing bluebells to discover what is likely to be a new horror elsewhere. I don’t know how we’re meant to keep three Level 5s and under alive. Technically, only Afric needs to survive. And if she doesn’t, we only lose out on the experience points. But I think if I let three kids bite it, no matter how fake they are, it may cost us anyhow. You know, there’s no morale booster like turning a heroic rescue into a minor-fed massacre.

For another hour or so, we continue through the cavern, the children in tow. To the real Éogan, I offer my last common sword. Unfortunately, Afric and Senan are Level 2 and Level 1 respectively, with no combat abilities - although Afric swears she can fight. And yeah, she’s feisty as hell. I’m sure she can fight. I’m just also sure she sucks at it. So, sorry kid, it’s the backline for the babies.

Luckily, as far as enemies go, we only come across a random cat with a fuckin’ mouthful of a name and his little cat minions, all around Level 10. I’m a fan of low-level slaughter. Just tearing through a slew of monsters that have absolutely no chance in hell of killing us. Hurting us, maybe. But we recover. And we’re made stronger for it.

With my daggers, I slide and swirl and slash in a smooth, bloody waltz. Adrenaline sizzles through my veins. My heart beats, my blood flows, and all that’s left is the moment. Fuck feelings, fuck consequence. I’m alive. So alive. By the end, I’m left sweaty and pumped, and all I want is more.

But there is no more. Minutes later, the cavern becomes thick with silence once more, and the dead stink. Sludging through a carpet of guts, we carry on.

The farther we go, the more apparent it is that our lack of preparation is becoming an issue. I’m so hungry that I’m beginning to shake. And without the stream, we have no source of water. Of course, the stream was disagreeable enough. Elias assured us that without human pollutants like pesticides and whatnot, it was likely safe-ish to drink. But that’s not to say that some animal or fairy didn’t shit in it.

The children tell us there’s a place with food and water ahead - a saferoom by the sounds of it - , so that’s nice. But I’d rather hear about the exit. Now that we have Afric, I’m itching to get the hell out of here. Yeah, the solitude is nice, our singular purpose is comforting. But it’s a hell of a lot less peaceful now that there’s another party down here with some murder hobo-drive to butcher us. Sadly, I doubt those kids killed them, and I’m under no illusions that they’ve given up. Even though they have a man down, we won’t survive another run-in with them. Not without a hefty resupply of draughts.

Of course, we have no idea what waits for us once we return to the surface either. We need rest, and I’ve got the teenist little inkling that the Glasbaile inn won’t be open for business.

But that shit’s for later.

Éogan gestures down a narrow corridor. “It’s right over that way. Fair folk took us there ‘fore the room of flowers. Thought we were in paradise.” He grunts, shaking his head. “You’ll see. It’s right gorgeous if you don’t know what’s comin’.”

He’s not wrong. I thought we’d seen all that the fairy grotto had to offer. Yet through the corridor, we step into a cavern more enchanting than the Sidhe themselves.

Warm light filters through the cracks of speckled sun-bright flowers, scattering rays of amber across the interior of an old cathedral. Like before, the structures seem to grow from the earth itself, the columns and stalagmites intermingled, the vaulted arches embedded in the jagged ceiling, ferns and fungus sprouting from every inch of marble.

The magic-born light is warm and subtle, though it still takes me moments to adjust. Now I see what the rest of the cave would look like in the open: pink and indigo blossoms, shimmering limestone, trickles of glistening crystalline water. It’s holy, awe-inspiring, and cozy all at once. This is the meaning of sanctuary.

Across the expansive cavern, below a vaulted dome, is a space enclosed by a semi-circle of pillars. There waits a pile of fur blankets and leather floor cushions along with baskets and baskets of fruits and breads and cheeses.

Nearby, a small waterfall spills over tiered rocks and into a raised pond. Frogs hop from one lilypad to another. Like real, normal-sized, non-killer frogs. As we near, they dive into the reeds before poking their heads up in curiosity.

That soft light, an intoxicating aroma of earth and chamomile and citrus, the gentle brush of airflow permeating that cloying heat… Yeah, until the region decays, I’m staying here.

New Status!

Safe: You have entered a safe zone. Enemies, NPCs, provided food and items, as well as participants outside of your party cannot harm you or your equipment for the duration of your stay.

“Food!” Ron scoops up an armful of treats and collapses backwards into the cushions.

