So, confession time: I’d made a character.

A player avatar.

If there was a silver lining in the frustrations I’d faced in designing the pangol race, it was that that whole debacle had given me enough to create a character for myself. Greg was very vocal that his ultimate plan for his wyrmware was to develop it to the point that it could function as wyrm-based freeware that could be distributed to other transformees, and thereby realize humanity’s dream of making a VRMMORPG (Virtual Reality Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game). It was escapism at its finest, and outrageously ambitious, to boot, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested.

The wyrmware Greg had given me came with a beta release of his software, the descendant of the voxel prototype I’d helped him with.

So, yeah… I was going to play as a half-pangol character. My doppelgenneths had spent all day having fun at developing him and leveling him up while I was busy manning my body, tending to the plague, and they’d exploited the flexibility of the Thin World-Thick World time differential to its fullest. Throughout the day, I’d been recoupling with every now and then, to briefly bask in the glee of getting to do something fun for once. Yes, my indecisiveness caused a couple of rough patches, but the possibilities were well enough constrained that the overall experience averaged out to be enjoyable.

We’d settled on a Cleric build. It was a nice mix of cool powers with moral responsibilities, not to mention it came with the in-universe guarantee that my character’s deity was always watching over him.

In entering Lantor to ascertain—and, if necessary, confront—Andalon’s tormentors, I was stepping into a world that had grown with the fruits of several weeks’ worth of world-building, both willful and procedural. More than that, though, it was going to be my first time stepping into the shoes of my half-pangol alter ego.

It would not be an understatement to say that I didn’t know what to expect, and I couldn’t help but worry that I was stepping into a disaster.

Then, I felt myself materialize. First came weight and sensation, and then the rush of cool air as I took in my first breath.

I opened my eyes, I gasped. My surprise condensed in the wintry air. A cold wind ran through the pangolin scales and the scaled parts of my half-pangol body, making me shiver. Fortunately, I was still effectively Lantor’s god, so I wished up a fix for the cold, though, for immersion’s sake, it kept the fix small.

A long, dark, baroque appeared on me, atop my enchanted, boiled-leather armor.

Historically, leather armor like this was never really a thing, but it was in games, so it would be in Lantor, too.

Would you believe it was a desert?

In most people’s minds, badlands and deserts are dry places where heat shrivels up and dies on naked earth, beneath a scorched sun. It wasn’t that there was no water, rather, the water was often hard to find, and the land wasn’t very good at keeping water safe and cozy at the surface. But there was water there, all the same, and where there was water, there could be snow, and when that happened, winter’s hand would sculpt the badlands into dreamscapes.

I stood above a grand canyon. A river ran far below, deeply set in the rocky ground. Up atop the flanking hills and cliffs, sandstone pointed its striated fingers up at the sky, like the Pillars of Haim in miniature. Dusk was approaching. The sun was a jewel. Its light toyed with the fairy chimneys and the slot canyons that loomed over the gravelly riverbed.

And all of it was dusted with snow.

A wind whipped over the scene, scattering snowflakes and petrichor.

And to think, it was all procedurally generated!

I buttoned up my overcoat, a surprisingly fresh experience, considering the short pangol claws on my fingertips.

Though there was a river down below, I didn’t need a reflection to know what I looked like. I was pretty much my human self, just a half-pangol version: scales, claw, and tail added, and with most of my facial hair replaced by patches of little pangolin scales.

My overcoat included an extension that draped over the first foot or so of my tail. My tail was on the thick side—which is what you get when you base your fantasy race off ground pangolins rather than tree pangolins—but it was still flexible enough to be useful. Like my overcoat, my trousers were tail-friendly, and warm and comfortable beneath the overlaid solid metal greaves. The boots I was wearing were a little big on me, but that was to make room for my toe claws. My doppelgenneths hadn’t been able to settle on a weapon, so they’d randomized it, and that was why I had a crossbow on my back.

Andalon stepped up beside me, crunching the snow beneath her bare feet. Her nightgown blew about in the wind, as did her hair, which she pushed out of the way with one hand as she pointed at the large, prominent, \pointing-worthy structure that spanned a nearby section of the canyon.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“It’s a Precursor structure,” I answer.

Though the great (and still-ongoing) Lantorian Indecision War of 2020 had claimed many victims, there was one idea that I had been happily able to settle on, and that was the backstory—or, well, a key part of it.

My idea? Lantor was a world long past its prime.

Long ago—long, long ago—Lantor was home to the mighty Precursors. Who or what were the Precursors? No one knew. They were gone now.

Had they died? Had they left? Had Lantor been their birthplace, or was it just a stop on some grand, unfathomable journey?

No one knew.

Actually, I would have preferred there to be a canonical answer, but I didn’t have one, and—you guessed it—that was because I couldn’t make up my mind about it.

