4.

There were but few things Grey remembered about the childhood he’d had before moving to SOMETHING Town on his tenth birthday; bits and gifs of holidays, a scraped knee, and his favorite, the one of him and the father who’d so mysteriously disappeared. The man had kind eyes, a beard, and hair like his son’s (but tamed), and in the memory, Grey could still see a cottage built beside a rushing stream where the house’s water wheel turned. Near there, he could see himself standing within a circular clearing which was surrounded by a golden prairie. He had been holding a wood sword in his hands and a short distance away his statuesque father was laughing jovially and wielding a wooden sword. It had been one of the many melee lessons. That was what his mom had always said at least.

But, aside from that and the other few, Grey could recall so little it used to infuriate him, as well as his teachers; it’d only been two years prior that his Data Magics teacher had asked him to write out six of his favorite childhood memories, and despite how hard he’d tried, it was as if each time he’d start to grasp one of them, they’d glitch into nothing more than that ancient language of ones and zeroes. He learned that day to keep quiet and lie whenever asked; no one wanted to hear the truth anyway.

That’s when the nightmares had really started, though. They’d always felt more real than any memory, especially the one that’d been returning with increasing frequency over the past few weeks; in it was the same cottage built by the stream, the same prairie, and the same clearing, and yet, it was as if someone had twisted his fondest image into something terrible and perverted. The stream’s clear water was a purplish-brown and rather than rush, it oozed, and the connected water wheel had rotted, dripping with the slime. Fire spilled out from the cottage windows and the rest of its structure was wrapped in a miasmic film. The top of the prairies’ stalks were all greyed like matchsticks, their roots the whitish turquoise of molded bread. And in the middle of it all, he would see himself standing in the clearing, clinging to that same wooden sword. Across from him, however, wasn’t his father; it was a gnarled tree of a man who wore a cloak and held a staff with two skulls at its top. He was always laughing and it always ended the same, with everything going up in flames.

Grey clenched his eyes tight and balled his fists. As bad as the nightmares had been, as realistic as they’d felt, the scene before him was worse. There was nothing there to wake him up, only the burning houses around them as they entered into the decimated Hell.

Damsel coughed into her hand, and Grey looked over at her to find her staring at a mixture of snotty soot that was in her right palm. She quickly wiped it off on her loose dress which was now all but covered in speckles of ash. Standing side by side, she nestled the fingers of her left hand into his hand, and squeezed. He glanced at her, wondering if he’d have to pick her up again; she could only withstand so much despair, and as they trudged across the cobblestones, past a young couple who were frantically casting low-level rain spells to put out the flames that had consumed their home, Grey knew it was taking everything just for her to stand.

“I can feel you doing that,” she pouted, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. “Don’t pity me.”

They trekked on with their same harried pace toward their neighboring homes, but the town was in utter chaos and their movement was slowed; townspeople rushing in all directions to help each other, plumes of smoke billowing out from doorways, windows exploding outward and raining shards of glass. And finally, once they’d almost reached their homes, they came upon a massive crowd which had gathered around the small town square.

Shock had sent a paralyzing surge up the two young heroes’ spines. Gasps and tears swelled in the onlookers as Grey and Damsel nudged their way past the bystanders. Both of them saying nothing, but wishing the same thing, please don’t be mom. The crowd left space for the three in the middle of the circle. Damsel pulled Grey behind her, still holding onto his hand. When she reached the middle, the grip around Grey’s hand pulsed into a fearsome clamp. His heart sank.

“Damsel.” Grey still couldn’t see, “Damsel, what is it?”

Finally, his gaze reaching the middle of the circle, Grey looked on to the scene everyone had been gathered for. Filled with relief, for a brief moment, followed by an overwhelming sense of guilt. It wasn’t his mother, or Damsel’s parents, rather, somebody else’s parents. A boy a similar age to the two of them. Wearing the wounds of a battle he only but barely walked away from. His black leather jacket had little to no armor attributes left, and ripped completely, hardly holding onto the boy’s shoulders. It was Crow. On one knee, he knelt by his parents. The battle with whatever ghastly creature could have caused the destruction had bested the both of them. Crow held his father’s head upright in his hands as he choked out a few last words to the young Rogue.

Grey and Damsel stood at the inner edge of the circle, watching their classmate, with whom was their foe, living out a nightmare they wouldn’t wish on their worst enemy. Remembering himself falling into his locker that very morning, Grey sympathized with his self-proclaimed rival. Both of their father’s taken from them too early. It wasn’t fair.

