The Goblins Were dead

***** I *****

The goblins had died, but that didn’t stop them from doing their jobs. They stood right up from where they were laying, brushed themselves off, and got to work.

There were nine in total: short, squat men with dirty green skin and tattered, ratty clothes. Strands of wiry gray hair topped their head and lined their nostrils. With their short stature and large hands and bare feet, they grabbed the overturned furniture and set them right. Rough wooden tables and splintered chairs were restored, along with the torches set into sconces on the rough rock walls and shiny gold coins poured into treasure chests. Spiked traps with wooden pincers were wound back into place and false floors set into the wooden floor. It was a modest dungeon, one which smelled perpetually moist and earthy. The warm light of a dozen candles and torches filled the area. From the room they guarded there was only one single entrance and exit, setting predictable paths in which the invading heroes would get funneled through. With their chores finished and the room set right, the goblins plopped down onto the tables, scooted themselves in, and furnished a battered old deck of playing cards. The backs were browned with age and stains and the edges tattered, but it served them just as well as they gambled the hours away. “Five slugs says you can’t beat three aces,” cried one of the goblins, pulling his sliming, wiggling wealth from a tunic pocket. The others pulled out their own living chips and commenced bickering. “Well, I gots seven slugs here that says you ain’t got no three aces!” Their living wealth was wagered, bets placed, and hands lost and dealt and lost again with much grumbling from the losers and cheering from the winner. Slugs danced around the table from one gambler to the next as wagers flew. This was until the warning bell sounded, echoing up and down the stony corridors from no visible source. As a well rehearsed team, the goblins pocketed their hands and earnings, rose up from their places, and took up their armaments. They made for the room’s entrance, brandishing pitiful stone weapons and grim, snarling faces as they waited in their practiced positions. Together they were a wall of sharpened stocks and battered wooden shields, looking both primitive and imposing to the heroes who would soon be rounding that corner. The heroes did not keep them waiting. There were five in total, brandishing tempered steel weapons and wearing fortified armaments. With savage swings of steel and bursts of fiery magic, they blew through the ranks of the goblins with ease. They were tossed asunder, their lifeless bodies scattered about the room in moments. The heroes skillfully averted the traps, looted the room, and were gone just as quickly as they had come. With the coast now clear, the slain goblins righted themselves once again, restored the furniture, refilled the treasure chests, replaced the torches, and were seated back at the long table with cards back in hand. “I bet every slug that I got that you is bluffin’!” The goblin pushed his entire fortune forward, leaving slick trails of slime in their wake. The others looked at the small fortune, double checked their own hands, then grumbled in irritation as they folded. The winner gleefully collected his slimy earnings. The game continued until the bell sounded for lunch break, marking the mid-point of their shift. The goblins stood from the table and put their earnings into their patched pockets, tugging up the drawstrings of their breeches under the weight. They approached an innocuous rock wall, pushing a secret button to swing open the secret door. They filled through, the door slamming shut behind, restoring the unbroken rock facade. Fresh gray slop was today’s special, complete with juicy bits of mystery meat. The lunch-witch plopped this coupled with fresh rolls onto the trays of all the gnolls, ogres, demons, and other monsters waiting in line. The goblins joined the other patrons in the dining hall, taking their company-sponsored meals with ale to one of the many cafeteria tables. The din of conversation and feasting were not unpleasant, and with the additional accompaniment of live music on Tuesdays and Fridays, it made for a welcome reprieve. Ratty kobolds in splattered aprons and hairnets pushed trays between the tables, collecting refuse and dishes. The roaring laughter of giant minotaurs overtook the room on occasion from where they sat at their taller, reinforced tables near the back. The clatter of pans and the smells of seared meat wafted in through the kitchen doors. Behind all of it droned televisions tuned to old movies. Cutting through the companionable conversation, two particular orcs stormed in suddenly, deep in argument with each other. "Throgg, you dummy!" scorned one of them. She loomed enormous with a large, muscular frame. A tightly-braided, jet-black ponytail fell long down her back. Fitted mail and leather armor strapped around her frame, curving around emerald green skin. A pair of short, sharp tusks complemented the pronounced jawline and rigid, almost masculine structure of her face. A single black mole punctuated her left cheek. A wooden club hung from a sling on her hip. "Why are you mad, Orca?" asked the other orc. His frame rested lower and heavier than Orca's. He stood shorter, with a wider stance and a stocky frame. His bald head carried a crown both tarnished and bent. His shoulders bore a flowing purple cape made dirty and faded by time. A wide leather belt struggled around his girth, looking strained to bursting. His tunic was missing buttons, he breeches bore rough patches, and his big toe wiggled through a hole in his boot. "Why am I mad?" Orca roared, turning to face him. She towered over Throgg, fists clenched at her sides, looking so much like an angry brick wall. "I'm mad because you're an idiot! You are the king of the goblins, but you do nothing to help them!" "I do so," Throgg replied, indignant. "I got them their company benefits, like retirement packages and company-provided lunches." Throgg gestured around the cafeteria. This did nothing to alleviate Orca's anger. "The goblins are a joke! Management always sends them to do the worst jobs in the crappiest dungeons." "What's wrong with that?" Throgg asked with a shrug. "What's wrong with that?!" Orca repeated, her body now shaking in anger. Her face flushed in anger, turning her emerald skin an unhealthy purple. "They're being taken advantage of as the butt end of our kind! They’re a laughing stock! They’re nearly as bad as those stupid heroes, even." "But they're unionized now. Management said they may even think about possibly giving them pensions in a few years. Just imagine!" Orca roared in disgust. Too upset for words she stormed off, slamming the door close so hard it echoed through the cafeteria. With their break over, the goblins returned to the dungeon to continue gambling away the hours. The afternoon dragged on, without a single hero party coming through to break up the monotony. Slugs were lost, won, lost again, then snacked on as they got hungry. Those not engaged in the game, or too poor to play, debated the merits of a dungeon built from stale cheese instead of stone. At long length, with only minutes left until sweet relief, the warning bell rang out. After enduring dragging hours of nothing, suddenly they were being called on just as their shift was about to end. The goblins dragged themselves over to their places and waited, looking as enthusiastic as they could muster. A band of four heroes pushed into the depths of the dungeon. Leading the charge was a burly fighter bearing two wicked scythes and a long, leather duster dyed maroon red. The sides of her head were shaved bald, leaving her remaining dark blonde hair hanging down in braids. Behind her marched a portly warrior, dragging with him a warhammer taller than he stood. His short stature drowned in an armor set three sizes too big for him as he restlessly ambled around the corridors, never keeping still. Following him was a near-sighted rogue who’s dark leather gear sharply contrasted a bright streak of purple in her hair and tie-dye scarf. Bringing up the rear was a petite, beautiful, red-headed mage doing her best to not trip over her floor-length gown and overskirt. The dark stone tunnel emptied into a larger room just beyond. The path was lit by iron sconces and hanging iron lanterns. The fighter surveyed the ambush lying in wait just ahead of them, twirling her swords as she formulated a plan. Then she turned back to the others. “I’ll go in first. Jackurn, you keep them off my ass.” “Got it!” chirped Jackurn, giving an enthusiastic salute from inside his oversized tin can. “Violet, you pick off the stragglers.” “Uh, I’ll try…” replied the hesitant voice of the colorful rogue. “And Alyrra, you just blast everything you see.” “Got it! I won’t let you down, Ambrose,” the mage replied, gripping his gnarled magic staff tightly. “Any questions?” Jackurn threw his hand into the air. Ambrose just sighed as she looked down at him. “What?” “What if I gotta pee?” Ambrose just gave Jackurn a cold look, barely even able to see his face through the enormous helmet. “Do you actually, though?” “No, but what if I did?” Ambrose ignored him. “Any other questions?” Jackurn’s other hand shot into the air. “Great, no questions then. Let’s go.” Ambrose charged in, deftly dodging the spike traps in the floors and slicing at every goblin that jumped out at her. Her blades sliced with deadly accuracy, dispatching foes on both sides and she ran without stopping clear through the chamber. With all the foes on her, she turned, stabbing and slashing her way through their ranks. With every goblin fallen before her, she looked up to see Jackurn swinging his enormous warhammer in large, useless circles, Violet was trying and failing to hide behind a pile of rubble, and Alyrra had dropped her spellbook and was fumbling to retrieve it. “Seriously guys?” Ambrose complained, dropping her arms to her sides. “What the hell?” “Sorry!” Violet cried out, scrambling around the rocks. “I’m sorry!” “Less apologizing, more sneaking. Come on, Naruto!” “I did the best!” Jackurn proclaimed, having just stopped spinning like a tornado. “You did literally nothing!” Ambrose scorned. “I did, too! I stabbed literally at least ninety-million ogres!” "Literally every word you say makes my brain hurt.” Ambrose sighed in frustration before turning to storm out of the room. Jackurn bobbed along behind her, leaving the other two behind. “I think you did great!” Alyrra said to Violet, who flashed her a comforting smile. “Thanks, Alyrra. I just need to keep practicing, you know?” Alyrra gave her a thumb’s up before they both left the room together. Ambrose was waiting for them down the next corridor. She let them get ready before leading the next charge. It was amazing, watching Ambrose go. She leapt up on the tables, swinging and dodging and leaping back and forth as she swatted her blades at the little green people. She was such a natural, Violet couldn’t help but be jealous. Ambrose just made everything look so effortless while Violet couldn’t even master the art of hiding behind a rock. Still, Violet was grateful for this opportunity. It wasn’t often that Ambrose took time out of her raiding schedule to lead low-level people like themselves through these dungeons. But she also couldn’t help but feeling bad, because no matter how much Ambrose tried to help, Violet just could not ever work up to her level. But at the end of the day, she was incredibly grateful just to have friends here that wanted to help. “Violet, quit slacking and catch up!” “Oh, sorry!” Violet shook off her reverie and bounded forward at Ambrose’s command, giving it her best. Having neared the end of the dungeon, Violet still didn’t feel like she was doing as well as Ambrose. The four were making their way down another of the twisted corridors when Violet stopped a moment to catch her breath. She reached up to adjust her glasses she she realized she was no longer wearing them. “Oh, no!” she cried out, halting the others dead in their tracks. “I lost my glasses!” Ambrose sighed dramatically, looking up at the ceiling as if pleading with whoever might be beyond. Her swords hung down to scrape on the stone floor. “Really, Velma?” Ambrose teased. “I know, I’m sorry! They must have fallen off during one of the battles. I’ll just go back and look for them.” “Do you need a hand?” Alyrra offered enthusiastically, but Violet quickly shook her head. She was already bringing down the group just by being here. Now she was being even more of a burden. “No, you go on without me. I’m already slowing you guys down. I’ll just run and get them and catch back up, okay? Sorry!” Ambrose just shrugged before turning back toward the next room. Jackurn bobbed along behind her, eager to be doing anything. Alyrra was reluctant, but at Violet’s insistence, she followed the others as Violet turned and hurried back the other way. Violet felt foolish and embarrassed for letting the others down like this. She hurried on her way, scouring the floors as she went. She hoped that they would be easy to spot against the smooth round cobblestones. Going back through one room, she covered the floor from one end to the other, getting even more discouraged as she went. She kept on to the next room, thinking about how Ambrose had teased her, and how much she deserved it. She was a rogue wearing a brightly colored scarf who couldn’t even sneak properly. What good was she at any of this, she wondered. Re-committing herself to practicing even harder, she turned a corner and was shocked by what she heard. Ducking behind a nearby pillar, Violet peeked out to see a group of goblins from a previous room–a group they had killed no more than five minutes ago–up and about and moving the furniture back into place. She watched, fascinated, as they refilled gold into the chest from a large leather sack and pushed traps back into place in the floor, leaving the room just the way they have entered it. Then, shocking her even more, she watched as they opened a door hidden in the rock face which had not been there before. They swarmed through it as if eager to be gone. Violet left from her hiding place and hurried up the door, curious as a newborn kitten. When the door began to close on its own, Violet reacted without a moment’s thought or hesitation. She leapt through the doorway just before it slammed shut again. ***** II ***** Of all the odd things in this new place, it was the lights that Violet noticed first. There was the unmistakable overhead buzz of iridescent lamps with their cold, yellow bulbs casting sterile light downward. Unprimed drywall punctuated with electrical outlets and exposed sheet metal tubing lined the walls. Cement flooring lead to stairs accompanied by safety handrails and hazard tape. Painted lines on the walls pointed the way to different locations. Ventilation ducts ran overhead dispersing a cooling breeze. Violet blinked several times as she looked around. The sudden, unapologetic shift from fantasy dungeon into urban industrial complex left her feeling dumbfounded. It was as if she had been transported into the halls of a hospital, or maybe an old office complex, or possibly… “Disneyland,” she said out loud without meaning to. Then once again, with more determination. “This is Disneyland.” She had only visited once, but Violet had read about service tunnels leading behind and underneath the grounds at Disneyland providing quick, private access to each of the park’s main attractions. They were shortcuts for each of the employees and service people to get where they needed to go quickly and away from the public. Once the thought had popped into her mind, she knew it to be true. This entire place was like Disneyland, and she had just stepped in somewhere she was not supposed to be. Her first thought after this was disappointment. Knowing that she had inadvertently taken a peek behind the curtain, not knowing there had even been a curtain to peek behind at all, she hadn’t wanted to break the illusion of the place that she had so blissfully enjoyed before. Violet’s second thought was how much trouble she would be in if she were found out here. Feeling a growing panic at being discovered, she turned to leave, shoving on the metal push bar and finding it secure. It was locked. It seemed this Disneyland attraction had closed for the night and nobody was getting back in. Feeling even more trepid, Violet stepped away from the door, advancing further down the suspiciously modern hallway. She looked at each of the colored stripes lining the walls and the labels written on them. Dire Mountain was in red. Twilight Marsh was blue. Centralia Castle, the main gathering point for all heroes, was in green. Gradually she arrived at a junction, leading to a corridor looking exactly like the one she was in now. It stretched into the distance on Violet’s left. The green and blue stripes of Centralia Castle and Twilight Marsh followed it. Violet debated going that route, as it promised to lead back to the Castle she knew all too well. However, upon spotting a piece of printer paper duct taped to the wall, she ended up going the other way. ‘Common Room’ it read, with a hand-drawn arrow pointing left. She quickened her pace and followed that arrow, hoping to find a security office or some other kind of help. What Violet found instead halted her dead in her tracks. It was a cafeteria, much like the kind Violet had at high school. The layout, the echoing din of patrons, and the mixed smells of different foods were all unmistakable. But at the tables where she would expect students or workers were instead every type of monster she had ever seen, plus many she had not. Ogres chugged tankards of mead. Rat-people sat at tiny tables nibbling cheese. Furry workers in white aprons and smocks cleaned and stocked and ran to and fro with tiny push carts. And in the back, behind so many other diners, sat winged creatures at a tall bar watching television. It was such a completely mundane sight juxtaposed horribly against the utterly strange and unreal. Eyes wide in shock and fear, Violet backed away slowly, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. Panic gripped her again as she took off running blindly back the way she had come. Violet ran forward, looking back toward the nightmarish cafeteria as she rounded a bend, slamming head first into what felt like a brick wall. She bounced backward, collapsing down onto the concrete floor. From where she lay sprawled across the floor, Violet looked upward, blinking into the face of an enormous orc woman who looked with equal surprise back down at her. “Stupid Throgg!” Orca raged as she paced the halls, too angry to even stand still. “He’s too stupid to know that our stupid Management is treating the goblins like they are… are…” She halted her pacing, lost in thought as she tried to think of the right word. Then she gave up, feeling even more frustrated. She stormed through the hallways, unmindful of where her feet were taking her. “Pensions? Unions? Those things are useless if the goblins still aren’t respected. And Throgg is too dumb to realize that Management is playing him for a fool! Which is very easy to do, but that’s not the point! That idiot isn’t doing anybody any good…” Something small bounced off of her, scattering Orca’s thoughts. She looked down and saw a tiny creature sprawled out on the floor. But this was no regular creature, Orca realized. This was a hero! Her anger vanished, replaced by a mixture of disbelief and dread. Her mind was reeling. A hero here? That should be impossible! How could this be? Were the heroes coming to invade them? Was this an attack? They both stared at each other, waiting with bated breath as they were sure the other would attack at any moment. Seconds spanned onward, stretching into an infinitely long silence as they dared not to move or speak or even blink. Finally it was the tiny hero who broke the silence. “Sorry.” Orca’s response was reflexive and automatic. “It’s okay…” Then they continued to stare at each other again. Had the hero just apologized? And had Orca just waved it off like some minor accident? Orca’s focus was drawn back down as, ever so slowly, the hero reached forward to pick something up. It was Orca’s club, laying on the floor—it must have been knocked loose during the impact! Orca found herself at once uncomfortably disarmed in the moment she needed it most. With the hero having Orca’s only weapon, and no doubt several of her own in concealment, Orca steeled herself, preparing for whatever devious tricks the hero had in mind… “You dropped this.” The hero handed it up to her, holding it the wrong way around. Orca paused a moment before gingerly accepting it, more confused than ever. “Thanks?” Orca replied, unsure if she were stating it or asking it. She flipped the club around to wield it properly, but still hung her arm, and the club, limply at her side, unsure if it was necessary or not. Mutual fear of hostilities from the other were overlaid with the fact that they had both been, up to this point, polite and apologetic. Was it normal for an attacking enemy to apologize before trying to kill you, Orca wondered. “Are you here to kill us?” It was Orca who broke the silence this time. “Why would I do that?” Orca would have sneered at such an obvious question, seeing right through her faked ignorance to her malicious intent, except for the fact that the question felt so… genuine. From her sincere tone of voice to her face harboring not a whisper of hostility or trickery, Orca studied her closely and found that, much to her own surprise, she actually believed her. “I… don’t know,” Orca admitted at length, her voice hesitant. “Are you going to attack me?” asked the hero. “No. I’m off duty.” Orca had intended her answer to be as sincere as the question, though she sensed that it did nothing to put this little hero at ease. She thought to elaborate, but it was the hero’s next question that put Orca back on her guard. “Are you… real?” “Real?” Orca’s receding anger bubbled up again, her voice gaining an edge of steel. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” “Sorry! I don’t know, I just… I’m sorry!” The hero looked on the edge of tears. She covered her face with her hands and started swaying back and forth, apologizing even more. Orca’s anger cooled again as her rational intellect took over. Here was a hero, laying vulnerable and emotional, feeling as scared and upset as a lost child. From this position Orca could have slain her with one good blow, but it was clear to her that this girl was no threat. Hero or not, Orca felt bad for her, taking a moment to realize how imposing she must have looked towering over her like this. It was clearly her own fault for being so large and intimidating to this little creature. Convinced that any threat had passed, Orca sheathed the club, hunkering down on her haunches and extending an arm. “Would you like a hand?” The hero sniffed, wiping at her eyes before extending her own hand out to meet Orca’s. The orc observed how small and delicate the girl’s hand was in her own, as well as noting with distaste the feeling of wet tears on her palm. She swallowed her disgust and pulled the tiny hero to her feet, surprised at just how light she was. Orca could have lifted her clear into the air with only her one hand, if she had wanted. The two of them now standing, but not nearly at eye level, a new awkward silence filled the air between them. “Are you… okay?” Orca offered at length, hesitant of what else to say. “I think so,” the girl replied, wincing as she rubbed the back of her head. Orca looked anew at the wide streak of purple running down the hair on the right side of her face. “You’re not hurt?” “No…” “You look hurt,” Orca observed flatly. “Maybe a little,” the girl admitted. “But it’s okay. I don’t want to be a bother.” “Why are you a bother?” “I don’t know! I’m sorry.” “You say that a lot, you know?” “Do I? I’m sorry!” Orca just looked down at her. Her emotions had cycled from shock to suspicion to sympathy. She was trying to figure out how she felt now, carrying on in a strangely casual conversation with this awkward, docile little hero in the middle of their home. She was on one hand bemused by this funny little creature, but on the other hand annoyed by her constant apologetic nature. It was only at this point that Orca realized she didn’t even have a name for this creature. “I’m Orca.” “Violet,” The hero blinked up at her a few times in disbelief. “Orca? As in Orca, queen of the goblins?” “Well, I wouldn’t exactly put it like that…” “Aren’t you like the biggest, baddest boss in this entire place, though?” Orca puffed up with pride, all at once liking this tiny hero immensely. A stupid grin slapped onto her face as she spoke. “Go on…” “And that you’re super tough and strong and nobody can hurt you?” “Uh, huh…” Orca was beaming as brightly as the Sun itself. “And that a group of raiders beat you by strapping a bucket to your head so that you couldn’t see to fight back?” “THEY WERE CHEATING! THOSE LITTLE ASSHOLES TRICKED ME AND…” Violet had shriveled into a whimpering little puddle on the floor, shaking and sobbing again. Orca caught herself short, annoyed for having lost control and causing Violet to start the waterworks again. “Sorry,” Orca said, doubly annoyed at herself for doing what she had just criticized Violet for doing a moment ago. “It’s okay,” Violet said, sniffing back tears as Orca helped her back to her feet again. Orca once more choked back her disgust at feeling wet tears on her hand. The silence that followed afforded Orca the opportunity to ask the question burning brightest in her mind. “What are you doing here?” “I separated from my group,” Violet explained. “I went back to get my glasses and saw goblins going through a secret door. I thought it was like a secret passage to, I dunno, a treasure room or something. But instead I found myself here and I couldn’t get out and I didn’t know what to do and I saw all of you monsters walking around and I just got scared and… and…” Orca took a moment to unpack her rant. First and least surprising, this was the fault of the goblins she had been campaigning for this entire time. She loved those little guys, but even she had to admit they were not the brightest bunch. Secondly, her analogy of this hero being a lost, little child was more on the nose than she had imagined. A fleeting thought came to her that she could just kill this one stray hero easily and no one would know or come looking for her, and earn herself a trophy for doing it. Despite the fact that murdering heroes was her job, the thought of killing this one made her unreasonably agitated. It would, among other things, be very unsporting of her. Plus this girl looked like she bore all the challenge of defeating a wet paper bag. She shoved the thought from her mind with a shake of her head. With waterworks threatening again, Orca reassured her. “It’s fine. Look, just go back where you came from and we’ll pretend like this never happened. Okay?” “The doors locked.” “Oh, right, the lower dungeons closed for the night…” Orca chewed her lower lip in thought, between her tusks. “Dire Mountain is open.” “I’m not strong enough for that place! I would get killed!” “Yeah, you would!” Orca chuckled viciously before seeing how Violet was looking at her. She quickly dropped her grin and kept talking. “Go to the Castle, then? Isn’t that where all you crappy heroes hang out?” “Firstly, rude!” Orca made a physical effort to keep her evil grin from resurfacing as this tiny girl tried to scold her. “Secondly, I don’t know my way around. I’m lost.” “Just follow the green arrows,” Orca explained, pointing out the stripes on the wall Violet had seen earlier. “What if I run into a mean monster and they try to kill me?” “Then they would earn a free trophy for their collection. Er, uh…” For such a tiny creature, Orca realized, Violet could muster an pretty imposing stare herself when she wanted. “What I meant to say was…” She wracked her brain for better phrasing, then shrugged as she gave up. What she said was exactly what would happen. The sentence hung in the air, unfinished. At length, Violet spoke the silence. “Can you take me there?” Again, her plea was so childlike and earnest that it was adorable! Though whether in a good way or bad way, Orca wasn’t sure. But the question triggered a number of thoughts to run through her mind all at once. Yes, she could escort this wayward little hero back to her flock. The problem with that was explaining what she was doing with a hero at all. It was a miracle they hadn’t been discovered yet in this hallway where they were stood chatting. They certainly would not remain undiscovered traveling all the way to the hero’s Castle. And what would Orca say then? That it was the goblins who, in all of their years of living here, were the first ones to ever, ever let a hero in? She could kiss all of the progress she made fighting on their behalf goodbye. And if she accepted the blame for herself? That would put her at risk of getting demoted instead. That wasn’t happening, either. “Uh…” she stammered, indecisive. “Please?” begged the tiny child. “Orca! What are you doing?” Orca jumped, reflexively shoving the girl behind her, out of sight. Violet cried out in surprise before being muffled by a hand large enough to cover her face. “Throgg!” Orca replied, her voice wavering. “What, uh… What are you doing here? And what did you see?” “Huh?” The same familiar look shown through his eyes as he approached: a look like a lighthouse whose beacon had gone out long ago. “I’m here because I was looking for you. And I saw you, so I stopped. What are you doing here?” “That’s… That’s none of your business!” “Well, the goblins wanted to know if it would be better to invest in a 401k or open an IRA account,” Throgg explained. “Oh, and also, they wanted to know what those things even are, I guess?” He shrugged. Between that stupid shrug he always did and every stupid word coming out of his mouth, it was like pouring jet fuel onto the fires of her anger. Orca had suffered this man’s presence for years, and her tolerance for it only continued to wane. “Throgg, you idiot! Why are you bothering me with this nonsense! The goblins need actual respect and real acknowledgement from Management, not stupid promises and fake words to keep stringing them along! Now go back to Management and do something actually productive for once in your useless, pathetic life!” “Huh…” Throgg appeared to think it over, but Orca knew that was a lie. He was incapable of it. “Okay.” He turned to leave, allowing Orca a sigh of relief. That was until he stopped and turned back around. “What are you doing out here, anyway? And who were you talking to?” “What was I doing?” Orca repeated, embarrassed to have been caught and was angrier because of it. Her volume increased with every sentence spoken. “Who was I talking to? I was talking to Mind-Your-Own-Damn-Business! And I have a message from them. They say go stick your head in your marsh and die, you overgrown, useless sack of troll shit. Now get out of here before you really piss me off!” “How would that be different than normal?” Throgg asked. “LEAVE!” “Alright, alright…” Throgg mercifully gave in, turning around and sauntering off. The moment his back was turned, Orca hefted Violet up and pushed her around the corner and against the wall, her tiny body slapping the drywall harder than she had intended. “Ow!” Violet cried. “Sorry! Just… Shh!” She held her hand over Violet’s face again and craned her neck around the corner, making sure that lumbering oaf was out of sight. At length she finally relaxed, releasing her grip on the girl, dropping her the remaining few inches back onto the ground. Orca winced in embarrassment as she realized she had been holding the girl up in the air the whole time. “I guess I was wrong about you,” Violet admitted as she gathered herself back up, recovering from being orc-handled. “What do you mean?” Orca said, only half-paying attention as she still kept a nervous eye towards where Throgg had gone. “You are one of the mean monsters after all. I’ll find my own way back!” Violet shouldered her way out of Orca’s grasp and stormed down the corridor. “Wait, what?” Orca ran after, overtaking her stride with only a couple of steps. “Look, I’m sorry I grabbed you, but if that thundering moron had seen you…” “I don’t care about that!” Violet replied, still unwilling to face her. “Or the keeping your hand over my face. Or the carrying me around or pushing me against a wall or any of that. I used to get bullied at school, so it’s whatever to me.” “Bullied?” Orca blinked in naked confusion. Violet ignored her, pressing on. “I don’t like how you talk to him,” Violet said, pointing a finger Throgg’s direction. “What, that idiot?” Orca asked, still confused. “You’re doing it again! It’s mean and hurtful and I don’t like it. And I don’t want to be in the company of someone mean like you, so I’ll just find my own way back, even if I do get killed!” “Wait, wait, wait!” Orca pleaded, and this time Violet did wait. She pierced Orca with a tear-filled gaze of such raw poignant emotion. It left her taken aback, standing there feeling nakedly upset over some tiny, little hero. Orca took a deep breath, trying to calm herself before trying to start again. “Look, I… He and I are, uh…” Violet stood there, hands on her hips, waiting with visible irritation as Orca struggled to find the right words. “Well, the first thing you need to know about him is…” “Stop!” Violet held up her hand, cutting her short. “I’m not talking about him. I’m talking about you, and the way you were bullying him. I don’t care what you think he did to deserve it or not. It’s not nice!” Orca was starting to get mad again. Whether from embarrassment or just frustration, she was standing here listening to this hundred-pound nothing, twig of a girl telling her how she should or shouldn’t behave. Orca had a mind to tell her to go find her own swamp and drown in it, same as she told Throgg. But if she did that, Violet would just run away again and this time Orca wouldn’t be able to stop her. She would definitely get herself killed in here. But so what if she did? What did Orca care about that? It would just be another dead hero. She had stacks of trophies in her own quarters from her own kills. Hundreds of them! But that was different and Orca knew it. That was honorable combat with skilled opponents in fair combat. That was while doing her job. But this would just be a slaughter. And no matter how difficult this girl was being, it wouldn’t sit right with Orca, partially because half the damn monsters in this place would take that easy trophy without question. They’d be grateful for it! She could imagine some puny kobold carrying the trophy into the common room and showing it off to the others, telling the story of some stray little hero lost in the corridors who was easy pickings. She could also imagine herself driving her fist into that scrawny little runt... Violet kept staring at her, waiting for a response with her hands still on her hips, pulling Orca back into the present. “Fine!” Orca surrendered, arms at her side with palms up. “Fine. I was not nice. I promise to be less not nice from now on. Are you happy? May I please keep you from getting yourself killed now?” Violet pierced her with a surprisingly captivating gaze before yielding. “Okay. Sorry I was a little mean for a second there, too…” “If you apologize one more time, I’m going to…” Orca’s words caught in her throat, remembering the promise she had made less than ten seconds ago. Unfortunately her hands didn’t get the memo in time and continued wringing the invisible neck in front of her. Violet ignored it. “So, what now? Onward to the Castle?” “No, I don’t think so. The lower dungeons might be closed, but the Marshes will be switching to the night shift now, which means those passages will be hopping with more frog-people than you could croak at.” She paused, looking at Violet for a response. Violet just blinked several times, expressionless. “But…,” Orca pressed on, disappointed. “If we waited until dawn, the Marshes will be closed down and we could sneak right through without being seen.” “Dawn? But that’s, like… I mean, that’s an entire night away! What am I supposed to do? Where would I go? How would that even work here?” “Well, there is one place I could hide you where absolutely no one would look, not even that bumbling, idiotic—lovely, charming, delightful Throgg.” Orca changed her tone fast when she saw that look on Violet again. “Alright,” Violet conceded. “Okay. I guess that’s what we do. So, where are we going?” Orca pointed just down the hall to one of the side doors. “My place is just through there. How do you feel about sleepovers?” ***** III ***** There were pillows everywhere. Body pillows dominated a U-shaped floor sofa wrapping around a conversation pit sunken into the main living space. Ruffled throw pillows mounted a slipper chair with a wide curving back. Accent pillows adorned credenzas and rode atop free-standing ottomans. Smaller pillows rested on a single large chair which was, itself, yet another bean bag pillow. And where there were no actual pillows there were pillow-top benches or big, poufy cushions. And in every direction there was something to look at—every fabric a color bonanza, every wall covered by hanging afghans with deep hues of red and gold. The carpet itself was thick plush, bursting with colorful geometric shapes. Doorways were carved into ornate pointed arches. The living room ceiling vaulted upward into a dome, the sides of which tiled in vibrant green and gold. Violet didn’t know where to look first. In all directions, on every single surface of every single object, there was something to get lost in. She was still in the doorway, lost to the sights: standing like a deer captivated by a thousand flashing headlamps on all sides. Orca had only left her alone for a minute to go change. When she came back, Violet had shed her boots, her colored scarves, her leather jerkin and greaves and was lying face down on the floor making snow angels in the shag carpet. “It’s soooo soft!” she exclaimed, her voice muffled through the thick shag. She looked up at Orca’s arrival and squealed in delight. “OH MY GOD! That is so cute!” Orca just stood there feeling utterly confused. Violet was swooning over her bright pink sweatpants covered in white hearts, oversized tie-dye sweatshirt that fell to her mid-thigh, and pair of comically large bunny slippers with ears that stood tall and upright like cuddly antennas. “What?” Orca asked, dumbfounded. Minutes later, they had settled onto the low seating of the depressed conversation pit and were making small talk. Orca dominated one entire side of the couch as she sprawled on her side, her head propped up on one arm. Violet herself was snuggled into an opposite facing chair, flanked on all sides by a human-sized nesting of pillows. Her legs were pulled up against her chest, her arms wrapped around them as she gently flipped her white socked feet up and down like pinball paddles. The rest of her was covered by her soft black leggings and Renaissance-themed cotton tunic—an embarrassing void of color compared to Orca and her rainbow abode. Violet kept looking at Orca’s long dark hair, released from its tight ponytail to cascade freely all around her. She couldn’t take her eyes off Orca’s emerald skin, looking so different and alien, but yet somehow natural and exactly right on a woman like Orca. The darker tone of her skin matched the playful explosion of color on her pajamas. Violet went on to admire the cute little tusks that poked out of her mouth even when it was closed. She even liked Orca’s mole on her cheek, looking so much like a beauty mark. Orca looked at her staring, causing Violet to blush and look awkwardly away. “I’ve never seen an orc up close like this before,” Violet admitted. “Sorry if I’m staring.” “You always killed them from afar?” Orca asked, her voice unusually casual despite the accusation. Violet shook her head violently, causing her burrow of pillows to tremble. “No, no, no! Never anything like that! I just never, you know…” She gestured at her companion, and the entire room around them. “I’ve just never seen a real live orc quite like this, or in a home like yours. Like, I never knew a place like this even existed. Or that people actually lived here!” “What, you think we just stand there in our dungeons every second of every day and just wait for you people to show up?” “Well, yeah…” Violet replied. “I mean, I guess I hadn’t ever thought about it like that before. But I can’t get over the fact that all of this is real!” Orca snorted, whether in good humor or not Violet was unsure. “You come here with your other heroes to kill of us all in our own dungeons,” Orca explained. “And then somehow you doubt whether we’re even real or not? How does that make sense?” “Well, you see, you’re… I mean, all of this, this whole place is, uh… Well…” Orca snorted again, this time in clear contempt. “Typical. The hero thinks this place is all about them.” “I mean… isn’t it, though? Is it not?” Orca rolled onto her back, a hand placed behind her head, preferring to face her domed ceiling instead of her guest. “No. And yes. This place was built for your kind, but without us here to populate it, this place wouldn’t be anything at all. Just cold, empty dungeons with no trinkets to pilfer. And all of us monsters need a place to live and sleep and eat, same as any of you do. How your kind didn’t know that already is beyond me!” “Okay, about that—I have, like, a million questions.” “Shoot.” Violet proceeded with a lightning round, launching off question after question as soon as she could think of them. Orca, to her credit, kept up and answered each as quick as they came. “What do you eat here?” “Usually whatever they serve in the common room.” “Is it normal food or gross monster food?” “Sometimes one, sometimes the other.” “What’s your favorite food?” “Chocolate truffles, with peanut butter inside. Or maybe lasagna. Not both.” “What do you do for fun?” “Work. Hike. Explore. Read. Knit occasionally.” “What do monsters do when they’re not on the job?” “Whatever they want, same as heroes. Read books, watch television, exercise, games, gambling—whatever.” “Do they have big houses for big monsters and little houses for little monsters?” “It would be weird if they didn’t, wouldn’t it?” “Do monsters brush their teeth?” “God, I hope so.” “Do you have, like, normal bathrooms? Or weird, fantasy bathrooms?” “The hell is a weird, fantasy bathroom?” Orca asked, looking pointedly over at Violet again. “You mean do we shit in buckets and empty them into the local river? No. Indoor plumbing is this orc’s best friend. Go look for yourself, if you’re so damn curious about my crapper! Weirdo.” “I think I will!” Violet replied. Orca pointed the direction and Violet took her escape, closing and locking the door behind her. “Damn, if you had to go, you could have just asked…” Orca muttered, laying her head back down on the couch. Violet did indeed need to, but that was only partially the reason for her escape. After using the very much modern-looking commode and hand sink, she took a look around. Peeking behind the shower curtain, she found evidence that confirmed her suspicions. After seeing Orca’s lodgings and most especially her modern day sleepwear, Violet wondered about just what kinds of goods these monsters had access to in this ‘fantasy’ landscape. Violet picked up matching bottles of Neutrogena shampoo and conditioner, all dated recently. Next to them were L’Oreal skin creams, lotions, bath soaps, razors, and all manner of disappointingly ordinary things that any human woman would own. Somehow, that just made it seem all the more unreal to her—here was this decidedly non-human, monstrous, very much fantasy orc woman using the same brand hair care she used for herself at home. Like the peek behind Oz’s curtain earlier, the starkly mundane somehow soured the illusion of the fantastic. Violet even chuckled a little when she picked up the body wash and discovered that it was intended for men. ‘For the masculine outdoorsman,’ it read. Once her curiosity was sated, Violet exited the bathroom. “Took you long enough,” Orca said, looking back over at Violet as she approached. “You find any weird, fantasy shit in there? A shelf with three seashells, maybe?” “No, it all looked… disappointingly normal.” Violet took her seat back, surrounding herself by her legion of pillows like before. Then she spoke up again as Orca’s words tugged at her mind. “Wait. That reference earlier, the three seashells. How do you know it?” “Did I mention the televisions before?” “Well, yeah, but I just thought you had, like…” Violet struggled for the right words. “Like, monster… shows? Local dungeon news? No?” Orca laughed—a guffaw that, for the very first time since Violet had met her, was most definitely good-natured. “Not unless you count Sesame Street, maybe. No, we get normal human shows and movies here. Blu-Rays, DVDs, that type of thing. We’re monsters, not Amish.” “So we are humans to you? You just kept calling us ‘heroes,’ I thought there was some reason for it.” “Semantics,” Orca explained, waving it away with her hand. “Over here, there are humans, or human-like monsters, that are grouped in with the rest of us. Evil wizards, cultist acolytes, crazed zealots, etcetera, etcetera. Then there’s you lot, on your side, that are the heroes, which are always human. So instead of referring to you as humans and getting you mixed up with our humans, we just say heroes. Easier that way.” “Got it,” Violet replied. “So you watch our shows out here. Okay. What about Netflix? I have some favorites on that!” “Nah, no Netflix,” Orca explained. “No Internet.” “Wait, seriously?” Violet asked. “Why?” Orca just raised her arms up in a shrug. “Doesn’t work that way here. No idea. Ask Management.” “Who?” “Our boss’s boss’s boss. Runs this entire place. You’d have to ask them.” “Who are they?” “Don’t know that either,” Orca said. “Never met them. We only ever hear from Management when they’re mad or when they want to change something. Otherwise, no one really knows. Only thing we do know is that, if they ever do want something, it’s always bad.” “Oh...” Violet looked around the room once more, taking advantage of a lull in the conversation to feast on the colors. “I love your place! It’s so pretty.” “Oh?” Orca looked around as if only just noticing it. “Thank you.” “And your pillows! They’re so comfy!” Violet’s gaze went back to Orca herself, lounging on her couch, her long hair flowing around her. “And your hair. It’s so beautiful!” “I WILL KILL YOU FOR THAT!” Orca was on her feet, towering over her and brandishing a wooden club from nowhere down at her. A sudden murderous rage filled her eyes, horrifying Violet. “Wait, what?” she stammered, trying to shove back into the cushions. She pushed herself backward, cowering behind pillows like tiny plush shields. “What are you doing?” “I invite you into my house and this is how you repay me? BY MOCKING ME?” “I’m not mocking you!” Violet pleaded frantically, suddenly vividly aware of how terrifying this orc hd been when they had first met. “I’m not mocking you! Please, stop it!” “You lie!” Orca raged. “Orcs are vicious. Strong. Powerful! We are warriors, built for battle and destruction. We are not ‘beautiful’. Quit lying to me!” “Wait, is that what you think?” Violet hated the way Orca could snap at any moment with her terrible temper, but in this case, she felt like she understood some of it. “Who told you that?” “We are not ‘told’ how we are,” Orca replied, still towering over her, club raised. “We just are! Do you need someone to tell you that you’re a lowly hero, or is that just what you are?” “I mean, I was only referring to your hair, but, like… has no one really ever told you that you’re beautiful? Or pretty? Or, like… any other compliment, ever?” “I am told that I am strong, and an excellent fighter. Those I accept. But to hear anything else that’s obviously a lie is just insulting!” “Now that, that is just… horse doo-doo!” Violet blurted out. She stood upright on the couch cushion, the wooden club leveled at her chest as she sternly faced Orca down yet again. “Look, you’re clearly a little sensitive about your appearance. Like, a lot. But I get it, believe me! And I would not tell you something that I did not genuinely believe, alright? …Alright?” “But, if that’s the case, then…” Orca faltered, her gaze shifting away. “Then, why do you believe something that isn’t true?” “Because maybe it actually is true, but we only just think we don’t deserve to hear them?” Violet suddenly found herself remembering her own mother trying to tell her this exact thing so many times over. Violet never imagined she would be recounting her mother’s words to someone else, or to some mythological orc monster of all people. “Maybe we are only just convincing ourselves that we’re not beautiful, when in actuality, maybe it really is true? How would we know if we keep trying to convince ourselves that we’re not?” “We aren’t made to be pretty, though,” Orca argued. “Orcs are made for fighting and killing. Not for their looks!” “If orcs are made only for fighting and killing, then why do you like to read? Or knit? Are orcs made for reading and knitting, too?” “It’s just a hobby…” “Or, if orcs are only good for fighting and killing, why do you like eating chocolate and lasagna, but not together?” Violet persisted. “They’re yummy…” “And if orcs are really only good for fighting, why do you live in an apartment with a ba-zillion pillows? Are these good for killing? Huh?” Violet slammed a handful of throw pillows over at Orca as she spoke. “What about those cute little pink sweatpants with hearts on them? Or those adorable fuzzy bunny slippers? Are those made only for fighting and killing, too?” “They’re comfy!” “Then why, if you do all of these things that aren’t just for ‘fighting and killing’, why can’t you also look pretty too, huh? Why not?” “Because… I don’t?” Orca replied, her voice growing distant, her eyes turned away. “I don’t look pretty.” “Well, I think you do look pretty! So there! And if you don’t like that, then you can just… just go ahead and smack me with that big ol’ club of yours!” Orca looked at Violet, then to the club in her hand, then back down at Violet, blinking several times wordlessly. “Okay, but please don’t actually smack me with it, alright? That looks like it would hurt.” Orca’s arms shook in frustration, and for just a moment Violet closed her eyes and winced, expecting a blow to come. But Orca threw the club away instead, where it landed in an explosion of pillows. She stared down at Violet in frustration. “Why are you so difficult!” “I had a strong role model growing up,” Violet replied earnestly. “Well… stop it!” “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can. It just upsets me so much when I see someone I care about upset, especially when I went through the same kind of thing they did.” “But, now…” Violet continued, wagging a vicious finger at the seven-foot tall orc standing in front of her. “We need to have a serious talk about your temper!” ***** IV ***** The remainder of the night passed without further incident. Violet bemused Orca by describing the many different flavors of ice cream she enjoyed. Orca returned the favor by letting Violet stomp around in her oversized bunny slippers. They both took a moment to ponder the mysteries of which type of noodle made the superior lasagna, staring up at the domed ceiling together as they did. When Orca bid her goodnight and disappeared into her bedroom behind a closed door, Violet, who had her choice of every cushioned surface in the house, accepted the couch