Thankfully, that’s what the “no one knew” option was for: a trapdoor to flee through when the creator was too frazzled or lazy to come up with an explanation of their own.

We only had what they’d left behind.

Here, in this place of snow and wind-shaped rock, the Precursor structure that had captured Andalon’s attention was a bridge of sorts, which spanned the canyon, high above the river below. It was assembled from diamond-shaped units—large, tall, and slender diamond—made from an iridescent, metal-like substance whose edges glowed with a soft turquoise light. At its far side, the bridge rose up in a tower that looked like a sheaf of icicles superimposed on top of one another. Giant shards of some related material protruded from the canyon’s walls near the bridge. Beneath their shimmering surfaces, you could see something like circuitry.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

“What’s it for?” Andalon asked.

“Nobody knows,” I said, with more than a bit of dramatic flair. “But it looks awesome, doesn’t it?”

She nodded.

Greg’s software had procedurally generated it from some suggestions I’d given. I had to admit, it was far better than anything I would have been able to come up with on my own.

“Mr. Genneth…” Andalon said, looking up at me with nervous eyes.

I inhaled sharply. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten.”

We weren’t here to sightsee. Andalon’s assailants had made landfall somewhere in this canyon, and I needed to find it.

“Mr. Genneth?” Andalon said, again. This time, her tone was more perplexed than fearful.

She tugged at my tail.

And then I heard a voice I wasn’t expecting.

“Dr. Howle?” it said.

I turned around.

“K-Kreston?” I said, shocked. “What are you doing here?”

Young Kreston Palmwitch stood behind me, in the same turquoise tunic he’d been wearing when we’d last seen one another—the disastrous luncheon where Joe-Bob O’Houhlighan had been corrupted and turned into a demon.

The boy stared at me for a bit, confused by my half-pangol-ness. But then I saw the recognition light up in his eyes. I could even hear his thoughts:

Oh, that’s right. Everything’s crazy now.

I smiled slightly at that.

The boy shook his head and then stared at his hands.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” I asked.

He looked up at me. “We were in an examination room. I…” He looked himself over, twisting his arms and legs. “I was a kitsune,” he said, “and my Mom…”

His expression tensed.

“What happened to my mom?” he asked.

I sighed. “It’s a long story.” My scaly tailtip curled by my feet.

There was an awkward silence, made only more awkward when Andalon walked up to Kreston, smiled, waved her hand, and said, “Hello, Kres-Kres, remember me?”

Kreston did not reciprocate. He just stared. Then, sighing, he turned back to face me.

“Why am I here?” he asked.

“Hmm…” I blinked. “Wait…” I groaned.

“What is it?” Kreston asked.

“What’s wrong?” Andalon said.

I rubbed my claws together. “I think this is my fault.” I face-palmed. “I had you and Joe-Bob on my mind when I accessed the soul crystals and entered Lantor.”

“Well… why isn’t Joe-Bob here, too?” Kreston asked, quickly adding, “Not that I’ve got a problem with that.”

“Andalon sealed him away!” Andalon said, with a big smile.

“What?” he asked.

I exhaled. “That’s another long story.”

“Well,” Kreston replied, “I’ve got plenty of time.”

I pursed my lips. “Unfortunately,” I glanced at Andalon, “I don’t. But,” I raised a claw, “I know how to fix that.”

I offered my hand. “Grab my hand, and I’ll shunt all the information directly into your brain,” I said.

He stared at me for a moment, and then asked, “Seriously?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

Hesitantly, he reached out and grabbed my hand, and I willed him to know the most important parts of what I now knew. I made the painful decision to withhold sharing the events that involved his mother. I didn’t want to have to bring that up now if I could avoid it, and I wouldn’t want to foist that on a doppelgenneth either.

I’d tell him later.

Kristen’s eyes blossomed on his face as he staggered back in shock.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” he yelled. “This…” He closed his eyes and shook. “This is nuts.”

I smirked. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Kreston looked over his surroundings. “Is this place even real?”

I shook my head. “That’s a question for another day.”

Suddenly, Kreston’s eyes went wide all over again.

“Holy crap…” he muttered. There were tears in his eyes.

“What is it?” I asked.

He looked to the wind as he wiped the tears from his face.

“My Mom…” he said.

I nodded and sighed. “Yes. She’s like me. She’s turning into a wyrm.”

“Wyrmeh!” Andalon said. She smiled, sticking her arms up in the air.

I shook my head. “That’s not helping, Andalon.”

“Why couldn’t my Mom see me?” Kristen asked. “If she’s like you, shouldn’t she be able to see me, too?”

“Yeah, yeah!” Andalon said. “Once Mr. Genneth gets wyrmleh enough, he can share ghosts. All wyrmehs can!”

“Wait, really?” Kristen asked, only to stop, close his eyes, shake his head and then nod. “No, she’s right, you can.” He looked at me. “Once your voices change, they sound like music.”

