Sniffling, she shivered in the blank.
As she looked around and down, she didn’t even have a shadow. Guin rubbed her eyes. Somehow, the endless white was far more unnerving than the world of black she had been in at the start.
A tiny black spark flickered into existence beside her, glowing against the seamless white.
“Welcome,” came a high-pitched voice from the spark. “I am Buri Buri, servant of the Second Fate. I shall help guide you as you enter the main game. First, let’s look at what you look like.” Like Biku Biku, Buri Buri transformed into a copy of Guin. The avatar presented her with an image of her character with all its items equipped. She didn’t look like much, with her raggedy robes and starter items, but the fox skin cloak she wore had almost an ethereal look to it, even with the bright background. Buri Buri-Guin’s eyes shot open, and it said, “This is what you will look like going into the main game. Now, there are several choices before you. Second Fate?”
Guin felt a warm breeze rush over her skin lightly. “Welcome,” came a voice that somehow made Guin feel warm inside. “Welcome. We are the Second Fate... We will guide you now to the next part of your journey...”
“What do I need to do?” Guin asked, far more prepared this time.
“Your journey will start as all do,” the fate said. “As all do, you have come from somewhere. Somewhere... Where do you come from? From whom did you learn? Learning is the key to knowing—knowing what only you know...”
Buri Buri-Guin held out her hand, calling up three cards, as Gomi had. “A year has passed since you left Bade,” it said. “In this time, tell us: who are you this day? Three choices, based on your interactions in the tutorial, lay before you:
“First,” the avatar held out a card with what looked to be, appropriately, a fox spirit. “You have developed a good relationship with the spirits, and they have taken you as their own. The spirits you have befriended have set you up with a place to live, or perhaps you have chosen a road of your own, and they followed you. Whatever the case, they have -”
“That one!” Guin interrupted. Buri Buri-Guin gave her a look of concern. Goodness, she thought, looking at the avatar’s face. Is that what I look like when I’m cross?
“It is recommended that—”
Sighing, Guin told it, “Look. I understand, but that’s the one I will probably choose anyway. I chose to stay with the spirits.”
“Very well,” answered the avatar. “In which area would you like to have lived? The available areas and specializations are—”
“White Fox Forest,” Guin said. “And if foxes are a specialization, I’ll do that.”
“Well—they are, but—” Buri Buri-Guin looked frustrated as it stopped mid-sentence to regain its composure. “It is recommended that—” It stopped again when it looked at Guin’s face. “Fine. After living with the spirits of White Fox Forest throughout your youth, you have come to a city seeking work. Which of the Mist Clan cities do you go to? Your options are -”
“I’m sorry,” Guin held up a hand. “Can I make both our jobs a little easier by telling you that I will choose options that involve the spirits? I’ve been in this tutorial for a week; I want to get into the game!”
“Well,” Buri Buri-Guin cleared her throat and considered. “Then I shall send you to Miala’de Rii, City of the Dead. Should I assume that you wish for a spirit-related profession as well?” Guin nodded. “There are three spirit-related professions: The Mist Scribe, with a general focus. The Mist Mortician, with a physical focus, and the Mist Priest, with a casting focus.”
“No cards?” Guin asked. Buri Buri-Guin snorted at her, put her hands on her hips, and chose the most general. “Scribe.”
“Then this is how you shall, officially, appear,” The mist snaked around Buri Buri-Guin’s body and formed some basic clothing that was just a shirt and shorts. “Costume options are toggleable through your inventory. Others can be earned through quests, loot, and advancements. I wish you luck then, Guin Grey,” Buri Buri-guin shrunk back into a small black wisp.
“You are now you,” came the voice of the Second Fate. “You have chosen; chosen to walk into the world of Uldarin with your head held with confidence. Confidence that you will step into a journey that will lead you home.”
“Home?” Guin asked, furrowing her brow. “Is that some kind of quest?”