as a bed and tried to fall asleep. Her excitement at the day and the wonder of her newfound surroundings kept her awake a while longer. The morning light beckoned with the savory smells of bacon and eggs. Violet arose to the sight of Orca mastering her kitchenware, dressed already for the day in a metal cuirass and greaves, both bound firmly by buckled leather straps. As if the sight of a giant orc woman making breakfast should have ever been routine, the addition of her flipping eggs and stirring bacon while outfitted in full body armor was doubly impressive. “Dressed for work already, I see?” Violet mused, rubbing her eyes. “I am. Hope you like your eggs sunny-side up.” They weren’t her favorite, but Violet didn’t want to say anything contrarian lest she set Orca off again. They settled back into the conversation pit to eat, Orca forced to sit stiff upright due to her plate metal. Her hair was back into its tightly bound braid once again, just as rigid and formal as the rest of her. Violet was sad to see her flowing hair gone but wasn’t about to say anything about that either. Their small talk was companionable and pleasant, despite Violet feeling on edge about Orca’s unpredictable temper. Orca collected the dishes afterward and Violet thanked her for the meal before assembling her own gear once again. “Well, I’m due at Dire Mountain at eight this morning. Twilight Marsh is closed by now, and all the frog-people should have leaped on out of there by now.” She glanced at Violet, who was too preoccupied with the straps of her jerkin to notice. Still nothing. “It should be clear to get you back on home now,” Orca continued, still disappointed. “Should I wear a disguise this time?” Violet offered. “Like, to look like one of your evil wizard people, maybe?” “Uh, I don’t think that would help,” Orca explained. “If you actually saw the type of humans that lived on our side, you’d realize you don’t exactly meet the qualifications to blend in as one of them.” “What do you mean?” “You’re not ugly enough,” Orca said flatly. Violet couldn’t decide if there was a compliment to be had in there or not. “But here, I’ll give you my poncho I sometimes wear when I visit the Tangled Thickets,” Orca continued. “Worst case scenario, just pull the hood up and I’ll do the talking.” Violet was left swimming in Orca’s dark leather poncho. It was big enough to hold two, maybe even three of her all at once. She raised the hood, which hung down low and obscured most of her vision as she walked. She also had to hold up the bottom of it like a child in her mother’s dress. The entire thing ended up being unnecessary, as Orca’s prediction about the route being clear was correct. Navigating the winding maze of samely corridors and painted lines, Violet followed as Orca led to yet another door with a metal push bar. This one gave easily, opening up to a familiar looking cobble courtyard nestled in an alleyway between wooden shops. This was the central intersection right in front of the Castle proper, with streets branching out in all directions. The morning crowd was only beginning to assemble as Violet heard the familiar din of vendors, shoppers, and loiterers. Violet stepped just beyond the doorway and looked back, seeing much to her amusement that she had stepped directly out of a wide tree growing in a small dirt lot adjacent to the alleyway. “Boy, these things really do lead everywhere, don’t they?” she mused. “Yep, they sure do,” Orca agreed before turning to leave. “Well, it was fun. Bye!” “Wait!” Violet called out, halting the orc in her tracks. “What about… I mean, that can’t just be it, right?” “What do you mean?” Orca’s eyes kept darting around Violet’s frame. She was clearly feeling very nervous about being this close to the Castle and the heroes who strode past just beyond the alley. “I mean, what about everything we shared? The… the talks, the breakfast, the night at your place? All of it?” “Yeah, it was fun,” Orca agreed. “Thanks.” “And that’s just… Well, that’s it then?” Violet asked, exasperated. “Nothing else?” “Like what?” Orca asked. She kept eyeing the streets around Violet, barely paying attention to her words. Evern her body was twisted around, pointing back the way they had come, looking like a bullet anxious to be shot off and gone as soon as possible. “I don’t know! I mean, I guess… I just thought maybe, like maybe we could…” “Look, it’s getting on towards eight,” Orca said, cutting her short. “If I don’t get to work soon those heroes are gonna walk right off with the treasure, then I’ll never hear the end of it from my boss. Plus if I get seen around here, that’s gonna be a whole other bunch of trouble I don’t need. So, yeah, glad it worked out the way it did. Happy you didn’t die. It was fun. But I gotta get back now. Good luck out there!” Then she released the door, letting it close with a gut-wrenching slam. All at once there was nothing in front of Violet save for an old tree—not even a single seam remained. It had all been just like that door: open to something impossible and wonderful but gone just as quickly as it had appeared. One moment she had been on this amazing, magical, emotional journey with someone she thought she had grown close with. A friend, at the very least. But with an echoing slam and latch of cold steel, it all disappeared in the blink of an eye, leaving behind a stupid, uncaring tree as if there have never been anything in the first place. Violet tried to feel for the edges of the door, or a secret latch, or anything at all. But it was all completely useless. It was nothing but an old oak tree standing before her, mocking her for even trying. Save for the comically large poncho she wore, the whole thing might as well have never happened at all. Defeated and ashamed, Violet had no choice but to give up and make her way slowly back to Applewood Manor. She hadn’t even exited the alleyway before her tears began. ***** V ***** Applewood Manor was many things to many different people. At its most basic, it was a Dormitory-style residence with two wide-reaching wings spanning multiple floors. Heroes could claim one of the dozens of bedrooms to stash away goods or just have a quiet space to themselves. There was also a common room, a dining hall, and a war room, complete with meager but serviceable reading materials for heroes of all experience levels. Beyond being strictly a physical structure, Applewood Manor also provided a guild structure, with leaders and officials maintaining the day-to-day by organizing events and raids. Applewood was also a haven for new heroes where they could relax, learn about the world, and mingle with like-minded people in a safe, caring environment. When Violet slinked in through the towering, iron-bound wooden doors, she heard the familiar commotion of a dozen people, carrying on with conversation or laughing at jokes. It all sounded strangely reminiscent of another otherworldly common room she had visited recently. A wide red rug covered polished dark wood flooring. Dual grand staircases dominated the view, sweeping around to the upper landing, leading to a spiral staircase that ascended even further beyond. An ornate chandelier burned with perpetual blue flames above. The walls were adorned with high quality prints of key locations within the world, framed and labeled with gold plates. Open doorways lined each side of the wide hallway leading to all the main rooms. Violet made for the left staircase, intending to bypass the lower level and its crowd entirely, when a familiar face called out to her. “Good morning, Miss Violet.” That was Aura, the guild leader of Applewood Manor. He wore his usual dark twill, double-breasted frock coat with ornate copper buttons. A pair of thin, rectangular spectacles with copper-colored frames rested on his nose. A pressed button-down, formal dark slacks, and sharp loafers lead to a very dapper look overall. But Aura’s most noteworthy characteristic remained the living accessory perched on his left shoulder: an adult green macaw by the name of Kiwi. “Kiwi!” exclaimed the macaw in its usual greeting, its head cocked sideways. “Oh. Hi, Aura…” Violet tried to muster a smile, hoping to brush past quickly. “Miss Violet, Ambrose asked me to pass along a message,” Aura persisted, politely blocking her way. “In it, there were a number of expletives of which I am choosing to omit. Something about leaving her in the lower dungeons. Then more colorful expletives. Then eventually, she passed me these.” Aura pulled open a drawer from the cabinet adorning the wall. From it he procured Violet’s missing glasses as well as a new dagger, the blade curved and colored with a shimmering turquoise hue. “She saved it for you from the spoils of the dungeon,” Aura explained. “I think she was intending it to be a gesture of goodwill, but from her choice of language throughout, it’s safe to say there were mixed messages.” “Yeah…” Violet took her glasses and the new dagger, her would-be enthusiasm at a new weapon hampered. “I kind of left her mid-run. Something… came up.” She hesitated, selective with her word choice. “Well, that happens,” Aura replied, pushing his thin spectacles back up the bridge of his nose. “Ambrose will calm down, eventually.” “Where is Ambrose, anyway? I was hoping to apologize to her.” “She just left. Seems she was taking part in a raid on Dire Mountain at eight o’clock this morning.” The irony of the situation hit Violet like a door slammed in her face. She didn’t know if she should be laughing or crying. “Something the matter, Miss Violet?” Aura asked, his head cocked and his eyes filled with concern. “Just… allergies,” Violet said, wiping frantically at her eyes. “Here?” Aura cocked an eyebrow. “That seems exceptionally unlikely…” “Okay, thanks for the dagger. Gotta go, bye!” Violet fled, escaping up the stairs as Aura stared after, Kiwi flapping his wings from his shoulder. Violet bounded for her room, slammed it shut behind her, and collapsed down onto the bed. The events of the night prior played through her head at random, the words spoken back and forth playing like a twisted mix tape in her mind. Had she read too much into it? Had it been something she said? Had she been too mean to Orca during the many times Violet had scolded her? Violet ran her hands over the comforter on her bed, feeling even more upset at its stiff, rigid texture. “It’s not even as soft!” she cried out in frustration. Foregoing the shameful bed entirely, Violet pushed herself to her feet only to sit at the wooden writing desk sitting underneath the one small window. Taking parchment and a self-inking quill from a drawer, Violet sprawled her feelings into words between the privacy of her, her quill, and the unspeaking parchment. Journaling in private often provided the only comfort she needed as it had done many times before while growing up. She kept the quill moving for hours until she had run out of words, eventually stashing all of it in a drawer before eventually being comfortable enough to return to public again. The evening was mercifully calm. Violet became overtaken by the usual going-ons around the Manor she forgot to be upset. She walked the common rooms, finding Aura and Kiwi at a desk in the war room, going over statistics and balance sheets. The common room held many other their other guild members both old and new. Violet recognized a few of the faces there but was pleased to see many more than she didn’t. That meant that their guild was growing and helping out even more new people. From the bookshelves of the common room, she perused some of the maps of this world’s many dungeons. Not one of them even hinted at secret service tunnels and houses for use by the monsters only. Disappointed but not surprised, Violet folded the maps back up and continued to wander around the grounds. Violet’s exploration eventually led her to the apple orchard growing out front of the Manor. Here many of the newest guild members were practicing their abilities. Among the perfectly spaced rows of heavily laden fruit trees, Violet spotted Jackurn and Alyrra, each brandishing their weapons at the unsuspecting plants. Violet approached, attempting to apologize but neither of them would have it. “It’s okay, Violet,” Alyrra assured her with a smile. “We were just happy to have you along with us for part of it.” “That just left more big monsters for me to beat up all by myself!” Jackurn explained, who was swinging at, and missing, the apple trees all around them with his overgrown warhammer. His oversize platemail was absent, revealing a short, portly figure with ruffled brown hair and round face. “I’m gonna be the strongest ever!” “Oh, by the way,” Alyrra said, putting aside her practicing to approach Violet. “Dinner is being provided at the guild hall tonight. I was wondering, if you were planning on attending, maybe we could go there together..?” “Oh, is it Friday evening again already?” Violet asked, already cheering up. “I think that’s a great idea. I’d love to go! When is it starting?” “In just a few minutes, I think” Alyrra answered. “So, did you want to go together, or…” “Of course I’d be happy to meet all of you guys there!” Violet beamed. “We’re one big family here at Applewood, after all. Oh, and I bet Ambrose will be there. I need to go apologize to her, too!” Violet dashed off, heading for the dining room in search of her friend. All members of Applewood Manor were welcome around the enormous dining table for that night’s feast. Two tall fireplaces of rough stone flanked the room on opposing ends, yawning at each other with fiery tongues. The flames burned cozy, spitting and sputtering around a generous supply of fresh-cut logs. The meal itself was grand as always: roasted turkey with sides of vegetables: cooked potatoes, carrots, bell peppers and asparagus. They collectively dug in, the clink of silverware and the idle sounds of conversation filling the wide room. “You know what I love about make-believe fantasy food?” Jackurn asked to no one, his mouth still full as he spoke. “Do we want to know?” replied Ambrose, who had recently returned from their raid to join them. “It’s always good here! Not like my mom makes.” “I don’t know. Your mom makes a killer breakfast…” “Yeah!” Jackurn agreed, completely missing the point of Ambrose’s joke. Ambrose kept on, stabbing a fork-full of asparagus to prove her point. “This is the same food, Jackurn. Tastes exactly the same.” “No! In real life it’s yucky.” Ambrose opened her mouth as if to reply, then just shook her head. She turned to address the rest of the table. “No one tell him it tastes the same back home! He couldn’t handle it. It would blow his mind!” “Plus everything is purple here!” Jackurn exclaimed, referring to the vegetable sides. “Make-believe food is more fun when it’s purple!” “Uh, Jackurn,” Violet explained, gently. “These vegetables can be purple back home, too…” “Hah, ha, ha! No they’re not…” Violet started to reply, but Ambrose cut her off with a shake of her head. She pointed to her own noggin, then splayed her fingers out while imitating an explosion sound. Violet took the opportunity to have a closer look at Ambrose. She carried herself surprisingly similar to Orca: both of them presented as proud and strong, unafraid to be who they were. In Ambrose’s case, with the sides of her head shaved, her appearance matched her personality: unapologetic and bold. Ambrose never made any attempt to shy away or lessen herself, unlike how Violet felt most of the time. Ambrose’s red duster was absent that evening, revealing a figure that was not at all shy, just like her personality. She wore a form-fitted, dark leather corset over top a low-cut, sleeveless blouse. This left her muscular arms exposed, as well as putting on display her full-figured size and feminine features. Violet was in awe of Ambrose’s bravery to put herself out there like that, as well as having a robustness she could never match with her unfortunate frame. “Jackurn, the guild can’t afford to keep feeding you,” Ambrose teased. “You eat too damn much.” “I have to grow big in order the be the strongest strong person there ever was!” “That’s going to take a lot more than just food, in that case,” Ambrose joked. “Just wait until you grow up and your metabolism takes a crap on you.” “I am grown up!” Jackurn shouted, suddenly upset. “I’m very grown up! I am at least twenty-ninety-million years more grown up than you!” “Seriously? What are you, like, twelve? Nine?” “No! And you’re a guy in real life but nobody says anything about that!” “You little shit!” Ambrose yelled, shoving back from the table and shooting to her feet. “I’ll kill you!” They shot off, Jackurn running full throttle out of dining room while Ambrose, in hot pursuit, tried to strangle the air in front of her. “Get back here, you little bastard!” The others kept eating, conversation resuming as normal as if nothing had ever happened. This was just another evening at Applewood. Alyrra, who ended up seating herself beside Violet at the table, leaned in close to whisper in an urgent voice. “Is Ambrose really a guy in real life?” Violet just shrugged, chewing on a mouthful of potatoes. “Does it matter?” Alyrra looked disturbed but Violet just took a drink and moved on, paying it no mind. “Oh, I meant to ask!” Violet said aloud, swallowing her bite. “How did Ambrose’s raid go?” “As I understand it,” Aura explained, Kiwi still on his shoulder, shifting constantly to watch the surrounding commotion. “It went poorly. The entire group died halfway through.” “Oh…” Violet wondered how she should feel about that. Upset for Ambrose? Happy for Orca? Annoyed that the brief morning they shared together was abruptly cut short for no reason at all? It was all very confusing. Dinner time dissolved as each attendee eventually excused themselves. The dirty dishes and leftovers, through the magic of convenience and game nonsense, would vanish themselves after a certain time, rendering the act of cleaning up pointless. Violet joined her friends in the common room where Ambrose and Jackurn ended up reappearing. Those needing to leave for the evening filed out, leaving only the oldest guild members remaining. Violet was so grateful for her little family in this place. Whenever things were going poorly in her life, she could always count on these guys making her feel better. It reminded her of why she visited here in the first place, and how fortunate she was for the opportunity to do so. Begrudgingly, Violet also excused herself and left into the night. She had already spent far more time in this place than she had intended, staying the night for the first time ever. As she returned home, she spared a thought for what Orca might have been doing in her own house that evening. ***** VI ***** “Aura, what do you know about Dire Mountain?” “Oh, quite a bit, I would say. What would you like to know, Violet?” After a couple day absence, Violet had caught Aura in the war room where he was studying different charts. Kiwi was preening himself on a nearby bird stand. “Well, you’ve been around here a long time, right?” Violet asked. “Since the first beta build.” “Well, I’ve never been to Dire Mountain. Do you think it might be possible to, like… go through it by myself?” Aura looked up at her with a quizzical expression from behind his desk. Even Kiwi looked sideways over at her. “Ambrose couldn’t get halfway through with an army of twenty. How do you propose you would succeed on your own?” “Uh… By being very sneaky?” “Not likely. They have dragons who can see through stealth.” “And I don’t imagine I would get very far by stabbing my way through? No? Okay…” A pause hung between them. Violet tried and failed to think of a way to navigate a dungeon she wasn’t even powerful enough to visit. “Well, what if I were nice to them?” Violet proposed. “Has anyone tried that yet?” Aura just looked up at her through his skinny frames. “Do you intend to compliment your way past each of the monsters? Is that what you’re asking me?” Violet just sighed, dejected. How was she ever going to see Orca again if she couldn’t even set foot in her dungeon? “Why the sudden interest in Dire Mountain?” Aura asked, his charts long since forgotten. “Is it because of Miss Ambrose’s ongoing raid in that dungeon?” “Well, no. I just saw–heard–that the big boss at the end–well, not big as in big big but just tall and muscular and that kind of thing–that she was just very, uh… nice?” Aura sat there, patiently waiting to Violet’s ridiculous rambling, a ghost of a grin curling one side of his lips. “You mean Orca, queen of the orcs?” Aura asked once Violet had stopped to take a breath. “Yeah, her!” “Not sure I’d choose ‘nice’ as a way to describe her,” Aura replied. “She’s strong enough to cut an entire raid down. She’s taken on twenty players at a time, and won. Though if you did manage to kill her, there would be a nice dagger in it for you.” “Kill her? Why would I want to do that?” Aura just raised an eyebrow at her. Violet took a moment to realize what she had asked before her cheeks started burning in embarrassment. Avoiding Aura’s gaze, Violet looked all around at a room lined with weapons, guides, and gear all singularly designed to do just that: kill monsters. Aura spoke again after a moment’s pause. “If you would like to read about the dungeon and its boss, you could try the library in town. That’s the next best thing to actually being there.” “I guess I could try that… Thanks.” Violet turned to leave before a different thought overtook her. She turned to face Aura once more. “Aura?” “Present.” “Is it possible to bring things here? Like, from real life?” Aura fixed her with a curious look again. “Certainly not. Why do you ask?” “Well, I saw that—I mean, I heard from a friend, that it… might be possible? Maybe?” Violet’s voice rose in octaves as she struggled through the question, becoming less and less sure of herself. Aura favored her with a chuckle before returning to his parchments. “Nope, afraid not. You heard wrong. Have fun at the library.” The library, while very interesting, was no more helpful than Aura had been. There was a very comprehensive bestiary containing detailed statistics and information on every monster. Violet was particularly amused to see an entire section dedicated to Orca, about her stats as a character, with her strengths and weaknesses in combat. How weird must it feel to have your entire existence boiled down to numbers on a sheet of paper, Violet mused. Sadly, there was no mention of Orca’s interests in exotic architecture, being a successful pillow farmer, or of her adorable bunny slippers. Beyond that, the encyclopedia spoke about the dragons and demon-people surrounding the base of the mountain, and how the final encounter itself took place inside the volcano. While sounding very cool, it didn’t help solve the problem at hand. Violet flipped through the pages. The library did an excellent job of capturing the comforting smell of old books on yellowing paper. It really enhanced the experience of being in some ancient library. The dragons could fly at high speeds, use fire and other elemental attacks, swipe with their claws and tails, bite with their teeth, and a whole bunch of other useless things. Violet continued to skim through: iron-hide plating, high health total, no real vulnerabilities to speak of, etcetera, etcetera. She flipped the page again. Demons, like the ones seen in Dire Mountain, had this much health and those kinds of attacks and these kinds of armor scores and these other types of abilities and… and… “This is all stupid game-y stuff!” Violet cried out, slamming the book shut in frustration. “This is no help at all.” Nowhere in this all-encompassing encyclopedia did it list that demons enjoyed watching television, for instance. Violet distinctly remembered seeing a soap opera on during their brief time in the monsters’ dining hall. Drawn in these books were depictions of them all at their most ferocious. Claws out, teeth bore, wings spread, all looking angry and hostile. This contrasted sharply to the image she captured in her mind of those exact same demons sitting at a bar laughing amongst each other. The peek behind the curtain had jaded Violet. She slammed this latest book shut too, sighing deeply. Sliding the volume back onto the shelf, she shot to her feet with fresh determination. “I’ll just have to figure it out for myself!” The stone archway entrance towered overhead. Past two thick wooden doors rose the smoke-capped peak of Dire Mountain. A rough stone path leading up to billowing clouds swirling around the base of this dormant volcano. Thunder rumbled grumbled in the distance like angry giants. Directly behind those looming doors were skulls impaled on spikes and rotted corpses wearing rusted mail plate. “Right. Not intimidating at all…” Violet gulped, feeling suddenly very small. She took a small step forward, and then another, until the towering doorframe stood behind her. Standing mere feet beyond the dungeon entrance, the safety of the streets officially left behind, her boots stood upon the winding gravel path. “Alright. First steps taken. Not so bad so far!” She took another step. Then another. Convincing herself that everything was fine, she began to enjoy the crunchiness of the gravel beneath her boots. And that thunder rumbling in the distance? That was just a big kitty cat purring up on the mountain top. And those corpses and skulls around her? Not real, of course. Just Halloween decorations. Everyone knew that. And those big, winged demons stomping towards her with heavy hoof-falls and wicked curved scimitars? Just big teddy bears, who secretly liked television and hanging out at their local bar. Why, they weren’t so bad after all. They were probably very chummy. “Hello! I’m Violet. Do you happen to know where I could find Orca…” Three wide scimitars pierced her chest in quick succession, pushing all the way out her back. Her breath caught, a burning pain overwhelmed her, her senses failing in an instant. She stumbled forward helplessly, unable to even cry out. Then in an instant, Violet was back facing the dungeon’s doorway again, the volcano looming in the background as if nothing had ever happened. She got up from where she was kneeling in the dirt and brushed off her greaves. “Yeah, I didn’t think it was going to be that easy,” she admitted to herself. “I’ll just have to keep trying!” Violet tugged up her greaves, unsheathed her brand new shimmering turquoise dagger, took a deep breath, and charged forward back into the dungeon. “Alright you big meanies, you tell me where Orca is right now, or I’ll take this dagger and…” She was kneeling back in the dirt in front of the open doorway once more, Dire Mountain looming in the distance. Grimacing as the pain of being skewered faded, she rose back up and charged forward once again. “You just stop that right now, you big mean doo-doo heads!” Violet was kneeling in the dirt in front of the entrance again. Ahead of her, the mountain remained as distant as always. She stomped her feet in frustration, staring daggers at that stupid old mountain. “Fine! New plan…” Violet hunkered down, making herself as small as possible. She crawled into the dungeon, darting from one rock to the next. She got close enough to peek over and watch the three demons standing on the path, tails twitching, arms out and claws raised to look as intimidating as possible. She could hear their deep huffing breaths and their grunting as they stared unmoving toward the entrance. So far so good, Violet thought to herself. Feeling emboldened, she made for the next rock along the path. Then she heard their heavy footfalls stomp toward her and knew what was about to happen. “Oh, fiddlesticks…” She knelt back in the dirt before the entrance, the mountain unmoved. Standing up once again, she stared back out at the path. “I must have made too much noise,” she said to herself. “I just need to be better, like Ambrose is! She would know what to do here…” Her spirit undeterred, Violet set out once more. A minute later, she reappeared back in the same spot. “Too much noise again,” she assured herself. “If I’m ever going to be good enough to see Orca, I need to keep practicing!” She set out again. And then again a moment later. And then again after that. She kept trying, practicing new approaches with new strategies. Should she sneak this way or that way, what rocks could she or couldn’t she hide behind, how close could she get until she pulled their attention, how far could she get if she tried to outrun them? The answer: not very far. Various experiments like these continued on over and over again. It wasn’t until the next day, mid-afternoon, that she got a lucky break. Chewing thoughtfully on hard tack and dried fruits, she was trying to come up with a new strategy when a raiding party arrived, dressed in the flashiest armor and carrying the biggest weapons. Their raid leader took off his winged helmet as he approached Violet. “Is this dungeon free?” Violet gestured toward the entrance: be my guest. Re-applying his helm, he led the charge through the massive doorway, his company shouting in excitement. Stashing the rest of her lunch, Violet followed the last raid member through the gate. She watched as the band charged forward, running into the group of demons with gusto. She crept behind her rock and watched the battle unfold—the demons swatted the heroes away, throwing them through the air or cutting them down with massive cleaving strikes. These three demons stood powerful and menacing, repelling back invaders despite their numbers. The raiding group fell back to the entrance, no doubt regrouping for a second attack. In the meantime Violet waited, daring not to move or breathe or do anything to give away her position. One of the demons had been killed—run through by the business end of a polearm. The other two stood over it, looking with fangs bore toward the entry. This dragged on for some time. Violet felt her heartbeat in her ears, convinced that the demons could hear it as well. They must have known she was there. Was that why they weren’t moving? Was this ridiculous plan doomed to fail from the beginning? If they couldn’t hear her, they could problem smell her, or just sense her somehow, or… “They gone?” one asked the other, turning away from the door at long length. “Yeah, they’re gone,” answered the second, dropping his menacing pose. “Went back to town.” “Nice. Come on, Greg, get up.” The demon reached down where the third demon, who had previously been dead, extended his arm up and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Greg, as was apparently his name, circled around behind some rocks and gathered up something out of Violet’s line of sight. He was speaking to the others all the while. “So then Mary comes home and finds a perfume bottle on her bedside table, right? And she’s all like ‘oh, I don’t use this brand. Who’s could this be?’ And I’m like, you obviously saw your husband’s new secretary use this perfume in the second episode of the fifth season.” “Is that the one where John goes out to get new golf shoes?” asked another of the demons, who had walked over to pick up a particular rock. “That’s the one,” Greg stood back upright, carrying a handful of… bowling pins. A little rough and yellowed with age, but they were unmistakably bowling pins. And that rock the other demon was picking up? It was perfectly spherical with three little holes carved into one side. “Right. So then John comes back, and he’s like ‘oh, I don’t know how that perfume got there, honey. Musta been the neighbor’s,’ which is weird, because there aren’t even any women living at the neighbors.” “Uh, huh. So then what happens?” “Well, it turns out that Mary makes a phone call in secret later on.” Greg had finished setting up the pins at this point, and the other demons were taking turns rolling. “And she says ‘I need to meet you right now. I think he’s on to us.’” “Wait, so she’s having an affair, too?” the other demons asked. “With who?” “Don’t know. I think it might be her boss’s poolboy. Still waiting for the next DVD shipment to arrive.” “Aw, what a cliffhanger!” they complained. “That sucks. How long until we find out?” “Dunno. Could be a few weeks. What I really want is ‘The Young and Single’ season six collector’s set, where they show an extra five minutes of footage that really puts Betty’s and Bob’s relationship in a whole new light. I’m told those two broke up in real life, too.” “No!” the demon gasped. “But I liked them together.” The bowling game continued, with Greg resetting the pins for the other two, all the while exchanging the latest gossip about soap operas and their cast members. Violet watched and listened, feeling much more captivated by their conversation and bowling game than some boring performances as big, scary monsters. She found herself wishing she could sit and watch this all day, just to see how it played out. Unfortunately, her entertainment was soon cut short. Violet heard a warning buzzer pierce the air. It wasn’t a loud shrill, but it was definitely noticeable. Upon hearing it, the three demons took down their pins, stashed their game and took their places staring at the entrance, claws out and teeth bared. She realized at that moment that each of the three were even standing in exactly the same spots as before. The amount of training and rehearsal these monsters must have gone through for these performances was definitely under-appreciated, she decided. The same raiding party had returned, fully restocked and charging in for the same boring battle as before. People were screaming, swords were clashing, people were dying—it was all very trite. Violet much preferred the gossip and the bowling over these faked theatrics. At least those things felt real. Violet took her leave, slipping out in the confusion of the battle. Stepping out of the dungeon entryway, Violet hurried back to town to take her leave. She had some real life research she needed to do. ***** VII ***** The Sun had nearly waned entirely when Violet returned. Without one single weapon in hand, she boldly marched right through the doorway. Chest raised and head held high, she stormed right down the gravel path to see the same three actors in their usual positions. They started toward her as Violet stood planted squarely with hands on her hips. “I know who Mary is having an affair with!” The three stopped, their menacing growls replaced with looks of concern. Violet stuck her finger out toward them, staring them down as they towered well above her height. “And if you kill me again, I will spoil it! I swear to god, I will!” They backed away, hesitantly looking at each other. “How can you know that?” Violet knew that this was Greg talking, even though they looked identical to her. It was his tone of voice that gave it away. “I’ve seen it! I know!” “Impossible! Those episodes aren’t out yet.” “They’re not out on DVD yet. But they are available on the Internet! Which you can’t get. And I watched them! I will spoil every single thing in them unless you tell me what I want to know!” They gasped collectively, looking horrified. Violet stepped forward, staring them down. “Good. Now that we have an understanding, I want to know where Orca is. Take me there right now! Please.” “She’s in the boss room. And we can’t leave our posts! Plus there are too many monsters between here and there. You’d never make it!” “I know that,” Violet said. “That’s why you’re going to open the passage to your employee hallways and let me in through the back.” They looked at each other, huddling up together to whisper amongst themselves. “How do you know about those?” Greg turned to ask. “That’s my secret.” “But, we can’t do that!” Greg hesitated. “I mean, your kind isn’t allowed back there! It’s against all of our rules! Do you know how much trouble we’d get into if…” “Mary gets shot.” The three gasped, sucking in great lungfuls of air like giant Hoover vacuums. “No!” they cried. “Yes! And if you don’t let me in right now, I’m going to say whether she lives or dies!” “Not Mary!” “And you won’t believe who shot her!” Violet persisted, twisting the knife. “Was it John?” Greg asked. “Bob? Mark? Betty? Stan? Billy? Surely not Billy! No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to hear it!” “It was someone who hasn’t been seen since season three.” More collective gasping. “Is it Ricardo? Not Ricardo!” “Maybe!” Violet replied. “You better let me in that door if you don’t want to find out…” They looked at each other one more time. “You won’t tell anyone, right?” “I promise I won’t tell a soul. I just need to talk to Orca.” Relenting, Greg stepped back a couple of feet and reached down toward an unexceptional portion of flat stone floor. He grabbed at some unseen handle and pulled, lifting open a trapdoor. It swung wide, the door balancing upright on its own. Violet looked down at the newly appeared entrance. Stairs led the way down, accompanied by all-too-familiar handguards and painted stripes on the walls. She made her way down as one of the demons stopped her. “But Mary lives, right?” Violet just shrugged as she slipped by them. “Maybe…” She descended the stairs into the hallway, listening as the metal trapdoor slammed shut behind her. Back in the familiar company of aggressively buzzing fluorescent bulbs and ugly bare drywall, Violet followed the labeled arrows, finding the boss room of Dire Mountain in no time at all. ***** VIII ***** Violet exited the corridors through a particularly large stalagmite. She was in a cave that towered high overhead. To her right was a winding path that led up to where she stood now, populated by dozens demons and several enormous red dragons. At even a casual glance, it was clear that she never had a chance of fighting or sneaking her way through from the beginning. On her left were two large doors carved from stone, their tops cut into flat slopes. Violet approached these, pushing on them as the grinding of rock echoed loudly through the cavern. Several of the monsters behind her turned with curious looks, but she pushed through and shoved the door closed before they could get any ideas. A dark stone corridor led out before her, the light dwindling to near darkness. Violet advanced forward cautiously, casting glances around in the dark. After several footfalls, the light vanished entirely. She heard a door opening above her and to the right. She looked, expecting the worst, and saw instead a peculiar collection of instruments. There was one set of drums, a microphone stand, and two guitars, each hanging on their own stands. A spotlight shone directly down on them, the only light source in the room. From the door behind the instruments emerged four skeletons in grunge clothes. She thought they were actual people at first, but no: these were four literal skeleton musicians dressed in torn jeans and colored mohawks. They each took up an instrument and began to strum, as if warming up. Violet watched in amusement as the skeleton singer cleared his lack-of-throat before shouting into it, his voice booming throughout the room from unseen speakers. “Congratulations, heroes! You’ve battled up the fearsome Dire Mountain all the way to the heart of the Volcano! Your raid of twenty heroes did well to get this far!” “It’s just me,” Violet said, waving her hand. The skeleton didn’t hear. Perhaps it was his lack of ears. “But now, are you ready to face the ultimate challenge? Are you prepared to face the might of the great, the mighty, the fearsome: Orca, queen of the orcs?” The other band members let loose with a dazzling riff, filling the dungeon with a heavy-hitting beat and slick guitar riffs. The pace was fast and energetic–exactly the type of heavy metal action music she would imagine for a grand boss battle. Violet was nodding her head along to the beat, really getting into it, as a shower of fireworks sprayed up from the darkness ahead of her. They were great plumes of fire, complete with rockets exploding into dazzling arrays of color all around the room. They had turned on the overhead lights, revealing a circular arena carved from the rock face. Ascending from a rising platform in the center, behind a show of fiery pyrotechnics, Violet saw a familiar face holding up a monstrously large two-handed battle ax. Violet could hear her shouting in excitement even over the sizzle of flame geysers and the belting blast of the skeleton rockers. Her deep battlecry probably would have been bloodcurdling to most other people, Violet was certain. But to her, she just remembered a woman in pink and white heart pajama pants with enormous fuzzy bunny slippers. “I hope you’re ready for the fight of your lives!” cried he skeleton. Orca roared again, swinging her enormous battle ax around her in a great display of strength. The flame geysers erupted, the fireworks exploded, the drumline slapped, and the bassline sizzled. Violet grinned ear to ear watching the display, thinking back on the few times she watched wrestling on T.V. It was all there: the stage, the hype man, the special effects. She could see it now: Annnnd now, in this corner: weighing in at three-hundred pounds and standing at an impressive seven feet tall, it’s Miss Orca Fuzzy-Feet, against her contender, a scrawny hundred-pound nothing, eighteen-year-old hero girl from the foothills of California… “Your journey ends here, heroes!” Orca roared as the final plume of flames died off around her. “Time for all of you to face the might of–Violet?!” “Hi Orca!” Violet waved. “But first, can you survive Orca’s army of fearsome ogres?” cried the skeletal hype man. “No! No ogres! Abort!” Orca cried, waving her arms up at the skeleton and his band. The rock music swelled, kicking into high gear and drowning out Orca’s words. “Stop the music! Shut it down!” “Kill the heroes!” screamed the ogres as they emerged from side doors, waving their weapons high and charging in a rage. “No! No kill the heroes!” Orca turned to face the ogres, a legion of them spilling out endlessly from doors all around her–dozens in total. “Kill the heroes!” “NO!” Orca raged, slamming the flat of her enormous battle ax against one of the ogres running past her, knocking him clear off his feet. The other ogres saw what she had done and stopped. “Why you do that?” one of them asked. “No battle!” Orca shouted at them, still threatening with her battle ax held high. “There’s no battle today. Go back to your places!” “But… the music!” “No!” Orca repeated. She waved up at the musicians again, but they were lost in the rhythm of their own performance. She screamed up at them in anger, before taking up a rock and throwing it at them. After a few more rocks, they got the message and looked down at her in confusion. “No battle!” Orca shouted at all of them. “No music! False alarm. Go back to your starting positions.” “But… hero!” an ogre said, pointing at Violet. “Kill the hero?” “No! No kill the hero! Kill heroes next time. This doesn’t count. Get back in your starting places!” Violet stepped forward, daring to walked amongst ogres who were still confused about whether or not to kill the hero. “So this is where you work? It’s nice.” “On certain days, yes, this is where I work,” Orca replied, exasperated. She strode toward Violet. “What on Earth are you doing here?” “Well…” Violet stuttered. She realized at that moment that had been so preoccupied by the road getting here, she had never spared a thought about what she would do if she actually arrived here. “I wanted to see you!” Violet concluded. “Okay, but like…” Orca raised her arms at the army of ogres milling around them both. “And then, but there…” She gestured back behind Violet in the direction of the caves. “And just… how!?” “I am very sneaky!” Violet said, beaming with pride. Orca just stood there, jaw gaping and dumb-founded. “Aren’t you happy to see me?” “Am I happy to see you?” Orca replied, still dumb-struck. “I mean, I guess, but like how did you..?” “You guess?” Violet replied, turning suddenly bitter. “What do you mean, you guess?” “I mean, yeah, I’m happy to see you, but how in the world did you get through to this point? I thought for sure you would..?” “Die?” Violet retorted, finishing Orca’s sentence. “Oh, I did die. A lot, actually. But I did it because I thought I had a friend on the other side of this who would be happy to see me. But maybe I just guessed that I did?” “A friend?” Orca replied, still overwhelmed. “Yes! A friend. And I thought, maybe I was hoping, that maybe we were friends and that I could see you again some time. You know, like friends do. But what friends don’t do is guess that they’re happy to see you, or tell you ‘sure it was fun, but I’m gonna go now, good luck out there, bye forever!’ like you told me. So I guess maybe I was wrong after all?” “Woah, woah, hang on now!” Orca replied, who found herself raising her own voice along with Violet, getting even more upset. “I never said that!” “That’s what it sounded like to me!” Violet replied, tears stinging behind her frames. “You didn’t even leave me a way to talk to you again. You just said ‘have a good life’ and slammed the door, like none of it mattered! You never gave me a choice. And now you’re not even happy to see me, after everything I did to get here? Oh, and I brought your stupid poncho back,” Violet reached into a pouch on her hip and pulling out a wad of leather, throwing it at Orca. Orca caught the poncho awkwardly, then just tossed it aside. “I didn’t need that back. And sure I’m happy to see you again, you just caught me off guard is all!” “Yeah? I’m not so sure now. Friends are people that are excited to see you, no matter what. Friends are also people that are willing to go into your dungeon, and fail over and over again, just to watch half a season of a stupid soap opera back home in order to bribe a couple of bowling demons into letting me back down here!” Orca just blinked dumbly down at her several times. “...What?” “Nothing,” Violet replied, more frustrated than ever. “It doesn’t matter. I made it here and brought your poncho back. That was my goal. I guess we’re even now. Good luck out there to you, too!” She turned to the ogres with arms spread wide. “Kill the hero!” “Kill the hero!” cried the ogres in joyous unison. They attacked immediately. The last thing Violet heard was Orca shouting at them at the top of her lungs. ***** IX ***** Orca kicked open the door hard enough to slam against the wall. She stormed across the common room, a dark cloud following as voices hushed at her passing. She pierced the room, finding her quarry and moving to him instantly. “Oh, hi Orca,” Greg said, pulling his gaze away from the soap opera. “You!” Orca raged, slamming an accusing finger between the horns on his forehead. “You’re on door duty at Dire Mountain!” “I am,” Greg replied, his eyes shifting as he squirmed in his chair, suddenly uneasy. “But I didn’t do anything…” “How many trophies did you get off of her?” Orca raged, standing close enough for her hot breath to hit him in the face. “I, uh… I don’t know who you’re…” “HOW MANY?” “Seventy-three!” Greg squealed. “But I didn’t keep all of them! We shared…” The wall behind him interrupted his words as his head was plowed through it. Orca released her grip on his skull; plaster and splintered drywall cascaded down around him. She looked at the others, huffing as loud as a minotaur, daring any of them to speak. Standing back upright, she steeled herself for what was to come next. She raised her chin, puffed out her chest, and marched purposely forward, knowing exactly what needed to be done. “Uh, Violet?” The voice of Jackurn came through Violet’s bedroom door. She had locked herself away since leaving Dire Mountain. Others had come to ask about her well-being before him, and while that was very nice of them, it was not what she wanted. She appreciated their concern, but she just wanted to be left alone with her journaling and her self-deprecating mood. “I’m sorry, Jackurn. Not right now, please.” “Uh, yeah, that’s cool. But, like, I thought you’d want to see something kinda weird.” “Not right this moment, Jackurn. I’m sorry. Maybe later.” “Yeah, yeah, that’s cool.” There was the briefest of pauses before Jackurn continued on. “But it is right outside our windows, if maybe you were curious.” Violet hadn’t been curious. She hadn’t been anything at all. But hearing Jackurn say those words made her curious. So she pulled herself upright, wiped her eyes, adjusted her glasses, and looked out the window. An instant later her bedroom door exploded open, nearly taking Jackurn out. She sprinted across the hall and down the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. Jackurn followed, lapping up the excitement. Violet jumped onto the ground floor, sprinted across the entry, and burst through the wide doors into the orchard beyond. “Violet, get the others!” Ambrose called out to her, her dual swords locked in combat. “Applewood is under attack!” Violet watched in horror from the landing as dozens of fighters, both heroes and townsmen alike, barreled onto the orchard grounds in one growing mass. The growing mob carried any arms they could muster, running in to join the fray and team up against the single, large intruder. “No! We’re not!” Violet shouted bitterly, leaping over the banister and running as fast as she could across the grounds. She threw herself between them, leaping in front of Orca with arms spread wide. She stared Ambrose down and refused to look away. “Could you get the hell out of the way? I’d like to stab the monster!” “No!” Violet replied. “Not this monster. She is my guest!” “What the hell, Violet? Have you lost your damn mind?” Violet looked towards the grounds gate, seeing the murderous crowd wash past their rows of trees. They must have chased Orca through the streets of this entire city, judging from the amount of them. They looked like a crazed pitch-fork wielding crowd, cheering for blood. She grabbed Orca by the hand and half-lead, half-dragged the giant orc back into the Manor. They sprinted past Jackurn, who grinned like a fool all the while. He may have been the only person in existence who was excited to see Orca here, bless him. They bolted up the stairs and made for her bedroom door, slamming and locking it behind them. Violet was heaving and panting, exhausted by the exertion. Orca, meanwhile, just looked around the tiny closet-sized room, her breathing perfectly steady. She had to duck her head to even fit under the low ceiling. Orca crossed the room in two steps and opened the curtain to peer out the window at the crowd gathered out front. “Sorry about all that,” Orca said, gesturing out the window. “But like you had said to me, I didn’t have a way to talk to you again. So I really had no choice…” Orca’s voice trailed off, her gaze shifting downward or around the room. She was clearly nervous, but not because of the attention outside. But Orca forgot about all of it the moment Violet embraced her in an enormous hug. “I’m always happy to see my friends!” Violet exclaimed, beaming. ***** X ***** There was an urgent knock at Violet’s door. Ambrose’s voice carried her distinct, unmistakable edge of steel as she spoke. “Violet, why is there a raid boss in your bedroom?” “Ambrose, I promise that I am fine and everything is okay,” Violet said back to the door. “And I promise to explain everything soon. I’m going to need to trust me and give me just a moment here, please.” There was a brief pause. “Violet, that’s a raid boss.” “Yes it is, Ambrose.” “In your bedroom.” “Yes, Ambrose.” Another short pause. “That’s a raid boss. In your bedroom...” “There is a good reason for that, I promise. And I will explain all of it. But if you could please give us a moment, I would appreciate it.” A moment later a second voice joined the fray. “Do you need help, Violet?” “No, thank you, Alyrra. We’re okay. Thank you for asking.” Then there was a longer pause. This time Jackurn’s voice broke the silence. “Could Miss Orc-Boss-Lady get me a new war-hammer? Or maybe three of them?” “She’s not Santa Claus,” Violet explained patiently, flashing an apologetic look back to Orca. “That’s not how that works.” “Oh…” Violet waited, wondering who else would call on her this time. After a long moment of nothing, she decided that they were finally alone. Violet invited Orca to sit next to her on the tiny twin bed, which groaned painfully under her weight. “Sorry about them,” Violet said, but Orca cut her off with a shake of her head and a wave of her hand. “Not your fault. That’s exactly the reaction I expected if I were to ever came here. I knew what I was getting into.” “So..?” Violet said, beaming up at the giant orc next to her, her full attention now on her visitor. