The rocking of wooden wheels over a dirt path shook Ann awake. She blinked blearily, attempting to make sense of the weathered wagon rattling steadily up a deserted mountain road. There was a cliff on one side and a sheer drop on the other. Ann swiftly moved as far away from the chasm as possible, turning her eyes resolutely to the front.
"Excuse me," Ann called to the coachman spurring on a tired, whining donkey, "Where are we headed?"
"Town," the man replied shortly.
Ann studied the stooped line of the driver's shoulders. He wore a low-brimmed hat and sat hunched onto himself, his face hidden in shadows.
All in all, not the most reassuring set of circumstances for a lone girl to wake up to.
Ann ran her fingers over the line of her own jaw. Her skin gave way to cold porcelain that fit snugly over her face. She exhaled softly; the mask had made it through the VELES firewall.
The wagon trudged on. The sky darkened to pitch black above them, the moon a ghostly crescent behind a veil of clouds. Ann could no longer see the road. The sole lantern hanging from the driver's seat glowed dully, the glass stained with smoke.
Ann hugged her arms. She wore a thick dress and a patched coat over that, but the season was late and the mountain wind, unforgiving. The mask was ice cold when she dared to touch, scalding her bare fingers.
"How much further?" she called.
The coachman did not respond. Worse, the wagon stopped moving entirely not long thereafter.
Ann tensed. They had not reached town and the driver had not spoken of any detours. She waited quietly, straining her ears for any stray sound. As minutes slowly slipped by without movement or change in their surroundings, she prepared to seek the cause of the delay herself.
"Requesting Miss to remain seated until arrival," the coachman rasped.
Ann sat back down slowly. There was a threat in the man's voice; exploring the area was obviously not the way out of the predicament.
"Why have we stopped?" Ann asked, hoping for a clue. She truly was very cold and aside from that, growing pretty restless.
The coachman answered with delay, the words begrudging. "The path is blocked. We will move once it clears."
Ann craned her head, but could not make out anything in the dark. She scooted toward the driver's seat and, seeing that the driver had no reaction, plucked the lantern from its hook and leaned forward.
A grinning face swam out of the shadows.
Ann fell back with a shout. The lantern dropped from her hands, the light dimming to nothing.
The coachman's flat voice rang like a knell in the silence. "Miss has broken the rules."
Ann raised her head. The coachman had turned to face her. His mouth was visible under the brim of his hat, filled with sharp, glinting teeth.
"Miss has broken the rules," the man repeated. "Miss must pay the price."
Ann's heart jumped. The wagon lurched before she could get her bearings, breaking the tense moment. A man clambered onboard. The lantern swung from his hand, glowing merrily.
"It's not even broken," the man said. The light reached his jaw, illuminating the same hooked mouth that had smiled at Ann from the dark. "What's all the fuss about?"
He handed the lantern to the coachman. The coachman hooked it back in its place and spurred the donkey forward without a word.
Ann did not relax her guard. She eyed her new companion, wondering about his purpose.
The wagon rocked madly, seeming to pass over something in the road. Ann lost her balance. The stranger watched her flop around like a landed fish without as much as a token attempt at help.
"What was that?" Ann grunted, mostly to herself.
"There was a corpse in the road," the stranger said.
Ann stared at the man through her mask. The man laughed.
"He was dead when I found him," he said. "His head was smashed in. Looked like he'd been run over a few times."
Ann shivered. She wondered if the corpse had broken a rule, as well.
"Do you know where we are going?" she asked.
The man pointed up, "There's a town at the top of the mountain, guarded by an old castle. You don't look like a newcomer - bet you can guess the rest."
An ancient castle, a remote town... Ann pursed her lips.
"Uninspired," she commented.
"It's the execution that matters," the man said lightly.
The game system came to life in Ann's head. A cheery voice spoke in her ears,
[DING!
Mission instance: Haunted castle.
Main Mission: Find out the truth behind the curse of Castle Lona.
Player mission: All players clear instance.
World constraints: Regeneration points, items, and abilities - locked. One life per player.
System reminder: Injury in instance may result in real injury or death. Player is encouraged to pay attention to safety.
We hope you enjoy your game~]
The wagon rolled forward, slowly, slowly, disappearing into the mist.
They traveled well into the night, the gossamer gleam of the moon peeking through gaps in the clouds and a flickering lantern hanging from the side of the wagon their only guiding light. The call of night birds and insects grew sparser the higher they climbed. Soon, there was only the wind to keep them company.
Ann burrowed deeper into her coat. The fabric was coarse and the stitching was poor, but it was thick enough to ease the mountain chill. The game was indistinguishable from reality, no detail left untouched. Even the lace that decorated Ann's dress was appropriately weathered. She sighed internally. There went her sour-grape complaints about the sky-high price of VELES equipment. She didn't know how she would go back to playing the competition, now that she'd seen what VELES tech could do.