“Yes,” I said. “Polyphony. The transformees in the Self-Help Group had changed enough that they could use wyrmsong to communicate and… share data, if you will.”

“But you can’t?” Kreston said.

I shook my head. “Not yet, anyhow. I’m trying to stave off my changes as much as I can. I want to keep being useful; I still have a role to play as a man of medicine. I’m not going to just throw in the towel. Not yet.”

“Mr. Genneth, you can already share ghosties; you do it by touching, like you did with Greggy.”

Kreston looked me in the eyes. “I’d really like to see my Mom, Dr. Howle.”

All I could do was lower my head in shame.

“What is it?” Kreston asked.

“I… can’t?” My words came out like a moan.

Kreston’s expression sharpened. His gaze soured. “Why not?”

“My patients don’t know that I’m a transformee. My colleagues don’t even know. I’m afraid of what they’ll do if they find out.”

I cleared my throat, though that made the moment even more awkward.

“Wait, you… you haven’t told them?” he asked.

I sighed.

Turning away, Kreston let his arms fall to his sides.

I didn’t need to see his face to know he was disappointed in me. Maybe even disgusted.

Darn it!

I wanted to slap myself.

I walked up beside the boy. We stood together, overlooking the turbulent waters rushing down below.

“I…” I bit my lip. “Kreston, I promise I’ll reunite you with your mother. I swear. Just…” I huffed. “Please, just give me some time. I promise, I’ll do it.”

“So, when you do…?” he said.

“Yes.”

Sighing, Kreston kicked at the snow-covered dirt, kicking up some pebbles. “I mean, it’s not like there’s anything I can do about it,” he said. “You’re god-modding in here. You hold all the cards.”

“No,” I said, “that’s not true.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, “I know, you’re protecting us from demons.”

“Speaking of which…” I said. “Kreston, what I’m doing here… it’s probably going to get dangerous.” I pursed my lip. “I think it would be better if you went back into your crystal.”

“I don’t have anything in my crystal,” he said. “You didn’t set anything up for me.”

“It’s alright,” I said, “I can have a doppelgenneth—”

“—No,” Kreston said, shaking his head. “I…” His expression lowered. “What you did for me,” he said, “I owe you. And,” he smirked, “maybe it’ll guilt you into taking me to my Mom faster.”

“I…” I paused. “I’m starting to worry about you.”

“You should be worried about yourself,” he said. “You… haven’t been doing very well with all this stuff, you know.” He pointed at the Precursor bridge. “Take this, for instance. Do you even know where these intruders might be?” he asked.

At that, I looked around for a bit, but to little avail. The awe-inspiring surroundings only made it that much more difficult to figure out where to go. Worse, for a force capable of harming Andalon, I couldn’t see or sense any indication of where the trouble had struck.

“I’m not picking up anything,” I said.

Frowning at me, Kreston turned to Andalon. “Do you know where the intruders are?” he asked.

For a moment, Andalon tilted her head and stared at the landscape. Then, she floated up and pointed at a location on the other side of the canyon. “It’s that way, Mr. Genneth.” Her words quivered.

I lowered my gaze to the ground. “Why didn’t I think of that?” I muttered.

“That’s why I need to be here,” he said. “You need help. You need a lot of help. You haven’t even been able to tell the truth to the people you work with!”

I sighed. “I…” My dismay turned into amusement. I smiled. “You’re absolutely right about that. I do need help.”

Kreston pointed where Andalon had. “Can we fly over there?”

“I was planning on walking,” I said.

In response, the boy narrowed his eyes at me. “But you can do anything in here…”

I nodded. “Fine, fine.”

We set off with a jump. Well, I did; Andalon and Kreston rose off the ground and soared alongside me. Traveling forward, we flew away from the trail along the cliffside and began to cross the canyon. We moved at a decent pace, but not too quickly. I didn’t want to rush, for fear of missing anything.

Also, when there was a chance there was an ambush lying in wait for you, the last thing you’d want to do was to run into it, headfirst.

“Could I maybe have wings, please?” Kreston asked.

I nodded. Sure, it would be purely cosmetic, but, who was I to judge?

There was a sound of fabric ripping open as white, feathery wings sprouted from Kreston’s backside. The back of his shirt reformed to accommodate the new limbs as he started flapping them.

The crystalline Precursor bridge passed below us. We were about halfway across the thing when Andalon floated in front of me.

“Mr. Genneth, Kres-Kres… wait.”

Hearing the warning, Kreston turned around to look. But he was too late.

One moment, he was right there, flying in front of us. The next, the air rippled around him and he disappeared. The ripples spread far, revealing that the land had been split down the middle by some kind of invisible giant curtain.

“Kreston?” I said.

The boy did not come out.

By then, the ripples had stilled.