“Home is where the heart is,” the breeze told her as it brushed her face. “The heart is what you seek. Seek meaning. Seek truth. Seek the answers to who you really are.”
“Who I am? But haven’t you all been asking me who I am this whole time? Didn’t I make the choices I needed to?”
“Who you are, you do not know. You do not know—but we know.”
This must be part of the character story, Guin realized. After all, she still had to meet the last of the three fates eventually. So she answered, “I see. What should I do then?”
“Travel,” the voice told her. “Travel to the ends of the world and back, for in order for the story to be known, the journey must be taken. Take that journey, Guin Grey, and write your story. Their story. The story of Guin Grey and all those who would fight for her, against her; for you. You will find your truth only then, Candidate.” The breeze grew stronger, brushing against every bit of her body as it lifted her off the invisible ground. “Go now into the world of Uldarin.”
And so her vision faded into black, leaving her completion screen behind:
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The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
With that, she was forced to log off.
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“Excuse me!” Dassah muttered as she squeezed onto the monorail last minute again. Would it kill you to leave the apartment a few minutes earlier? She asked herself as she made her way to her usual spot near the door. She had woken up so early that she should have been able to get out of the apartment without issue, but she had forgotten the materials for her class and had to run back.
“Hey,” a raspy voice next to her made her jump. She looked up to see Bahena's brother with his greasy, dark feathers arching over her. Dassah shrunk back against the door and did a little jump as he put out his clawed hand. He raised a brow at her. “Jumpy now that you’re feeling better, aren’t you?”
She looked around quickly to see if there was anyone else he could possibly be talking to, but after realizing it could only have been her, she laughed nervously and turned her attention to what he was holding out to her. In the hand with dulled claws was a familiar WristComp.
“Huh?” Checking her wrist, she realized that it was hers. Guilt creeping through her body, she swallowed. He didn’t look upset. Her eyes falling to his claws, she hesitated before lifting it out gently. “T-Thank you,” she murmured, cursing herself for her cowardice as she looked out the window.
“It looks like the strap adjuster failed,” he said with a hesitant tone. “You should probably take it to get repaired before something happens. I don’t know about Stella, but Bahena probably knows where it is...”
Dassah looked up at him, surprised that he was still talking to her after how she had reacted. “Um. Yeah,” she said, fidgeting with her fingers. “I’ll ask them...”
Sathuren nodded and told her, “There is an ETS outpost over by the student center. They can probably fix it for free.”
“Oh,” she answered. “Thank you...”
He said nothing more as he pulled his book out.
Dassah squirmed, rubbing the straps of her purse. Now and again, she glanced at the garule standing next to her. He stood out. A lot. Even on the train filled with other bizarre creatures. Though his expression was calm, his eyes were a bright, alert orange color, and the strange color and texture of his feathers made him look entirely different from any of the other garule on the train.
She may not have known much about garuli, but she had never seen anything that looked like this one. There were different kinds of garuli; ones with colored feathers, but they were usually short; around her height. Others were like Bahena, who was easily seven feet tall—but those at that height were almost exclusively earth-toned. He was somewhere in between the two. Is it a race thing, perhaps? She wondered, but Behena's feathers looked even better cared for than many of the others like her.
Her eyes fell on a familiar little garule child holding its chicken doll. Smiling a little, she watched as the little one poked at the doll’s face and threw it in the air. This time, the dark grey-scaled child was with a short garule that was maybe Dassah’s height, with navy blue feathers striped with bright orange.
“Stop that,” Dassah heard it tell the child in a warm, soft voice. “Your mother will be mad if you lose it again.”
“I won’t!” the happy-sounding child answered, clutching the chicken and shaking her head.
“Come sit.”
“But Papa, play!” the little one giggled at its father, who sighed in response. The garule child looked over its shoulder, catching Dassah’s eyes. Though her expression was uncertain, it seemed it decided that Dassah was safe and waved at her with a broad, toothy grin. Though her emotions were complicated, Dassah smiled back at her with a small wave.
