Acanthus

The universe felt millions of kilometers away. The rain pounded on windows a million kilometers in the sky as her fingers worked the padlock of a secret passage that someone else had discovered a million years ago. The code slid in effortlessly as it had a million times before. The hatch opened with a shriek that sounded from a million star systems to the left. The bones of Acanthus moved down into the hole, and her soul followed after. —-- The warped stairway spiraled down in a manner that destroyed her sense of direction. It followed the spiral of the lighthouse at first, but then

Haru was shocked to find that much of the study was the exact same as she had remembered from her brief glimpse seven years ago. Books lay strewn on the floor, the office chair still tilted on its side in the middle of the study. But the differences made her gasp. Her mom’s journals and letters had been nailed, tacked, and stapled across the walls in a garish display, hung like the body parts of Christ in a gruesome display of reverence. Large sections of butcher paper had been strung in-between the notes, scrawled with messages such as “eight nonograms found in pages 78–89” and “possible Vige

She couldn’t believe her ears. This thing was… scolding her? It had the audacity to hound her every step through Aincrad. It whispered awful things in her ears. It nearly drove her to the precipice of killing not only herself, but other players. And now it was the one deciding what memories she could remember? Fury built up in her chest. “You—you don’t have the right. These are my memories! What gives you the right? Or, or the power?!” She drew botan, as if it would do anything. The voice chortled at the display. RIGHT AND POWER, SHE THINKS ARE TWO THINGS. RIGHT IS POWER. AND THE POWER IS

The study of Graycott Point was a dream for book-lovers— —No, I was remembering something. I was remembering something, what was it— Rows upon rows of leather-bound novels, in a bevy of genres that appealed to any— —stop it, take me back to the memory, I need to see my Dad! SHE DOES NOT WANT TO SEE HIM. OR ELSE SHE WOULD BE IN HIS STUDY, AND NOT THIS ONE. She choked as the gravelly voice made her head spin. THE GIRL MUST RELAX. WE ARE HERE TO FREE HER FROM THE PAIN OF REMEMBERING. SHE DOES NOT NEED TO KNOW. “I want to know.” Her voice was fraught with emotion

Haru tried the door to the study again. Dad was howling in anger. “Dad? Dad! What’s going on in there?” The howling stopped. “Nothing, Haru. I—Don’t concern yourself.” Sounds of tidying up wafted through the door. She did not press her ear to the door as she used to. She wasn’t a child anymore. Haru folded her arms. “I am concerned. This is the third time I’ve heard you from my room since I came home for the weekend. Koji probably hasn’t said anything because he lives with his headset on. Are you going to let me in or am I going to call the police for a wellness check?” “That is

Acanthus blinked back to the present. She had filled in the nonogram without thinking. The nonogram. —tacked on the walls—scrawled in red ink, swathes of charcoal desecrating the paper— Her heartbeat rose in her chest. She was forgetting something. No, she wasn’t letting herself remember. What was she not letting herself remember? The nonogram was the key. But why? It was a puzzle for a puzzle. Dad would be ecstatic.—he tore through the papers with an ecstatic gleam in his eyes— Acanthus forced her eyes down to the paper. The shape meant nothing to her. Something about the type

“It would be a good exercise, father.” “I don’t need exercise,” he huffed. “I need a challenge. Dropdown word puzzles are just playing hangman with an invisible fiend.” It was a dramatic choice of words for him. Since mom had passed, his interest in puzzles had waned. In the past, Haru could bait him into talking with her by greeting him with a new riddle or puzzle. But lately, he had been growing disinterested in anything but the study. He would vanish immediately after dinner, leaving the rest of the family to clean up after him. The door would lock, and the children would be left

Acanthus traced her fingers along the shelves of the study, reading the titles of a dozen Scarlet Burbage novels. Whoever had lived here loved this author. Nobody ever lived here. Reality seeped into her thoughts. Just a programmer who wrote a character who loved Scarlet Burbage. But nobody real. A desk in the middle of the room— —No, dad’s desk was closer to the left wall as you entered— “Stop that!” she cried out. But her only response was the rain. Embarrassed at her sudden outburst, Acanthus crept over to the desk, leafing through a biography of Julius Caesar. She found a page bo