The man who had so unceremoniously invited himself into Ann's party lay sprawled on the opposite side of the wagon. He appeared sound asleep, not as much as twitching as the wagon lurched over uneven ground. Ann glanced from him to the coachman, then summoned the system menu. A transparent screen unfolded in front of her. It hovered in midair, intangible yet distinct from its surroundings. Many of the menu options were grayed out. Ann found the game log and made her first few observations, then clicked through the rest of the available menu.
The inventory was empty. Under, Equipped Items, Ann discovered a faithful rendition of her mask along with a disk-shaped pendant that spun when touched, glowing like a firefly in the dark.
[Item: Soul gem
Rank: Unranked
One per player. Cannot be bought, sold, or traded.]
Ann arched a brow. She clicked on the mask next, curious to see how the game had interpreted its presence. It had never been detected by a game previously.
[Item: Soul mask
Rank: Legendary
Function: ?? <locked>
Special event award. Cannot be bought, sold, or traded.]
The screen faded away as Ann's attention was pulled back to the active gameplay. A town rose from the dark, nestled in the shadow of a stout castle.
"The town of Lona," the coachman announced flatly.
Stooped houses appeared one by one as the wagon advanced over the beaten road, their windows dark. The stranger had woken at some point without Ann's notice. He looked out at the town, whistling a cheery tune.
Ann hesitated to speak. There was an inn up ahead, the weathered sign lit by a lantern that swung precariously with every gust of wind. The wagon began to slow down.
"Hey," Ann called at last.
"Hey," the stranger replied.
Ann pursed her lips behind her mask. The man cocked his head in her direction. Ann could not make out his face in the dark but she could feel his eyes on her. He laughed, very obviously at Ann's expense. Ann's expression worsened.
"What?" she asked.
"Why'd you paint it that way?" the man said.
Ann pointed at her face after a moment of confusion. "You –" can see it? She caught herself in time, changing the question to, "What do you see?"
The man considered her carefully. "A clown," he said at last, a hint of laughter in his voice.
Ann frowned. Her mask had always been plain and featureless; at least that's what it looked like to her whenever she happened to catch a glimpse of herself in an instance. Other players didn't seem to notice its existence at all.
"Mind if I take a closer look?" the man asked.
Ann backed up before the man had finished his sentence. "Yes," she said shortly.
The man shrugged and dropped the issue. He turned to face the inn, face washed gold with the lantern's light. Ann stared at his profile for a stupefied moment, then resolutely looked away.
So what if he was handsome! So what if he looked like he'd been bullied! That woeful expression was paper-thin at best – she'd caught the sly smirk before it transformed into a put-upon pout. He could flutter those long lashes of his and fly the hell away for all she cared!
The wagon lurched to a stop. "We have arrived," the driver announced dully.
Ann disembarked with much haste and almost tripped over the skirts of her dress. She rarely wore dresses and this one went down to her toes, in several layers. The unconcealed chuckle from her companion had her straightening her back and marching up the inn's waterlogged steps in a huff.
"Tomorrow, at sunset," she heard the coachman say.
"We will be waiting," the man promised.
Ann frowned, regretting her hasty departure. The driver could have let information about the setting slip with proper needling. The wagon was already rolling away when she glanced over her shoulder. Only the stranger remained, grinning at her from the dark.
"You're awfully dour, for a clown," he said.
Ann stomped into the inn. She heard the man's steps behind her, gait merry, and resisted the urge to slam the door in his face.
They were greeted by a middle-aged man in a night-gown straight out of a Dickens' work, cap and all. He squinted at them, eyes hazy, and noted something down in a large book.
"Room for two," he muttered.
"Two rooms!" Ann hurried to correct. "We're not together!"
The man looked at them again. "There is only one room left," he said after a moment of confused silence.
"We can share," the stranger began.
"We cannot," Ann interrupted, turning a vicious glare the man's way.
"Going to bed angry is not good," the old man advised them both, "Have some tea and talk it out, hm? That's what my Lorie used to say."
The innkeeper's tone turned wistful. Ann perked up, picking up on a potential lead.
"How long has it been?" she asked softly.
The old man sighed. "Fourteen long years. It happened suddenly, it did. Always thought I'd be the first one to go."
"There's no order up there," the stranger said, pointing upward.
The old man nodded, drooping further into himself. He patted the stranger's shoulder. "Don't waste time, my boy. You never know when you'll run out."
The innkeeper left them by a small fireplace. The promised tea steamed gently on a low table bracketed by two worn but comfortable chairs. The stranger sprawled in one. Ann took the other and reached for the tea. She meant to take a sip but found the herbal scent unpleasant, so she simply held onto the cup for warmth.
