Gildebrand

She turned and started the trek back through the underbrush, retracing her steps—or trying to. The forest didn’t look the same in reverse. Shadows twisted new directions, roots she could’ve sworn she hadn’t seen before now reached across the path like tripwires. Every branch seemed more brittle. Every breeze colder. The faint triumph of the fruit faded fast. Her breath misted in front of her with every step, and the damp chill of her soaked clothes had settled into her bones. The occasional snap of a twig or rustle in the brush kept her alert, but nothing attacked. No mobs. No sudden viol

She sat there for a moment longer, glaring up at the golden fruit like it owed her rent. Her breath still came in short bursts. Her ribs protested. One of her boots had started to rub raw against her heel and now every movement sang a little song of you’re not built for this. “Just one more...” she muttered. She rolled to her feet. Hands on her knees. Then pushed herself up, one painful vertebrae at a time. She squinted at the tree, this time, she didn’t go for a running jump or try to scramble up the bark. She circled it. Found a thicker root near the back - just high enough to step

She rolled to her knees, spat a leaf out of her mouth, and glared up at the tree like it had insulted her family. The fruit swayed again in the breeze—mocking her. Keira backed up a step, stretched her arms overhead like it might help, and muttered a quiet curse for every game designer who thought vertical level design was cute. This time, she tried a running start. Jumped. Grabbed a higher branch. Caught it for exactly one glorious second... before her grip slipped on moss-slick bark and- “Oh fer f-” She crashed down a second time, this time flat on her stoma

She moved uphill again, weaving through narrow trees that sloped into one another like drunks trying to stand politely. Her breath came hard, not from exhaustion, but from sheer bloody impatience. Her shoulders ached, her calves burned, and her boots had soaked through hours ago. But then - there it was. A low tree, bent slightly from age or weather, branches thick with leaves and dotted with small golden fruit, glowing faintly under the moonlight. About the size of apples, speckled with green, each one pulsing with that telltale artificial shimmer. She stopped beneath it, tilte

She didn’t linger. Pocketed the fungus, adjusted the strap of her gear, and pushed deeper into the trees. The air was damper here. The bark on the trees turned slick, blackened by time or rain—or just aesthetic design choices by whatever sick bastard coded this place. Her boots squelched against layers of moss and wet leaves. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted, low and hollow. She ignored it. The ground dipped slightly, and soon the forest floor gave way to a shallow ravine. The slope was gentle, but the footing was treacherous—loose soil and hidden roots. She sl

The trees stretched ahead like ribs in a giant’s cage, crooked and creaking in the windless dark. Keira pushed through underbrush that snagged at her coat like it was trying to talk her out of it. Her breath fogged in front of her. Everything felt heavier now, even the moonlight. But her eyes had adjusted, at least a little. Shapes resolved more clearly. Shadows stayed put. Mostly. She walked in tense silence for another ten minutes - no stream, no fireflies, no death boars, and then she saw it. A flicker of silver-green. It was small. Low to the ground. Half-hidden by a fa

She woke with a jolt. Neck stiff. Back sore. A thin line of drool cooling on her chin. “Classy,” she muttered, wiping her mouth with the back of her glove. The sky was still dark, but different now - blacker, heavier. The kind of dark that didn’t just fall but settled. Her HUD blinked softly in the corner of her vision, offering her the time like it was proud of itself.  [2:40 AM] She blinked again. “Wait... two-forty?” Her stomach dropped. She had fallen asleep. Inside a game. In the middle of a death trap. She shot upright, legs swinging

After a moment, she stood. Her legs protested. Her boots squelched. Her pride was in tatters. She shook her arms out, flinging droplets like curses into the air. She’d picked a direction at random, figuring straight lines were a lie but better than standing still. Ten minutes in—more stumbling than striding—she broke through a dense thicket and found herself staring into a moonlit clearing. “Huh, well that’s convenient.” A patch of open ground, tucked deep in the forest like something had carved it out just for her. Pale moonlight spilled over it without interruption, pooling acros

Keira stumbled through the trees, boots dragging more than walking now, her movements all elbows and inertia. Her steps hit the forest floor haphazardly, like she was playing drunk hopscotch with herself. The darkness had teeth, and it was gnawing at her focus, bit by bit. Her eyes blurred at the edges, no matter how wide she tried to keep them. Leaves, shadows, ground—all of it melting into one indistinct smear of green-black nonsense. Somewhere back there, she’d passed a flower. A real one. Glowing slightly. She didn’t see it. Didn’t even clock the color. She just walked

She walked for a little under half an hour. The open plains became a sparse grove, and just as quickly it began to dissolve into a looming treeline—oak and cedar, ancient and unbothered. Their limbs reached skyward like cathedral spires, the canopy swallowing the stars with a reverent hush. Moonlight filtered through in pieces, casting rippling shadows across the ground like ghosts too tired to haunt properly. She stopped at the edge, facing the green-black wall of bark, bramble, and barely-contained tension. Crickets shrilled into the stillness. Fireflies drifted through the trees, p

The night dragged on like it was enjoying itself. An hour out from the town and Keira’s search had turned up exactly nothing - unless exhausted legs, damp socks, and mounting irritation counted as loot. Each empty patch of grass stared back at her like it was mocking the effort. The frustration had started as a flicker, then a simmer, and now it sat low in her gut like a kettle ready to boil. She exhaled through her nose and pressed on. A flicker of movement in the distance gave her pause. She squinted. Shapes. Low to the ground, shuffling through the grass. “Please don’t be go

The clouds parted as the full moon revealed itself, its light washed over the field, soft and pale, casting long shadows across the blades of grass. That’s when she saw it. Just one. A single flower. White and violet, delicate as spun glass in a sea of green. It didn’t belong here - a bit too elegant, too precise, and definitely too intentional. She stepped forward, the tall grass swaying and parting like it knew better than to resist. Behind her, it closed again without a sound—swallowing her tracks like she’d never been there at all. She crouched by the orchid, cautious w

I had no idea there was a discord. I’ll probably join it here in a couple of days, Thanks for lettin me know, I hope to see you around too!

Her HUD was useless. A polite, glowing mockery hanging in the corner of her vision like it actually gave a damn. No waypoint. No map pin. Just a blinking objective and the digital equivalent of a shrug. As she headed for the town’s gate, she passed them—the drifters. The dazed. The broken. Players wandered like ghosts through the streets, faces pale and blank, aimless as windblown leaves. Their eyes caught hers for a second—recognition not of identity, but of shared despair. Mirrors reflecting the same fracture. Night was swallowing the edges of the sky. The air had teeth now, cold and sh

“I’ve come tae collect a debt frae ye, I think.” Keira’s voice rang out as she took slow, cautious steps toward the bearded old alchemist. She didn’t expect much of a response—and she wasn’t disappointed. Zachariah didn’t answer straight away. He simply kept staring into that frothy, questionable liquid like it held the meaning of life. “Are you here to order something?” he finally said, as he nudged the cup aside like it might bite him. “Oh for the love of—" “I’m sorry,” he continued, tone as casual as someone reading a grocery list, “but I’m absolutely swamped with orde