“The next stop is: Tranquil Peace Terrace. Please stay clear of the doors,” came the pleasant voice of the monorail speaker into Dassah’s ear implants. The garule parent and child made their way to the door by Dassah and waited for the monorail to stop.
As they left, however, the little one dropped its doll—again—in the rush of people flooding on and off. Dassah sighed as she listened to the child’s screeching and stepped onto the platform to pick it up. Gotta graduate in real life too, Das. At least it’s just a kid.
“Uushi!” The girl chirped happily as Dassah handed it to her.
“Thank you, miss,” the father bowed to her as he leaned over to pick the child up. “Oria, thank the lady.”
“Thank you, lady!” it said with a wave.
“Sorry,” the father said, giving a tired bow of his head before looking behind her. “Ah—the monorail—do you need to get back on? The sutak is holding the door...”
“Huh?” Dassah turned, fully expecting that the monorail would have left already—but the grey garule was holding the door with its tail, looking at her expectantly while receiving glares from the people around him. “Thanks!” she shouted back at the father as she ran into the car.
Behind her, the little one screeched, “Thanks sutak lady!”
“Oria! You can’t—” Dassah heard the father scolding as the doors closed. Cute, Dassah smiled and continued to wave at the little girl. But... lady? Snorting with laughter eyed Sathuren. Regardless of the apparent lecture, however, the little dinosaur girl was just waving happily.
With the train moving again, Dassah turned and bowed slightly to the grey garule. “Thanks for holding the door for me,” she said.
“Mmm,” was the only reply she got.
After a moment, Dassah’s curiosity got to her. “What does ‘sutak’ mean?” she asked. Sathuren’s feathers started to stand on end as he gave her a funny look.
“You... Don’t know much about garuli, do you?” he asked her, tilting his head to look at her.
“N-Not really...” she stuttered. “I mean... the word wasn’t translated, so I just thought I’d ask...”
The garule sighed through his nose. “There is no easy way to translate it into your language.”
“Oh,” Dassah said in both acknowledgment and wonder. “Then...”
“It’s not something that can be explained in a few minutes,” the garule told her, though she went on at some length: “If I have to give an answer of any sort, then it can mean ‘different one’ or even ‘impure one,’ but these are highly controversial translations as it fails to capture the biological or cultural context considering the—ahhh...” Sathuren looked at Dassah’s face and stopped. After clearing his throat, he said, “Simply put, it’s not a word you should use without understanding its meaning. I highly recommend that you do your own research into the subject—or better yet, take a class from someone reputable. Not Professor Jhavd; he’s an idiot.”
“I-I see,” Dassah went, hoping that her distress wasn’t as obvious as she felt it was.
Sathuren grimaced and seemed about to say something when the monorail announced: “The next stop is: The Da’Vaire University of Language, Cultural, and Social Sciences. Please stay clear of the doors.”
“You were going to say something?” Dassah asked, but the garule man shook his head.
“Nevermind. Don’t miss the stop again.”
Dassah blushed and pushed her hair behind her heat. Well, she then thought to herself. I guess if I am going to make a total ass out of myself in front of someone, it may as well be someone I don’t care all that much about.
The train came to a stop, and the doors opened. She exchanged one last look with the dark grey garule before they both got off at the station.
“Um, thanks again,” she found the courage to say before she went off. “Um. See you!”
He looked her over before muttering, “...Weird girl,” and walking away.
“Well,” Dassah muttered to herself. “At least he didn’t kill you.”
She had a long day ahead of her, and she already felt as if she had accomplished something. For the next six hours, she would be just Dassah Graydon: student of intergalactic culture and beta tester for TheirWorld.
After that, though, Dassah grinned.
After that, she would turn into Guin Grey, and start a legend all her own.
[End Book One]