"What's your name?" the man asked.
Ann hesitated, but answered truthfully in the end. Hers was a common name. Even if the man had the mind to seek her out-of-game, he'd have little luck.
"Ann. Yours?"
"You can call me K," the man replied.
"What's your mission?" Ann asked.
The man raised a leather satchel. It had been with him on their journey, likely an equipped item of some kind. "Haven't looked yet. You?"
"Same," Ann lied.
The man grinned at her, as if sharing a joke.
The innkeeper did not keep them waiting long. Ann made an excuse about wanting to finish her tea – long cold, now – and stayed behind. K gave her a knowing wink as he climbed up the stairs. Ann only just held back from flipping him off.
Once alone, Ann pulled up the game menu. She selected the mask and squinted at the screen. The pale porcelain was painted in intricate patterns, its crown decorated with drooping fabric dressed in rich lace. It was a mask fit for a high Venetian ball. Ann watched it dance against the backdrop of the sleepy inn in baffled silence.
The mask had only ever served to conceal Ann's identity in previous games; as far as Ann was aware, it had never changed shape or style. She read through the short item description again, but not a word had changed. The item function remained locked.
Ann let the screen fade away. The mask did what Ann needed it to do. She decided to take any extras as a bonus.
Clown-do and all.
The staircase creaked. Ann greeted the innkeeper with a smile and hurried upstairs under his gentle urging, only to double-back as soon as the man's back was turned. She hid away in a shadowed nook by the door and watched the man putter around. His steps were slow with age and he puffed with effort as he bent to put out the fire. Ann had to remind herself that she was in a game several times. That was an NPC, not a wizened old grandfather in need of a helping hand.
The innkeeper supported himself on the mantle as he rose from his stoop. He paused there, staring at something. Ann squinted but without the fire and her eyes still unused to the dark, she could only make out a vague shadow.
The old man sighed and wandered away. The sound of his footsteps soon grew faint and finally, disappeared altogether.
Ann slipped out of her hiding spot. She headed for the fireplace first, curious to see the object of the man's attention. The black-and-white photograph of a smiling woman should have likely come as less of a surprise. There was a date scribbled in a corner. Ann touched the frame, swallowing over the lump in her throat.
She gave VELES five out of five stars. Awful people, making her tear up in a trite haunted house instance.
There was nothing of note downstairs. The sitting area opened into a modest dining room, the weathered furniture gray with dust. The kitchens tucked at the back of the building were in a similar state. The shelves and cupboards were bare, and the sack of flour sitting by the hearth had hardened into yellow lumps. Ann listened carefully. The expected skitter of living critters fond of darkness did not come. The inn was swaddled in silence.
There was a door in the kitchen that led out into what may have been a vegetable garden. The plot of land was barren at present – whether due to the season or time, Ann was not certain. She braced against the bite of the mountain wind and set out into the dark.
Ann wandered without a destination for some time. There was plenty of land but the town crowded together, some houses built so close they leaned against each other in their age. Ann ducked under heaving eaves, at first cautious, then brazen in her snooping through deserted yards. No dogs raised alarm at her trespassing. She found no hint of a living creature at all, save for a few crows roosting in an abandoned henhouse.
The houses Ann passed had their windows shuttered. Ann made it up to the front door of one particularly old building. She raised a hand to try the door, only to quickly stumble back as an ice-cold shock went down her spine, nearly sending her to her knees. Breaking and entering seemed to be off the table.
Another turn down a dark street led Ann out into a clearing. The castle towered in the distance. The stretch of land between was dotted with uneven grey stones that rose like crooked teeth from the earth.
"A graveyard," Ann muttered.
She was no expert, but paving a path of corpses between town and the local powerhouse? Terrible feng shui.
Drawing closer allowed Ann to distinguish a small church among the tombstones. The building was dilapidated, missing two and a half of its four walls along with most of its roof. There was a statue of an angel or a saint guarding the church doors. Only the wings remained, the body eaten away by the mountain wind and rain.
Under the angel wings, a small child played in the dirt.
Ann ducked behind a tombstone. She studied the little girl carefully, noting the soft glow to her dress and hair. The little girl carried on playing happily.
Ann slid forward, meaning to follow after the tiny spirit.
A hand fell on Ann's shoulder. Ann turned sharply, a shout caught in her throat. The frightened face of a man in a black cassock stayed her voice. He raised a hand, a glass vial glinting dully.
"Wait!" Ann called, but the vial was already arching through the air toward Ann's masked face.
Well, Ann thought, just as the vial exploded in a cloud of sparkling mist, First time for everything, I suppose.