Crow, propping his father’s head up a little further, turned over his shoulder. His hair swinging like a dark pendulum in front of his eyes, stared directly at Grey. Shocked, Grey tried to retreat back into the crowd, but the villagers were packed like sardines.

“What about them?” The mutterings between Crow and his father became audible.

The shaky, bloodied hand of Crow’s father rose slowly. Making its way over to the two. All of the villagers’ gaze followed that hand until it slowly stopped on the two of them. Crow, his father, the townsmen and women, all looking at Grey and Damsel.

Crow’s father placed one arm under his body to balance himself, “You two…” Coughing, each word agonizing, “It’s up to you.”

Grey, still trying to take a step back, could feel the eyes upon him. Damsel stood shocked.

“Father. Forget them. I will avenge you. The Wizard and his Dra--”

“No.” Crow’s father used the last of his strength, pulling himself closer to his son, “Not without them.”

“What’s going on?” Damsel asked Grey as she tried to shield herself from all the attention falling on them.

Grey shrugged his shoulders. Unsure of what to say.

“What is this father?” Crow trying to get some answers.

In a final effort to be heard, Crow’s father wrapped his hand around Crow’s face, bringing their foreheads together. Closing his eyes, sharing a final moment with his son. He spoke his last words. Whispered into the young Rogue’s ears. Grey tried to lean in closer to hear what he said, but it was out of earshot. Shared only with Crow.

Those deep black wells of hellish gaze pierced through Grey’s low level Charisma. Frightened, instead of stepping back, Grey dove back into the crowd, until practically crawling hand and foot out of there.

“Grey!” Damsel dove in after him.

They popped out on the other side of the crowd, “What was that all about?”

“Did you see the look in his eyes, Damsel?” Grey in a rushed panic.

“He just lost his father. Show a little sympathy, Grey.”

“I know. I know. It’s just, he hates me. I don’t know what his father said, but he didn’t like it very much.”

Damsel unfolded her arms, “Yeah. Umm, what was the whole ‘up to you two’ part?” She clenched her fists in failure of assessing the situation, “Ugh, all of this is so crazy, I don’t know what to feel.”

Before the panic could settle in too deep, a townswoman ran toward the two of them. Waving what looked like a handkerchief in her hand, “Hey!” She covered her mouth, coughed heavily into the handkerchief, “You two. We’ve been looking all over for you. Where have you been?”

“We were walking home in the Ill--” Damsel grabbed at Grey’s arm, “I mean from school.”

The townswoman wiped her face with the opposite side of the handkerchief, and glumly looked around at the crowd. Her weary eyes seemed to be searching for something, like a soldier surrounded in the trenches wondering where some backup was. Then she sighed, nodded, and sighed again.

“What is it?” Damsel asked.

“It’s. . .” the townswoman said. “It’s. . .”

Damsel gasped. “Oh gods. Our parents.”

The townswoman let out a sigh of relief. “They were taken, darlings. I’m so. . .”

But her words had already faded. Grey took off in a sprint toward his own home in terror, weaving around the circle of those gathered around Crow, shouldering past bystanders, and leaping over the rubble and even one or two dead bodies. Damsel followed and before long they reached their houses. The structures were all but completely gone, nothing but broken code; a first floor of blocks as though the place had been abandoned halfway through its programming. He could see the living room, the open kitchen behind it, and a staircase that led up to what was now nothing but a horizontal and glitching plane. Smoke rose from there, and Grey ran through the gap where his door had been.

Thick ash and soot hung, he could hardly breathe.

“Mom!” he yelled, spinning around in the living room. “Mom!”

The townswoman was running toward them with her skirts lifted, and she stopped in the opening panting.

“They were taken, darlings. I’m so…”

“Where!?” Grey cried out, running down the busted staircase, almost falling through one of the glitching steps.

“They were taken, darlings. I’m so…”

“Where were they taken?” Grey persisted.

Damsel tried to ease the tension, “Grey, stop. She’s just--”

“She’s just a townswomen.” Crow appeared in the front room of the burned house. His arms folded tightly in his chest, his eyes directed at the insulation burned to the bottom floor, “She has a limited script.”

Grey hopped off of the final three steps, landing just in front of the young rogue, “Where were they taken?”