As the NPC children dive in, Luci hesitates. “Is it safe?”

I palm an apple and give it a brief lookover. Shiny. “The planet’s petty as shit, but the game designers have actually been rather forgiving this round. I think we need to take the status at its word. If we can’t rely on the descriptions, then we’re pretty much screwed anyway.”

I toss the apple back and dig out a sausage. Much better. Briefly, I contemplate how my daggers are perfect for a task like this. But I leave them in their sheathes and just chomp a giant bite out of it. Yup. Much better.

Luci finally selects a plum, then joins the other children by the waterfall. Perched on a stone, Afric chews a hunk of cheese while playfully poking a frog. Éogan tries to get her to stop, but then Senan says something that makes the entire group erupt with laughter. Luci doesn’t laugh, but she gives a close-lipped smile. It seems genuine, if not a little small.

This is good for her. But it’s not enough. It will never be enough.

Elias appears beside me. “The girl looks like Liam,” he quietly comments. “Liam is blonde, like his mother.”

“Oh.” I don’t add anything because my mouth is full of sausage.

Elias walks off with that distinct gait of someone who wants to be followed for some kind of intense conversation, so I ignore that and continue eating my food.

I’m not sure how much time passes, but eventually the honeyed light of the flowers dims in a mimicry of dusk. Ron’s been asleep for a while now, judging by his snoring. After some time, the kids all pile around him, snuggling in the pillows and amongst each other.

Soon, candles around the cavern spark to life. Wisps of magic rise from the floor, twinkling again like fireflies.

After I realize more than half the group is asleep, I finally join Elias on his lonely little rock. A thin candle flickers beside him. “Guess we’re staying here for the night.”

“It’s a good idea,” he says. “We won’t be leaving the dungeon without a fight. Nor do I believe the town will be altogether welcoming. It may be the last chance we get to rest before the end.”

“So, straight to the necromancer after this?”

“We’ve nearly hit the maximum suggested level. We should be ready.”

“Hmm.”

After a moment of silence, I glance to the side to see Elias steadily holding his hand over a candle.

“Um, what’re you up to there? Looking a little emo.”

“It doesn’t burn,” he replies.

“Well, yeah. Fortitude.”

“It should burn.”

“Uh-huh.” I swallow. I’m going to regret asking this. I always regret asking this. “Are you doing okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Not sure why I thought the guy would be capable of emotional self-reflection. I forget now and then that not everyone has attempted therapy.

“I was considering the nature of the fae,” he continues.

“As one does.”

“They don’t strike me as a creation of vengeance. Nor do they strike me as a creation of mercy. Their design is nuanced. There’s an intention to it that I can’t correctly define.”

“Huh. Yeah, I had a similar thought about the magic earlier.”

“How so?”

“You know, on the surface, magic had this tainted, manufactured quality. Like a weird static buzz. But down here, it feels more natural. More like magic should. Why do that? Why design it that way? It’s a cool touch and all, but not really necessary.”

“Yes. So you understand. The design is neither vengeful nor merciful. But if not made of vengeance, then Earth didn’t ask for it. If not made of mercy, then the Volese had no reason to create it.”

“It has to be one of them though, right?”

“It does,” he agrees. “However, since Luci discussed the orientation with me, I’ve been considering their reasons. I believe Earth. Its motivations and actions ring true: we destroyed it, thus it wants us to reflect upon our past and ultimately pay. But then why legends and cryptids?”

“You mean, why not just make the same boring monster over and over again.”

“Indeed. The Volese have no reason. They could have simply created rules and parameters that allow us a chance at survival. They have no motive to create a scenario this elaborate. In my experience, there are never these types of expenditures without a guaranteed return.”

“Right… But, isn’t the return us? Survivors?”

“Perhaps originally, when they first felt the guilt of having created us. However it’s been several generations since this began.”

“Yeah. No one carries a moral torch for that long.”

“Agreed.”

“So… what do you think is going on?”

“I’m unconvinced of any particular theory. However, there is one aspect of this scenario of which I’m sure.”

“Yeah?”

“We cannot use that amulet. Not even the once.”

“Hmm.”

We rest with that thought in silence. It’s quiet. Not that heavy quiet of the cave, but a light, peaceful sort of stillness. Burbling waterfalls, croaking frogs, the subtle rustling of sleeping children. It’s danger abated, the threat of death slumbering.

Or maybe it’s just the calm before the storm.