CHAPTER 68- EPILOGUE

His name, like his face, was hidden in a dark hood of endless blackness. A forbidden name, too terrifying to be uttered, recorded only on slabs of abyssal lead and stored in the most forbidden depths of the Lightless Dragon Crypts of Eternal Midnight. Not that he was going through one of those phases. This was just normal for him.

His name was also known by his parents, but that's kind of… so what? You know? They don’t count. The important thing is that nobody else knew the dread syllables of his forbidden name. Why even be born into an ancient clan of unspeakable, nightmarish power, power so terrible even the most eldritch gods fear it, if everyone knows your name?

Dreadful, unnameable horror, casting his long shadow over the trembling world, struggling with only two bars of reception on his phone-

“Oh damn, it’s Kevin. Guess I need to find some place with signal that hasn’t been stank up by Kev-Stink.”

“SCREW YOU PERRY! I told you my name isn’t Kevin! And for the last time, I’m not making those smells, it’s my damn summons!”

“You say that, but-” A boney hand waved at the lightning crushed mountains around them, as icy wind swept all hope and life from the frigid stone. “Seeing zero summons. Smelling maximum Kevin. And Kevin smells like a family of pigs used a contractor bag for a toilet for a week, then the bag was tied off, left in the sun for another week, then exploded ten feet above a cut-rate bachelors party in Nacogdoches Texas, thirty seconds after the party found out their ‘entertainment’ wasn’t on the fun kind of meth.”

There was a long inhaled sniff from under the dark hood. Then the shadowed dark endless nightmare of the living continued.

“Specifically East Nacogdoches. Charlie Wilson’s old turf. Talk about a place where skeletons are buried. You should be right at home.”

The black robe, currently laboring under the false accusation of being ‘Kevin’ tilted its hood to one side in confusion. He would rather be beaten to death than admit he didn’t know who or where any of that was. He would, therefore, bluff.

“Nacogdoches? What’s wrong with that place? It’s fine!”

The other black hood chuckled fondly. “I keep forgetting how young you are. How innocent and pure. Nothing, sweet Kevin. Nothing is wrong with it. It is a fine place. One day, when you are all grown up, you can visit it yourself.”

“Hilarious. You are at least two hundred years younger than I am.”

“Age is just a number, I’m told. In your case, a misleading one.”

“Who told you age was just a number?”

“A notionally adult man who was seconds away from standing up and inviting cousin Zelachinaria, The Black Evangel Of Blood-Weeping Church Bells, for some free candy in his blacked out carriage parked just outside the party.”

“Isn’t she the, you know…”

“Forty thousand year old vampire that likes to pretend she’s twelve? Yes.”

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There was a pause.

“He part of a church bell now?”

“He is part of a church bell now, yeah.”

“Weird hobby.”

“Says the guy smelling like essence-of-cholera scented candles that fell over and burned down a kimchi factory. Who smells this way, allegedly, because he likes playing tower defense games.”

“Okay, you know what? I stuck Tubby Tubby Two-by-Four, Can't Fit Through The Kitchen Door in a sealed pocket dimension and I still can’t get the smell out. That’s incredible, if you think about it. That is legitimately a damned miracle, and I think it’s a sign of my outstanding skill in picking summons. Also, just, you know, just asking here, I had some people asking about “Krystail with a Y and a Tail ifyaknowhatImean?” Something out piles or puddles and did you ever get the stains out?”

The alleged Perry started coughing and waving his hand, but the so-called-Kevin pressed on. “I mean, we have actual werewolves in the neighborhood, and werepanthers, and were… a lot of things, actually, but I’m still not sure what a “fursona” is? Could you help me out with that one? Maybe explain it to me? Are there pictures? I would love to be able to show Rosalia some pictures the next time I call her. I want to check with her if it’s problematic. Seems like cultural appropriation.”

Definitely-not-named-Perry rocked back. “Wait, you talk to Rosalia about me? Hot Rosalia? What did she say about me?”

“You know that’s why I’m playing Dream of Eternal Sky. She’s into that whole thing with whats-his-name,”

“You mean Uggo? With the face? And the boiling fields of flesh pods endlessly birthing ravenous, hateful monstrosities? All fueled by such stuff as would shatter the minds of mortals?”

“Yeah, a complete try hard nepo-baby. That guy. Cecil or Cedric or something.”

“Man, he sucks. I hate that guy. He is the worst. So what did Rosalia say about me?”

“Yeah, so she’s got this whole paired down dimension going, it’s got it’s own rules, all the usual boring crap, plugged into the game. Recycled a lot of assets, whatever that means. I dunno, I just play the game. The important thing is that there is a leaderboard for best runs. Right now my guy is whatever, but I’m racking up some pretty nice points so far. Think I’m gonna get the grand prize.”

“There is a prize? What, spend enough cash and you can unlock a flirty picture of some rando chick who couldn’t cut it dancing at the Fishy Hole next to the cargo port in Jacksonville?”

There was a thankfully-metaphorical pregnant pause.

“Perry… What exactly do you do in your free time? I need you to be very specific. The police will appreciate you making their job easier. Also, never tell anyone we know each other.”

“Oh please! Some of us get outside our bedrooms. And no, walking around the block doesn’t count. Wait, let me guess. It’s a ghost-written thank you note from your mains, with little hearts and stuff on it. You goddamned degenerate.”

“Nah. Score high enough, finish all the endgame content, assemble a functional planet from all the bits and bobs, you know, usual grindy stuff, and you get invited to a Cosplay party. Hosted by Rosalia and attended by all her smoking hot model friends, wearing the best costumes from the game. There will, apparently, be an open bar and a foam machine.”

“Wait. That’s not in the game anywhere.”

“I knew you downloaded it. It’s a secret message you unlock after you pass your first century playing the game. I think the official, announced prize for first is a special in-game hat and a unique border for your profile picture. And, like, a month of premium or something.”

Probably-Not-Keven sounded smug. “Early days, not even through the tutorial yet, but… I’m feeling optimistic about this run. And if it doesn’t work, no big whoop. Learning a lot. Getting set for the next one, keeping that winning grindset, you know?”

Potentially Perry rocked back. Then forward again. “For real though, what did Rosalia say about me?”