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. Why’d you do it? Why’d you risk coming here knowing you would get attacked like that?” “Well, someone recently told me that I, uh…” Orca hesitated, her eyes scanning the ceiling for the right words. “I may have made some unfortunate word choices. That I may have been a not-great friend. Or, for that matter, that I even had a friend at all? If I do have one now, still? If she hasn’t changed her mind about that..?” “Wait, have you never had even one single friend before?” Violet asked. “Is it because orcs are made for fighting and killing, but not for friends?” Orca groaned deeply, covering her face in embarrassment in her hands as she leaned back against the wall. “Ugh, don’t bring up all that again… But it’s true, unfortunately. I don’t have friends, not like you obviously have here. I have co-workers I defend dungeons with. I have the goblins I watch over. I have Throgg, who… I’m not getting into that. And my ogres make for very poor company, as you recently found out. “But never once have I known someone crazy enough to die seventy-three times just to return a stupid old poncho.” “It wasn’t just the poncho,” Violet explained, but Orca was already nodding her understanding. “I think I’m figuring that out. I didn’t know it then. You really did shock the hell out of me, showing up at my job all by yourself and out of nowhere! I still don’t know how you did it.” “Well, I never realized that your hesitation about being around here was so justified, judging from the reaction here today,” Violet replied. “Sorry if I didn’t understand before.” “Well, to be fair, I had never tried it before today.” She sat back upright, looking squarely at Violet. “But we are still friends, then? If you haven’t changed your mind about that yet?” Violet chuckled at Orca’s uncertainty, but held out her own hand without hesitation. “Yes. Friends. If you’d like to be.” “I think I would like that,” Orca replied, gladly shaking Violet’s tiny hand. Then Orca look turned solemn as she released Violet’s hand. “So, I don’t actually know how this is supposed to work…” “What do you mean?” Violet asked. “Heroes and monsters,” she explained as she gestured to the window. “I mean, you saw the response out front. We’re supposed to be killing each other. What does ‘being friends’ mean in a place like this?” “I don’t know,” Violet said, honestly. Her smile never wavered as she looked up at Orca. “But I’m willing to figure it out as we go, if you are!” Orca smiled at that, squeezing Violet’s hand. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re insufferably nice?” “Actually, yes,” Violet beamed. “All the time! Also, we’d better head back downstairs soon before my friends literally die from curiosity. They’re an awesome bunch, once you get to know them. Are you ready?” “As ready as I’ll ever be,” Orca replied with a shrug. The bed sighed in relief as Orca lifted herself off of it. “Let’s go meet your tiny, angry hero friends.” Orca and Violet filled up a three-person couch. Directly facing them was Ambrose, front and center with her arms crossed over her chest, scowling perpetually. Flanking her were Jackurn and Alyrra, one looking elated and the other befuddled. Surrounding their couch and crowding together to fill every inch of standing room available was every friend, guild member, and curious human who could physically shove themselves into the room. Violet, who disliked being a spectacle at the best of times, sat uncomfortably, fidgeting her hands and shifting her gaze to everyone and no one. Meanwhile Orca, who clearly was no stranger to the limelight, sat with her arms in her lap and an amused grin stuck on her face. She looked out at everyone but coming back at Ambrose. Orca basked smugly in the warm, radioactive glow coming from the anger in her eyes. “So, uh… hello,” Violet broke the silence, her voice faltering. “I’m Violet.” “We know who you are!” Ambrose thundered. “Why did you invite a raid boss into our guild house?” “Oh, right. Well, uh… for those of you who don’t know, this is Orca.” “Hello!” Orca said with a wave, still grinning. “And, uh… She’s an orc.” “I am!” Orca agreed, endlessly amused. “Violet, I swear to god, if you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to kill both of you!” “Well, actually, there’s not much to tell,” Violet said to Ambrose. “Orca and I are friends!” Orca nodded her approval, as if that explained everything. Meanwhile, no one else moved. “What the hell does that mean?” Ambrose replied. “Well, when two people like each other and want to spend time together, they become friends…” “I KNOW WHAT FRIENDS MEANS, YOU FREAKING MORON!” Ambrose was growing more and more red in the face. Veins began to stand up and introduce themselves along her forehead. Inwardly, Orca was lapping it all up like a dog, loving every bit of it. “How are you friends with… with some stupid game monster?” Ambrose asked. “I was friends with a squirrel once,” Jackurn said. Nobody acknowledged him. “Well, it’s a funny story, actually,” Violet replied. “You see, I found some, like… Well, actually, Aura could probably explain it better than I could. Where is Aura, anyway? I don’t see him here.” “He took off a moment ago,” Ambrose answered. “Now quit changing the subject!” “Yes, well, so I found these tunnels, like service tunnels…” “Uhh, Violet,” Orca said, looking down at her with concern. “I don’t think we should be saying that in front of…” She bobbed her head in the direction of the crowd. “Those are supposed to be secret, remember?” “Oh? Well, I mean, these are my friends. So I think it’s okay if they know.” “All of them are your friends?” Orca asked, staring bewildered at the unblinking crowd. “Well… yeah. I mean, most of them. I don’t know each and every person I’m seeing right now, but we’re all very friendly here. We’re a nice guild.” Meanwhile, Ambrose was changing from bright red into more of a purple. Violet saw her looking about ready to boil over and brought herself back on topic. “Okay, well, there are these hallways. Secret hallways. And I got myself lost in one where I ran into Orca. We got to talking and she was really nice. We had a sleepover at her place which had a million pillows and she made me breakfast and now we’re friends!” “You skipped over my favorite part,” Orca added, looking down at her new friend. “Where you went through Dire Mountain by yourself just to give me back my poncho.” “Oh, right! And, uh… That’s it! Any questions?” “I have a question!” Jackurn said, his hand raised. Nobody acknowledged him. “What in the actual name of Satan’s left testicle are you talking about?” Ambrose raged. “Secret hallways? Sleepovers? And I’m calling bullshit on you clearing Dire Mountain! I ran a high level group through there and we wiped on the dragon mini-boss. There’s no way in hell you did it on your own!” “Hah! You died to Betsy…” Orca chuckled. “You!” Ambrose shot to her feet, shoving an angry finger at Orca, amusing her even further. “I’m not talking to you! I’ll deal with you later.” Orca just crossed her legs, folding her hands on her lap while grinning savagely at her. She couldn’t wait. “Well, I didn’t clear Dire Mountain…” Violet admitted. “I went around it, using those service tunnels I was talking about.” “So that’s how you got to me!” Orca cried out. “Looking back on it, I really should have realized that…” “Okay, again, what tunnels?” Ambrose asked. “What the hell are you talking about?” “Secret tunnels. And it’s for the monsters to go home from the dungeons or move around to the different places. You know, like Disneyland! Secret, employee-only hallways.” “I love Disneyland!” Jackurn cried out. Nobody acknowledged him. “No,” Ambrose said flatly, taking her seat again with her arms crossed defiantly over her chest. “No, what?” Violet asked. “No to all of it! They’re just monsters, Violet. Mindless fodder for the game. N.P.C.’s. They do not need ‘secret tunnels’ to move around. They are not employees, they’re not even people! They’re stupid little primitive A.I. that do nothing but stand there and get killed. They do not eat, they do not sleep, they do not go home for the night, and they do not have ‘sleepovers.’ And they most especially do not have friends! So, no. No to all of it. I utterly reject every word you just said!” Orca nudged Violet gently with her elbow. “This is why heroes aren’t supposed to know. They couldn’t handle it.” “You got something to say, Chunky?” “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Orca rose from her seat, matching Ambrose. The entire room collectively cowered back as a hushed silence fell. Orca towered head and shoulders over Ambrose, but that didn’t stop her from staring the Orc down. “You heard me, dipshit!” “No, no, no!” Violet cried out, jumping between the two again. “Ambrose, you’re being mean to my friend!” “No, I’m being mean to a glorified toaster! They’re just made to look like they’re real, Violet. That’s not a real person. If you take off the wrapping paper, it’s all ones and zeroes underneath. Nothing else!” “Beep, beep, boop,” Orca mocked. “Shut it!” “Enough, you two!” Violet pleaded. “Ambrose, it’s all true, I promise. I can prove it to you! I could take you there.” “That’s a really bad idea,” Orca warned. “No amount of evidence in the world could convince me that the Jolly Green Terminator over there is a real boy,” Ambrose replied. “What I am concerned about is this weird mind-control thing she seems to have over you.” “That’s not… no,” Violet just sighed. “She’s not mind-controlling me into being her friend, Ambrose.” She just snorted, leering up at Orca. “We’ll see about that.” Ambrose stormed out of the room, leaving behind an awkward silence in her wake. “I had a sleepover once,” Jackurn said, cutting through the sudden quiet. Nobody acknowledged him. “So, uh…” Violet said, looking at those remaining. “Any other questions?” ***** XI ***** The questions were abundant and varied, eventually growing more mundane as the night carried on. As Orca’s presence became less of a spectacle, those not of the guild began to filter back out the door. Those who were in the guild gradually returned to their normal day. Eventually the common room was back down to its usual crowd, and even those that remained paid less mind to their guest. “I have another question!” said Jackurn, who up to this point had been an endless fountain of irrelevant interrogations. “How do you poop?” “Through my fingers!” Orca cried out, pointing them menacingly at Jackurn. He howled with laughter, holding his side as he collapsed onto the floor. Alyrra spoke over him as his cackling continued ceaselessly. “So, you two being friends now… what does that mean, exactly?” “Well, we don’t completely know yet,” Violet answered earnestly. “We’re still figuring all of this out.” Another question flew out from the back of the room. “These secret tunnels, how do we get to them?” “You don’t,” Orca answered. “They’re designed only to open for monsters and never for heroes. You’re not even able to see them, so don’t bother looking. Violet getting in was just a fluke.” It was at that moment that Ambrose filed back into the room, carrying with her a hefty linen bag filled to the brim. She dragged a nearby end table directly in front of Violet, dumped the bag down onto that table, and started pulling out items. “Drink this,” Ambrose ordered, shoving a corked flask of swirling blue liquid into Violet’s face. “What is this?” Violet asked, taking the flask and looking it over. “That is a mental acuity potion,” Orca explained. “It relieves the imbiber of any mental status effects or ailments, including but not limited to mind control.” “Ambrose, I already told you that…” “Yeah, I don’t think she’s listening,” Orca observed. “Just drink it. It won’t hurt you.” Violet did as bidden, making a face at the coppery aftertaste. Ambrose took the flask and handed her a new one, this one swirling green. “And that is a mental fortitude potion,” Orca said, flatly. “It protects the mind against mental attacks, including but not limited to mind control…” Like before, Violet drank it, making an even more sour face. And like before, Alyrra took the empty flask and pulled out a fresh new one, handing it to Violet. “And that… is a mental clarity potion,” Orca said. “Take a wild guess what that does.” “Ambrose, this is silly!” Violet complained. “I’m not under mind control!” Ignoring her, Ambrose pulled a large copper amulet out of her bag. She shoved it onto Violet’s forehead and watched the amulet’s surface with intense scrutiny. “What is happening now..?” “That is an amulet of magic detection,” Orca explained to Violet, strumming her fingers on her greaves. “I could explain that, too, if you like.” “Ambrose, could you just…” “Drink!” Ambrose ordered, cutting her words short. Sighing her resignation, Violet did as bidden, wondering what these magical concoctions would do when mixed all together in her stomach. Ambrose took this latest empty flask and her amulet, putting them both into her bag before producing a different gray-colored amulet and shoving that onto Violet’s forehead as well. “Did you go into town and buy all of this just now?” Violet asked. “How many more do you have?” “All of them. Here, wear these.” Ambrose thrust no less than a dozen necklaces into her arms. Violet just held the mess of loops in her hands, pleading eyes turning up to Orca. “I could explain each of those to you, if you like,” she explained calmly. “How do you know all this stuff?” Violet asked, placing one chain after another around her neck. By the end she had such a mess of metal, jewels, and beads hanging around her she felt like an antique store mannequin. Every movement she made sounded like wind chimes. “It’s our job to know the items we give out,” Orca explained. “We have to memorize each item, what they do, and how many we give out per day. It helps us know what to expect when you wear them against us later on. There’s also strict limits on some of this stuff. Two of those necklaces you’re wearing now are exceptionally expensive, you should know.” “Oh, I hate that you wasted all of your money on me!” Violet said to Ambrose, who by this point was shoving a white quartz-like crystal in front of Orca and studying it intently. “You could just hand me the bag and save us both some time,” Orca said, her voice still flat. Ambrose ignored her as she worked in silence, going through each and every single item in the bag. By the end of it, there was an overflowing mess of crystals, tomes, jewelry, and trinkets on both of their laps. “Are we done here?” Orca asked. She was now wearing five rings, had seven of her own necklaces on, four crystals sitting on her lap, two wands in her hands, and one curious cloth beanie of rainbow colors on her head. She felt like a discount Christmas tree. “Never!” Ambrose replied. She gathered up her toys, shoved them back into the bag and marched out again. “That was fun,” Orca said after Ambrose had left. “I look forward to playing dress up with her again. I could bring my own tiara and princess gown next time!” “Sorry about all that,” Violet said, removing the last necklaces that Ambrose hadn’t taken back. “She means well, I promise.” “Yeah, yeah… On that note, I think I’m going to turn into a pumpkin soon.” Orca stood, removing the last of her pretty, pretty jewelry. “As always, it’s been very entertaining. Thank you for hosting me. Please thank Princess Sour-puss for the party favors, they were delightful.” Violet fixed her with a stern but tired look. Orca just grinned, reassuring her. “I’m just joking. Mostly.” “I better walk you to the exit,” Violet said, standing. “We don’t need a repeat of this afternoon’s excitement.” They made their goodbyes to those that remained in the common room and left the Manor. Exiting through the large doorway, they strolled leisurely through the Applewood orchard toward the gate. The sun was setting, creating a vibrant array of yellows and reds on the scattered clouds above. Violet appreciated how beautiful it was out here tonight, as it always seemed to be in this place. Orca stopped to investigate a particularly plump apple. “So how are we supposed to keep in touch from our opposite sides of this place?” “You mean, you don’t want me dropping in on you during work again?” Violet teased. “Well, wouldn’t that just put a bee in Ambrose’s bonnet… But there could be easier ways, for sure.” “What about Greg, from Dire Mountain?” Violet asked. “He let me in once. Maybe he’ll do it again?” “Yeah, uh… He might be in recovery for a few days before returning back to work.” Violet crossed her arms over her chest and fixed Orca with an angry scowl. What might have once been intimidating was far outdone by her perpetually angry friend, leaving Violet looking as cute and threatening as an angry child. Orca just laughed, picking the apple and eating it as they went. “He’ll be fine… eventually. Monsters are made of tougher stuff. It’s okay. “But back on point,” Orca continued. “I was doing some thinking about our predicament. How do I reach you when you’re here at home without half the city chasing after me?” Violet fixed Orca with a confused look, pointing back at the Manor. “You know I don’t actually live there, right?” “Huh? What do you mean?” “People don’t… I mean, us heroes–we don’t actually live here. I mean, for some of us it feels like we do,” she admitted, rolling her eyes. “But, no. We have homes outside of here we go back to.” “You don’t live in that big house back there? I saw your ridiculously tiny bedroom. You don’t sleep there?” “No. The bedrooms here are mostly just for looks, or a place to store our stuff when we’re away,” Violet explained. “We live in the real world, or, uh… I guess maybe this place is its own little real world, too? I mean the place where all your human stuff comes from.” “Huh,” Orca admitted, thinking it over as she ate. “Yeah, that does make more sense. Our lessons say that all heroes come from this city. But from what I’ve heard about your lessons, you think all monsters live in the dungeons and never leave, so there’s definitely wrong information on both sides. Honestly, I just figured that other place where all our goods come from was like some sort of factory where you work. Never really thought about it, I suppose.” “There’s a little bit more to it than that,” Violet explained. They crossed the iron gates out of the orchard, stepping onto the cobbled streets where the streetlamps were only just springing to life. The streets themselves were less populated this time, but what people were there gave them concerned stares. Violet just took Orca’s hand and kept close, making sure that everyone saw her. She hoped giving the orc the appearance of a chaperone would save them from trouble. “I wish you could see it,” Violet continued. “There’s more to our world than even I could ever see. I think you would like it.” “I could always show you mine,” Orca offered. “Strictly as a tour, mind you. No looting the chests.” Violet chuckled, remembering the dagger Ambrose had given her, forgotten and forlorn back in her bedroom. “That won’t be a problem. And, yeah, I’d like that.” They turned the corner into the alleyway, coming upon the same familiar-looking oak tree as before. Orca placed her hand on the surface and the door popped open from where only unbroken bark had just been. “Shame you don’t have any monsters over here to pass along a message,” Orca lamented, holding open the door. “Maybe we could just set certain times and days to meet somewhere?” Violet offered. “Are you free tomorrow?” “Nah,” Orca said, shaking her head. “I’m already gonna catch hell from my boss for not being there for a raid this afternoon. I’d rather not play hooky again during business hours. How about the next day, say eight o’clock our time, at the entrance to Dire Mountain?” “Okay! Eight it is. See you then!” Orca waved, smiling as she shut the door between them. This time when that same door closed, it bore promises of more time together in the future, instead of slamming shut any possible connection between them. Violet beamed as she left the alley, grinning still as she left for the day. ***** XII ***** “I was sick.” “You were sick?” asked the left head of the two-headed ogre. Orca was sitting in front of an old desk inside a small office. It was lined with flimsy wood paneling and had a ceiling fan rotating too slowly to be of any use. The ogre himself, tan-skinned with a dark suit and matching ties, was either named Spinebreaker or George, depending on which head you were talking to. “You’re never sick. You’ve never taken a sick day in your life.” “Then I should be owed a few,” Orca reasoned. “You also missed a raid.” “They wiped at trash mobs after the third pull. I didn’t miss anything.” “That’s beside the point,” explained the ogre’s left head. “You’ve never not been there before. Then there’s this matter with Greg, who only just left our witch doctors.” “That was part of my sickness,” Orca said, hesitantly. “I had a… rage. Sickness. I was sick with rage.” “Slam her head through the wall, too!” cried the ogre’s second head. “Make it even!” “No, we’re not doing that,” replied the first. “We’re professionals now. And I’m pretty sure ‘rage sickness’ is not real.” “I, uh… contracted it from the heroes during my last boss fight. Those damned heroes and their… diseases.” “Ugh. Disgusting business, that. Hero illnesses. I know all about those from watching E.R.” “Kill the heroes!” cried the head of Spinebreaker. “Kill the heroes!” “Quite. Well, what about this business with Greg, then? Can’t just leave that as is. You shoved his head through the wall, after all. That’s just bad for business.” “Yeah, well… That was part of the rage sickness,” Orca kept on. “But I’m feeling much better now, and you can tell him that I am very, very sorry…” “Well… I guess that would just about take care of that...” Both heads scratched their chins in unison as they looked down at the paperwork on their desk. “We’ll get the goblins to patch that up. And I’m setting an appointment for you tonight with our witch doctors. They’ll need to check you out, of course. Otherwise, you’re free to go. Hope you’re feeling better.” Orca gratefully turned to leave before stopped herself. The ogre’s words had struck a nerve with her, and she felt compelled to speak. “Why are the goblins patching up the hole? Why not have, I don’t know, anyone else do it?” “Because that’s what they're good for,” answered George. “Menial labor.” “Stupid goblins! Good-for-nothing goblins!” agreed Spinebreaker. “No, that’s not true,” Orca insisted. “Goblins are good at a lot of things. They’re actually a very capable bunch that could be a big help around here, if you just gave them a chance.” “Orca.” “Yes?” “You abandoned your post at work and shoved a co-worker’s head through a wall. You’re not in the best place to be telling us anything right now.” Immensely irritated, Orca thought of a dozen different responses but chose to make a silent escape before she made things worse. ***** XIII ***** Violet was waiting at the entrance of Dire Mountain fifteen minutes early. She was strapped down into her usual hard leather jerkin, greaves, and hiking boots. She also wore three different multi-color silk scarves hung around her neck, fluttering delicately in the breeze. Her every step looked like an aggressive rainbow was chasing her around. Violet was eager and anxious to see any location this world had to offer, as long as Orca was by her side. She waited as patiently as she could muster, pacing around the entrance. At length her patience was rewarded as she spotted her green friend striding down the gravel lane. Orca was as vibrantly colorful as Violet’s scarves, wearing a beautiful kimono covered in red, gold, and white flower designs. A wide, brilliantly red sash tied around her torso, the ends of which flowing in the breeze. Her wide green feet showed through wooden sandals and her hair was done up in a bun held in place with chopsticks. Violet couldn’t help but gawk as Orca closed the gap. “Wow, Orca, you look…” she hesitated, recent memories tugging sharply at her mind. “Well, I don’t want you getting mad at me again, but you look amazing in that!” “What, this?” Orca said, looking down at her outfit as if only just realizing it was there. “You like it? I just thought it was comfy.” “I love it! It’s beautiful. You keep finding new ways to surprise me. It’s so amazing and exotic!” “What do you mean?” She tugged at her sash, playing with the ends from where they hung. “This is just something I like, that’s all.” Violet laughed at her, good-humored and playful. She took Orca’s hand and beamed up at her, ready for whatever lay ahead. “Here, I brought you this,” Orca said, pulling out the same poncho as before. “We’ll call this your monster-disguise.” “You know, I think I saw a movie like this once,” Violet said as she slipped it over her head, swimming in the enormous garment as before. Once in place, Violet tried to look up at Orca but the hood fell large and heavy around her, obscuring nearly all of her vision. “Perfect!” exclaimed Orca. “Ready to go?” They set off, Violet doing her best not to trip as she went. She could barely see anything higher than the gravel path directly in front of her feet. She gripped Orca’s hand for guidance as she bunched the disguise up around her legs with her other hand. She was uncomfortable being guiding around like a small child again, but she pushed the feelings aside and tried her best to enjoy the moment. They approached the three demons at the front of the dungeon. Violet couldn’t tell from her limited perspective if any of them were the same ones she had encountered before or not. Irritatingly, Orca dropped her hand the moment they drew close. “Orientation day,” Orca explained. “Training a new recruit.” “We have new recruits?” asked one of the demons, but Orca didn’t bother answering. She led directly to the trapdoor, opened it and guided Violet down the stairs. She nearly tripped three times, even while holding the handrail. The heavy trap door slammed behind them. Violet threw off her hood, not daring any more of the stairs when she could barely see. They descended the rest of the way, hand-in-hand again, as Violet happily took in the surroundings. She looking around at everything and nothing, just happy to be in the moment together. That was until her hood was shoved back down on her head and Orca tossed her hand away. “Morning!” Orca cried out to someone Violet couldn’t even see. “Just taking a goblin out for a walk…” A sigh escaped Violet’s lips, despite her best efforts. She reminded herself that she was lucky to be here at all, and that these temporary inconveniences didn’t matter compared to the bigger picture. She was still in wonderful company and was taking a tour of the monster’s world, something that no other hero had ever done before. She was incredibly lucky to be here at all. Even if I can’t see most of it, she thought grimly. She didn’t make any more attempts to fight the hood that threatened to swallow her head. Nor did she reach for Orca’s hand any more, even if that meant she continually bumped into walls or Orca herself. “Careful!” Orca said to her after running into her for the third time. “I’m trying!” After several disorienting turns through hallways that all looked identical, they came upon another heavy steel door. Orca pulled out a keychain, unlocking and opening the door. Guiding her charge through, the door slipped shut and locked again. “Alright, we should be safe here. You can take your hood off if you like.” “Finally!” Violet said with relief. She pushed it back and looked around. Cicadas trilled all around her. Lazy dragonflies buzzed between the twisted boughs of pale Cypress trees. A dirt track snaked forward, flanked on both sides by murky swamp water. Moss grew everywhere, covering fallen logs and loose rocks in a dark green blanket. Reeds reached up from the stagnant depths, punctuating the waters surrounding the trail. A chorus of frogs bellowed out randomly from all directions. Ahead of them, the dirt path terminated in a wide wooden walkway, snaking around the enormous trunks and naked, reaching roots of the bald, pale cypress. The thick musk of decay and stale water hung in the air. “Oh,” Violet said, surprised. “A swamp. The first place you take me is a swamp…” “Twilight Marsh,” Orca corrected her. “Remember how I said this place clears out in the morning? Well, that means we get the whole place to ourselves! That means there’s no frog-people this morning to ribbit away from us!” Violet looked blankly up at her before her attention was diverted by a nearby dragonfly. “Come on, not even that one?” Orca groaned. “What’s that,” Violet asked suddenly, staring out at the dark water. Orca followed her gaze, spying bubbling froth coming up from the water. “Go take a look! I’ll show you.” They approached the edge of the wooden walkway, about ten feet away from the disturbed water. Suddenly the head of a crocodile burst through the water, roaring loudly and snapping its jaws. Violet jumped back with a start while Orca just laughed at her. “Are we safe here?” Violet asked, trembling. “I should hope so. Its servos don’t reach this far.” “It's what?” Orca leaned down, pointing out the exposed mechanical hinges of the crocodile’s jaw. She showed Violet the distinctive jerky movements of hydraulics and pointed to a nearby tree behind which a speaker was hung. The animatronic roared once more before lowering itself back under the water, resetting its position for the next passer-bys. “Oh, that’s fun!” Violet squealed, suddenly excited to see more of the swamp. “I guess not all of the monsters here are real after all.” Violet hurried down the walkway, eager to see the next attraction. They rounded several bends before a second mechanical crocodile snapped up at her. Violet squealed with delight, jumping away laughing. Like the one before, this one slid back into the waters after a short delay. “See? This swamp isn’t so bad, is it?” Orca said to her once she calmed down. “Nope! I guess you were right, Shrek.” Orca frowned down at her. “Shrek is an ogre. I am an orc! I should take offense at that.” But Violet just laughed again, energetic and infectious, and tugged Orca further down the path. They stepped back onto hard-packed soil, entering into a size-able arena where there would normally be a boss encounter. Orca glanced with concern at the exposed treasure chest, unlocked and ready to be plundered. But Violet ran right past it as if it didn’t exist, following the path of some particularly rambunctious dragonflies, grinning all the while. Sighing with relief, and chastising herself inwardly for ever worrying in the first place, Orca came up to Violet and pointed out the next sights. “Over there is where the big bog creatures come up out of the water. And down there is where vicious skeletons dig up from the loose soil. Further past that are rubber tree-roots with big hooks that try to grab at your feet while you’re fighting.” “Ooh! That sounds fun. What else is there to see?” “Well… I know somewhere we could go,” Orca answered thoughtfully. “We’d have to stay quiet, though.” Violet was instantly on board, so excited that she didn’t even mind wearing the disguise-poncho again. Orca led her out of the swamp through a suspiciously large rock coming out of the water. They made several turns, following the purple-stripe path to a new location called the Tangled Thickets. Holding a finger to her lips, Orca pushed open the door to the distant sounds of battle. Violet stepped through into the oppressive heat and humidity of the jungle air, lush with palms and ferns growing all around. The shouts of heroes and the clangs of steel rang out over the calls of exotic jungle birds and insects. Ferocious beasts roared loudly–enormous cats, from the sounds of it. Orca led the way down a narrow side path, no larger than a deer track. They hunkered low, walking slowly and quietly. She pointed wordlessly through the trees and Violet nodded her understanding. They were watching a battle in progress, where a raid of heroes were fighting hulking green trolls and their enormous companion beasts: jaguars, leopards, and panthers. Orca patted on a nearby log, resting just behind the brush. They sat beside each other, watching in peaceful contentment as people battled to the death in the jungle. Violet grinned hugely again, taking Orca’s hand once more and leaning into her enormous bicep. She sighed, purring like a cat herself, feeling how serene and peaceful it was to sit here together watching people get eviscerated with giant spears or bit in half by ferocious felines. “Whenever I wanted to sneak away, I would come here to just sit and watch,” Orca whispered down to her. “I like it,” Violet whispered back, watching as someone got thrown through the air, screaming. “It’s nice. Have you ever shown anyone else this spot?” “Nope, never. You’re the first.” Orca looked down at Violet as she curled up against her arm. Violet looked back up at her as their eyes locked. Violet knew she was grinning madly and she didn’t care, because Orca was as well. And sitting here with her, in this place, hearing the sounds of people getting violently impaled, she knew she could have been happy to stay this way forever. They watched in contented silence as the last of the heroes were killed off. The trolls remained still for a moment before rousing their fallen and returning back to their usual places. Meanwhile, their feline companions licked themselves clean or found a sunny spot to roll around in. “Hey, watch this,” Orca said, “Put your hood back on for a second.” Violet did so as Orca called out, waving, “Hey, Peter! How’s it going?” “Oh, hey Orca!” cried out one of the enormous trolls, waving back and smiling. “What’s happenin’?” “Just watched you guys completely wreck those heroes. Nice work!” “Thanks!” Peter said, giving her a big thumbs-up. “Twenty more trophies for us! Sweet!” “Foosball later?” Orca offered. “For sure! Catch me up tonight in the common room. Gotta get back in place now, they’re coming back for round two. Stick around and watch us mop the floor with them again!” “Kick some ass, Peter!” “That’s nice of you,” Violet whispered, daring to lower her hood once again. “Not really,” Orca replied. “That poor guy can’t play foosball to save his life. I’m gonna cream him.” ***** XIV ***** Violet and Orca stayed just the way they were for the duration of a second battle, then a third afterward. Eventually the heroes did overcome Peter and his gang of murderous trolls, leaving Orca throwing her hands up in the air in disappointment. Had this been a sporting event, Violet could have seen her viciously booing the away team. Violet waited until the raiding party was well out of ear-shot before asking her next question. “So, what other places are there to see?” “Well, we got your dark and dreary gothic castles,” Orca explained. “Ancient ruins. Flooded temples. Snow-capped mountains with icy caves. Magma tunnels complete with flowing lava. Oh, and if you manage to sneak into the space between the ice caves and the lava rivers, where you’re not supposed to be, you can see icebergs flowing down the lava rivers. It’s absurd!” Violet chuckled along with her, soothed by the sound of Orca’s voice as she told Violet about the world and everything it had. Violet listened to Orca regale a story of an ice yeti who mistook the roar of a grizzly bear as a mating call. They had to chase it around the forest to get him back all the while trying to keep hidden from a band of heroes who were raiding the area at the time. “Then after that we had a skeleton complain to the kitchen that the staff weren’t making adequate accommodations for his kind,” Orca explained, counting off each story on her fingers. “Then after that, some of our dark wizards were allowed to finish their summoning ritual during a routine hero raid. Problem was, they messed up the spell and summoned their own boss from the shower instead.” “They did not!” Violet blurted out. “I swear it’s true!” Orca replied. “He had to improvise being the big bad of the dungeon while wearing nothing but a towel.” Violet laughed again. She laughed more than anyone Orca had ever met. And Orca enjoyed every time she did, wanting to keep her laughter going without end just so she could keep selfishly listening to it. “Could we go to the snow mountains next? It hardly ever snows where I’m from.” “Sure!” Orca pushed herself up, helping Violet to her feet as well. They slipped back to the door at the base of a cliffside and exited as quietly as they had entered. Violet once again covered head-to-toe in her poncho, she began to walk behind Orca, bumping into her as she stopped suddenly. A band of goblins were walking the halls, carrying printouts and rolls of duct tape. They greeted Orca cheerfully, taping one of their flyers to the wall before moving on. Orca lifted the flyer in her hand to read it. “What is it?” asked Violet, who could barely even see the paper, let alone read it. “‘Per orders of Management, any persons, monster or otherwise, found to be in the company of Heroes, or traveling to areas intended solely for Heroes, will be reprimanded, reassigned, or removed from duty as deemed necessary by your Supervisors.’” Orca felt sick to her stomach as she kept reading aloud. “‘Should you see anyone else engaging in these or similar restricted activities, or trespassing into restricted Hero areas, please report them directly to Management.’” A silence hung between them more thick and oppressive than the jungle air. Neither was sure what to say. “I guess I’m really not supposed to be here, huh?” Violet said at length. “I’m sorry…” Orca ripped the paper off the wall and wadded it up into a tight ball. “That’s bullshit!” she roared, throwing the paper down the hallway. Orca huffed angrily, sounding like an angry bull about to charge. “I, uh… I guess we should cut this short,” Violet said, her voice tiny and frail. “I don’t want to get you into trouble.” Orca roared out in anger, slamming a fist into the drywall next to her. “Damn it all!” she shouted. Orca pulled her hand back, saw the deep indentations she had made, and realized this was the second time in two days she had destroyed a wall. “I think we’d better get back to the Castle…” Violet lamented, her gaze at her feet. Orca was silent for most of the return trip. When not wordlessly fuming in anger, she was shaking her head, muttering to herself. “Somebody’s gonna die. This isn’t hurting anyone. It’s none of their damn business. Somebody is just gonna die. That’s all there is to it…” Violet was scared of her like this. She dared not even speak until they got to the doorway leading back to the Castle courtyard. Only then did she lower her hood and look Orca in the eyes. She was clearly angry, that much was easy to see. But underneath that, Violet felt the pain and heartbreak Orca was trying so hard to mask. Violet knew that because she felt it, too. “Maybe this will all blow over?” Violet said, trying to be as helpful as she could. “Oh, it’ll blow over,” Orca snapped back. “It’ll blow over after I kill somebody!” “Orca, please don’t do that! I appreciate you wanting to fight for us, I do! But I don’t think punches and shouting will fix this…” “Promise me,” Violet continued, trying to look strong and confident as she wagged a finger at Orca. She hoped her voice sounded stern, even if it rang hollow to her. “Promise me you will not do anything mean on my behalf. I don’t want you getting into more trouble because of me.” Orca just growled like a wounded dog. “No, you promise me!” Violet insisted. “You be good, and we let this blow over. Then your Management forgets this ever happened, and we’ll be more careful in the future, and then everything goes back to normal. Okay? …Okay?” Orca grumbled even more, reluctant to even look Violet in the eye. “Fine,” she relented at length. “Fine! Alright? I’ll play nice. But only because you told me to. You are insufferably nice, and I hate it!” “And you’re very stubborn! But you have a good heart.” She hugged the big, green, angry ball of orc, squeezing as hard as she could and refusing to let go. Orca embraced her back, feeling some of her rage melt away with this tiny creature whose arms barely fit around her. At length Violet pulled away, managing a smile even through tear-filled eyes. “You behave,” Violet reminded her. “Yeah, yeah…” “And you come back here every day. Okay? I’ll leave letters here, uh… under this rock.” She pulled a large stone into the alleyway, leaving it beside the door. “Okay? You check that rock, and you leave your own letters when you can. We’ll meet up again when you’re not in trouble anymore. Got it?” “Yeah, I got it…” Orca grumbled, still visibly upset. Violet squeezed her tight once more, knowing exactly how she was feeling. Then she waved as Orca slowly shut the door. The latch clicked, and the tree returned back to just being a tree. As Violet slipped out of the alley, she recalled with painful clarity all of the times here she had felt either completely elated or utterly defeated. She wondered when she might be able to be here without one or the other happening. ***** XV ***** “Violet!” “I know! I’m sorry…” Ambrose stormed over to her. She grabbed Violet’s right hand, the one holding her turquoise blade, and pulled it up, straightening her arm out in front of her. “Do like me,” Ambrose explained, standing alongside Violet as she held her own blade forward. Ambrose swung down to the left, pausing as she watched Violet do the same. “No,” Ambrose said. “Keep your elbow bent. Move your whole body, like me.” Ambrose swung her blade again, and Violet intently studied her movements. Feet shoulder-width apart, she bent down with her body, leaning into the strike but keeping her arms and legs limber as she moved. “Good,” Ambrose said. “Now this.” Ambrose brought her blade back up to the right, rotating her entire form as she went, from her feet to her hand. Violet did the same, moving her entire body, feeling suddenly more like a ballerina than a fighter. “And now forward.” Ambrose thrusted in one fluid, sweeping motion, moving slowly so that Violet could follow. “And again.” Violet followed Ambrose’s lead, synchronized to her movements as their swords danced through the air. Down and left, then up and right, then forward and out, then down again. They made three full revolutions in this routine before Ambrose lowered her sword to her side, patting Violet on the shoulder. “Good job. Keep doing that, don’t pull aggro, don’t get yourself killed, and you’ll be fine.” Ambrose rejoined the other eighteen raiders, who were standing in the middle of the gravel path, impatient to continue. “She’s not ready to be here.” “She’ll be fine,” Ambrose assured them, her voice tense. “She just has to hit them. Her blade will take care of the rest. If Jackurn can do it, any idiot can. Shall we?” Dire Mountain loomed closer than ever. Together they had cleared the path leading from the dungeon entrance. They had just come to the point where the path curved sharply upward, carving a twisting track into the rocky hillside. This was close enough for the thunderheads to bellow and flash overhead–far closer than Violet had ever seen this place legitimately. There was a certain dance to it all, not unlike the dance her and Ambrose had practiced. Five of them lead the dance, setting the pace and determining the positions for the backup dancers. Five more stood to the side, spellbooks held aloft to support the team. They would be the singers, Violet decided. She pictured microphones in front of each of them as the others found their partners and strode across the dancefloor. Violet’s job in all of this, as Ambrose had explained to her, was to wait until all of the dancers had found their marks, then sneak around the edge of the dancefloor and stab things in the back. “Hit them as hard as you can, wherever you can, until they start to look at you.” Ambrose had taken her aside to teach her this at the beginning of this raid. “Then back the hell up and find a new target.” So Violet watched and waited. The lead dancers had just attracted the attention of new dance partners–more of the hulking dark-furred demons they had met at the beginning. She watched as the demons battered down on their shields, and she watched as the choir of singers started their special effects. Then, as the others ran in to assist the lead dancers, Violet circled round and found her first mark. Left and down, up and right, forward and out, Violet recited in her head, swinging her blade as Ambrose had shown her. The blade itself passed through the thick hide of the creatures’ back like passing through air, without any marks or unpleasantness like in the real world. The damage of her blade still registered, of course–just without leaving any physical damage so as to appeal to a wider demographic. Left and down, up and right... The demon leered back at her, snorting angrily, signaling her cue to leave and find a new dance partner. She jumped to the next one, repeating the pattern of making the monster just angry enough to get its attention, but not angry enough to pull it away from its primary dancer. Soon enough all of them had politely fallen over. The group stood over their kills looking at their next targets. Violet kneeled down beside one of them, rubbing her hand against the surprisingly soft fur of the demon’s enormous body. She lifted one of its arms, wondering how convincing they were at playing dead. She scooted over to its head, leaning her head in close and listening for breathing. “Violet, what are you doing now?” Ambrose asked, lagging behind again as the group pushed forward. “Seeing how good they are at playing dead,” Violet replied. She placed a finger on the demon’s eyelid and pulled it open, drawing her face up close to see. “They’re not playing dead, Violet. They are dead. Now, quit being weird and let’s catch up to the others!” Violet let the matter drop, not wanting to disappoint anyone. They kept pushing forward as a group. By mid-day, they had pushed all the way up to the opening of the giant cave and the lair of the dungeon’s mini-boss: an enormous red dragon. giant folded wings curved over a sleek, scaled body. A long, winding neck lead up to a flat, triangular, reptilian head. Enormous, vertically slit eyes stared down at their approach. “Hey, look! It’s Betsy,” Violet cried out in excitement. Ambrose just shook her head in irritation, rolling her eyes. They prepared for the impending battle, passing out potions and casting protective spells. With a plan of attack discussed and agreed upon, they charged in, one of them shouting ‘Leeroy’ as they went. The dragon immediately took flight, blowing out a billowing column of fire right through their lead dancers. The singers moved in to assist while the archers tried to shoot her out of the sky. It landed a moment later, roaring loud enough to shake the entire cavern. They all charged forward as one, striking any part of the enormous beast that they could reach. Violet held back, circling the dancefloor as she had been told to do. Right away she found a problem–the creature's backside was blocked by an enormous tail that swung from side-to-side, sweeping away anyone who dared try what she was trying to do. Refusing to be a disappointment to the others, she ran forward in between tail swipes, getting knocked aside before she could even reach the creature. Pulling herself back to her feet, she charged in again, this time diving like a runner trying to steal Home base as its tail swung around. It passed right over her small figure, giving her the clearance to reach its hide and start dancing. But she felt like she wasn’t doing enough. Her dagger looked pathetic and small compared to those enormous scales. This dancing partner was nothing like the others before. It had no rear to stab lest she get swatted flat by that enormous swinging tail. Suddenly the dragon took flight once more, blasting fire down upon the entire chamber. Their lead dancers succumbed, with the rest falling soon after to its claws and teeth. At length, it turned its attention to Violet, the only one left. She had hid behind an outcropping of rock, looking for another opportunity to strike at its back. That opportunity never came, and now the beast was lunging straight for her with enormous teeth bared. “Betsy, wait!” she cried out in panic. Shockingly, it did. The dragon looked with confusion down at Violet, who was cowering with her hands held over her head. Finding herself not being brutally murdered, Violet opened her eyes and looked up at the towering creature standing mere feet away. They remained like that for a moment, surprised at the other, before Violet spoke again. "See! I knew you were nice after…" Her words were interrupted as she was engulfed in a column of flames. Violet slunk her shoulders, looking positively morose now that she was no longer aflame. “Guess not,” she mumbled. She stood with the rest of the party at the entrance of Dire Mountain. They were regrouping, checking their gear and discussing new strategies. Before them, the towering volcano teased at a distance, an ever-present reminder after every abrupt ending. “Sorry, guys,” she said aloud. “Hardly your fault,” Ambrose replied, her focus on the group discussion. “We just need to come up with something else and try again.” Violet stood there a moment longer, looking longfully at the distant mountain, before a realization suddenly came over her. “Oh, no! Guys, something just came up. I have to go. I’m sorry!” Ambrose gave her a hard look instead of just a passing glance like earlier. “You alright?” “Uh, yeah. Yeah! No problems at all!” She laughed awkwardly, as if Ambrose had made a joke. “Sorry! I’ll be here next time. Thanks for having me!” The others watched as Violet ran back toward the city, without even a glance backward or a word of explanation. She hurried through the castle gates to leave without even stopping to check in on their secret alleyway first. ***** XVII ***** One week passed. ***** XVIII ***** Violet passed through the Castle’s perpetually yawning doorways onto the bustling city streets of Centralia. Her immediate reaction was to head into their secret alleyway beside the large oak tree. Sitting there waiting for her, under the same rock they had found earlier, was not one but a whole stack of papers. And they weren’t rolls of cloth parchment like Violet and the others had–they were lined notebook paper covered in elegant, graphite script. Violet scooped them up and took off, trying her best to read them while also jogging to the Manor. She sprinted through the iron gates, passing across the orchard and into the estate. Just like so many times before, Aura was in the foyer, greeting her as she entered. Kiwi missing from his shoulder, though Violet barely noticed. “Welcome back, Miss Violet! Always good to have you around here.” “Thanks, Aura! Sorry, can’t talk now.” Aura watched as Violet hurried past, carrying her papers upstairs to her room. Once there, she locked herself in and spread the notes out on her bed. Orca’s penmanship was exquisite. It was an elegant cursive that flowed beautifully