The study was next. But she couldn’t bring herself to enter. I’ll save it for later. There’s probably clues elsewhere that I need to solve first. The living room proved cozier than the rest of the rooms combined. Another blazing fire beckoned her to the armchair, where she sat down with a heavy *plop*. With the rain outside, she could almost drift off to sleep. This isn’t a safe zone, she reminded herself. And I have no one here to make sure something doesn’t attack me in my sleep. Reluctantly, she stood back up and worked her way through the contents of the room. More fish on the wa

Haru gently tested the door. It was locked. A pause confirmed that her dad heard her rattle the handle. “...I’m busy right now. I’m still working through—I’m still working on some of… Some notes.” What he meant to say was “going through mom’s journals.” Even with the door shut, she could hear him flipping pages, muttering to himself, all the way through the night. A puzzle that baffled even the great Noboru Masuda. Maybe I can help him. Maybe if I ask, he’ll let me in. We can try and solve it together. “Yes, father. Should I have Ryoji bring you some supper later?” “I’m not hungry. D

“Scrambled messages are either a treat or a bore to solve,” her dad sighed. She had come to the door to ask about her classic literature homework, but she listened patiently. “A healthy mind will embed a puzzle within the key to make it interesting to solve. A troubled mind is content for the easy way out.” “And what way is that?” She set her book down as she waited outside the study. Maybe he would let her in this time. Six years later and he still kept the door shut. It had only been two years since he returned inside, and even then, he kept odd hours, so she never caught him coming or

Acanthus jotted down the answer in her notes. The journaling application in her menu would have sufficed, but something about handwriting forced her mind to concentrate. It also felt more comfortable than typing on a strange floating screen. “I didn’t even need mom this time,” she whispered to herself. Glancing around the kitchen one more time, she left to explore the bedroom. The bedroom was part order and part chaos. The bed was perfectly made, the trunk closed and latched, but not locked. The nautical theme complimented the lighthouse with worn, cozy wall decor. The chaos began at the

“A word scramble?” Her father hummed. “You don’t need my help for something that simple. If you really need help, go ask your mother.” Haru tugged at her dress. “I unscrambled the words, Dad. I just don’t know what’s next.” Curiosity overtook the man, and he snatched the scrap from her hands. His eyes darted up and down the paper before flashing with recognition. He handed it back. “The words have something in common.” He paused for a second. “This isn’t homework, right? I don’t want you cheating by asking for help.” “No dad, I’m just doing it for fun.” I just wanted to solve somethi

Acanthus returned to the entrance hall to study the house with an eye for puzzles, rather than traps. Nothing caught her eye in the entrance: just a few unattended coats and a painted rendition of Graycott Point. Whoever had left them here must be cold, she thought. Hopefully they left. Acanthus shuddered as she remembered the scars on the door. She changed her mind—hopefully they were still here. The kitchen was next on her list to visit. Acanthus wound her way around the cabinets to a scrap of paper resting on the mantle of a roaring flame. In real life, Acanthus would have taken this f

Dad loved puzzles. It was the one constant in his life. Working through crosswords and sudokus, he would often mouth answers and clues to himself, laughing at particularly good hints. In the midst of puzzle-solving, the only time he ever emerged from his study was to share a rousing success or deeply-held thought about his current predicament. His eyes would gleam with cleverness and curiosity all at once as he talked—rambled, rather—at whoever was closest. Haru enjoyed listening to him, because it was one of the few ways she could get Dad to talk to her. Or at least at her. * * * Ac

Despite the humble exterior, the house boasted an impressive panoply of rooms. A brief sweep of the house revealed six in all: The entrance hall, the kitchen, the bedroom, the study, the living room, and the lantern room. Acanthus found another passage in the lantern room, locked by a four digit code. She idled away some time trying sequential numbers. 0000. 0001. 0002. 0003. “Brute force is always an option, but it is a clumsy one. Unbecoming for a gifted mind such as yours.” She dropped the padlocked gift with tears in her eyes. Her mom gently rubbed dad’s shoulders. “Honey, she’s

