Gravemist blanketed the hills around the abbey, smoothing vibrantly over the dead grass that crunched under Matt’s feet. The pale stone block of a building had a thin tower, twice as high as the base was wide; it looked toy-sized from its perch in the distance. Matt squinted. It seemed to shimmer when the sun peeked out from the clouds. They were blowing quickly across the sky this morning, cotton balls on a bright blue canvas.

“Almost there,” said Kurtis.

Matt flashed him a weak smile. The day had started with his favorite—zombie squirrels—near the tent outside Central Park. As they hiked, the damn things got higher level too. The last few were 13. That was twenty minutes ago. Matt didn’t dare jinx it by saying they were in the clear.

Val’s beaver toddled at Matt’s right, a ball of docile pudgy fur. Though it currently tread on all fours, on its hind legs the animal was almost half her height. It carried a leaf-ended stick in its mouth, one end dragging as it pattered along. It seemed to be doing better than the pigeon.

“Burt?” Val asked. “Barney?”

“Nah.” Kurtis scratched between his orange ears and glittering hat.

“Well, what should I name him then?”

“Does it have to start with B?” Kurtis asked.

“I dunno.” She shrugged. Then she asked in a baby-talk voice, “What do you think, Mr. Beaver?”

The creature paused and dropped its stick, then it stood on its hind legs peering up at Val. It clasped its tiny hands in front of itself. For some reason, it reminded Matt of videos of monkeys washing their food, despite the beaver’s hands ending in little white claws. The animal dropped back to all fours and picked up the stick with its mouth.

“Erwu,” it said through the branch in its teeth. It was almost a bird-like sound.

“I know,” Val told the beaver.

It scurried up ahead to walk beside Kurtis.

Val turned her gaze on Matt. “What do you—”

“Don’t look at me.” Matt shook his head. “It’s your beaver.”

“Hm.” Val crossed her arms and kept walking.

Fallyn was staring off at the abbey. “I don’t like how quiet it is. And do you see that color?” She tucked brown waves behind one ear. “Sorry Val, I don’t have name suggestions either.”

They were closer now, but Matt could still blot out the building with his hand. The rolling hills made it seem closer than it was. The artificial smoothness and vibrancy of the gravemist was surreal.

“It’s like a bubble,” Fallyn said.

“That’s far enough,” came a steely male voice from Matt’s right.

Matt froze. Then he slowly turned towards the source. A black-hooded figure held a knife to Val’s throat. The blade glinted.

“My friend.” The stranger nodded his chin past Matt.

Matt turned to see.

“Slowly,” the hood warned.

On the hill behind, a second figure now stood: a woman in a long black dress. She angled her staff in their direction. The large red gemstone at its top was building a glow.

“Don’t hurt my beaver!” Val cried.

“What?” the man almost coughed out. Black fabric fully obscured his face. “Lady, I’m not here for your beaver.”

“He doesn’t even have a name yet!” Val pleaded.

“What?”

“Please?” Val said.

“Eee,” said the beaver, peeking out from Kurtis’ legs with his stick.

“Uh,” the stranger faltered. “Show me your biceps. Nice and slow.”

Matt held out his arms.

The beaver dropped his stick and peered over at Val, hands clasped.

“What do you want?” Fallyn demanded, extending her arms.

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Kurtis complied too.

“It’s not them!” the hood yelled. Then in a normal volume, he said, “I’m going to let go. No one get any ideas.” He pushed Val forward and then was engulfed by shadow. Darkness crowded into his figure, shrinking it into nothing. Then he was gone.

“Ch-ch-ch-ch!” the beaver said.

Matt drew his swords and turned three-sixty, clinking against his trash can lid. Kurtis, Fallyn, and Val had their weapons out too. The black dress woman had come closer, then stopped about 20 feet away. The hood-man materialized beside her. They were about the same height.

“Sorry folks,” he yelled with a salute. “We had to be sure.”

“What do you want?” Fallyn yelled.

“Nothing, now,” the hood said.

“That was not cool!” Val yelled.

“You try getting camped, then see how you feel,” the woman growled.

Thick clouds drifted in front of the sun, darkening the ground.

“They still around?” Kurtis called.

“Not sure!” responded the woman. “Thought it might have been you.”

“Hey, shouldn’t we stick together?” Matt yelled.

“Matt,” hissed Fallyn.

“They’re obviously more powerful,” Matt said quietly, trying not to move his mouth. “Did you see how he disappeared?”

“What do you propose?” the woman called.

The man mumbled something gruff.

“That we don’t gank each other?” Matt yelled. “Maybe work together for a bit? Where are you headed?”

“Matt,” warned Fallyn.

“Hee?” said the beaver.

“I dunno if I like them,” mumbled Val.

The beaver reached up and grabbed the sleeve of Val’s flight suit.

Kurtis watched silently, ears flared, holding his tail in an oven-mitted hand.

“How do we know you won’t turn on us?” the man yelled.