with each pencil stroke. “Good morning, pen-friend! I must confess, in all my years I never had the occasion to actually sit down and write a letter. This could be fun. Although, I’m not sure what to write here. “There’s an ongoing search for whoever left a fist-sized dent in the hallway drywall. Complete mystery to me, of course! We may never really know the true identity of this mysterious, ninja wall-puncher. “Nothing new from Management. At least they’re not pointing fingers. Maybe you were right, they will just forget about it after a while. They’d better. “Hope things are just as quiet there as they are here. We’ll see if you even find this or if decide you want to write back at all. “Bye!” Violet scanned the next several, devouring their words. “Good morning again, pen-friend! I had a raid last night in Dire Mountain. Some heroes actually made it to me! Can you believe that? Of course I wiped the floor with them! But the best part was that, when the ogres came out of their doors, they all avoided me like I was going to hit them or something! Now where would they ever have gotten that idea? Haha! Thought for a moment it was you sneaking in again. Nope! Oh, well. Just work as usual. “Kicked Peter’s ass in foosball. Told you he was terrible! But I got to pet his panther, so that was fun. Such big, fluffy cats up close! “I was wondering earlier, during lunch–what do heroes eat? Maybe you have your own normal/gross hero food? What’s your favorite? Maybe something specific they only have in that other place you were telling me about? Worms and snails, I bet! You seem like the type. “I wonder if you found my first letter yet. Guess we’ll see! “Bye! “P.S. No leads yet on the mystery ninja wall-puncher. They are clearly too smart for capture!” The letters following took on a darker and darker tone. Violet grew more and more anxious as bitter undertones seeped into each letter. “I see the letters I wrote before are still here. They weren’t even touched. What’s going on here? Have you changed your mind about all of this? Am I just writing these for myself? What are you doing over there!?” The last one was the worst. “I’m going to leave this as my last one. They don’t even look like they’re being read. Either something happened to you or I’m just a moron writing letters to myself. Maybe I’ll just come down there and find out for myself, Management be damned! Or maybe you decided this just wasn’t worth it after all? What on Earth could you be doing over there all this time?” Violet immediately took her rolled up parchment and self-inking quill from the drawer and penned a succinct response. “I’m sorry! I was away this whole time. Couldn’t visit. Please don’t be mad? I read your letters! Will write more soon. Promise!” Debating on whether to write more or not, Violet didn’t know the next time Orca might check on their spot. She wasted no time rolling up the parchment and rushing back out the door. Scared Orca would be there right now and she would miss her, Violet quickened her pace. She could have already missed her chance to explain herself, leaving Orca mad for another whole day! She raced down the streets, growing out of breath as she reached the old oak tree. She slipped the parchment under the rock, content to have finally left a response, even if it wasn’t much. She debated sitting here in front of this old oak tree. She could wait there and catch the door opening, surprising Orca with a big hug and apologizing to her in person. But Violet realized, as she had earlier, that she had no idea when that could be, or even if it would be today at all. No, as much fun as a surprise like that would be, Violet had other friends here she had neglected. She couldn’t just ignore them! Checking once more that the parchment letter was still secure under their delivery rock, she made her way back toward Applewood Manor to visit her other friends. Life had continued in Violet’s absence. Ambrose had filled her spot in the raid and kept attacking Dire Mountain, eventually triumphing over the dragon mini-boss. Meanwhile Jackurn and Alyrra had revisited the lower dungeons together without her. Certain raid bosses had not wandered into town again. Everything remained perfectly normal, just as she had left it. After she had checked in with everyone, Violet returned to her room to pen a proper letter. “Sorry again for the delay. I was in the held up in the giant factory we come from where all of your D.V.D.s are made. Ha ha! No, but really, sometimes I get stuck over there and can’t come back here as soon as I would like. But I’m okay, don’t worry about me! That just leaves more me time to hang out with my mom. We even spent a whole day out of the house like we used to! Well, almost. But we did drive past the shooting range she used to take me to! That was fun, back when we could do that together. “I promised to write you a proper letter! Very cool that you get to pet the big cats! I’ve been looking forward to what could see next time. Snow, maybe? I hope so! “Heroes eat normal stuff. Boring food! No worms and snails for us! …well, sometimes snails, but not me. What kinds of things do they serve in your cafeteria? Is it good? Is it weird? Is it something in between? I don’t eat much lately, but maybe I could stop in and see one day? “Hope everything is okay over there! Hope that mysterious wall-puncher stays un-caught! I promise to send more letters soon, and more often! “Until next time, “Bye for now!” Violet took the parchment and added it to their post-rock, trying to not feel disappointed that her first letter was still there. She busied herself as best she could, even if her heart and mind were still in that alleyway the remainder of that day. When evening fell, Violet was elated to find that her letters had disappeared. Orca had finally received her messages, and in doing so Violet may have just saved the entire town from a second invasion by an angry orc! Violet turned to leave, listening to a fluttering of wings as a large bird took off from the oak tree above her. She continued on her way, leaving for the night and excited for the unspoken promises of tomorrow. ***** XIX ***** The next morning, Violet’s heart leapt at the sight of a new letter under their rock. She ran to it, devouring its words right then and there, but the message was disappointingly short. “Meet me at the entrance of the Ice Caves today at noon. I have a surprise for you. Orca.” She read it over three times, her mind racing. Why was the letter so short? And what could the surprise be? Was it a good surprise or a bad one? And how could she possibly keep herself busy while she waited these next few hours? The answer to that last question was provided for her, as Ambrose grabbed her from the Manor for another run at Dire Mountain. They passed the hours passed slashing at demons and dragons alike, engulfed in the action inside that cavernous volcano. They made good progress before Violet broke away from the group for lunch, hurrying as realized she was going to be late for her appointment. The ice-covered cave entrance awaited her beyond the city bounds, along one of the northern roads. Violet followed the path, hiking up the base of a mountain range, before finally arriving at the large, chilly alcove. Waiting for Violet with arms crossed over her chest was an exquisitely dressed orc. She wore an elegant cami dress with a square neckline covered by a flowing silk three-quarters sleeve coat. They were matching vibrant turquoise, accented gracefully with swirling golden floral prints, complimenting Orca’s naturally emerald skin. A thin fabric belt tied it all together high on her waist. A light silken scarf patterned in yellows and golds hung loosely around her head, tied at the neck, holding down her free-flowing hair. Around her feet were wedge sandals tied with brown fabric straps. “Decided to show up after all, I see?” Orca said, her mood sharply contrasting her colorful attire. Violet stood in shock, taking in Orca’s outfit. “Wow, Orca!” she gaped. “You look…” Orca’s already sour expression grew even more soured. “Well, your outfit looks amazing!” Violet blurted out eventually. “Don’t you change the subject!” Orca said as she approached, hands on her hips. “I waited a week with no response to your letters, and now you keep me waiting again…” Orca’s complaints were cut short as Violet bounded forward, giving her the biggest hug of her life. She squeezed round, hands locked together and pressing down with every muscle in her body, feeling the soft silk of the dress press against her skin. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” “Violet! I can’t breathe…” “I’m not letting go until you forgive me!” Violet demanded, locking in her vice-like grip even harder. “Either I give in to your demands or die slowly by suffocation?” grumbled Orca. “Fine! I forgive you and your evil blackmailing, you tiny creature.” Violet relented, releasing her death grip on the big orc. She took a deep, dramatic breath before looking down at Violet, an unconscious grin bleeding through her hardened gaze. She pointed a stern finger at Violet. “You are very frustrating, do you know that? And don’t say ‘I’m sorry!’” Violet’s words caught in her throat as Orca cut her off. “You have to tell me what you were so busy doing this last week! What was so important in the… the over there?” She waved vaguely in no particular direction. Violet interpreted her meaning and nodded. “But I’m fine!” Violet insisted. “That’s good to know, but I didn’t ask that…” Orca snapped. “Just what on Earth were you doing this whole time?” “Well, I was… um…” “Yes?” Orca prompted, impatient. “Er, I… was with my family,” she said after much floundering. “Your family?” Orca said, surprised. “What, do you have old, geriatric heroes over there? And baby heroes? Do you have tiny hero toddlers with little suits of armor and safety swords?” Violet laughed, as energetic and infectious as Orca remembered. “Not exactly,” she admitted, wiping her eyes from under her glasses. “We’re not all, well, what you see here. Probably most of us aren’t, in fact.” Orca led the way at a leisurely pace, the conversation continuing as they went. They did not enter the dungeon entrance, as Violet had expected, but rather were skirting around the cliff walls themselves well off the beaten path. “What, you have like… office heroes? Lawyer heroes? Chef heroes?” “Chefs, artists, receptionists, nurses, doctors… Anything you can think of,” Violet explained. Orca snorted in contempt. “Are there no dungeons or monsters to battle over there, then? That sounds positively boring! I see why you choose to spend so much time here.” “Yeah, something like that…” Violet said, her voice trailing as she looked away. A moment later, she pointed out the rough hillside in front of them. Scraggly trees and thorny shrubs grew out from the rocky foothills on the mountainside. “Looks like we can’t pass through there.” “Looks like we’re not supposed to pass through there!” Orca replied, gesturing further into the wilderness. A wide-growing tree, split in two halves at the base, pushed up through the wall of brambles. It was to this that Orca had led them. She carefully climbed up between the two trunks while being mindful of her dress. Extending her arm, she pulled Violet up and over the crotch of the tree, then onward toward steep inclines and jagged rocks. “Mind your step,” Orca warned, mindful of the rocks herself in her sandals. They continued their arduous climb, ascending into a thin valley cut between sharply angled inclines. The awkward landscape soon gave away into a gently curving valley, the rocky terrain left behind. After a few more minutes’ journey, the valley opened up, revealing a gently sloping dirt shoreline leading down to a slow moving river of red. “Is that lava?” Violet asked, flabbergasted at the mind-jarring transition between tranquil grassy slopes and bubbling lava. Orca nodded, grinning like a schoolgirl. “Watch! Watch, over there!” she squealed, pointing. Violet did, following Orca’s finger to where the river of red was slowly flowing out from behind a bend in the mountains. And from there, as Violet and Orca watched, a good sized floating island of stark blue came out from the bend, lazing down the river. “Is that ice?” Violet asked. “Yep!” “In the lava.” “That’s right,” Orca replied, grinning. “They float through the Ice Caves, giving heroes a moving path over the icy river. But they keep on floating, eventually intersecting with the lava flows from another dungeon entirely. Then they meet up here. This is the place I was telling you about earlier. Doesn’t that just break your brain?” It was Violet’s turn to give into Orca’s infectious energy, grinning ear-to-ear right along with her as they stood on the shores of a lava river watching room-sized glaciers float past. But it turned out that physics-defying phenomenons were not the only surprise waiting for Violet. Orca led them further along the shoreline to where a large, woven picnic basket waited for them. “You never did tell me what heroes eat, so I had to guess,” Orca admitted, flipping open the basket’s lid and rummaging through. Violet just stood there, overwhelmed by what Orca had done for them: a real, honest-to-goodness picnic, in what must have been one of the most unusual scenic spots in the entire world. It didn’t even matter what was inside of that basket, Violet just loved the fact that anyone would take the time to do this. Not one single person from her own world had ever done something so sweet just for her. She was so caught up in the moment she didn’t realize Orca had been talking to her. “Sandwiches?” Orca repeated, holding one out to her. “Yes? No?” “Monster sandwiches?” Violet asked, hesitant. “If pigs are monsters, then yes,” Orca answered. “Is there anything you don’t eat?” “Basically anything that looks back at me when I eat it.” Orca thought about that for a second, then tucked something back into the basket. “Well, none of those, then…” She brought out the rest one at a time, creating a spread fit for a queen. Violet counted her first picnic as a massive success, even if not every food choice Orca made was spot on. The ham sandwiches and jarred pickles were excellent choices. The thermos filled with ale perhaps not as much, despite Orca insisting that it was watered down making it more ‘palatable’ to her kind. Beyond those were selections of cheeses, dried meats, fresh bread, fruits, and more. “This is entirely too much!” Violet said once they had begun eating. “I can’t believe you did all of this!” “I had to! I had no idea what you would like. I’m still new to the idea of being with heroes when not trying to kill them. I don’t know how this works yet.” ***** XX ***** The two talked the hours away, watching icebergs drift lazily down the molten river. Without needing to hide under giant ponchos or fight off marauding crowds, the pair carried on easily, with conversation flowing as naturally and organically as it should between friends. Here in this place, alone from the world, they could focus on just being themselves. They discussed everything, from the world around them, to their latest hobbies and interests, to all the books they’ve read. “We have a library in Centralia!” Violet offered. “Maybe there are some books in there you haven’t read yet?” “I’d be curious to see,” Orca admitted. Even when not talking, the silence of sitting together in quiet comfort was enough for. Nothing came between them but for the quiet rumbling of lava and the slow crackling of ice. It was a perfect afternoon. Eventually, as slow as the icebergs they watched, the two pulled themselves to their feet and started on the long trek back. Even before they reached the rocks and brambles, they were already lost in thought planning their next visit. Orca recalled her promise to Violet about snow and started dreaming up new plans. They crossed the split tree back into the regular wilderness, paying attention to each other instead of their surroundings. That was until the two spotted someone waiting for them back at the gravel road. The silhouette of Ambrose’s emblazoned red duster and distinct haircut gave her away instantly. Between her ever-present scowl and her hands placed firmly on her hips, it was clear that she had something to say. Orca stiffened up at the sight of her, her look turning somber. Violet seemed to be the only one immune to the sudden tension in the air. “Oh, hi Ambrose!” Violet called out, waving jubilantly. Ambrose didn’t wave back. “Violet, you have to explain something to me.” “Sure! What’s that?” “These,” Ambrose held up the letters that Orca had been writing to her. Violet just looked at the lined papers dumbfounded, seeing Orca’s beautifully flowing penmanship all over them. A mixture of confusion, shock, and embarrassment overtook her. “How did you get those?” Violet asked, but her small voice was drowned out by Orca’s shouting. “What are you doing with that? Those were not for you! HOW DARE YOU!” “Yeah, yeah…” Ambrose replied, tapping her fingers on the paper. “Believe it or not, I’m actually less interested in your love notes than I am the paper itself. Three hole-punch, college rule standard notebook paper. Spiral-bound, by the look of it.” She held them up as if to illustrate her point. “Do you see anything wrong with that?” “Yeah, those weren’t yours to read!” Orca roared. Ambrose just rolled her eyes. “Besides that. The paper, Violet! What’s wrong with the paper?” Violet just shook her head, too overcome with emotion to process Ambrose’s question. “I don’t… What do you mean?” “Think, Violet! What do we not have here? Modern day shit. And what is this? Modern day shit!” She slapped the pages to even further illustrate her point. “Either you secretly have a vendor in here for freakin’ notebook paper, or there’s something weird going on. And with you sneaking out on dates with She-Hulk, it definitely looks something weird going on.” “This wasn’t a date…” Violet said meekly before Orca’s voice overpowered her once more. “It doesn’t matter where I got the paper from. Now give those back!” Orca reached out but Ambrose snapped them away. She just glowered up at the orc, holding her gaze unblinking. “Show me,” Ambrose ordered. “Show you what?” Orca replied. “Everything! Secret passages, secret paper vendors, secret pillow forts–all of it! If it’s as real as Violet claims, then prove it to me.” “Why should I?” Orca countered, crossing her arms over her chest. “Lots of reasons,” Ambrose replied, turning to Violet. “Not least of which is to make sure that my friend is okay.” “Ambrose, I’m fine! I promise!” “Maybe so. But from my perspective, all I see is a friend with impossible letters going on secret dates with non-existent characters from a stupid game. All of that together makes me incredibly suspicious.” Then Ambrose turned back up to Orca. “If even half of what Violet is saying is true, then I want to know about it. Prove to me that Violet is right and that she isn’t actually going crazy. If what you guys say is true, then fine, I’ll leave and never bother you two lovebirds again.” “And if I don’t?” Orca held firm. They stared each other down, unblinking and unmoving, until Violet spoke up between them. “I mean, if we had a second poncho and stayed quiet, maybe it would be okay? Like last time?” Orca looked at Violet, back to Ambrose, then back to Violet. “She stole from you and invaded our privacy. And you still take her side?” “Well… yeah,” Violet explained. She approached Ambrose, standing firmly beside her friend as she addressed them both. “I’ve known Ambrose since I joined this place almost a year ago. In some ways, I know her as well as I would my own family. And in this instance, she’s only worried about my safety, even if it is in her own, uh… unique way. Plus all she’s asking for is what I offered her in the first place–just a quick tour. I don’t see any harm in it.” “You saw those posters they were hanging.” “We’ll be careful!” Violet insisted. “Won’t we, Ambrose?” “Yeah…” Ambrose said flatly. “So careful.” “Please, Orca? It’ll be okay, I promise!” Orca just grumbled and snorted before shrugging in defeat. “Alright. But only because you asked. Not because of her!” Orca explained before setting off toward the Ice Caves seeking two more ponchos. Once out of earshot, Violet and Ambrose turned to each other. “Well, this should be fun,” Ambrose mocked. Violet, however, was not amused. “You took those letters from my locked room. You followed me around in secret. And you made my friend upset. Ambrose, I… I am mad at you!” Ambrose just snickered, grinning as if Violet had made a joke. Then she realized Violet wasn’t joking. “Wait, seriously?” “Yes, seriously! How did you even get in my room, anyway? It’s supposed to be private!” “Not to the guild leader, it isn’t,” Ambrose replied. “And besides, I’m not the one locking raid bosses in my bedroom…” “Who I bring, and where, is my choice to make, Ambrose.” “Sure, if it was an actual person!” Ambrose said. “I wouldn’t give a shit then. But this, dating a monster character in a non-existent game world, it’s just weird, Violet!” “We’re not… it wasn’t a date.” “Oh? What did you two do today?” “We… sat on a river bank and had a picnic.” Ambrose just stared at her, incredulous. “And that’s not a date?” she said after a pause. “I… We… She…” Ambrose just held up her hand to silence Violet. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Not a date, my ass... Look, whatever. I don’t actually care, alright? If all of this is actually real and she means well by you, then I’ll be the first one at your big, weird monster wedding, alright? And yeah, yeah, not dating, I heard you.” Ambrose repeated herself before Violet had the chance to protest again. “I’m still mad at you,” Violet said after a pause. “Even if you do mean well.” “Yeah, I get it. I’m an asshole. And if I’m wrong about all this, then I owe you a big, fat apology, okay? Jeez…” An awkward silence rose between them, Violet fidgeting in the dirt while Ambrose leaned up against a nearby tree trunk staring at clouds. After a long moment in which neither spoke, Orca returned carrying two more oversized leather ponchos. “I stole these from Twilight Marsh.” Orca helped Violet into hers, lowering the enormous garment down onto her, helping guide her arms into place. Then Orca threw the other at Ambrose, wadded up into a ball. “Put that on!” Orca ordered. Cynically amused, Ambrose did as bidden. Once they were both swimming in their eyesore disguises, Orca led the way back to the Ice Caves. She gave one final warning about keeping silent to Ambrose before ushering them into the chilled dungeon and the hallways beyond. ***** XXI ***** To her credit, Ambrose paraded along behind the leader in silence. When Orca found the nearest hidden doorway and guided them into the private access corridors, Ambrose said nothing. When they passed a group of trolls talking about the latest sports scores, Ambrose said nothing. Ambrose said nothing even when they pushed through the swinging doors into the company cafeteria, watching as every type of monster carried their trays from the buffet lines to the differently-sized seating. Then came the recreation room, where monsters big and small engaged in foosball, racquetball, air hockey and ping pong. They even peeked into the gym, where a pair of exceptionally tall demons were running on trend mills while a third was mixing an energy smoothie in a blender. “Good afternoon, Orca!” they cried out, happy to see her. Orca responded in kind, always politely escaping the conversation before too long. Lastly, on the final leg of their tour, they made their way to Orca’s quarters. Ambrose to this point still said nothing–she just followed along, her giant hood bobbing up and down over her face with each step. The group made to her door when they were stopped by a familiar voice. “Orca! Why haven’t you been around so much lately?” Orca begrudgingly turned to see the hefty frame of Throgg waddling towards them. Orca sighed. “What do you want, Throgg? I’m busy.” “What? You don’t look so busy. And who are these two?” “Family from out of town,” Orca replied, her voice curt. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” “Not really, no.” “Well, could you? I’m in the middle of something.” “I haven’t seen you in a while,” Throgg replied. “Nobody has. You been busy or something?” “Terribly busy, yes,” Orca replied, her patience thinning. “Like I am right now. Now go away!” Throgg stuck her with a curious expression as he reached down to scratch his considerable waist. “Why are you always telling me to go away?” “Simple. Because I don’t want you here. Now shoo!” “Why are you always saying mean things to me? And why is that small one holding your hand?” Violet had slipped her hand into Orca’s palm to reassure her, and help keep her temper under control. In a fit of growing irritation, Orca waved her hand away and began shouting at Throgg. “Never mind any of that! Just get out of here already, you moron!” “You know, you never say nice things to me,” Throgg reminisced. “I remember back when you used to rub my footsies.” “Those disgusting things?” Orca cried out, revolted. “Well, why not?” Throgg asked. “Isn’t that what wives are supposed to do?” “Wait, you’re married?” Violet blurted out. Orca picked up Violet’s tiny form and shoved her through the doorway as Throgg stared with wide eyes, pointed a trembling finger. “Is that… a hero? Do you have heroes with you, Orca?” Orca charged up to him, slamming Throgg against the wall and throttling him with her forearm. “You listen to me, you fat sack of shit! You’re not going to say a word about this to anyone. If you so much as just think of saying something, I will take those disgusting sausages you call feet and shove them through your thick skull! DO YOU HEAR ME?” Throgg looked at Orca: her skin flushed purple in anger, her breath hot in his face. Then he looked down at the hooded figure of Ambrose, who now stood just beside Orca. “Those flyers on the wall…” Throgg said, the cogs of his brain slowly turning. “Those are because of you?” Orca shoved even harder, his flab jiggling as it molding around Orca’s arm. “You’re going to say nothing about this. To anyone!” A long silence hung between the two, broken only by Orca’s heavy breathing. Eventually, Throgg spoke. “No.” “No? What do you mean, no?” Orca raged. “I mean, no,” Throgg repeated. “You say mean things to me. You act like you don’t want me around. And now you’re in trouble. So now, I’m thinking… I want my footsies rubbed.” “Throgg, I swear to god, I will end your stupid, pathetic existence…” “And I want to hear nice things, like you used to say,” Throgg continued, cutting her words off. “In the beginning, back before you got mean. And if you don’t, then I think that Management should hear about your heroes here...” Orca huffed even louder, sounding much like a minotaur herself. She stared him down, her teeth clenched and her face flashing vibrant shades of purple and red. “I think, maybe you let me go now,” Throgg said. Orca did so, her arms shaking in rage, her fists clenched so tightly her nails dug into her skin. “And I think…” Throgg stood there, a finger on his chins as he decided what he would wish for next. “I think I will be in my room this evening, where I will enjoy my footsies being rubbed.” He nodded, as if having decided some important decree. Then he hefted his belt, held his head up high, and strutted away down the hall. “Looking forward to tonight, my queen!” he called back. After Throgg turned a corner out of sight, Orca unleashed her fury on yet another wall, screaming and slamming her fists into it over and over again. Coming back down to her senses, Orca remembered Violet and went to her. Ambrose slipped silently through the door behind Orca. Once Inside, they saw Violet sitting on the edge of a day bed, her disguise tossed away. She looked on the verge of tears. “Damn that stupid orc!” Orca growled, baring her tusks from behind the safety of her closed door. “I can’t believe you’re actually married!” Violet cried out. “And you didn’t tell me?” During this exchange, Ambrose drew back her hood and just ambled aimlessly around the room, taking in all of the sights. “It’s not that simple!” Orca replied. “How, though? Someone is either married, or they’re not. Right?” Orca took a seat on a bench facing Violet, then immediately stood up again and started pacing. “We have been king and queen of the orcs ever since the very beginning. There was never anything official like a wedding. We were just made like that. I was never given a choice!” “What do you mean?” Orca stopped her pacing, looking directly at Violet as she explained. “In my first memories of this place, over seven years ago now, there was Throgg, myself, and some of the other monsters. He was the king, I was the queen, and that was it. That’s just how it was. Fast forward a couple of years when I started to realize what a colossal moron he is, I move out into my own place here and I find every opportunity to keep from looking at his stupid face.” “Like Adam and Eve?” Violet offered. Orca agreed emphatically. “Yes, exactly like that! We were just made in the Garden of Eden and assumed to be together.” “So… you’re not really married then?” Orca threw her arms up in exasperated surrender. “He thinks we are, because we were made that way from the start. I say hell no, because I never agreed to it. Which one of us is right?” She just shrugged again. Violet sat there a moment lost in thought, a silence hanging between them. “So,” Violet said at length. “Have you ever thought about leaving him, if you really don’t like him that much?” “No one’s ever done that before. I never really had a reason to think about it. I’m not even sure it works that way here…” Orca resumed pacing, more irritated than ever. “I can’t believe that idiot is actually blackmailing me! What am I going to do about him…” Violet sat in thought as a hushed lull fell over the room. That’s when she noticed Ambrose, still silently contemplating everything around the room. “Ambrose? You’ve been unusually quiet. What do you think of all this?” “What do I think?” Ambrose said, stopping her self-guided tour to look over at Violet. “Yes.” “Yes?” Violet asked. “Yes,” Ambrose repeated. “Yes, it would seem you were right after all.” Ambrose walked up to Violet, slipping the letters out from under her duster and handing them over. “You can have these back.” “That’s it?” Violet asked, feeling suddenly nervous around this polite, tempered side of Ambrose. “That’s it. Promise is a promise. This place is too crazy to be anything but real.” “How about an apology for stealing those letters in the first place?” Orca demanded. Ambrose wheeled around, glaring daggers up at her. “Apologizing for protecting my friend in the face of what was a blatantly impossible situation? Never!” Violet felt oddly comforted again, as if one small part of the world had course corrected back to normal. “Okay, well, what should we do about this situation, then?” Violet asked, taking Ambrose’s attention back from Orca. “Easy,” Ambrose said, flipping the hood of her poncho back down over her face. “We go back home and drink.” “What about Orca?” “Good luck.” “Hey, could you not be such a hardass for once?” Orca growled. “No,” Ambrose replied. “And maybe if you weren’t such an entitled, whiny little shit, you’d realize that your situation actually isn’t half as bad as you’re convincing yourself it is. You live like a damn sultan, with a bedroom bigger than my entire freaking apartment! You get free food spoon-fed to you, with free access to an entire gym and spa, and a job you can walk to that you actually like. I don’t know one single damn person in my whole life who actually likes their job! And what does all of this cost you? Having to touch the ewie-yucky toesies of your fake husband. Please! No daily commutes on public transportation? No pushing carts eight hours a day in frozen sleet? No eating shitty microwave food in front of a broken television smelling cat piss from one neighbor while listening to the arguing, and other things, from the neighbor above you? My goodness, let me cry you a river! I’d take your problems over mine any day…” “Ambrose!” Violet cried out, but Ambrose cut her short. “Yeah, yeah, I’m a big meanie. I’ve heard it. What I’m actually being is honest, and if your head wasn’t shoved up your big, green ass, you would realize I’m right. Thanks for the tour, I’ll find my own way back!” Ambrose pulled open the door and slipped out before the others could say another word. ***** XXII ***** Violet and Orca walked back through the hallways in contemplative silence. Only when they were standing at the doorway of the large oak tree near the castle did Violet turn to her. “I’m sorry.” “For what, Ambrose?” Orca asked, shaking her head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve come to expect that from her.” “No, for getting you in trouble,” Violet explained. “If I hadn’t of said anything, Throgg wouldn’t know about us.” Orca just shrugged, her gaze distant and distracted. “I knew the risks. I did it anyway. Was bound to happen sooner or later. Don’t worry about it, I’ll handle him.” “What are you going to do?” “Well…” Orca hesitated, lost in thought. “As much as I hate to admit it, I think Ambrose might be at least a little bit right. I could play nice. I did it before. And isn’t that what you would do: be nice to everyone? Maybe, in this case, I could afford to act more like you. “I guess I’m going to touch some ewie-yucky toesies.” Orca sighed. Then she focused down at Violet. “Seriously, though, don’t worry about me. I’ll take care of it. Don’t you fuss over my situation. You just look forward to seeing snow on our next adventure, alright?” Violet beamed up at her. It was the first time Orca has seen her smile since leaving her home. They said their goodbyes over dreams of their next encounter with promises of more letters in the meantime. Violet passed through the wide, yawning doors of Applewood Manor to see Ambrose packing up gear in the main entry. Her dual scythes hung at her hips as she stacked various scrolls and potions into her pack. Violet approached, curious. “Are you… preparing for a raid?” “Nope! Surprise birthday party for the Pope.” “But, like… doesn’t that change everything? Now that you know?” “No. Why would it?” Ambrose paused her packing to look at Violet. “They have their roles to fulfill and so do I. Why would this change anything?” “But, like, they’re real people, with real lives and everything!” “Maybe so,” Ambrose said, resuming her packing. “But that doesn’t stop them from doing their job, and it doesn’t stop me from doing mine. That is the entire point of this place, isn’t it? It’s why we’re all here, them and us. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” “Wait!” Violet called out, stopping Ambrose as she turned to leave. “What you said earlier, about where your home. Was that all true?” “So what if it was?” Ambrose asked, fixing a pointed stare at Violet. “It doesn’t matter.” “Ambrose, I’m… I’m so sorry! If there’s anything I can do…” “Stop,” Ambrose ordered, turning to face her directly. “Just stop. I know you have this chronic condition of wanting to help everyone and save the entire world, and good on you for it. But I don’t need help–you’re just getting your bleeding heart all over me. I didn’t tell anyone because no one needs to know. In this place, I am nothing more than a walking pile of stats carrying swords. A murder hobo. That’s it. I have my reasons for being logged in here so damn much. It’s because sometimes life is just shit and there’s nothing you or I can do about it. So, thanks, but no thanks. Save your empathy for everyone else. I’m good.” Then Ambrose shifted her pack, made for the door, and marched out without a single look back. ***** XXIII ***** “Why, my dearest sweety king and ruler of all that is good and just, oh Mighty Throgg…” Orca recited, feeling her soul physically die within her with every word. Throgg mulled over her words from where he sat on his make-shift throne, which Orca had created for him using her pillows and benches she had carried over from her own home. “I think I like ‘Supreme Mighty Throgg’ better…” “Yes, of course, Supreme Mighty Throgg.” They were in his private quarters, which were a spartan set of rooms with concrete flooring, bare wood walls and only the most crude furnishings. Against the back wall was the bed they used to share–a sad, stained little mattress on metal framing with only a single tattered blanket. It lay there as a painful reminder of the life Orca used to have before she walked away. Orca knelt in front of Throgg, using a water basin to wash and massage his enormous bare feet. At length, she dropped her rags into the basin and leaned back. “Thouest toesies have been rubbed. Thine feets have been scrubbed clean. May I now make leave of thy presence, oh Supreme Mighty Throgg?” He scratched his chins as he leaned back, clearly enjoying the pillows that weren’t even his to use. “Hm… You had a certain garment you used to wear for me,” Throgg said. “Whenever I asked for it.” Orca froze, feeling a heart-wrenching dread consume her. “You can’t be serious…” “I still have it,” Throgg said, reaching back to point at a closet, his flabby arms jiggling as he moved. “Why don’t you go serve your supreme mighty king and put it on? Unless you’d rather Management discover your little secret?” Orca found waiting for her in that closet every terrible memory she had worked so hard to repress over the last several years. Under the light of a single bare bulb, they hung in that threadbare closet just exactly as she had remembered. And without even needing clarification, she knew exactly which outfit Throgg liked the most. She took it down, swallowed her pride, and began to undress. A moment later she emerged, covered in a simple black slip and matching triangular cat ears and flowing tail. She brought her cat-glove hands up to her face and pawed at the air in his general direction. “Mrrow.” Throgg’s eyes bulged in excitement. He threw his arms wide saying, “come to your king, my pretty little kitty!” Orca shuffled her way through the cafeteria line, balancing two trays in front of her. She ordered a cup of the brown slop, extra sloppy, with a portion of tenderloin so raw it was bleeding all over the plate. “Just a salad for me,” she added. “I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.” “Orca! What’s happenin’?” Orca turned to see Peter, the foosball-playing troll from the Tangled Thickets. He was here with his other troll companions, all of them standing tall and lanky in line behind her. “Why the two trays?” Peter asked. “Make a friend?” “Yeah, Throgg,” Orca grumbled. “Throgg?” Peter asked, looking over the crowd to where Throgg was seated. At Peter’s height, it was easy for him to do. “Don’t you two totally hate each other, or something?” “I’ve been trying to play nice. Taking a cue from a new friend…” “Oh, rock on. Good luck with that!” Orca’s portions were served. She thanked the lunch-witch before crossing the cafeteria floor to where the ‘supreme mighty Throgg’ sat waiting. “What took so long?” he asked. “I was putting extra spit in it.” “Nuh, uh!” Throgg shook his head, his chins flapping. “You have to be nice to me! That’s the rule.” Orca dropped Throgg’s tray in front of him. Then she took a seat beside him and started picking at her salad. Throgg cleared his throat beside her. “Now what?” Orca asked. “Feed me.” “What are you, a baby? Feed your damn self.” “No, I think you will feed me. Wouldn’t want everyone to know your secret, would we?” He sat there with his mouth agape and his eyes closed. Orca thought about all the things she could do to him in that ridiculous state, and spoonfeeding him like a baby was not top of that list. Still, she took his spoon, shoveled it into his slop and shoved it into his mouth. He munched contentedly, acting more like a baby than ever. “More,” he ordered. He hung his mouth open again, bits of slop dribbling down from his lips. So Orca spoon fed him again, and again after that. Her own salad went untouched. By this point, they were drawing quite a few looks from the crowd around them. “Uh, Orca?” Peter asked, who was passing by but had stopped to view the spectacle. “What are you doing?” “I’m spoon-feeding a big galoot.” “I see that. But, why?” “Because she has to!” Throgg cried, his eyes still shut as he sat there, blissfully content. “She’s serving her king, like a good wife should.” “You’ve never done that for him before,” Peter remarked. He sounded equal parts concerned and confused. “What’s going on?” “That’s because I know the secret!” Throgg bragged. “She has to do what I say so long as I know her secret.” “What secret?” “That she brought heroes in here for a tour.” Then Throgg opened his eyes, looking around as if an illusion had just shattered. The entire cafeteria was looking at them now. “Did I just say that out loud?” Anything else Throgg might have said was muffled out by the soup bowl being suddenly shoved onto his face. Orca stood up, brushing off her hands. “Thank god that’s over. That was worse punishment than anything Management could do. I might have actually killed him if I had to endure any more of that bullshit.” Orca oriented herself toward her boss’s office, cutting through the gathered crowd on the way, yelling back as she went for all to hear. “Oh, and by the way, we’re getting a divorce!” ***** XXIV ***** Ambrose and her party had hacked, slashed, stabbed, and magicked all the way through Dire Mountain, leaving a trail of corpses leading up to and through the cave. As the last of them fell, the victors stood looking up at the monolithic stone doors leading into the inner chamber–the final boss room at the end of the whole journey. Violet was grateful to Ambrose for allowing her to be here for this moment. She stood at that moment exactly where she had been the first time she was here. Ambrose approached her, sheathing her blades and clapping a hand on her shoulder. “That’s your friend through there. Care to do the honors?” Violet grinned, imagining the look on Orca’s face when they entered. She made it to this point legitimately–no shortcuts or secret passages this time. She had earned this right, along side her friends here. She walked to the front of the group and pushed at the doors, listening to the same grinding of rock she had heard before. Violet looked back, the sound echoing throughout the enormous cave but without a single standing monster left to hear. Violet led the charge into the darkened chamber. Once they were all inside, the doors shut behind them and the same skeletal band emerged from above. They took their spots, blasting out an energetic riff as their hype man built up the encounter. “I hope you’re ready for the fight of your lives,” bellowed the skeleton, his voice echoing throughout the stage as it came alive with spotlights and pyrotechnics. “You’re in for the hardest battle you’ve ever seen against the mean, the ferocious, the mighty… King Throgg!” “Huh?” Violet asked, dumbfounded, as the immense form of Throgg rose from the center lift, wearing his same ramshackle clothes and tarnished crown. “That fat ass?” Ambrose remarked, turning to Violet. “Why him? Where’s your girlfriend-slash-not girlfriend?” Violet just shrugged helplessly, shaking her head. The ogres began to pour out from the side rooms, breaking up their conversation. Their raid of twenty heroes, forged into an efficient team through their shared dungeoneering, swept through them easily. The ground became littered with the hulking bodies of dozens of ogres. The focus left squarely on Throgg, he flourished his large metal scepter in the air and shouted, “Face me then, heroes, and meet your doom!” “Yeah, hold up a second,” Ambrose cried out, cutting in front of the group to stop them. She addressed Throgg directly. “Where’s Orca?” “Grr, I’m the big scary Orc King! I will slay all of…” “Drop the shit, you fat tub of lard,” Ambrose ordered. “I was there when Orca slammed you against the wall like the little bitch you are.” Throgg stopped his theatrics then, studying Ambrose more closely. “I was the one under the giant poncho, dipshit,” Ambrose explained, seeing the clueless look in his eyes. She pulled Violet up next to her. “She was with me.” “Hello,” Violet waved awkwardly. “You two! I remember you...” “Yeah, good job, moron. Where is Orca?” “Nevermind her, I’m the big scary king of the orcs! Look upon me and–OW!” Ambrose drew her fist back after punching the giant orc in the face. He drew his hands up, covering his nose as he stumbled backward. “That hurt!” “No shit, dumbass. Now where’s Orca? I came here specifically to square up in a fight against her, not her fat, brain-dead, off-brand stand-in.” “Why are you so mean?” Throgg whined. “Why are both of you so mean to me?” “Because you’re a whiny bitch,” Ambrose replied. She couldn’t help but note this one additional thing her and Orca shared in common. “Now where is she?” “On lock down,” Throgg explained, still holding his fat nose. “She doesn’t work here anymore. She got demoted to lesser dungeons and has a personal guard keeping her in her home when not on the clock. She’ll never be allowed to go anywhere by herself ever again, all because of you two!” Violet gasped, covering her mouth with her hands as tears threatened her eyes. “Those are your dumbass rules that caused that, not us,” Ambrose corrected him. “We're just friends trying to visit.” “Friends?” Throgg asked, doubling down on his clueless expression. “She can’t have heroes as friends!” “Yeah, it’s freaking weird, I know. But whatever–it’s not my life. How do we talk to her?” “You don’t!” Throgg explained. “You will never talk to her. Heroes can never just talk to us, or be friends, or anything like that! It was never supposed to happen, it never can happen, and it will never…” His abdomen was pierced with Ambrose’s blade. Throgg blinked several times, his lips still hanging open with unspoken words, before he collapsed back on the ground in a heap. Ambrose stepped on his enormous gut, pulled her sword free, then looked back at Violet. “I got tired of listening to him,” she explained. Then she turned to the rest of the raiding party behind her. “Free loot, boys! Take your fill.” The others dispersed to raid the chests as Violet fell to her knees, her face buried in her hands. “It’s all our fault,” she sobbed. “We’re the ones that got her into trouble!” Ambrose sheathed her blades then knelt beside her, placing a hand awkwardly on her shoulder. “Look,” she said, trying to sound as comforting as she could. “I meant it earlier–it’s their own dumbass rules that caused this, not you. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I still think it’s weird. But it’s also not right, keeping two people apart like that. And I feel like, since you guys keep finding ways to be together, you two will just end up beating this latest thing, too. And, hey, at least this time you have help, right? Just tell me who to stab and I’m there.” “I appreciate that,” Violet said, reaching up and grasping Ambrosein a big hug. Caught off guard, Ambrose nearly caused them both to fall backward. Violet sobbed softly into her duster as Ambrose wrapped a single arm gingerly around her. “There, there…” Ambrose said, awkwardly patting her on the back. “You guys will definitely figure this thing out.” The two embraced a while longer while the rest of the raid group looted the place clean. When Violet was ready, Ambrose helped her to her feet, let her wipe at her bespectacled face, then led her to the exit doorway. Ambrose and Violet entered Applewood Manor together. Ambrose asked if Violet was okay before letting her go up to her room. In the meantime, Ambrose herself headed for the common room, dropping down onto one of the couches and stripping off her boots. She laid lengthwise across the cushions across the whole couch, folding her hands behind her head and staring up at the ceiling. “Congratulations are in order, I take it?” Ambrose recognized Aura’s voice immediately. He was the only one among them who spoke like a posh British aristocrat with a stick up his ass. Ambrose didn’t even turn her head as she replied. “Yeah, we cleared the dungeon. Whoop-de-freaking-do.” “You seem less than enthusiastic?” “Kiwi?” At that, Ambrose did look over at the large green macaw affixed to Aura’s shoulder. They were seated at one of the reading desks lining the bookshelves at the rear of the common room. A book lay open in front of both the man and the bird, leading Ambrose to wonder who had been reading it. “I convinced our raid to spend the last few weeks grinding away at Dire Mountain only to find that the big boss Orca had been replaced with some giant green nutsack. And then on top of that, I didn’t even get any of the loot! What a waste of my time.” “You mean, the dungeon was scheduled for a different raid boss?” Aura asked. “Nope. It wasn’t anyone who was supposed to be there. Instead it was Orca’s man-squeeze, Throgg. And what an asshole he is.” “You’re certain?” Aura asked. “That can’t be right. He’s one of the bosses at Twilight Marsh.” “A lot of things don’t seem right lately.” Ambrose turned back to stare at the ceiling as she spoke. “From Orca and Throgg’s weird-ass marriage to the whole underground monster-world thing. This place has gotten all sorts of weird lately, and that’s saying something.” “Beg your pardon?” “Oh, right, you’re out of the loop. Where have you been, anyway?” Ambrose pressed on without waiting for an answer. “So, apparently monsters are actual people here, with their own weird ass lunchroom and rec rooms and shit. And apparently they just hang out, having a life and everything. They can even be married, or were maybe they were previously married–I don’t know, it’s all weird. I’ve been there and I barely get it.” Then she paused for a moment. “They do have a nice gym, though. It looked like the YMCA in there. I’m a little jealous.” “Oh? And you’ve seen this place firsthand?” “Orca gave us the tour,” Ambrose replied. “I don’t know who’s paying for all that stuff, but they have it nice over there.” She turned to Aura once again. “You know every single nook and cranny of this stupid game. You ever hear anything about that?” “I can’t say as I have.” “Huh.” Ambrose looked back up at the ceiling again. “Figured a huge nerd like you would be all over it. Worst part is, Violet’s pseudo-girlfriend Orca is now in trouble for all of this, and Violet’s sulking around because of it. I’m sympathetic, mind you, but damn–did you have to pick an orc as a girlfriend? This place is full of perfectly normal human girls, if that’s your thing. Like Alyrra, maybe. What’s wrong with her?” Ambrose sighed dramatically before continuing. “Ah, whatever. I guess she makes Violet happy, so I guess I better get used to it. Good thing Orca can’t hear me say that, she’d probably hold it over me.” “I see…” Aura rose from his chair to take his leave. “If you’ll excuse me.” “Don’t forget to flush and wash after,” Ambrose called out after him. “Don’t be gross like Jackurn!”uat men with dirty green skin and tattered, ratty clothes. Strands of wiry gray hair topped their head and lined their nostrils. With their short stature and large hands and bare feet, they grabbed the overturned furniture and set them right. Rough wooden tables and splintered chairs were restored, along with the torches set into sconces on the rough rock walls and shiny gold coins poured into treasure chests. Spiked traps with wooden pincers were wound back into place and false floors set into the wooden floor. It was a modest dungeon, one which smelled perpetually moist and earthy. The warm light of a dozen candles and torches filled the area. From the room they guarded there was only one single entrance and exit, setting predictable paths in which the invading heroes would get funneled through.