The exterior oak door had a few gouges that raised Acanthus’s hackles. The marks were about the size of a human hand but cut too deeply for human strength. Acanthus drew botan and cracked the door open cautiously with the tip of the blade. The door opened with a whisper and a stale gust of air made her blink. She quietly peered inside. A resounding <<BLING>> made her yell and stumble backwards into the mud. Frustrated, she stood, wiped herself off, and looked at the dialogue box that had appeared. Quest located. <<To Shine a Light.>> Accept? Y/N She almos

When Acanthus first took in the form of the far away tower, her mind scrambled to identify it. Given the distances and darkness, she struggled to give it a size. The muted sounds of the sea told her that it stood upon the coast, and the bright flashes signaled a need for assistance. Or a warning to stay away, even. Perhaps it was the start to a quest, or a clue to finding the labyrinth. As she got closer, it dawned on her; the obelisk was in fact a lighthouse. No wonder it took her so long to recognize the thing. A lighthouse had no place on a floor devoid of both life and light. Such an

But she craved the solitude. Day after day her inbox piled up. Customers needing crafts. New players needing quests. Old players just wanting to catch up. Each thing was a small ask, but as the small asks piled up, it became too much for her. So she turned off her notifications, and disappeared into the wilds of Floor 29. She debated sending a message to let someone know where she went, just in case she didn’t return. But if she didn’t return, they could piece it out themselves. There wasn’t a need to risk uninvited guests. Acanthus trudged over the next hill, discontent in her thoughts.

Acanthus listened intently to Hirru’s questions. They were good questions. One she shared, personally. <<How much of this is the blade, and how much of this is the person.>> She looked down at botan, swirling with energy. <<An honest question. It’s ridiculous to assume that everyone here turned into a master swordsman overnight. The items and such we use shape the way we fight, and Cardinal shapes our fights through the items we wear. Even as Cardinal binds us, it guides us.>> She hated how reverent her last words sounded out loud. Acanthus prepared for another com

Another healing beam, and Acanthus scowled. Hirru was locked into his little game. <<I don’t care who we bore. I’m here to win, and if that means finishing you as the starting whistle for next week blows, then that’s how it is.>> Acanthus casually swiped through Hirru’s form a few more times. <<I’ll admit, I could have done a little more preparation. My luck with Vigilon lured me into a false sense of security. Frankly, I decided you weren’t worth spending coins on. But if I could go back and spend a few more, I’d nip your persistent little tricks right in the bud.>> Sh

<<Really.>> Her flat voice tinged with amusement and frustration equally. <<Your solution is to wait me out? Patience wins only when there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, *hunter*>> Her voice dripped sarcasm on the last word. Acanthus walked calmly towards the hunter like some mundane quest objective. About two meters away, she gauged the distance again, taking a few steps back for the perfect distance. And she took her time, slowly shuffling her feet back into a comfortable pouncing stance. What was he going to do, attack? Botan’s light grew green and sic

Link to Quest “I can’t tell if I don’t know you anymore, or if I never knew you to begin with.” A shaking hand over scraps of paper, delicately rearranged to spell a simple phrase. I love you too. — The mires of Floor 29 gulped down whatever weight rested above them. Ruins, bodies, and players alike were dragged underneath the mud with each washing rain. Only the players had the energy to resist its subsuming call. Wrenching her boot from the ground, the floor made a terrible sucking sound in protest. Acanthus wondered what the hell she was doing out here. Sear

The surrounding despair worked its way through the coliseum. It assailed her senses with familiar feelings from the grove, and from floor 13. And from the Bandit Camp on floor nine. For a moment, Acanthus became uncertain of herself. Fighting was a bad idea. She was still uncomfortable from her display last week. She’d attacked a player in a blind battle fury. And here she was, indulging that kind of combat all over again. No, this is nothing like floor nine. I’m in control of my emotions now. Breaking from the tendrils of madness, she rushed Hirru. She cut through his defenses in tw

It didn’t make sense. She had struggled with the reality of this world for so long. And just when she was coming to terms with its artificial nature, Ryoji showed up. How could this place be fake when she recognized someone else who was real? Her thoughts became awash in a sea of memories. They’d taken in Ryoji after the accident. And in return, he had learned how to cook and excelled at it. Dinners in the Masuda house had become less of a dull, soulless affair after Ryoji had joined them. “No, Nymoria. Please stay.” She collected her thoughts, uncertain of how to proceed. She initially p