“Grey, please, calm down.” Damsel, again, the voice of reason.

“Yeah, Grey. Calm down.” Crow, stoic. He clenched his eyes closed for a moment, as if trying to convince himself as much as Grey, then he refitted one of the earbuds and took a deep breath. Hovering beside his head text read a tune that would make any young brood cry tears, “Your mom, and,” he turned to Damsel, “your parents were taken by a dragon. My parents and I tried to stop it, but. . .” his words trailed off.

Grey stared hard at the rogue before him, angry, distraught. He wanted to blow up on his rival, but feeling Damsel’s hand slip into his, a wave of irritating calm came over him. He hated when she did that, but with a fraction of a clear head, he knew she was right to do so.

“Thank you,” Grey muttered, staring at his feet. “Sorry about your parents.”

“Yeah. Thanks, I guess.” Briefly, he tossed his black hair to the side and stared off into the distance. “Life is meaningless anyway. Whatever. Where were the two of you?”

Grey and Damsel looked at each other. Considering what they should tell him. Grey started, “Just walking--”

“We were in the Illustrious Forest,” Damsel interjected, eyes welling up with tears. “I’m so sorry Crow. We should have been here. We should have helped you. And your parents. Grey, we should have been here.”

“She’s right,” Grey agreed through gritted teeth, “We should have been here, Crow. I’m sorry.”

“It’s done,” Crow said, finally making eye contact, “We have more important things to worry about now.”

“Like what?”

“Like finding the wretched Wizard and that Dragon.”

A creepy grin inhabited the young rogue’s face and Grey shuddered. He shook it off quickly, however, and clenched his fists.

“Do you know where they went?” he asked.

Crow thought for a moment, then rose his hand to the air with a sweeping gesture, and pointed. “Here.”

Grey furrowed his brow. “I don’t see anything.”

“Damnit, one second.” Crow groaned and swept a few times, then typed the space in front of him. “That should do it.”

Suddenly, a prompt appeared in the left-hand corner of Grey’s peripheral.

Crow has invited you to join his party. Do you accept?

Grumbling about some of the Bitvision limitations, and wondering if the Gods would ever update it, Grey clicked yes, and not a moment later, the objective map which Crow had pulled up was revealed to them. On one side was a map, only a portion of it visible, and the rest of it black. Inside the black was a glowing red dot which appeared close to the Academy, and beside the map Grey could see an objective screen.

Main Objectives:

❖ Don’t cry

❖ Find the Wizard in the depths of the Misty Mountains

❖ Kill that mother fucker

❖ Avenge parents

❖ Grieve, it’s not healthy to hold in your emotions all the time

❖ Begrudgingly protect Grey

❖ Convince the Protagonist that you’re not the Antagonist

Even his objective screen is mysterious looking, Grey thought, glaring. He sighed, it didn’t really matter. He then studied the objective marker at the bottom of the screen, pointed to it, and asked “Protect Grey? What’s that about?”

Quickly, he swiped his screen away, “It’s nothing. Did you get it on your map?’

“Yeah. I got it.” Grey thought maybe he read it wrong. Perhaps it wasn’t exactly what he thought it was.

“Thanks Crow. Really, I’m sorry about your parents.” He turned to Damsel, “I need to go now. There’s no time to waste.”

Damsel pulled up her Item screen, sifting through her lack of weapons and potions, “You’re right, there’s no time to waste. But, I’m going with you.”

It took everything in Grey’s power to tell her no, but he knew he needed Damsel. Without her, he was, well… “Okay. You ready?”

Damsel put away her Item screen. There was a timid nervousness in her eyes, but an eagerness that trumped it, “I guess so. Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Hey, noobs, I’m coming with.” Crow sifted through his own Item screen. Readying which weapons he wanted to have in his quick select, “Here, take these.” He offered some basic potions to his two new party members, “I swiped them off of some fallen townspeople after the attack.”

Fucking creep, “Uhh, thanks. But Crow, we can manage by ourselves. We don’t need you there.”

“They killed my parents.” Crow approached Grey as he took a step back in fear, “I’m going with you. Anyways, there’s no way you two can pass the first level, let alone slay the Dragon and the Wizard...no offense.”

Damsel, “A little offended, thanks Crow. But, he’s right Grey, we could really use him. All three of us make a party, not just us two.”

Grey understood, but still, the words coming out of her mouth stung a little. But...him?

“Fine.”