With their chores finished and the room set right, the goblins plopped down onto the tables, scooted themselves in, and furnished a battered old deck of playing cards. The backs were browned with age and stains and the edges tattered, but it served them just as well as they gambled the hours away.

“Five slugs says you can’t beat three aces,” cried one of the goblins, pulling his sliming, wiggling wealth from a tunic pocket. The others pulled out their own living chips and commenced bickering.

“Well, I gots seven slugs here that says you ain’t got no three aces!”

Their living wealth was wagered, bets placed, and hands lost and dealt and lost again with much grumbling from the losers and cheering from the winner. Slugs danced around the table from one gambler to the next as wagers flew.

This was until the warning bell sounded, echoing up and down the stony corridors from no visible source. As a well rehearsed team, the goblins pocketed their hands and earnings, rose up from their places, and took up their armaments. They made for the room’s entrance, brandishing pitiful stone weapons and grim, snarling faces as they waited in their practiced positions. Together they were a wall of sharpened stocks and battered wooden shields, looking both primitive and imposing to the heroes who would soon be rounding that corner.

The heroes did not keep them waiting. There were five in total, brandishing tempered steel weapons and wearing fortified armaments. With savage swings of steel and bursts of fiery magic, they blew through the ranks of the goblins with ease. They were tossed asunder, their lifeless bodies scattered about the room in moments. The heroes skillfully averted the traps, looted the room, and were gone just as quickly as they had come.

With the coast now clear, the slain goblins righted themselves once again, restored the furniture, refilled the treasure chests, replaced the torches, and were seated back at the long table with cards back in hand.

“I bet every slug that I gots that you is bluffin’!”

The goblin pushed his entire fortune forward, leaving slick trails of slime in their wake. The others looked at the small fortune, double checked their own hands, then grumbled in irritation as they folded. The winner gleefully collected his slimy earnings.

The game continued until the bell sounded for lunch break, marking the mid-point of their shift. The goblins stood from the table and put their earnings into their patched pockets, tugging up the drawstrings of their breeches under the weight. They approached an innocuous rock wall, pushing a secret button to swing open the secret door. They filled through, the door slamming shut behind, restoring the unbroken rock facade.