Good question, Matt thought. How do we know YOU won’t turn on us? Shit.

“They could join our party,” Kurtis whispered. “Temporarily. I don’t know how I feel about them either.”

“Fallyn? Val?” Matt asked.

“If it means they can’t gank us.” Val shrugged. “But I don’t like ‘em.”

Fallyn nodded.

“You can join our party,” Matt yelled. “It’ll make friendly fire impossible.”

“You’ve figured out parties?” the man said, sounding genuinely surprised.

“What else have you got?”

Over the next half hour, the two groups got acquainted as they walked. Sofia Mariano was a Level 11 wizard. In her gear, she certainly looked the part. She wore a full-length black dress with long sleeves. Pink fishnet gloves covered her hands and a black sparkly hair band adorned her head. Her staff curled around a red garnet at its end; even without a glow, it looked menacing.

She’d been a senior care nurse, in the time before, near Peoria Illinois. She was proud to be a first-generation Filipino-American and a mom to two small kids. The conversation got quiet once she mentioned her children. Then Sofia had acknowledged solemnly, “I know.”

She looked to be on the upper end of the age range, but Matt didn’t ask. She had pretty, long brown hair, which he guessed had been lightened. She had it pushed to one side and it fell in perfect loose curls. She even wore pink lipstick. Matt wondered if she’d died with that on. He couldn’t bring himself to ask.

“You haven’t seen my husband, have you? Bato Mariano?”

“Sorry, no,” Matt said. “You guys seen a Maria or Emily?”

“Naw, man,” said the hood.

His name was Dirk and he wasn’t saying much else. His lips seemed buttoned tight as his blue jean jacket, but Sofia had let slide that he was a Level 12 rogue. He had gotten ahead of her through the XP from his class quest; she was still looking for books like Fallyn.

“Oh, take off that hood for a minute,” Sofia scolded. “Let these nice people see your face.”

“Yes Mom,” he huffed and pulled from his forehead to his inventory.

Matt stared. Dirk was not-Burl with the nose ring. “I know you! The cottage with Sister Mary?”

“Yeah…” Dirk said slowly, rubbing a hand along the top of his bald head. “I recognized the cat. What happened to him, by the way?” Dirk’s eyes were blue and skeptical, and he had a little gray in his beard.

“We don’t—” Matt said.

“You recognized him and you still attacked us?!” Val almost screamed.

Kurtis’ fur puffed up a little.

“Still could’ve been you,” Dirk said.

“Hear that, Mr. Beaver?” Val muttered. “Some new friends they are.”

Mr. Beaver dropped his branch and stared at Val.

“We just saw an antler arm guard before lights out,” Dirk explained. “At least it looked like antler stuck on there. Then three times: we resed, they sniped us, we resed, they sniped us. We know it’s a group.”

Val huffed.

“It’s up there.” Sofia nodded.

She was showing them to a quest giver related to the abbey. She and Dirk had been about to start the quest but were persuaded that six was safer than two.

Now closer to the building, Matt could see that it definitely was covered by some sort of bubble. An almost invisible dome glistened close around the pale stone, reflecting oily purple, green, and yellow.

“What happened to your group from before?” Fallyn asked.

She was right. Dirk had been with three others at the cottage, and Matt hadn’t recognized Sofia.

“Difference of opinion,” Dirk said, scowling. Then he put back on his hood.

Up ahead, Matt could see a woman outside of the bubble, dressed in black and white. Was she immune too? Were Sofia and Dirk?

“Hey, did you guys go to the castle with Murl?” Matt asked.

“Huh?” said Dirk.

Fallyn narrowed her eyes at Matt. Then she asked the pair, “Do you two have immunity to gravemist?”

“Oh, this stuff?” Dirk kicked at the gas.

“A witch in a pink fluffy dress and tall silver hat,” Sofia confirmed. “Pretty much the opposite of my outfit.” She laughed, spreading her arms wide. “The witch-lady did something to us. We’re fine.”

Matt adjusted his glasses.

“Hey, don’t take this the wrong way,” Sofia started. “But, why are you still wearing those?”

“Me?” Matt checked. She was looking at him.

“Yeah,” she said. “I stopped wearing mine five levels ago.”

Matt took off his glasses and looked around at the blur. The abbey ahead and the quest-giver nun were just blobs. He put them back on.

“Vision distance, in your Stats Menu. Check it out.”

Well, shit. Matt felt stupid. “Thanks, I will.”

“You guys not read your menus?” Dirk criticized.

Kurtis scowled through his own glasses but didn’t say anything. Matt frowned in his direction. He resolved to ignore Dirk’s question.

With his glasses back on and less distance to the NPC, Matt read the white text over her head. It said her name was ‘Sister Chloe.’ She stood about ten feet from the abbey’s shimmering barrier in a smaller personal bubble. Her crow’s feet crinkled when she smiled.

“Hello, travelers,” Sister Chloe said, voice distantly muffled as if coming from the bottom of a well.