Fresh gray slop was today’s special, complete with juicy bits of mystery meat. The lunch-witch plopped this coupled with fresh rolls onto the trays of all the gnolls, ogres, demons, and other monsters waiting in line. The goblins joined the other patrons in the dining hall, taking their company-sponsored meals with ale to one of the many cafeteria tables. The din of conversation and feasting were not unpleasant, and with the additional accompaniment of live music on Tuesdays and Fridays, it made for a welcome reprieve. Ratty kobolds in splattered aprons and hairnets pushed trays between the tables, collecting refuse and dishes. The roaring laughter of giant minotaurs overtook the room on occasion from where they sat at their taller, reinforced tables near the back. The clatter of pans and the smells of seared meat wafted in through the kitchen doors. Behind all of it droned televisions tuned to old movies.

Cutting through the companionable conversation, two particular orcs stormed in suddenly, deep in argument with each other.

“Throgg, you dummy!” scorned one of them. She loomed enormous with a large, muscular frame. A tightly-braided, jet-black ponytail fell long down her back. Fitted mail and leather armor strapped around her frame, curving around emerald green skin. A pair of short, sharp tusks complemented the pronounced jawline and rigid, almost masculine structure of her face. A single black mole punctuated her left cheek. A wooden club hung from a sling on her hip.

“Why are you mad, Orca?” asked the other orc. His frame rested lower and heavier than Orca’s. He stood shorter, with a wider stance and a stocky frame. His bald head carried a crown both tarnished and bent. His shoulders bore a flowing purple cape made dirty and faded by time. A wide leather belt struggled around his girth, looking strained to bursting. His tunic was missing buttons, he breeches bore rough patches, and his big toe wiggled through a hole in his boot.

“Why am I mad?” Orca roared, turning to face him. She towered over Throgg, fists clenched at her sides, looking so much like an angry brick wall. “I’m mad because you’re an idiot! You are the king of the goblins, but you do nothing to help them!”

“I do so,” Throgg replied, indignant. “I got them their company benefits, like retirement packages and company-provided lunches.”

Throgg gestured around the cafeteria. This did nothing to alleviate Orca’s anger.

“The goblins are a joke! Management always sends them to do the worst jobs in the crappiest dungeons.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Throgg asked with a shrug.

“What’s wrong with that?!” Orca repeated, her body now shaking in anger. Her face flushed in anger, turning her emerald skin an unhealthy purple. “They’re being taken advantage of as the butt end of our kind! They’re a laughing stock! They’re nearly as bad as those stupid heroes, even.”

“But they’re unionized now. Management said they may even think about possibly giving them pensions in a few years. Just imagine!”

Orca roared in disgust. Too upset for words she stormed off, slamming the door close so hard it echoed through the cafeteria.

With their break over, the goblins returned to the dungeon to continue gambling away the hours. The afternoon dragged on, without a single hero party coming through to break up the monotony. Slugs were lost, won, lost again, then snacked on as they got hungry. Those not engaged in the game, or too poor to play, debated the merits of a dungeon built from stale cheese instead of stone.

At long length, with only minutes left until sweet relief, the warning bell rang out. After enduring dragging hours of nothing, suddenly they were being called on just as their shift was about to end. The goblins dragged themselves over to their places and waited, looking as enthusiastic as they could muster.

A band of four heroes pushed into the depths of the dungeon. Leading the charge was a burly fighter bearing two wicked scythes and a long, leather duster dyed maroon red. The sides of her head were shaved bald, leaving her remaining dark blonde hair hanging down in braids. Behind her marched a portly warrior, dragging with him a warhammer taller than he stood. His short stature drowned in an armor set three sizes too big for him as he restlessly ambled around the corridors, never keeping still. Following him was a near-sighted rogue who’s dark leather gear sharply contrasted a bright streak of purple in her hair and tie-dye scarf. Bringing up the rear was a petite, beautiful, red-headed mage doing her best to not trip over her floor-length gown and overskirt.

The dark stone tunnel emptied into a larger room just beyond. The path was lit by iron sconces and hanging iron lanterns. The fighter surveyed the ambush lying in wait just ahead of them, twirling her swords as she formulated a plan. Then she turned back to the others.

“I’ll go in first. Jackurn, you keep them off my ass.”

“Got it!” chirped Jackurn, giving an enthusiastic salute from inside his oversized tin can.

“Violet, you pick off the stragglers.”

“Uh, I’ll try…” replied the hesitant voice of the colorful rogue.

“And Alyrra, you just blast everything you see.”

“Got it! I won’t let you down, Ambrose,” the mage replied, gripping his gnarled magic staff tightly.

“Any questions?”

Jackurn threw his hand into the air. Ambrose just sighed as she looked down at him.

“What?”

“What if I gotta pee?”

Ambrose just gave Jackurn a cold look, barely even able to see his face through the enormous helmet.

“Do you actually, though?”

“No, but what if I did?”

Ambrose ignored him. “Any other questions?”

Jackurn’s other hand shot into the air.

“Great, no questions then. Let’s go.”

Ambrose charged in, deftly dodging the spike traps in the floors and slicing at every goblin that jumped out at her. Her blades sliced with deadly accuracy, dispatching foes on both sides and she ran without stopping clear through the chamber. With all the foes on her, she turned, stabbing and slashing her way through their ranks.

With every goblin fallen before her, she looked up to see Jackurn swinging his enormous warhammer in large, useless circles, Violet was trying and failing to hide behind a pile of rubble, and Alyrra had dropped her spellbook and was fumbling to retrieve it.

“Seriously guys?” Ambrose complained, dropping her arms to her sides. “What the hell?”

“Sorry!” Violet cried out, scrambling around the rocks. “I’m sorry!”

“Less apologizing, more sneaking. Come on, Naruto!”

“I did the best!” Jackurn proclaimed, having just stopped spinning like a tornado.

“You did literally nothing!” Ambrose scorned.

“I did, too! I stabbed literally at least ninety-million ogres!”

"Literally every word you say makes my brain hurt.”

Ambrose sighed in frustration before turning to storm out of the room. Jackurn bobbed along behind her, leaving the other two behind.

“I think you did great!” Alyrra said to Violet, who flashed her a comforting smile.

“Thanks, Alyrra. I just need to keep practicing, you know?”

Alyrra gave her a thumb’s up before they both left the room together. Ambrose was waiting for them down the next corridor. She let them get ready before leading the next charge.

It was amazing, watching Ambrose go. She leapt up on the tables, swinging and dodging and leaping back and forth as she swatted her blades at the little green people. She was such a natural, Violet couldn’t help but be jealous. Ambrose just made everything look so effortless while Violet couldn’t even master the art of hiding behind a rock. Still, Violet was grateful for this opportunity. It wasn’t often that Ambrose took time out of her raiding schedule to lead low-level people like themselves through these dungeons. But she also couldn’t help but feeling bad, because no matter how much Ambrose tried to help, Violet just could not ever work up to her level. But at the end of the day, she was incredibly grateful just to have friends here that wanted to help.

“Violet, quit slacking and catch up!”

“Oh, sorry!” Violet shook off her reverie and bounded forward at Ambrose’s command, giving it her best.

Having neared the end of the dungeon, Violet still didn’t feel like she was doing as well as Ambrose. The four were making their way down another of the twisted corridors when Violet stopped a moment to catch her breath. She reached up to adjust her glasses she she realized she was no longer wearing them.

“Oh, no!” she cried out, halting the others dead in their tracks. “I lost my glasses!”

Ambrose sighed dramatically, looking up at the ceiling as if pleading with whoever might be beyond. Her swords hung down to scrape on the stone floor.

“Really, Velma?” Ambrose teased.

“I know, I’m sorry! They must have fallen off during one of the battles. I’ll just go back and look for them.”

“Do you need a hand?” Alyrra offered enthusiastically, but Violet quickly shook her head. She was already bringing down the group just by being here. Now she was being even more of a burden.

“No, you go on without me. I’m already slowing you guys down. I’ll just run and get them and catch back up, okay? Sorry!”

Ambrose just shrugged before turning back toward the next room. Jackurn bobbed along behind her, eager to be doing anything. Alyrra was reluctant, but at Violet’s insistence, she followed the others as Violet turned and hurried back the other way.

Violet felt foolish and embarrassed for letting the others down like this. She hurried on her way, scouring the floors as she went. She hoped that they would be easy to spot against the smooth round cobblestones. Going back through one room, she covered the floor from one end to the other, getting even more discouraged as she went. She kept on to the next room, thinking about how Ambrose had teased her, and how much she deserved it. She was a rogue wearing a brightly colored scarf who couldn’t even sneak properly. What good was she at any of this, she wondered. Re-committing herself to practicing even harder, she turned a corner and was shocked by what she heard.

Ducking behind a nearby pillar, Violet peeked out to see a group of goblins from a previous room–a group they had killed no more than five minutes ago–up and about and moving the furniture back into place. She watched, fascinated, as they refilled gold into the chest from a large leather sack and pushed traps back into place in the floor, leaving the room just the way they have entered it. Then, shocking her even more, she watched as they opened a door hidden in the rock face which had not been there before. They swarmed through it as if eager to be gone. Violet left from her hiding place and hurried up the door, curious as a newborn kitten.

When the door began to close on its own, Violet reacted without a moment’s thought or hesitation. She leapt through the doorway just before it slammed shut again.

***** II *****

Of all the odd things in this new place, it was the lights that Violet noticed first. There was the unmistakable overhead buzz of iridescent lamps with their cold, yellow bulbs casting sterile light downward. Unprimed drywall punctuated with electrical outlets and exposed sheet metal tubing lined the walls. Cement flooring lead to stairs accompanied by safety handrails and hazard tape. Painted lines on the walls pointed the way to different locations. Ventilation ducts ran overhead dispersing a cooling breeze.

Violet blinked several times as she looked around. The sudden, unapologetic shift from fantasy dungeon into urban industrial complex left her feeling dumbfounded. It was as if she had been transported into the halls of a hospital, or maybe an old office complex, or possibly…

“Disneyland,” she said out loud without meaning to. Then once again, with more determination. “This is Disneyland.”

She had only visited once, but Violet had read about service tunnels leading behind and underneath the grounds at Disneyland providing quick, private access to each of the park’s main attractions. They were shortcuts for each of the employees and service people to get where they needed to go quickly and away from the public. Once the thought had popped into her mind, she knew it to be true. This entire place was like Disneyland, and she had just stepped in somewhere she was not supposed to be.

Her first thought after this was disappointment. Knowing that she had inadvertently taken a peek behind the curtain, not knowing there had even been a curtain to peek behind at all, she hadn’t wanted to break the illusion of the place that she had so blissfully enjoyed before.

Violet’s second thought was how much trouble she would be in if she were found out here. Feeling a growing panic at being discovered, she turned to leave, shoving on the metal push bar and finding it secure. It was locked. It seemed this Disneyland attraction had closed for the night and nobody was getting back in.

Feeling even more trepid, Violet stepped away from the door, advancing further down the suspiciously modern hallway. She looked at each of the colored stripes lining the walls and the labels written on them. Dire Mountain was in red. Twilight Marsh was blue. Centralia Castle, the main gathering point for all heroes, was in green.

Gradually she arrived at a junction, leading to a corridor looking exactly like the one she was in now. It stretched into the distance on Violet’s left. The green and blue stripes of Centralia Castle and Twilight Marsh followed it. Violet debated going that route, as it promised to lead back to the Castle she knew all too well. However, upon spotting a piece of printer paper duct taped to the wall, she ended up going the other way. ‘Common Room’ it read, with a hand-drawn arrow pointing left. She quickened her pace and followed that arrow, hoping to find a security office or some other kind of help.

What Violet found instead halted her dead in her tracks.

It was a cafeteria, much like the kind Violet had at high school. The layout, the echoing din of patrons, and the mixed smells of different foods were all unmistakable. But at the tables where she would expect students or workers were instead every type of monster she had ever seen, plus many she had not. Ogres chugged tankards of mead. Rat-people sat at tiny tables nibbling cheese. Furry workers in white aprons and smocks cleaned and stocked and ran to and fro with tiny push carts. And in the back, behind so many other diners, sat winged creatures at a tall bar watching television. It was such a completely mundane sight juxtaposed horribly against the utterly strange and unreal.

Eyes wide in shock and fear, Violet backed away slowly, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. Panic gripped her again as she took off running blindly back the way she had come.

Violet ran forward, looking back toward the nightmarish cafeteria as she rounded a bend, slamming head first into what felt like a brick wall. She bounced backward, collapsing down onto the concrete floor.

From where she lay sprawled across the floor, Violet looked upward, blinking into the face of an enormous orc woman who looked with equal surprise back down at her.

“Stupid Throgg!” Orca raged as she paced the halls, too angry to even stand still. “He’s too stupid to know that our stupid Management is treating the goblins like they are… are…”

She halted her pacing, lost in thought as she tried to think of the right word. Then she gave up, feeling even more frustrated. She stormed through the hallways, unmindful of where her feet were taking her.

“Pensions? Unions? Those things are useless if the goblins still aren’t respected. And Throgg is too dumb to realize that Management is playing him for a fool! Which is very easy to do, but that’s not the point! That idiot isn’t doing anybody any good…”

Something small bounced off of her, scattering Orca’s thoughts. She looked down and saw a tiny creature sprawled out on the floor. But this was no regular creature, Orca realized. This was a hero! Her anger vanished, replaced by a mixture of disbelief and dread. Her mind was reeling. A hero here? That should be impossible! How could this be? Were the heroes coming to invade them? Was this an attack?

They both stared at each other, waiting with bated breath as they were sure the other would attack at any moment. Seconds spanned onward, stretching into an infinitely long silence as they dared not to move or speak or even blink.

Finally it was the tiny hero who broke the silence.

“Sorry.”

Orca’s response was reflexive and automatic. “It’s okay…”

Then they continued to stare at each other again. Had the hero just apologized? And had Orca just waved it off like some minor accident?

Orca’s focus was drawn back down as, ever so slowly, the hero reached forward to pick something up. It was Orca’s club, laying on the floor—it must have been knocked loose during the impact! Orca found herself at once uncomfortably disarmed in the moment she needed it most. With the hero having Orca’s only weapon, and no doubt several of her own in concealment, Orca steeled herself, preparing for whatever devious tricks the hero had in mind…

“You dropped this.”

The hero handed it up to her, holding it the wrong way around. Orca paused a moment before gingerly accepting it, more confused than ever.

“Thanks?” Orca replied, unsure if she were stating it or asking it. She flipped the club around to wield it properly, but still hung her arm, and the club, limply at her side, unsure if it was necessary or not.

Mutual fear of hostilities from the other were overlaid with the fact that they had both been, up to this point, polite and apologetic. Was it normal for an attacking enemy to apologize before trying to kill you, Orca wondered.

“Are you here to kill us?” It was Orca who broke the silence this time.

“Why would I do that?”

Orca would have sneered at such an obvious question, seeing right through her faked ignorance to her malicious intent, except for the fact that the question felt so… genuine. From her sincere tone of voice to her face harboring not a whisper of hostility or trickery, Orca studied her closely and found that, much to her own surprise, she actually believed her.

“I… don’t know,” Orca admitted at length, her voice hesitant.

“Are you going to attack me?” asked the hero.

“No. I’m off duty.”

Orca had intended her answer to be as sincere as the question, though she sensed that it did nothing to put this little hero at ease. She thought to elaborate, but it was the hero’s next question that put Orca back on her guard.

“Are you… real?”

“Real?” Orca’s receding anger bubbled up again, her voice gaining an edge of steel. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Sorry! I don’t know, I just… I’m sorry!”

The hero looked on the edge of tears. She covered her face with her hands and started swaying back and forth, apologizing even more. Orca’s anger cooled again as her rational intellect took over. Here was a hero, laying vulnerable and emotional, feeling as scared and upset as a lost child. From this position Orca could have slain her with one good blow, but it was clear to her that this girl was no threat. Hero or not, Orca felt bad for her, taking a moment to realize how imposing she must have looked towering over her like this. It was clearly her own fault for being so large and intimidating to this little creature.

Convinced that any threat had passed, Orca sheathed the club, hunkering down on her haunches and extending an arm. “Would you like a hand?”

The hero sniffed, wiping at her eyes before extending her own hand out to meet Orca’s. The orc observed how small and delicate the girl’s hand was in her own, as well as noting with distaste the feeling of wet tears on her palm. She swallowed her disgust and pulled the tiny hero to her feet, surprised at just how light she was. Orca could have lifted her clear into the air with only her one hand, if she had wanted.

The two of them now standing, but not nearly at eye level, a new awkward silence filled the air between them.

“Are you… okay?” Orca offered at length, hesitant of what else to say.

“I think so,” the girl replied, wincing as she rubbed the back of her head. Orca looked anew at the wide streak of purple running down the hair on the right side of her face.

“You’re not hurt?”

“No…”

“You look hurt,” Orca observed flatly.

“Maybe a little,” the girl admitted. “But it’s okay. I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Why are you a bother?”

“I don’t know! I’m sorry.”

“You say that a lot, you know?”

“Do I? I’m sorry!”

Orca just looked down at her. Her emotions had cycled from shock to suspicion to sympathy. She was trying to figure out how she felt now, carrying on in a strangely casual conversation with this awkward, docile little hero in the middle of their home. She was on one hand bemused by this funny little creature, but on the other hand annoyed by her constant apologetic nature.

It was only at this point that Orca realized she didn’t even have a name for this creature.

“I’m Orca.”

“Violet,” The hero blinked up at her a few times in disbelief. “Orca? As in Orca, queen of the goblins?”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly put it like that…”

“Aren’t you like the biggest, baddest boss in this entire place, though?”

Orca puffed up with pride, all at once liking this tiny hero immensely. A stupid grin slapped onto her face as she spoke.

“Go on…”

“And that you’re super tough and strong and nobody can hurt you?”

“Uh, huh…” Orca was beaming as brightly as the Sun itself.

“And that a group of raiders beat you by strapping a bucket to your head so that you couldn’t see to fight back?”

“THEY WERE CHEATING! THOSE LITTLE ASSHOLES TRICKED ME AND…”

Violet had shriveled into a whimpering little puddle on the floor, shaking and sobbing again. Orca caught herself short, annoyed for having lost control and causing Violet to start the waterworks again.

“Sorry,” Orca said, doubly annoyed at herself for doing what she had just criticized Violet for doing a moment ago.

“It’s okay,” Violet said, sniffing back tears as Orca helped her back to her feet again. Orca once more choked back her disgust at feeling wet tears on her hand.

The silence that followed afforded Orca the opportunity to ask the question burning brightest in her mind.

“What are you doing here?”

“I separated from my group,” Violet explained. “I went back to get my glasses and saw goblins going through a secret door. I thought it was like a secret passage to, I dunno, a treasure room or something. But instead I found myself here and I couldn’t get out and I didn’t know what to do and I saw all of you monsters walking around and I just got scared and… and…”

Orca took a moment to unpack her rant. First and least surprising, this was the fault of the goblins she had been campaigning for this entire time. She loved those little guys, but even she had to admit they were not the brightest bunch.

Secondly, her analogy of this hero being a lost, little child was more on the nose than she had imagined. A fleeting thought came to her that she could just kill this one stray hero easily and no one would know or come looking for her, and earn herself a trophy for doing it. Despite the fact that murdering heroes was her job, the thought of killing this one made her unreasonably agitated. It would, among other things, be very unsporting of her. Plus this girl looked like she bore all the challenge of defeating a wet paper bag. She shoved the thought from her mind with a shake of her head.

With waterworks threatening again, Orca reassured her.

“It’s fine. Look, just go back where you came from and we’ll pretend like this never happened. Okay?”

“The doors locked.”

“Oh, right, the lower dungeons closed for the night…” Orca chewed her lower lip in thought, between her tusks. “Dire Mountain is open.”

“I’m not strong enough for that place! I would get killed!”

“Yeah, you would!” Orca chuckled viciously before seeing how Violet was looking at her. She quickly dropped her grin and kept talking.

“Go to the Castle, then? Isn’t that where all you crappy heroes hang out?”

“Firstly, rude!”

Orca made a physical effort to keep her evil grin from resurfacing as this tiny girl tried to scold her.

“Secondly, I don’t know my way around. I’m lost.”

“Just follow the green arrows,” Orca explained, pointing out the stripes on the wall Violet had seen earlier.

“What if I run into a mean monster and they try to kill me?”

“Then they would earn a free trophy for their collection. Er, uh…” For such a tiny creature, Orca realized, Violet could muster an pretty imposing stare herself when she wanted. “What I meant to say was…”

She wracked her brain for better phrasing, then shrugged as she gave up. What she said was exactly what would happen.

The sentence hung in the air, unfinished. At length, Violet spoke the silence.

“Can you take me there?”

Again, her plea was so childlike and earnest that it was adorable! Though whether in a good way or bad way, Orca wasn’t sure. But the question triggered a number of thoughts to run through her mind all at once.

Yes, she could escort this wayward little hero back to her flock. The problem with that was explaining what she was doing with a hero at all. It was a miracle they hadn’t been discovered yet in this hallway where they were stood chatting. They certainly would not remain undiscovered traveling all the way to the hero’s Castle.

And what would Orca say then? That it was the goblins who, in all of their years of living here, were the first ones to ever, ever let a hero in? She could kiss all of the progress she made fighting on their behalf goodbye. And if she accepted the blame for herself? That would put her at risk of getting demoted instead. That wasn’t happening, either.

“Uh…” she stammered, indecisive.

“Please?” begged the tiny child.

“Orca! What are you doing?”

Orca jumped, reflexively shoving the girl behind her, out of sight. Violet cried out in surprise before being muffled by a hand large enough to cover her face.

“Throgg!” Orca replied, her voice wavering. “What, uh… What are you doing here? And what did you see?”

“Huh?” The same familiar look shown through his eyes as he approached: a look like a lighthouse whose beacon had gone out long ago. “I’m here because I was looking for you. And I saw you, so I stopped. What are you doing here?”

“That’s… That’s none of your business!”

“Well, the goblins wanted to know if it would be better to invest in a 401k or open an IRA account,” Throgg explained. “Oh, and also, they wanted to know what those things even are, I guess?”

He shrugged. Between that stupid shrug he always did and every stupid word coming out of his mouth, it was like pouring jet fuel onto the fires of her anger. Orca had suffered this man’s presence for years, and her tolerance for it only continued to wane.

“Throgg, you idiot! Why are you bothering me with this nonsense! The goblins need actual respect and real acknowledgement from Management, not stupid promises and fake words to keep stringing them along! Now go back to Management and do something actually productive for once in your useless, pathetic life!”

“Huh…” Throgg appeared to think it over, but Orca knew that was a lie. He was incapable of it. “Okay.”

He turned to leave, allowing Orca a sigh of relief. That was until he stopped and turned back around.

“What are you doing out here, anyway? And who were you talking to?”

“What was I doing?” Orca repeated, embarrassed to have been caught and was angrier because of it. Her volume increased with every sentence spoken.

“Who was I talking to? I was talking to Mind-Your-Own-Damn-Business! And I have a message from them. They say go stick your head in your marsh and die, you overgrown, useless sack of troll shit. Now get out of here before you really piss me off!”

“How would that be different than normal?” Throgg asked.

“LEAVE!”

“Alright, alright…” Throgg mercifully gave in, turning around and sauntering off. The moment his back was turned, Orca hefted Violet up and pushed her around the corner and against the wall, her tiny body slapping the drywall harder than she had intended.

“Ow!” Violet cried.

“Sorry! Just… Shh!” She held her hand over Violet’s face again and craned her neck around the corner, making sure that lumbering oaf was out of sight. At length she finally relaxed, releasing her grip on the girl, dropping her the remaining few inches back onto the ground. Orca winced in embarrassment as she realized she had been holding the girl up in the air the whole time.

“I guess I was wrong about you,” Violet admitted as she gathered herself back up, recovering from being orc-handled.

“What do you mean?” Orca said, only half-paying attention as she still kept a nervous eye towards where Throgg had gone.

“You are one of the mean monsters after all. I’ll find my own way back!”

Violet shouldered her way out of Orca’s grasp and stormed down the corridor.

“Wait, what?”

Orca ran after, overtaking her stride with only a couple of steps. “Look, I’m sorry I grabbed you, but if that thundering moron had seen you…”

“I don’t care about that!” Violet replied, still unwilling to face her. “Or the keeping your hand over my face. Or the carrying me around or pushing me against a wall or any of that. I used to get bullied at school, so it’s whatever to me.”

“Bullied?” Orca blinked in naked confusion. Violet ignored her, pressing on.

“I don’t like how you talk to him,” Violet said, pointing a finger Throgg’s direction.

“What, that idiot?” Orca asked, still confused.

“You’re doing it again! It’s mean and hurtful and I don’t like it. And I don’t want to be in the company of someone mean like you, so I’ll just find my own way back, even if I do get killed!”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Orca pleaded, and this time Violet did wait. She pierced Orca with a tear-filled gaze of such raw poignant emotion. It left her taken aback, standing there feeling nakedly upset over some tiny, little hero.

Orca took a deep breath, trying to calm herself before trying to start again.

“Look, I… He and I are, uh…”

Violet stood there, hands on her hips, waiting with visible irritation as Orca struggled to find the right words.

“Well, the first thing you need to know about him is…”

“Stop!” Violet held up her hand, cutting her short. “I’m not talking about him. I’m talking about you, and the way you were bullying him. I don’t care what you think he did to deserve it or not. It’s not nice!”

Orca was starting to get mad again. Whether from embarrassment or just frustration, she was standing here listening to this hundred-pound nothing, twig of a girl telling her how she should or shouldn’t behave. Orca had a mind to tell her to go find her own swamp and drown in it, same as she told Throgg. But if she did that, Violet would just run away again and this time Orca wouldn’t be able to stop her. She would definitely get herself killed in here.

But so what if she did? What did Orca care about that? It would just be another dead hero. She had stacks of trophies in her own quarters from her own kills. Hundreds of them!

But that was different and Orca knew it. That was honorable combat with skilled opponents in fair combat. That was while doing her job. But this would just be a slaughter. And no matter how difficult this girl was being, it wouldn’t sit right with Orca, partially because half the damn monsters in this place would take that easy trophy without question. They’d be grateful for it! She could imagine some puny kobold carrying the trophy into the common room and showing it off to the others, telling the story of some stray little hero lost in the corridors who was easy pickings. She could also imagine herself driving her fist into that scrawny little runt...

Violet kept staring at her, waiting for a response with her hands still on her hips, pulling Orca back into the present.

“Fine!” Orca surrendered, arms at her side with palms up. “Fine. I was not nice. I promise to be less not nice from now on. Are you happy? May I please keep you from getting yourself killed now?”

Violet pierced her with a surprisingly captivating gaze before yielding.

“Okay. Sorry I was a little mean for a second there, too…”

“If you apologize one more time, I’m going to…” Orca’s words caught in her throat, remembering the promise she had made less than ten seconds ago. Unfortunately her hands didn’t get the memo in time and continued wringing the invisible neck in front of her.

Violet ignored it. “So, what now? Onward to the Castle?”

“No, I don’t think so. The lower dungeons might be closed, but the Marshes will be switching to the night shift now, which means those passages will be hopping with more frog-people than you could croak at.”

She paused, looking at Violet for a response. Violet just blinked several times, expressionless.

“But…,” Orca pressed on, disappointed. “If we waited until dawn, the Marshes will be closed down and we could sneak right through without being seen.”

“Dawn? But that’s, like… I mean, that’s an entire night away! What am I supposed to do? Where would I go? How would that even work here?”

“Well, there is one place I could hide you where absolutely no one would look, not even that bumbling, idiotic—lovely, charming, delightful Throgg.” Orca changed her tone fast when she saw that look on Violet again.

“Alright,” Violet conceded. “Okay. I guess that’s what we do. So, where are we going?”

Orca pointed just down the hall to one of the side doors. “My place is just through there. How do you feel about sleepovers?”

***** III *****

There were pillows everywhere. Body pillows dominated a U-shaped floor sofa wrapping around a conversation pit sunken into the main living space. Ruffled throw pillows mounted a slipper chair with a wide curving back. Accent pillows adorned credenzas and rode atop free-standing ottomans. Smaller pillows rested on a single large chair which was, itself, yet another bean bag pillow. And where there were no actual pillows there were pillow-top benches or big, poufy cushions. And in every direction there was something to look at—every fabric a color bonanza, every wall covered by hanging afghans with deep hues of red and gold. The carpet itself was thick plush, bursting with colorful geometric shapes. Doorways were carved into ornate pointed arches. The living room ceiling vaulted upward into a dome, the sides of which tiled in vibrant green and gold.

Violet didn’t know where to look first. In all directions, on every single surface of every single object, there was something to get lost in. She was still in the doorway, lost to the sights: standing like a deer captivated by a thousand flashing headlamps on all sides.

Orca had only left her alone for a minute to go change. When she came back, Violet had shed her boots, her colored scarves, her leather jerkin and greaves and was lying face down on the floor making snow angels in the shag carpet.

“It’s soooo soft!” she exclaimed, her voice muffled through the thick shag. She looked up at Orca’s arrival and squealed in delight.

“OH MY GOD! That is so cute!”

Orca just stood there feeling utterly confused. Violet was swooning over her bright pink sweatpants covered in white hearts, oversized tie-dye sweatshirt that fell to her mid-thigh, and pair of comically large bunny slippers with ears that stood tall and upright like cuddly antennas.

“What?” Orca asked, dumbfounded.

Minutes later, they had settled onto the low seating of the depressed conversation pit and were making small talk. Orca dominated one entire side of the couch as she sprawled on her side, her head propped up on one arm. Violet herself was snuggled into an opposite facing chair, flanked on all sides by a human-sized nesting of pillows. Her legs were pulled up against her chest, her arms wrapped around them as she gently flipped her white socked feet up and down like pinball paddles. The rest of her was covered by her soft black leggings and Renaissance-themed cotton tunic—an embarrassing void of color compared to Orca and her rainbow abode.

Violet kept looking at Orca’s long dark hair, released from its tight ponytail to cascade freely all around her. She couldn’t take her eyes off Orca’s emerald skin, looking so different and alien, but yet somehow natural and exactly right on a woman like Orca. The darker tone of her skin matched the playful explosion of color on her pajamas. Violet went on to admire the cute little tusks that poked out of her mouth even when it was closed. She even liked Orca’s mole on her cheek, looking so much like a beauty mark.

Orca looked at her staring, causing Violet to blush and look awkwardly away.

“I’ve never seen an orc up close like this before,” Violet admitted. “Sorry if I’m staring.”

“You always killed them from afar?” Orca asked, her voice unusually casual despite the accusation.

Violet shook her head violently, causing her burrow of pillows to tremble. “No, no, no! Never anything like that! I just never, you know…” She gestured at her companion, and the entire room around them. “I’ve just never seen a real live orc quite like this, or in a home like yours. Like, I never knew a place like this even existed. Or that people actually lived here!”

“What, you think we just stand there in our dungeons every second of every day and just wait for you people to show up?”

“Well, yeah…” Violet replied. “I mean, I guess I hadn’t ever thought about it like that before. But I can’t get over the fact that all of this is real!”

Orca snorted, whether in good humor or not Violet was unsure.

“You come here with your other heroes to kill of us all in our own dungeons,” Orca explained. “And then somehow you doubt whether we’re even real or not? How does that make sense?”

“Well, you see, you’re… I mean, all of this, this whole place is, uh… Well…”

Orca snorted again, this time in clear contempt. “Typical. The hero thinks this place is all about them.”

“I mean… isn’t it, though? Is it not?”

Orca rolled onto her back, a hand placed behind her head, preferring to face her domed ceiling instead of her guest. “No. And yes. This place was built for your kind, but without us here to populate it, this place wouldn’t be anything at all. Just cold, empty dungeons with no trinkets to pilfer. And all of us monsters need a place to live and sleep and eat, same as any of you do. How your kind didn’t know that already is beyond me!”

“Okay, about that—I have, like, a million questions.”

“Shoot.”

Violet proceeded with a lightning round, launching off question after question as soon as she could think of them. Orca, to her credit, kept up and answered each as quick as they came.

“What do you eat here?” “Usually whatever they serve in the common room.” “Is it normal food or gross monster food?” “Sometimes one, sometimes the other.” “What’s your favorite food?” “Chocolate truffles, with peanut butter inside. Or maybe lasagna. Not both.” “What do you do for fun?” “Work. Hike. Explore. Read. Knit occasionally.” “What do monsters do when they’re not on the job?” “Whatever they want, same as heroes. Read books, watch television, exercise, games, gambling—whatever.” “Do they have big houses for big monsters and little houses for little monsters?” “It would be weird if they didn’t, wouldn’t it?” “Do monsters brush their teeth?” “God, I hope so.” “Do you have, like, normal bathrooms? Or weird, fantasy bathrooms?”

“The hell is a weird, fantasy bathroom?” Orca asked, looking pointedly over at Violet again. “You mean do we shit in buckets and empty them into the local river? No. Indoor plumbing is this orc’s best friend. Go look for yourself, if you’re so damn curious about my crapper! Weirdo.”

“I think I will!” Violet replied. Orca pointed the direction and Violet took her escape, closing and locking the door behind her.

“Damn, if you had to go, you could have just asked…” Orca muttered, laying her head back down on the couch.

Violet did indeed need to, but that was only partially the reason for her escape. After using the very much modern-looking commode and hand sink, she took a look around. Peeking behind the shower curtain, she found evidence that confirmed her suspicions. After seeing Orca’s lodgings and most especially her modern day sleepwear, Violet wondered about just what kinds of goods these monsters had access to in this ‘fantasy’ landscape.

Violet picked up matching bottles of Neutrogena shampoo and conditioner, all dated recently. Next to them were L’Oreal skin creams, lotions, bath soaps, razors, and all manner of disappointingly ordinary things that any human woman would own. Somehow, that just made it seem all the more unreal to her—here was this decidedly non-human, monstrous, very much fantasy orc woman using the same brand hair care she used for herself at home. Like the peek behind Oz’s curtain earlier, the starkly mundane somehow soured the illusion of the fantastic. Violet even chuckled a little when she picked up the body wash and discovered that it was intended for men. ‘For the masculine outdoorsman,’ it read.

Once her curiosity was sated, Violet exited the bathroom.

“Took you long enough,” Orca said, looking back over at Violet as she approached. “You find any weird, fantasy shit in there? A shelf with three seashells, maybe?”

“No, it all looked… disappointingly normal.” Violet took her seat back, surrounding herself by her legion of pillows like before.

Then she spoke up again as Orca’s words tugged at her mind. “Wait. That reference earlier, the three seashells. How do you know it?”

“Did I mention the televisions before?”

“Well, yeah, but I just thought you had, like…” Violet struggled for the right words. “Like, monster… shows? Local dungeon news? No?”

Orca laughed—a guffaw that, for the very first time since Violet had met her, was most definitely good-natured.

“Not unless you count Sesame Street, maybe. No, we get normal human shows and movies here. Blu-Rays, DVDs, that type of thing. We’re monsters, not Amish.”

“So we are humans to you? You just kept calling us ‘heroes,’ I thought there was some reason for it.”

“Semantics,” Orca explained, waving it away with her hand. “Over here, there are humans, or human-like monsters, that are grouped in with the rest of us. Evil wizards, cultist acolytes, crazed zealots, etcetera, etcetera. Then there’s you lot, on your side, that are the heroes, which are always human. So instead of referring to you as humans and getting you mixed up with our humans, we just say heroes. Easier that way.”

“Got it,” Violet replied. “So you watch our shows out here. Okay. What about Netflix? I have some favorites on that!”

“Nah, no Netflix,” Orca explained. “No Internet.”

“Wait, seriously?” Violet asked. “Why?”

Orca just raised her arms up in a shrug. “Doesn’t work that way here. No idea. Ask Management.”

“Who?”

“Our boss’s boss’s boss. Runs this entire place. You’d have to ask them.”

“Who are they?”

“Don’t know that either,” Orca said. “Never met them. We only ever hear from Management when they’re mad or when they want to change something. Otherwise, no one really knows. Only thing we do know is that, if they ever do want something, it’s always bad.”

“Oh...”

Violet looked around the room once more, taking advantage of a lull in the conversation to feast on the colors.

“I love your place! It’s so pretty.”

“Oh?” Orca looked around as if only just noticing it. “Thank you.”

“And your pillows! They’re so comfy!”

Violet’s gaze went back to Orca herself, lounging on her couch, her long hair flowing around her.

“And your hair. It’s so beautiful!”

“I WILL KILL YOU FOR THAT!”

Orca was on her feet, towering over her and brandishing a wooden club from nowhere down at her. A sudden murderous rage filled her eyes, horrifying Violet.

“Wait, what?” she stammered, trying to shove back into the cushions. She pushed herself backward, cowering behind pillows like tiny plush shields. “What are you doing?”

“I invite you into my house and this is how you repay me? BY MOCKING ME?”

“I’m not mocking you!” Violet pleaded frantically, suddenly vividly aware of how terrifying this orc hd been when they had first met. “I’m not mocking you! Please, stop it!”

“You lie!” Orca raged. “Orcs are vicious. Strong. Powerful! We are warriors, built for battle and destruction. We are not ‘beautiful’. Quit lying to me!”

“Wait, is that what you think?” Violet hated the way Orca could snap at any moment with her terrible temper, but in this case, she felt like she understood some of it. “Who told you that?”

“We are not ‘told’ how we are,” Orca replied, still towering over her, club raised. “We just are! Do you need someone to tell you that you’re a lowly hero, or is that just what you are?”

“I mean, I was only referring to your hair, but, like… has no one really ever told you that you’re beautiful? Or pretty? Or, like… any other compliment, ever?”

“I am told that I am strong, and an excellent fighter. Those I accept. But to hear anything else that’s obviously a lie is just insulting!”

“Now that, that is just… horse doo-doo!” Violet blurted out. She stood upright on the couch cushion, the wooden club leveled at her chest as she sternly faced Orca down yet again. “Look, you’re clearly a little sensitive about your appearance. Like, a lot. But I get it, believe me! And I would not tell you something that I did not genuinely believe, alright? …Alright?”

“But, if that’s the case, then…” Orca faltered, her gaze shifting away. “Then, why do you believe something that isn’t true?”

“Because maybe it actually is true, but we only just think we don’t deserve to hear them?” Violet suddenly found herself remembering her own mother trying to tell her this exact thing so many times over. Violet never imagined she would be recounting her mother’s words to someone else, or to some mythological orc monster of all people. “Maybe we are only just convincing ourselves that we’re not beautiful, when in actuality, maybe it really is true? How would we know if we keep trying to convince ourselves that we’re not?”

“We aren’t made to be pretty, though,” Orca argued. “Orcs are made for fighting and killing. Not for their looks!”

“If orcs are made only for fighting and killing, then why do you like to read? Or knit? Are orcs made for reading and knitting, too?”

“It’s just a hobby…”

“Or, if orcs are only good for fighting and killing, why do you like eating chocolate and lasagna, but not together?” Violet persisted.

“They’re yummy…”

“And if orcs are really only good for fighting, why do you live in an apartment with a ba-zillion pillows? Are these good for killing? Huh?” Violet slammed a handful of throw pillows over at Orca as she spoke. “What about those cute little pink sweatpants with hearts on them? Or those adorable fuzzy bunny slippers? Are those made only for fighting and killing, too?”

“They’re comfy!”

“Then why, if you do all of these things that aren’t just for ‘fighting and killing’, why can’t you also look pretty too, huh? Why not?”

“Because… I don’t?” Orca replied, her voice growing distant, her eyes turned away. “I don’t look pretty.”

“Well, I think you do look pretty! So there! And if you don’t like that, then you can just… just go ahead and smack me with that big ol’ club of yours!”

Orca looked at Violet, then to the club in her hand, then back down at Violet, blinking several times wordlessly.

“Okay, but please don’t actually smack me with it, alright? That looks like it would hurt.”

Orca’s arms shook in frustration, and for just a moment Violet closed her eyes and winced, expecting a blow to come. But Orca threw the club away instead, where it landed in an explosion of pillows.

She stared down at Violet in frustration. “Why are you so difficult!”

“I had a strong role model growing up,” Violet replied earnestly.

“Well… stop it!”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can. It just upsets me so much when I see someone I care about upset, especially when I went through the same kind of thing they did.”

“But, now…” Violet continued, wagging a vicious finger at the seven-foot tall orc standing in front of her. “We need to have a serious talk about your temper!”

***** IV *****

The remainder of the night passed without further incident. Violet bemused Orca by describing the many different flavors of ice cream she enjoyed. Orca returned the favor by letting Violet stomp around in her oversized bunny slippers. They both took a moment to ponder the mysteries of which type of noodle made the superior lasagna, staring up at the domed ceiling together as they did. When Orca bid her goodnight and disappeared into her bedroom behind a closed door, Violet, who had her choice of every cushioned surface in the house, accepted the couch as a bed and tried to fall asleep. Her excitement at the day and the wonder of her newfound surroundings kept her awake a while longer.

The morning light beckoned with the savory smells of bacon and eggs. Violet arose to the sight of Orca mastering her kitchenware, dressed already for the day in a metal cuirass and greaves, both bound firmly by buckled leather straps. As if the sight of a giant orc woman making breakfast should have ever been routine, the addition of her flipping eggs and stirring bacon while outfitted in full body armor was doubly impressive.

“Dressed for work already, I see?” Violet mused, rubbing her eyes.

“I am. Hope you like your eggs sunny-side up.”

They weren’t her favorite, but Violet didn’t want to say anything contrarian lest she set Orca off again. They settled back into the conversation pit to eat, Orca forced to sit stiff upright due to her plate metal. Her hair was back into its tightly bound braid once again, just as rigid and formal as the rest of her. Violet was sad to see her flowing hair gone but wasn’t about to say anything about that either.

Their small talk was companionable and pleasant, despite Violet feeling on edge about Orca’s unpredictable temper. Orca collected the dishes afterward and Violet thanked her for the meal before assembling her own gear once again.

“Well, I’m due at Dire Mountain at eight this morning. Twilight Marsh is closed by now, and all the frog-people should have leaped on out of there by now.”

She glanced at Violet, who was too preoccupied with the straps of her jerkin to notice.

Still nothing.

“It should be clear to get you back on home now,” Orca continued, still disappointed.

“Should I wear a disguise this time?” Violet offered. “Like, to look like one of your evil wizard people, maybe?”

“Uh, I don’t think that would help,” Orca explained. “If you actually saw the type of humans that lived on our side, you’d realize you don’t exactly meet the qualifications to blend in as one of them.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not ugly enough,” Orca said flatly. Violet couldn’t decide if there was a compliment to be had in there or not.

“But here, I’ll give you my poncho I sometimes wear when I visit the Tangled Thickets,” Orca continued. “Worst case scenario, just pull the hood up and I’ll do the talking.”

Violet was left swimming in Orca’s dark leather poncho. It was big enough to hold two, maybe even three of her all at once. She raised the hood, which hung down low and obscured most of her vision as she walked. She also had to hold up the bottom of it like a child in her mother’s dress.

The entire thing ended up being unnecessary, as Orca’s prediction about the route being clear was correct. Navigating the winding maze of samely corridors and painted lines, Violet followed as Orca led to yet another door with a metal push bar. This one gave easily, opening up to a familiar looking cobble courtyard nestled in an alleyway between wooden shops. This was the central intersection right in front of the Castle proper, with streets branching out in all directions. The morning crowd was only beginning to assemble as Violet heard the familiar din of vendors, shoppers, and loiterers.

Violet stepped just beyond the doorway and looked back, seeing much to her amusement that she had stepped directly out of a wide tree growing in a small dirt lot adjacent to the alleyway.

“Boy, these things really do lead everywhere, don’t they?” she mused.

“Yep, they sure do,” Orca agreed before turning to leave. “Well, it was fun. Bye!”

“Wait!” Violet called out, halting the orc in her tracks. “What about… I mean, that can’t just be it, right?”

“What do you mean?” Orca’s eyes kept darting around Violet’s frame. She was clearly feeling very nervous about being this close to the Castle and the heroes who strode past just beyond the alley.

“I mean, what about everything we shared? The… the talks, the breakfast, the night at your place? All of it?”

“Yeah, it was fun,” Orca agreed. “Thanks.”

“And that’s just… Well, that’s it then?” Violet asked, exasperated. “Nothing else?”

“Like what?” Orca asked. She kept eyeing the streets around Violet, barely paying attention to her words. Evern her body was twisted around, pointing back the way they had come, looking like a bullet anxious to be shot off and gone as soon as possible.

“I don’t know! I mean, I guess… I just thought maybe, like maybe we could…”

“Look, it’s getting on towards eight,” Orca said, cutting her short. “If I don’t get to work soon those heroes are gonna walk right off with the treasure, then I’ll never hear the end of it from my boss. Plus if I get seen around here, that’s gonna be a whole other bunch of trouble I don’t need. So, yeah, glad it worked out the way it did. Happy you didn’t die. It was fun. But I gotta get back now. Good luck out there!”

Then she released the door, letting it close with a gut-wrenching slam. All at once there was nothing in front of Violet save for an old tree—not even a single seam remained.

It had all been just like that door: open to something impossible and wonderful but gone just as quickly as it had appeared. One moment she had been on this amazing, magical, emotional journey with someone she thought she had grown close with. A friend, at the very least. But with an echoing slam and latch of cold steel, it all disappeared in the blink of an eye, leaving behind a stupid, uncaring tree as if there have never been anything in the first place.

Violet tried to feel for the edges of the door, or a secret latch, or anything at all. But it was all completely useless. It was nothing but an old oak tree standing before her, mocking her for even trying. Save for the comically large poncho she wore, the whole thing might as well have never happened at all.

Defeated and ashamed, Violet had no choice but to give up and make her way slowly back to Applewood Manor. She hadn’t even exited the alleyway before her tears began.

***** V *****

Applewood Manor was many things to many different people. At its most basic, it was a Dormitory-style residence with two wide-reaching wings spanning multiple floors. Heroes could claim one of the dozens of bedrooms to stash away goods or just have a quiet space to themselves. There was also a common room, a dining hall, and a war room, complete with meager but serviceable reading materials for heroes of all experience levels.

Beyond being strictly a physical structure, Applewood Manor also provided a guild structure, with leaders and officials maintaining the day-to-day by organizing events and raids. Applewood was also a haven for new heroes where they could relax, learn about the world, and mingle with like-minded people in a safe, caring environment.

When Violet slinked in through the towering, iron-bound wooden doors, she heard the familiar commotion of a dozen people, carrying on with conversation or laughing at jokes. It all sounded strangely reminiscent of another otherworldly common room she had visited recently.

A wide red rug covered polished dark wood flooring. Dual grand staircases dominated the view, sweeping around to the upper landing, leading to a spiral staircase that ascended even further beyond. An ornate chandelier burned with perpetual blue flames above. The walls were adorned with high quality prints of key locations within the world, framed and labeled with gold plates. Open doorways lined each side of the wide hallway leading to all the main rooms.

Violet made for the left staircase, intending to bypass the lower level and its crowd entirely, when a familiar face called out to her.

“Good morning, Miss Violet.”

That was Aura, the guild leader of Applewood Manor. He wore his usual dark twill, double-breasted frock coat with ornate copper buttons. A pair of thin, rectangular spectacles with copper-colored frames rested on his nose. A pressed button-down, formal dark slacks, and sharp loafers lead to a very dapper look overall. But Aura’s most noteworthy characteristic remained the living accessory perched on his left shoulder: an adult green macaw by the name of Kiwi.

“Kiwi!” exclaimed the macaw in its usual greeting, its head cocked sideways.

“Oh. Hi, Aura…” Violet tried to muster a smile, hoping to brush past quickly.

“Miss Violet, Ambrose asked me to pass along a message,” Aura persisted, politely blocking her way. “In it, there were a number of expletives of which I am choosing to omit. Something about leaving her in the lower dungeons. Then more colorful expletives. Then eventually, she passed me these.”

Aura pulled open a drawer from the cabinet adorning the wall. From it he procured Violet’s missing glasses as well as a new dagger, the blade curved and colored with a shimmering turquoise hue.

“She saved it for you from the spoils of the dungeon,” Aura explained. “I think she was intending it to be a gesture of goodwill, but from her choice of language throughout, it’s safe to say there were mixed messages.”

“Yeah…” Violet took her glasses and the new dagger, her would-be enthusiasm at a new weapon hampered. “I kind of left her mid-run. Something… came up.” She hesitated, selective with her word choice.

“Well, that happens,” Aura replied, pushing his thin spectacles back up the bridge of his nose. “Ambrose will calm down, eventually.”

“Where is Ambrose, anyway? I was hoping to apologize to her.”

“She just left. Seems she was taking part in a raid on Dire Mountain at eight o’clock this morning.”

The irony of the situation hit Violet like a door slammed in her face. She didn’t know if she should be laughing or crying.

“Something the matter, Miss Violet?” Aura asked, his head cocked and his eyes filled with concern.

“Just… allergies,” Violet said, wiping frantically at her eyes.

“Here?” Aura cocked an eyebrow. “That seems exceptionally unlikely…”

“Okay, thanks for the dagger. Gotta go, bye!”

Violet fled, escaping up the stairs as Aura stared after, Kiwi flapping his wings from his shoulder. Violet bounded for her room, slammed it shut behind her, and collapsed down onto the bed. The events of the night prior played through her head at random, the words spoken back and forth playing like a twisted mix tape in her mind. Had she read too much into it? Had it been something she said? Had she been too mean to Orca during the many times Violet had scolded her?

Violet ran her hands over the comforter on her bed, feeling even more upset at its stiff, rigid texture.

“It’s not even as soft!” she cried out in frustration.

Foregoing the shameful bed entirely, Violet pushed herself to her feet only to sit at the wooden writing desk sitting underneath the one small window. Taking parchment and a self-inking quill from a drawer, Violet sprawled her feelings into words between the privacy of her, her quill, and the unspeaking parchment. Journaling in private often provided the only comfort she needed as it had done many times before while growing up. She kept the quill moving for hours until she had run out of words, eventually stashing all of it in a drawer before eventually being comfortable enough to return to public again.

The evening was mercifully calm. Violet became overtaken by the usual going-ons around the Manor she forgot to be upset. She walked the common rooms, finding Aura and Kiwi at a desk in the war room, going over statistics and balance sheets. The common room held many other their other guild members both old and new. Violet recognized a few of the faces there but was pleased to see many more than she didn’t. That meant that their guild was growing and helping out even more new people.

From the bookshelves of the common room, she perused some of the maps of this world’s many dungeons. Not one of them even hinted at secret service tunnels and houses for use by the monsters only. Disappointed but not surprised, Violet folded the maps back up and continued to wander around the grounds.

Violet’s exploration eventually led her to the apple orchard growing out front of the Manor. Here many of the newest guild members were practicing their abilities. Among the perfectly spaced rows of heavily laden fruit trees, Violet spotted Jackurn and Alyrra, each brandishing their weapons at the unsuspecting plants. Violet approached, attempting to apologize but neither of them would have it.

“It’s okay, Violet,” Alyrra assured her with a smile. “We were just happy to have you along with us for part of it.”

“That just left more big monsters for me to beat up all by myself!” Jackurn explained, who was swinging at, and missing, the apple trees all around them with his overgrown warhammer. His oversize platemail was absent, revealing a short, portly figure with ruffled brown hair and round face.

“I’m gonna be the strongest ever!”

“Oh, by the way,” Alyrra said, putting aside her practicing to approach Violet. “Dinner is being provided at the guild hall tonight. I was wondering, if you were planning on attending, maybe we could go there together..?”

“Oh, is it Friday evening again already?” Violet asked, already cheering up. “I think that’s a great idea. I’d love to go! When is it starting?”

“In just a few minutes, I think” Alyrra answered. “So, did you want to go together, or…”

“Of course I’d be happy to meet all of you guys there!” Violet beamed. “We’re one big family here at Applewood, after all. Oh, and I bet Ambrose will be there. I need to go apologize to her, too!”

Violet dashed off, heading for the dining room in search of her friend.

All members of Applewood Manor were welcome around the enormous dining table for that night’s feast. Two tall fireplaces of rough stone flanked the room on opposing ends, yawning at each other with fiery tongues. The flames burned cozy, spitting and sputtering around a generous supply of fresh-cut logs. The meal itself was grand as always: roasted turkey with sides of vegetables: cooked potatoes, carrots, bell peppers and asparagus. They collectively dug in, the clink of silverware and the idle sounds of conversation filling the wide room.

“You know what I love about make-believe fantasy food?” Jackurn asked to no one, his mouth still full as he spoke.

“Do we want to know?” replied Ambrose, who had recently returned from their raid to join them.

“It’s always good here! Not like my mom makes.”

“I don’t know. Your mom makes a killer breakfast…”

“Yeah!” Jackurn agreed, completely missing the point of Ambrose’s joke.

Ambrose kept on, stabbing a fork-full of asparagus to prove her point. “This is the same food, Jackurn. Tastes exactly the same.”

“No! In real life it’s yucky.”

Ambrose opened her mouth as if to reply, then just shook her head. She turned to address the rest of the table. “No one tell him it tastes the same back home! He couldn’t handle it. It would blow his mind!”

“Plus everything is purple here!” Jackurn exclaimed, referring to the vegetable sides. “Make-believe food is more fun when it’s purple!”

“Uh, Jackurn,” Violet explained, gently. “These vegetables can be purple back home, too…”

“Hah, ha, ha! No they’re not…”

Violet started to reply, but Ambrose cut her off with a shake of her head. She pointed to her own noggin, then splayed her fingers out while imitating an explosion sound.

Violet took the opportunity to have a closer look at Ambrose. She carried herself surprisingly similar to Orca: both of them presented as proud and strong, unafraid to be who they were. In Ambrose’s case, with the sides of her head shaved, her appearance matched her personality: unapologetic and bold. Ambrose never made any attempt to shy away or lessen herself, unlike how Violet felt most of the time.

Ambrose’s red duster was absent that evening, revealing a figure that was not at all shy, just like her personality. She wore a form-fitted, dark leather corset over top a low-cut, sleeveless blouse. This left her muscular arms exposed, as well as putting on display her full-figured size and feminine features. Violet was in awe of Ambrose’s bravery to put herself out there like that, as well as having a robustness she could never match with her unfortunate frame.

“Jackurn, the guild can’t afford to keep feeding you,” Ambrose teased. “You eat too damn much.”

“I have to grow big in order the be the strongest strong person there ever was!”

“That’s going to take a lot more than just food, in that case,” Ambrose joked. “Just wait until you grow up and your metabolism takes a crap on you.”

“I am grown up!” Jackurn shouted, suddenly upset. “I’m very grown up! I am at least twenty-ninety-million years more grown up than you!”

“Seriously? What are you, like, twelve? Nine?”

“No! And you’re a guy in real life but nobody says anything about that!”

“You little shit!” Ambrose yelled, shoving back from the table and shooting to her feet. “I’ll kill you!”

They shot off, Jackurn running full throttle out of dining room while Ambrose, in hot pursuit, tried to strangle the air in front of her. “Get back here, you little bastard!”

The others kept eating, conversation resuming as normal as if nothing had ever happened. This was just another evening at Applewood.

Alyrra, who ended up seating herself beside Violet at the table, leaned in close to whisper in an urgent voice. “Is Ambrose really a guy in real life?”

Violet just shrugged, chewing on a mouthful of potatoes. “Does it matter?”

Alyrra looked disturbed but Violet just took a drink and moved on, paying it no mind.

“Oh, I meant to ask!” Violet said aloud, swallowing her bite. “How did Ambrose’s raid go?”

“As I understand it,” Aura explained, Kiwi still on his shoulder, shifting constantly to watch the surrounding commotion. “It went poorly. The entire group died halfway through.”

“Oh…” Violet wondered how she should feel about that. Upset for Ambrose? Happy for Orca? Annoyed that the brief morning they shared together was abruptly cut short for no reason at all? It was all very confusing.

Dinner time dissolved as each attendee eventually excused themselves. The dirty dishes and leftovers, through the magic of convenience and game nonsense, would vanish themselves after a certain time, rendering the act of cleaning up pointless. Violet joined her friends in the common room where Ambrose and Jackurn ended up reappearing. Those needing to leave for the evening filed out, leaving only the oldest guild members remaining.

Violet was so grateful for her little family in this place. Whenever things were going poorly in her life, she could always count on these guys making her feel better. It reminded her of why she visited here in the first place, and how fortunate she was for the opportunity to do so.

Begrudgingly, Violet also excused herself and left into the night. She had already spent far more time in this place than she had intended, staying the night for the first time ever. As she returned home, she spared a thought for what Orca might have been doing in her own house that evening.

***** VI *****

“Aura, what do you know about Dire Mountain?”

“Oh, quite a bit, I would say. What would you like to know, Violet?”

After a couple day absence, Violet had caught Aura in the war room where he was studying different charts. Kiwi was preening himself on a nearby bird stand.

“Well, you’ve been around here a long time, right?” Violet asked.

“Since the first beta build.”

“Well, I’ve never been to Dire Mountain. Do you think it might be possible to, like… go through it by myself?”

Aura looked up at her with a quizzical expression from behind his desk. Even Kiwi looked sideways over at her.

“Ambrose couldn’t get halfway through with an army of twenty. How do you propose you would succeed on your own?”

“Uh… By being very sneaky?”

“Not likely. They have dragons who can see through stealth.”

“And I don’t imagine I would get very far by stabbing my way through? No? Okay…”

A pause hung between them. Violet tried and failed to think of a way to navigate a dungeon she wasn’t even powerful enough to visit.

“Well, what if I were nice to them?” Violet proposed. “Has anyone tried that yet?”

Aura just looked up at her through his skinny frames. “Do you intend to compliment your way past each of the monsters? Is that what you’re asking me?”

Violet just sighed, dejected. How was she ever going to see Orca again if she couldn’t even set foot in her dungeon?

“Why the sudden interest in Dire Mountain?” Aura asked, his charts long since forgotten. “Is it because of Miss Ambrose’s ongoing raid in that dungeon?”

“Well, no. I just saw–heard–that the big boss at the end–well, not big as in big big but just tall and muscular and that kind of thing–that she was just very, uh… nice?”

Aura sat there, patiently waiting to Violet’s ridiculous rambling, a ghost of a grin curling one side of his lips.

“You mean Orca, queen of the orcs?” Aura asked once Violet had stopped to take a breath.

“Yeah, her!”

“Not sure I’d choose ‘nice’ as a way to describe her,” Aura replied. “She’s strong enough to cut an entire raid down. She’s taken on twenty players at a time, and won. Though if you did manage to kill her, there would be a nice dagger in it for you.”

“Kill her? Why would I want to do that?”

Aura just raised an eyebrow at her. Violet took a moment to realize what she had asked before her cheeks started burning in embarrassment. Avoiding Aura’s gaze, Violet looked all around at a room lined with weapons, guides, and gear all singularly designed to do just that: kill monsters.

Aura spoke again after a moment’s pause. “If you would like to read about the dungeon and its boss, you could try the library in town. That’s the next best thing to actually being there.”

“I guess I could try that… Thanks.”

Violet turned to leave before a different thought overtook her. She turned to face Aura once more.

“Aura?”

“Present.”

“Is it possible to bring things here? Like, from real life?”

Aura fixed her with a curious look again. “Certainly not. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I saw that—I mean, I heard from a friend, that it… might be possible? Maybe?” Violet’s voice rose in octaves as she struggled through the question, becoming less and less sure of herself.

Aura favored her with a chuckle before returning to his parchments. “Nope, afraid not. You heard wrong. Have fun at the library.”

The library, while very interesting, was no more helpful than Aura had been. There was a very comprehensive bestiary containing detailed statistics and information on every monster. Violet was particularly amused to see an entire section dedicated to Orca, about her stats as a character, with her strengths and weaknesses in combat. How weird must it feel to have your entire existence boiled down to numbers on a sheet of paper, Violet mused. Sadly, there was no mention of Orca’s interests in exotic architecture, being a successful pillow farmer, or of her adorable bunny slippers.

Beyond that, the encyclopedia spoke about the dragons and demon-people surrounding the base of the mountain, and how the final encounter itself took place inside the volcano. While sounding very cool, it didn’t help solve the problem at hand.

Violet flipped through the pages. The library did an excellent job of capturing the comforting smell of old books on yellowing paper. It really enhanced the experience of being in some ancient library.

The dragons could fly at high speeds, use fire and other elemental attacks, swipe with their claws and tails, bite with their teeth, and a whole bunch of other useless things. Violet continued to skim through: iron-hide plating, high health total, no real vulnerabilities to speak of, etcetera, etcetera. She flipped the page again. Demons, like the ones seen in Dire Mountain, had this much health and those kinds of attacks and these kinds of armor scores and these other types of abilities and… and…

“This is all stupid game-y stuff!” Violet cried out, slamming the book shut in frustration. “This is no help at all.”

Nowhere in this all-encompassing encyclopedia did it list that demons enjoyed watching television, for instance. Violet distinctly remembered seeing a soap opera on during their brief time in the monsters’ dining hall.

Drawn in these books were depictions of them all at their most ferocious. Claws out, teeth bore, wings spread, all looking angry and hostile. This contrasted sharply to the image she captured in her mind of those exact same demons sitting at a bar laughing amongst each other.

The peek behind the curtain had jaded Violet. She slammed this latest book shut too, sighing deeply. Sliding the volume back onto the shelf, she shot to her feet with fresh determination.

“I’ll just have to figure it out for myself!”

The stone archway entrance towered overhead. Past two thick wooden doors rose the smoke-capped peak of Dire Mountain. A rough stone path leading up to billowing clouds swirling around the base of this dormant volcano. Thunder rumbled grumbled in the distance like angry giants. Directly behind those looming doors were skulls impaled on spikes and rotted corpses wearing rusted mail plate.

“Right. Not intimidating at all…” Violet gulped, feeling suddenly very small.

She took a small step forward, and then another, until the towering doorframe stood behind her. Standing mere feet beyond the dungeon entrance, the safety of the streets officially left behind, her boots stood upon the winding gravel path.

“Alright. First steps taken. Not so bad so far!”

She took another step. Then another. Convincing herself that everything was fine, she began to enjoy the crunchiness of the gravel beneath her boots. And that thunder rumbling in the distance? That was just a big kitty cat purring up on the mountain top. And those corpses and skulls around her? Not real, of course. Just Halloween decorations. Everyone knew that. And those big, winged demons stomping towards her with heavy hoof-falls and wicked curved scimitars? Just big teddy bears, who secretly liked television and hanging out at their local bar. Why, they weren’t so bad after all. They were probably very chummy.

“Hello! I’m Violet. Do you happen to know where I could find Orca…”

Three wide scimitars pierced her chest in quick succession, pushing all the way out her back. Her breath caught, a burning pain overwhelmed her, her senses failing in an instant. She stumbled forward helplessly, unable to even cry out.

Then in an instant, Violet was back facing the dungeon’s doorway again, the volcano looming in the background as if nothing had ever happened.

She got up from where she was kneeling in the dirt and brushed off her greaves.

“Yeah, I didn’t think it was going to be that easy,” she admitted to herself. “I’ll just have to keep trying!”

Violet tugged up her greaves, unsheathed her brand new shimmering turquoise dagger, took a deep breath, and charged forward back into the dungeon.

“Alright you big meanies, you tell me where Orca is right now, or I’ll take this dagger and…”

She was kneeling back in the dirt in front of the open doorway once more, Dire Mountain looming in the distance. Grimacing as the pain of being skewered faded, she rose back up and charged forward once again.

“You just stop that right now, you big mean doo-doo heads!”

Violet was kneeling in the dirt in front of the entrance again. Ahead of her, the mountain remained as distant as always. She stomped her feet in frustration, staring daggers at that stupid old mountain.

“Fine! New plan…”

Violet hunkered down, making herself as small as possible. She crawled into the dungeon, darting from one rock to the next. She got close enough to peek over and watch the three demons standing on the path, tails twitching, arms out and claws raised to look as intimidating as possible. She could hear their deep huffing breaths and their grunting as they stared unmoving toward the entrance.

So far so good, Violet thought to herself. Feeling emboldened, she made for the next rock along the path. Then she heard their heavy footfalls stomp toward her and knew what was about to happen.

“Oh, fiddlesticks…”

She knelt back in the dirt before the entrance, the mountain unmoved. Standing up once again, she stared back out at the path.

“I must have made too much noise,” she said to herself. “I just need to be better, like Ambrose is! She would know what to do here…”

Her spirit undeterred, Violet set out once more. A minute later, she reappeared back in the same spot.

“Too much noise again,” she assured herself. “If I’m ever going to be good enough to see Orca, I need to keep practicing!”

She set out again. And then again a moment later. And then again after that. She kept trying, practicing new approaches with new strategies. Should she sneak this way or that way, what rocks could she or couldn’t she hide behind, how close could she get until she pulled their attention, how far could she get if she tried to outrun them? The answer: not very far.

Various experiments like these continued on over and over again. It wasn’t until the next day, mid-afternoon, that she got a lucky break. Chewing thoughtfully on hard tack and dried fruits, she was trying to come up with a new strategy when a raiding party arrived, dressed in the flashiest armor and carrying the biggest weapons.

Their raid leader took off his winged helmet as he approached Violet. “Is this dungeon free?”

Violet gestured toward the entrance: be my guest. Re-applying his helm, he led the charge through the massive doorway, his company shouting in excitement.

Stashing the rest of her lunch, Violet followed the last raid member through the gate. She watched as the band charged forward, running into the group of demons with gusto. She crept behind her rock and watched the battle unfold—the demons swatted the heroes away, throwing them through the air or cutting them down with massive cleaving strikes. These three demons stood powerful and menacing, repelling back invaders despite their numbers. The raiding group fell back to the entrance, no doubt regrouping for a second attack.

In the meantime Violet waited, daring not to move or breathe or do anything to give away her position.

One of the demons had been killed—run through by the business end of a polearm. The other two stood over it, looking with fangs bore toward the entry. This dragged on for some time. Violet felt her heartbeat in her ears, convinced that the demons could hear it as well. They must have known she was there. Was that why they weren’t moving? Was this ridiculous plan doomed to fail from the beginning? If they couldn’t hear her, they could problem smell her, or just sense her somehow, or…

“They gone?” one asked the other, turning away from the door at long length.

“Yeah, they’re gone,” answered the second, dropping his menacing pose. “Went back to town.”

“Nice. Come on, Greg, get up.” The demon reached down where the third demon, who had previously been dead, extended his arm up and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

Greg, as was apparently his name, circled around behind some rocks and gathered up something out of Violet’s line of sight. He was speaking to the others all the while.

“So then Mary comes home and finds a perfume bottle on her bedside table, right? And she’s all like ‘oh, I don’t use this brand. Who’s could this be?’ And I’m like, you obviously saw your husband’s new secretary use this perfume in the second episode of the fifth season.”

“Is that the one where John goes out to get new golf shoes?” asked another of the demons, who had walked over to pick up a particular rock.

“That’s the one,” Greg stood back upright, carrying a handful of… bowling pins. A little rough and yellowed with age, but they were unmistakably bowling pins. And that rock the other demon was picking up? It was perfectly spherical with three little holes carved into one side.

“Right. So then John comes back, and he’s like ‘oh, I don’t know how that perfume got there, honey. Musta been the neighbor’s,’ which is weird, because there aren’t even any women living at the neighbors.”

“Uh, huh. So then what happens?”

“Well, it turns out that Mary makes a phone call in secret later on.” Greg had finished setting up the pins at this point, and the other demons were taking turns rolling. “And she says ‘I need to meet you right now. I think he’s on to us.’” “Wait, so she’s having an affair, too?” the other demons asked. “With who?”

“Don’t know. I think it might be her boss’s poolboy. Still waiting for the next DVD shipment to arrive.”

“Aw, what a cliffhanger!” they complained. “That sucks. How long until we find out?”

“Dunno. Could be a few weeks. What I really want is ‘The Young and Single’ season six collector’s set, where they show an extra five minutes of footage that really puts Betty’s and Bob’s relationship in a whole new light. I’m told those two broke up in real life, too.”

“No!” the demon gasped. “But I liked them together.”

The bowling game continued, with Greg resetting the pins for the other two, all the while exchanging the latest gossip about soap operas and their cast members.

Violet watched and listened, feeling much more captivated by their conversation and bowling game than some boring performances as big, scary monsters. She found herself wishing she could sit and watch this all day, just to see how it played out.

Unfortunately, her entertainment was soon cut short. Violet heard a warning buzzer pierce the air. It wasn’t a loud shrill, but it was definitely noticeable. Upon hearing it, the three demons took down their pins, stashed their game and took their places staring at the entrance, claws out and teeth bared. She realized at that moment that each of the three were even standing in exactly the same spots as before. The amount of training and rehearsal these monsters must have gone through for these performances was definitely under-appreciated, she decided.

The same raiding party had returned, fully restocked and charging in for the same boring battle as before. People were screaming, swords were clashing, people were dying—it was all very trite. Violet much preferred the gossip and the bowling over these faked theatrics. At least those things felt real.

Violet took her leave, slipping out in the confusion of the battle. Stepping out of the dungeon entryway, Violet hurried back to town to take her leave. She had some real life research she needed to do.

***** VII *****

The Sun had nearly waned entirely when Violet returned. Without one single weapon in hand, she boldly marched right through the doorway. Chest raised and head held high, she stormed right down the gravel path to see the same three actors in their usual positions. They started toward her as Violet stood planted squarely with hands on her hips.

“I know who Mary is having an affair with!”

The three stopped, their menacing growls replaced with looks of concern. Violet stuck her finger out toward them, staring them down as they towered well above her height. “And if you kill me again, I will spoil it! I swear to god, I will!”

They backed away, hesitantly looking at each other.

“How can you know that?” Violet knew that this was Greg talking, even though they looked identical to her. It was his tone of voice that gave it away.

“I’ve seen it! I know!”

“Impossible! Those episodes aren’t out yet.”

“They’re not out on DVD yet. But they are available on the Internet! Which you can’t get. And I watched them! I will spoil every single thing in them unless you tell me what I want to know!”

They gasped collectively, looking horrified.

Violet stepped forward, staring them down. “Good. Now that we have an understanding, I want to know where Orca is. Take me there right now! Please.”

“She’s in the boss room. And we can’t leave our posts! Plus there are too many monsters between here and there. You’d never make it!”

“I know that,” Violet said. “That’s why you’re going to open the passage to your employee hallways and let me in through the back.”

They looked at each other, huddling up together to whisper amongst themselves.

“How do you know about those?” Greg turned to ask.

“That’s my secret.”

“But, we can’t do that!” Greg hesitated. “I mean, your kind isn’t allowed back there! It’s against all of our rules! Do you know how much trouble we’d get into if…”

“Mary gets shot.”

The three gasped, sucking in great lungfuls of air like giant Hoover vacuums.

“No!” they cried.

“Yes! And if you don’t let me in right now, I’m going to say whether she lives or dies!”

“Not Mary!”

“And you won’t believe who shot her!” Violet persisted, twisting the knife.

“Was it John?” Greg asked. “Bob? Mark? Betty? Stan? Billy? Surely not Billy! No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to hear it!”

“It was someone who hasn’t been seen since season three.”

More collective gasping. “Is it Ricardo? Not Ricardo!”

“Maybe!” Violet replied. “You better let me in that door if you don’t want to find out…”

They looked at each other one more time. “You won’t tell anyone, right?”

“I promise I won’t tell a soul. I just need to talk to Orca.”

Relenting, Greg stepped back a couple of feet and reached down toward an unexceptional portion of flat stone floor. He grabbed at some unseen handle and pulled, lifting open a trapdoor. It swung wide, the door balancing upright on its own. Violet looked down at the newly appeared entrance. Stairs led the way down, accompanied by all-too-familiar handguards and painted stripes on the walls.

She made her way down as one of the demons stopped her.

“But Mary lives, right?”

Violet just shrugged as she slipped by them. “Maybe…”

She descended the stairs into the hallway, listening as the metal trapdoor slammed shut behind her. Back in the familiar company of aggressively buzzing fluorescent bulbs and ugly bare drywall, Violet followed the labeled arrows, finding the boss room of Dire Mountain in no time at all.

***** VIII *****

Violet exited the corridors through a particularly large stalagmite. She was in a cave that towered high overhead. To her right was a winding path that led up to where she stood now, populated by dozens demons and several enormous red dragons. At even a casual glance, it was clear that she never had a chance of fighting or sneaking her way through from the beginning.

On her left were two large doors carved from stone, their tops cut into flat slopes. Violet approached these, pushing on them as the grinding of rock echoed loudly through the cavern. Several of the monsters behind her turned with curious looks, but she pushed through and shoved the door closed before they could get any ideas.

A dark stone corridor led out before her, the light dwindling to near darkness. Violet advanced forward cautiously, casting glances around in the dark. After several footfalls, the light vanished entirely. She heard a door opening above her and to the right. She looked, expecting the worst, and saw instead a peculiar collection of instruments. There was one set of drums, a microphone stand, and two guitars, each hanging on their own stands. A spotlight shone directly down on them, the only light source in the room. From the door behind the instruments emerged four skeletons in grunge clothes. She thought they were actual people at first, but no: these were four literal skeleton musicians dressed in torn jeans and colored mohawks. They each took up an instrument and began to strum, as if warming up.

Violet watched in amusement as the skeleton singer cleared his lack-of-throat before shouting into it, his voice booming throughout the room from unseen speakers.

“Congratulations, heroes! You’ve battled up the fearsome Dire Mountain all the way to the heart of the Volcano! Your raid of twenty heroes did well to get this far!”

“It’s just me,” Violet said, waving her hand.

The skeleton didn’t hear. Perhaps it was his lack of ears. “But now, are you ready to face the ultimate challenge? Are you prepared to face the might of the great, the mighty, the fearsome: Orca, queen of the orcs?”

The other band members let loose with a dazzling riff, filling the dungeon with a heavy-hitting beat and slick guitar riffs. The pace was fast and energetic–exactly the type of heavy metal action music she would imagine for a grand boss battle. Violet was nodding her head along to the beat, really getting into it, as a shower of fireworks sprayed up from the darkness ahead of her. They were great plumes of fire, complete with rockets exploding into dazzling arrays of color all around the room. They had turned on the overhead lights, revealing a circular arena carved from the rock face. Ascending from a rising platform in the center, behind a show of fiery pyrotechnics, Violet saw a familiar face holding up a monstrously large two-handed battle ax. Violet could hear her shouting in excitement even over the sizzle of flame geysers and the belting blast of the skeleton rockers. Her deep battlecry probably would have been bloodcurdling to most other people, Violet was certain. But to her, she just remembered a woman in pink and white heart pajama pants with enormous fuzzy bunny slippers.

“I hope you’re ready for the fight of your lives!” cried he skeleton.

Orca roared again, swinging her enormous battle ax around her in a great display of strength. The flame geysers erupted, the fireworks exploded, the drumline slapped, and the bassline sizzled. Violet grinned ear to ear watching the display, thinking back on the few times she watched wrestling on T.V. It was all there: the stage, the hype man, the special effects. She could see it now: Annnnd now, in this corner: weighing in at three-hundred pounds and standing at an impressive seven feet tall, it’s Miss Orca Fuzzy-Feet, against her contender, a scrawny hundred-pound nothing, eighteen-year-old hero girl from the foothills of California…

“Your journey ends here, heroes!” Orca roared as the final plume of flames died off around her. “Time for all of you to face the might of–Violet?!”

“Hi Orca!” Violet waved.

“But first, can you survive Orca’s army of fearsome ogres?” cried the skeletal hype man.

“No! No ogres! Abort!” Orca cried, waving her arms up at the skeleton and his band. The rock music swelled, kicking into high gear and drowning out Orca’s words. “Stop the music! Shut it down!”

“Kill the heroes!” screamed the ogres as they emerged from side doors, waving their weapons high and charging in a rage.

“No! No kill the heroes!” Orca turned to face the ogres, a legion of them spilling out endlessly from doors all around her–dozens in total.

“Kill the heroes!”

“NO!” Orca raged, slamming the flat of her enormous battle ax against one of the ogres running past her, knocking him clear off his feet.

The other ogres saw what she had done and stopped.

“Why you do that?” one of them asked.

“No battle!” Orca shouted at them, still threatening with her battle ax held high. “There’s no battle today. Go back to your places!”

“But… the music!”

“No!” Orca repeated. She waved up at the musicians again, but they were lost in the rhythm of their own performance. She screamed up at them in anger, before taking up a rock and throwing it at them. After a few more rocks, they got the message and looked down at her in confusion.

“No battle!” Orca shouted at all of them. “No music! False alarm. Go back to your starting positions.”

“But… hero!” an ogre said, pointing at Violet. “Kill the hero?”

“No! No kill the hero! Kill heroes next time. This doesn’t count. Get back in your starting places!”

Violet stepped forward, daring to walked amongst ogres who were still confused about whether or not to kill the hero. “So this is where you work? It’s nice.”

“On certain days, yes, this is where I work,” Orca replied, exasperated. She strode toward Violet. “What on Earth are you doing here?”

“Well…” Violet stuttered. She realized at that moment that had been so preoccupied by the road getting here, she had never spared a thought about what she would do if she actually arrived here.

“I wanted to see you!” Violet concluded.

“Okay, but like…” Orca raised her arms at the army of ogres milling around them both. “And then, but there…” She gestured back behind Violet in the direction of the caves. “And just… how!?”

“I am very sneaky!” Violet said, beaming with pride. Orca just stood there, jaw gaping and dumb-founded.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Am I happy to see you?” Orca replied, still dumb-struck. “I mean, I guess, but like how did you..?”

“You guess?” Violet replied, turning suddenly bitter. “What do you mean, you guess?”

“I mean, yeah, I’m happy to see you, but how in the world did you get through to this point? I thought for sure you would..?”

“Die?” Violet retorted, finishing Orca’s sentence. “Oh, I did die. A lot, actually. But I did it because I thought I had a friend on the other side of this who would be happy to see me. But maybe I just guessed that I did?”

“A friend?” Orca replied, still overwhelmed.

“Yes! A friend. And I thought, maybe I was hoping, that maybe we were friends and that I could see you again some time. You know, like friends do. But what friends don’t do is guess that they’re happy to see you, or tell you ‘sure it was fun, but I’m gonna go now, good luck out there, bye forever!’ like you told me. So I guess maybe I was wrong after all?”

“Woah, woah, hang on now!” Orca replied, who found herself raising her own voice along with Violet, getting even more upset. “I never said that!”

“That’s what it sounded like to me!” Violet replied, tears stinging behind her frames. “You didn’t even leave me a way to talk to you again. You just said ‘have a good life’ and slammed the door, like none of it mattered! You never gave me a choice. And now you’re not even happy to see me, after everything I did to get here? Oh, and I brought your stupid poncho back,” Violet reached into a pouch on her hip and pulling out a wad of leather, throwing it at Orca.

Orca caught the poncho awkwardly, then just tossed it aside. “I didn’t need that back. And sure I’m happy to see you again, you just caught me off guard is all!”

“Yeah? I’m not so sure now. Friends are people that are excited to see you, no matter what. Friends are also people that are willing to go into your dungeon, and fail over and over again, just to watch half a season of a stupid soap opera back home in order to bribe a couple of bowling demons into letting me back down here!”

Orca just blinked dumbly down at her several times. “...What?”

“Nothing,” Violet replied, more frustrated than ever. “It doesn’t matter. I made it here and brought your poncho back. That was my goal. I guess we’re even now. Good luck out there to you, too!” She turned to the ogres with arms spread wide. “Kill the hero!”

“Kill the hero!” cried the ogres in joyous unison. They attacked immediately. The last thing Violet heard was Orca shouting at them at the top of her lungs.

***** IX *****

Orca kicked open the door hard enough to slam against the wall. She stormed across the common room, a dark cloud following as voices hushed at her passing. She pierced the room, finding her quarry and moving to him instantly.

“Oh, hi Orca,” Greg said, pulling his gaze away from the soap opera.

“You!” Orca raged, slamming an accusing finger between the horns on his forehead. “You’re on door duty at Dire Mountain!”

“I am,” Greg replied, his eyes shifting as he squirmed in his chair, suddenly uneasy. “But I didn’t do anything…”

“How many trophies did you get off of her?” Orca raged, standing close enough for her hot breath to hit him in the face.

“I, uh… I don’t know who you’re…”

“HOW MANY?”

“Seventy-three!” Greg squealed. “But I didn’t keep all of them! We shared…”

The wall behind him interrupted his words as his head was plowed through it. Orca released her grip on his skull; plaster and splintered drywall cascaded down around him. She looked at the others, huffing as loud as a minotaur, daring any of them to speak.

Standing back upright, she steeled herself for what was to come next. She raised her chin, puffed out her chest, and marched purposely forward, knowing exactly what needed to be done.

“Uh, Violet?” The voice of Jackurn came through Violet’s bedroom door. She had locked herself away since leaving Dire Mountain. Others had come to ask about her well-being before him, and while that was very nice of them, it was not what she wanted. She appreciated their concern, but she just wanted to be left alone with her journaling and her self-deprecating mood.

“I’m sorry, Jackurn. Not right now, please.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s cool. But, like, I thought you’d want to see something kinda weird.”

“Not right this moment, Jackurn. I’m sorry. Maybe later.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s cool.” There was the briefest of pauses before Jackurn continued on. “But it is right outside our windows, if maybe you were curious.”

Violet hadn’t been curious. She hadn’t been anything at all. But hearing Jackurn say those words made her curious. So she pulled herself upright, wiped her eyes, adjusted her glasses, and looked out the window.

An instant later her bedroom door exploded open, nearly taking Jackurn out. She sprinted across the hall and down the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. Jackurn followed, lapping up the excitement.

Violet jumped onto the ground floor, sprinted across the entry, and burst through the wide doors into the orchard beyond.

“Violet, get the others!” Ambrose called out to her, her dual swords locked in combat. “Applewood is under attack!”

Violet watched in horror from the landing as dozens of fighters, both heroes and townsmen alike, barreled onto the orchard grounds in one growing mass. The growing mob carried any arms they could muster, running in to join the fray and team up against the single, large intruder.

“No! We’re not!” Violet shouted bitterly, leaping over the banister and running as fast as she could across the grounds. She threw herself between them, leaping in front of Orca with arms spread wide. She stared Ambrose down and refused to look away.

“Could you get the hell out of the way? I’d like to stab the monster!”

“No!” Violet replied. “Not this monster. She is my guest!”

“What the hell, Violet? Have you lost your damn mind?”

Violet looked towards the grounds gate, seeing the murderous crowd wash past their rows of trees. They must have chased Orca through the streets of this entire city, judging from the amount of them. They looked like a crazed pitch-fork wielding crowd, cheering for blood.

She grabbed Orca by the hand and half-lead, half-dragged the giant orc back into the Manor. They sprinted past Jackurn, who grinned like a fool all the while. He may have been the only person in existence who was excited to see Orca here, bless him.

They bolted up the stairs and made for her bedroom door, slamming and locking it behind them.

Violet was heaving and panting, exhausted by the exertion. Orca, meanwhile, just looked around the tiny closet-sized room, her breathing perfectly steady. She had to duck her head to even fit under the low ceiling. Orca crossed the room in two steps and opened the curtain to peer out the window at the crowd gathered out front.

“Sorry about all that,” Orca said, gesturing out the window. “But like you had said to me, I didn’t have a way to talk to you again. So I really had no choice…”

Orca’s voice trailed off, her gaze shifting downward or around the room. She was clearly nervous, but not because of the attention outside.

But Orca forgot about all of it the moment Violet embraced her in an enormous hug.

“I’m always happy to see my friends!” Violet exclaimed, beaming.

***** X *****

There was an urgent knock at Violet’s door. Ambrose’s voice carried her distinct, unmistakable edge of steel as she spoke.

“Violet, why is there a raid boss in your bedroom?”

“Ambrose, I promise that I am fine and everything is okay,” Violet said back to the door. “And I promise to explain everything soon. I’m going to need to trust me and give me just a moment here, please.”

There was a brief pause. “Violet, that’s a raid boss.”

“Yes it is, Ambrose.”

“In your bedroom.”

“Yes, Ambrose.”

Another short pause. “That’s a raid boss. In your bedroom...”

“There is a good reason for that, I promise. And I will explain all of it. But if you could please give us a moment, I would appreciate it.”

A moment later a second voice joined the fray. “Do you need help, Violet?”

“No, thank you, Alyrra. We’re okay. Thank you for asking.”

Then there was a longer pause. This time Jackurn’s voice broke the silence.

“Could Miss Orc-Boss-Lady get me a new war-hammer? Or maybe three of them?”

“She’s not Santa Claus,” Violet explained patiently, flashing an apologetic look back to Orca. “That’s not how that works.”

“Oh…”

Violet waited, wondering who else would call on her this time. After a long moment of nothing, she decided that they were finally alone. Violet invited Orca to sit next to her on the tiny twin bed, which groaned painfully under her weight.

“Sorry about them,” Violet said, but Orca cut her off with a shake of her head and a wave of her hand.

“Not your fault. That’s exactly the reaction I expected if I were to ever came here. I knew what I was getting into.”

“So..?” Violet said, beaming up at the giant orc next to her, her full attention now on her visitor. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. Why’d you do it? Why’d you risk coming here knowing you would get attacked like that?”

“Well, someone recently told me that I, uh…” Orca hesitated, her eyes scanning the ceiling for the right words. “I may have made some unfortunate word choices. That I may have been a not-great friend. Or, for that matter, that I even had a friend at all? If I do have one now, still? If she hasn’t changed her mind about that..?”

“Wait, have you never had even one single friend before?” Violet asked. “Is it because orcs are made for fighting and killing, but not for friends?”

Orca groaned deeply, covering her face in embarrassment in her hands as she leaned back against the wall. “Ugh, don’t bring up all that again… But it’s true, unfortunately. I don’t have friends, not like you obviously have here. I have co-workers I defend dungeons with. I have the goblins I watch over. I have Throgg, who… I’m not getting into that. And my ogres make for very poor company, as you recently found out.

“But never once have I known someone crazy enough to die seventy-three times just to return a stupid old poncho.”

“It wasn’t just the poncho,” Violet explained, but Orca was already nodding her understanding.

“I think I’m figuring that out. I didn’t know it then. You really did shock the hell out of me, showing up at my job all by yourself and out of nowhere! I still don’t know how you did it.”

“Well, I never realized that your hesitation about being around here was so justified, judging from the reaction here today,” Violet replied. “Sorry if I didn’t understand before.”

“Well, to be fair, I had never tried it before today.” She sat back upright, looking squarely at Violet. “But we are still friends, then? If you haven’t changed your mind about that yet?”

Violet chuckled at Orca’s uncertainty, but held out her own hand without hesitation. “Yes. Friends. If you’d like to be.”

“I think I would like that,” Orca replied, gladly shaking Violet’s tiny hand.

Then Orca look turned solemn as she released Violet’s hand. “So, I don’t actually know how this is supposed to work…”

“What do you mean?” Violet asked.

“Heroes and monsters,” she explained as she gestured to the window. “I mean, you saw the response out front. We’re supposed to be killing each other. What does ‘being friends’ mean in a place like this?”

“I don’t know,” Violet said, honestly. Her smile never wavered as she looked up at Orca. “But I’m willing to figure it out as we go, if you are!”

Orca smiled at that, squeezing Violet’s hand. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re insufferably nice?”

“Actually, yes,” Violet beamed. “All the time! Also, we’d better head back downstairs soon before my friends literally die from curiosity. They’re an awesome bunch, once you get to know them. Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Orca replied with a shrug. The bed sighed in relief as Orca lifted herself off of it. “Let’s go meet your tiny, angry hero friends.”

Orca and Violet filled up a three-person couch. Directly facing them was Ambrose, front and center with her arms crossed over her chest, scowling perpetually. Flanking her were Jackurn and Alyrra, one looking elated and the other befuddled. Surrounding their couch and crowding together to fill every inch of standing room available was every friend, guild member, and curious human who could physically shove themselves into the room.

Violet, who disliked being a spectacle at the best of times, sat uncomfortably, fidgeting her hands and shifting her gaze to everyone and no one. Meanwhile Orca, who clearly was no stranger to the limelight, sat with her arms in her lap and an amused grin stuck on her face. She looked out at everyone but coming back at Ambrose. Orca basked smugly in the warm, radioactive glow coming from the anger in her eyes.

“So, uh… hello,” Violet broke the silence, her voice faltering. “I’m Violet.”

“We know who you are!” Ambrose thundered. “Why did you invite a raid boss into our guild house?”

“Oh, right. Well, uh… for those of you who don’t know, this is Orca.”

“Hello!” Orca said with a wave, still grinning.

“And, uh… She’s an orc.”

“I am!” Orca agreed, endlessly amused.

“Violet, I swear to god, if you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to kill both of you!”

“Well, actually, there’s not much to tell,” Violet said to Ambrose. “Orca and I are friends!”

Orca nodded her approval, as if that explained everything. Meanwhile, no one else moved.

“What the hell does that mean?” Ambrose replied.

“Well, when two people like each other and want to spend time together, they become friends…”

“I KNOW WHAT FRIENDS MEANS, YOU FREAKING MORON!”

Ambrose was growing more and more red in the face. Veins began to stand up and introduce themselves along her forehead. Inwardly, Orca was lapping it all up like a dog, loving every bit of it.

“How are you friends with… with some stupid game monster?” Ambrose asked.

“I was friends with a squirrel once,” Jackurn said. Nobody acknowledged him.

“Well, it’s a funny story, actually,” Violet replied. “You see, I found some, like… Well, actually, Aura could probably explain it better than I could. Where is Aura, anyway? I don’t see him here.”

“He took off a moment ago,” Ambrose answered. “Now quit changing the subject!”

“Yes, well, so I found these tunnels, like service tunnels…”

“Uhh, Violet,” Orca said, looking down at her with concern. “I don’t think we should be saying that in front of…” She bobbed her head in the direction of the crowd. “Those are supposed to be secret, remember?”

“Oh? Well, I mean, these are my friends. So I think it’s okay if they know.”

“All of them are your friends?” Orca asked, staring bewildered at the unblinking crowd.

“Well… yeah. I mean, most of them. I don’t know each and every person I’m seeing right now, but we’re all very friendly here. We’re a nice guild.”

Meanwhile, Ambrose was changing from bright red into more of a purple. Violet saw her looking about ready to boil over and brought herself back on topic.

“Okay, well, there are these hallways. Secret hallways. And I got myself lost in one where I ran into Orca. We got to talking and she was really nice. We had a sleepover at her place which had a million pillows and she made me breakfast and now we’re friends!”

“You skipped over my favorite part,” Orca added, looking down at her new friend. “Where you went through Dire Mountain by yourself just to give me back my poncho.”

“Oh, right! And, uh… That’s it! Any questions?”

“I have a question!” Jackurn said, his hand raised. Nobody acknowledged him.

“What in the actual name of Satan’s left testicle are you talking about?” Ambrose raged. “Secret hallways? Sleepovers? And I’m calling bullshit on you clearing Dire Mountain! I ran a high level group through there and we wiped on the dragon mini-boss. There’s no way in hell you did it on your own!”

“Hah! You died to Betsy…” Orca chuckled.

“You!” Ambrose shot to her feet, shoving an angry finger at Orca, amusing her even further. “I’m not talking to you! I’ll deal with you later.”

Orca just crossed her legs, folding her hands on her lap while grinning savagely at her. She couldn’t wait.

“Well, I didn’t clear Dire Mountain…” Violet admitted. “I went around it, using those service tunnels I was talking about.”

“So that’s how you got to me!” Orca cried out. “Looking back on it, I really should have realized that…”

“Okay, again, what tunnels?” Ambrose asked. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Secret tunnels. And it’s for the monsters to go home from the dungeons or move around to the different places. You know, like Disneyland! Secret, employee-only hallways.”

“I love Disneyland!” Jackurn cried out. Nobody acknowledged him.

“No,” Ambrose said flatly, taking her seat again with her arms crossed defiantly over her chest.

“No, what?” Violet asked.

“No to all of it! They’re just monsters, Violet. Mindless fodder for the game. N.P.C.’s. They do not need ‘secret tunnels’ to move around. They are not employees, they’re not even people! They’re stupid little primitive A.I. that do nothing but stand there and get killed. They do not eat, they do not sleep, they do not go home for the night, and they do not have ‘sleepovers.’ And they most especially do not have friends! So, no. No to all of it. I utterly reject every word you just said!”

Orca nudged Violet gently with her elbow. “This is why heroes aren’t supposed to know. They couldn’t handle it.”

“You got something to say, Chunky?”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Orca rose from her seat, matching Ambrose. The entire room collectively cowered back as a hushed silence fell. Orca towered head and shoulders over Ambrose, but that didn’t stop her from staring the Orc down.

“You heard me, dipshit!”

“No, no, no!” Violet cried out, jumping between the two again. “Ambrose, you’re being mean to my friend!”

“No, I’m being mean to a glorified toaster! They’re just made to look like they’re real, Violet. That’s not a real person. If you take off the wrapping paper, it’s all ones and zeroes underneath. Nothing else!”

“Beep, beep, boop,” Orca mocked.

“Shut it!”

“Enough, you two!” Violet pleaded. “Ambrose, it’s all true, I promise. I can prove it to you! I could take you there.”

“That’s a really bad idea,” Orca warned.

“No amount of evidence in the world could convince me that the Jolly Green Terminator over there is a real boy,” Ambrose replied. “What I am concerned about is this weird mind-control thing she seems to have over you.”

“That’s not… no,” Violet just sighed. “She’s not mind-controlling me into being her friend, Ambrose.”

She just snorted, leering up at Orca. “We’ll see about that.”

Ambrose stormed out of the room, leaving behind an awkward silence in her wake.

“I had a sleepover once,” Jackurn said, cutting through the sudden quiet. Nobody acknowledged him.

“So, uh…” Violet said, looking at those remaining. “Any other questions?”

***** XI *****

The questions were abundant and varied, eventually growing more mundane as the night carried on. As Orca’s presence became less of a spectacle, those not of the guild began to filter back out the door. Those who were in the guild gradually returned to their normal day. Eventually the common room was back down to its usual crowd, and even those that remained paid less mind to their guest.

“I have another question!” said Jackurn, who up to this point had been an endless fountain of irrelevant interrogations. “How do you poop?”

“Through my fingers!” Orca cried out, pointing them menacingly at Jackurn. He howled with laughter, holding his side as he collapsed onto the floor. Alyrra spoke over him as his cackling continued ceaselessly.

“So, you two being friends now… what does that mean, exactly?”

“Well, we don’t completely know yet,” Violet answered earnestly. “We’re still figuring all of this out.”

Another question flew out from the back of the room.

“These secret tunnels, how do we get to them?”

“You don’t,” Orca answered. “They’re designed only to open for monsters and never for heroes. You’re not even able to see them, so don’t bother looking. Violet getting in was just a fluke.”

It was at that moment that Ambrose filed back into the room, carrying with her a hefty linen bag filled to the brim. She dragged a nearby end table directly in front of Violet, dumped the bag down onto that table, and started pulling out items.

“Drink this,” Ambrose ordered, shoving a corked flask of swirling blue liquid into Violet’s face.

“What is this?” Violet asked, taking the flask and looking it over.

“That is a mental acuity potion,” Orca explained. “It relieves the imbiber of any mental status effects or ailments, including but not limited to mind control.”

“Ambrose, I already told you that…”

“Yeah, I don’t think she’s listening,” Orca observed. “Just drink it. It won’t hurt you.”

Violet did as bidden, making a face at the coppery aftertaste. Ambrose took the flask and handed her a new one, this one swirling green.

“And that is a mental fortitude potion,” Orca said, flatly. “It protects the mind against mental attacks, including but not limited to mind control…”

Like before, Violet drank it, making an even more sour face. And like before, Alyrra took the empty flask and pulled out a fresh new one, handing it to Violet.

“And that… is a mental clarity potion,” Orca said. “Take a wild guess what that does.”

“Ambrose, this is silly!” Violet complained. “I’m not under mind control!”

Ignoring her, Ambrose pulled a large copper amulet out of her bag. She shoved it onto Violet’s forehead and watched the amulet’s surface with intense scrutiny.

“What is happening now..?”

“That is an amulet of magic detection,” Orca explained to Violet, strumming her fingers on her greaves. “I could explain that, too, if you like.”

“Ambrose, could you just…”

“Drink!” Ambrose ordered, cutting her words short.

Sighing her resignation, Violet did as bidden, wondering what these magical concoctions would do when mixed all together in her stomach. Ambrose took this latest empty flask and her amulet, putting them both into her bag before producing a different gray-colored amulet and shoving that onto Violet’s forehead as well.

“Did you go into town and buy all of this just now?” Violet asked. “How many more do you have?”

“All of them. Here, wear these.”

Ambrose thrust no less than a dozen necklaces into her arms. Violet just held the mess of loops in her hands, pleading eyes turning up to Orca.

“I could explain each of those to you, if you like,” she explained calmly.

“How do you know all this stuff?” Violet asked, placing one chain after another around her neck. By the end she had such a mess of metal, jewels, and beads hanging around her she felt like an antique store mannequin. Every movement she made sounded like wind chimes.

“It’s our job to know the items we give out,” Orca explained. “We have to memorize each item, what they do, and how many we give out per day. It helps us know what to expect when you wear them against us later on. There’s also strict limits on some of this stuff. Two of those necklaces you’re wearing now are exceptionally expensive, you should know.”

“Oh, I hate that you wasted all of your money on me!” Violet said to Ambrose, who by this point was shoving a white quartz-like crystal in front of Orca and studying it intently.

“You could just hand me the bag and save us both some time,” Orca said, her voice still flat.

Ambrose ignored her as she worked in silence, going through each and every single item in the bag. By the end of it, there was an overflowing mess of crystals, tomes, jewelry, and trinkets on both of their laps.

“Are we done here?” Orca asked. She was now wearing five rings, had seven of her own necklaces on, four crystals sitting on her lap, two wands in her hands, and one curious cloth beanie of rainbow colors on her head. She felt like a discount Christmas tree.

“Never!” Ambrose replied. She gathered up her toys, shoved them back into the bag and marched out again.

“That was fun,” Orca said after Ambrose had left. “I look forward to playing dress up with her again. I could bring my own tiara and princess gown next time!”

“Sorry about all that,” Violet said, removing the last necklaces that Ambrose hadn’t taken back. “She means well, I promise.”

“Yeah, yeah… On that note, I think I’m going to turn into a pumpkin soon.” Orca stood, removing the last of her pretty, pretty jewelry. “As always, it’s been very entertaining. Thank you for hosting me. Please thank Princess Sour-puss for the party favors, they were delightful.”

Violet fixed her with a stern but tired look. Orca just grinned, reassuring her. “I’m just joking. Mostly.”

“I better walk you to the exit,” Violet said, standing. “We don’t need a repeat of this afternoon’s excitement.”

They made their goodbyes to those that remained in the common room and left the Manor. Exiting through the large doorway, they strolled leisurely through the Applewood orchard toward the gate. The sun was setting, creating a vibrant array of yellows and reds on the scattered clouds above. Violet appreciated how beautiful it was out here tonight, as it always seemed to be in this place.

Orca stopped to investigate a particularly plump apple. “So how are we supposed to keep in touch from our opposite sides of this place?”

“You mean, you don’t want me dropping in on you during work again?” Violet teased.

“Well, wouldn’t that just put a bee in Ambrose’s bonnet… But there could be easier ways, for sure.”

“What about Greg, from Dire Mountain?” Violet asked. “He let me in once. Maybe he’ll do it again?”

“Yeah, uh… He might be in recovery for a few days before returning back to work.”

Violet crossed her arms over her chest and fixed Orca with an angry scowl. What might have once been intimidating was far outdone by her perpetually angry friend, leaving Violet looking as cute and threatening as an angry child.

Orca just laughed, picking the apple and eating it as they went. “He’ll be fine… eventually. Monsters are made of tougher stuff. It’s okay.

“But back on point,” Orca continued. “I was doing some thinking about our predicament. How do I reach you when you’re here at home without half the city chasing after me?”

Violet fixed Orca with a confused look, pointing back at the Manor. “You know I don’t actually live there, right?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“People don’t… I mean, us heroes–we don’t actually live here. I mean, for some of us it feels like we do,” she admitted, rolling her eyes. “But, no. We have homes outside of here we go back to.”

“You don’t live in that big house back there? I saw your ridiculously tiny bedroom. You don’t sleep there?”

“No. The bedrooms here are mostly just for looks, or a place to store our stuff when we’re away,” Violet explained. “We live in the real world, or, uh… I guess maybe this place is its own little real world, too? I mean the place where all your human stuff comes from.”

“Huh,” Orca admitted, thinking it over as she ate. “Yeah, that does make more sense. Our lessons say that all heroes come from this city. But from what I’ve heard about your lessons, you think all monsters live in the dungeons and never leave, so there’s definitely wrong information on both sides. Honestly, I just figured that other place where all our goods come from was like some sort of factory where you work. Never really thought about it, I suppose.”

“There’s a little bit more to it than that,” Violet explained. They crossed the iron gates out of the orchard, stepping onto the cobbled streets where the streetlamps were only just springing to life. The streets themselves were less populated this time, but what people were there gave them concerned stares. Violet just took Orca’s hand and kept close, making sure that everyone saw her. She hoped giving the orc the appearance of a chaperone would save them from trouble.

“I wish you could see it,” Violet continued. “There’s more to our world than even I could ever see. I think you would like it.”

“I could always show you mine,” Orca offered. “Strictly as a tour, mind you. No looting the chests.”

Violet chuckled, remembering the dagger Ambrose had given her, forgotten and forlorn back in her bedroom.

“That won’t be a problem. And, yeah, I’d like that.”

They turned the corner into the alleyway, coming upon the same familiar-looking oak tree as before. Orca placed her hand on the surface and the door popped open from where only unbroken bark had just been.

“Shame you don’t have any monsters over here to pass along a message,” Orca lamented, holding open the door.

“Maybe we could just set certain times and days to meet somewhere?” Violet offered. “Are you free tomorrow?”

“Nah,” Orca said, shaking her head. “I’m already gonna catch hell from my boss for not being there for a raid this afternoon. I’d rather not play hooky again during business hours. How about the next day, say eight o’clock our time, at the entrance to Dire Mountain?”

“Okay! Eight it is. See you then!”

Orca waved, smiling as she shut the door between them.

This time when that same door closed, it bore promises of more time together in the future, instead of slamming shut any possible connection between them. Violet beamed as she left the alley, grinning still as she left for the day.

***** XII *****

“I was sick.”

“You were sick?” asked the left head of the two-headed ogre. Orca was sitting in front of an old desk inside a small office. It was lined with flimsy wood paneling and had a ceiling fan rotating too slowly to be of any use. The ogre himself, tan-skinned with a dark suit and matching ties, was either named Spinebreaker or George, depending on which head you were talking to.

“You’re never sick. You’ve never taken a sick day in your life.”

“Then I should be owed a few,” Orca reasoned.

“You also missed a raid.”

“They wiped at trash mobs after the third pull. I didn’t miss anything.”

“That’s beside the point,” explained the ogre’s left head. “You’ve never not been there before. Then there’s this matter with Greg, who only just left our witch doctors.”

“That was part of my sickness,” Orca said, hesitantly. “I had a… rage. Sickness. I was sick with rage.”

“Slam her head through the wall, too!” cried the ogre’s second head. “Make it even!”

“No, we’re not doing that,” replied the first. “We’re professionals now. And I’m pretty sure ‘rage sickness’ is not real.”

“I, uh… contracted it from the heroes during my last boss fight. Those damned heroes and their… diseases.”

“Ugh. Disgusting business, that. Hero illnesses. I know all about those from watching E.R.”

“Kill the heroes!” cried the head of Spinebreaker. “Kill the heroes!”

“Quite. Well, what about this business with Greg, then? Can’t just leave that as is. You shoved his head through the wall, after all. That’s just bad for business.”

“Yeah, well… That was part of the rage sickness,” Orca kept on. “But I’m feeling much better now, and you can tell him that I am very, very sorry…”

“Well… I guess that would just about take care of that...” Both heads scratched their chins in unison as they looked down at the paperwork on their desk. “We’ll get the goblins to patch that up. And I’m setting an appointment for you tonight with our witch doctors. They’ll need to check you out, of course. Otherwise, you’re free to go. Hope you’re feeling better.”

Orca gratefully turned to leave before stopped herself. The ogre’s words had struck a nerve with her, and she felt compelled to speak.

“Why are the goblins patching up the hole? Why not have, I don’t know, anyone else do it?”

“Because that’s what they’re good for,” answered George. “Menial labor.”

“Stupid goblins! Good-for-nothing goblins!” agreed Spinebreaker.

“No, that’s not true,” Orca insisted. “Goblins are good at a lot of things. They’re actually a very capable bunch that could be a big help around here, if you just gave them a chance.”

“Orca.”

“Yes?”

“You abandoned your post at work and shoved a co-worker’s head through a wall. You’re not in the best place to be telling us anything right now.”

Immensely irritated, Orca thought of a dozen different responses but chose to make a silent escape before she made things worse.

***** XIII *****

Violet was waiting at the entrance of Dire Mountain fifteen minutes early. She was strapped down into her usual hard leather jerkin, greaves, and hiking boots. She also wore three different multi-color silk scarves hung around her neck, fluttering delicately in the breeze. Her every step looked like an aggressive rainbow was chasing her around.

Violet was eager and anxious to see any location this world had to offer, as long as Orca was by her side. She waited as patiently as she could muster, pacing around the entrance. At length her patience was rewarded as she spotted her green friend striding down the gravel lane.

Orca was as vibrantly colorful as Violet’s scarves, wearing a beautiful kimono covered in red, gold, and white flower designs. A wide, brilliantly red sash tied around her torso, the ends of which flowing in the breeze. Her wide green feet showed through wooden sandals and her hair was done up in a bun held in place with chopsticks.

Violet couldn’t help but gawk as Orca closed the gap.

“Wow, Orca, you look…” she hesitated, recent memories tugging sharply at her mind. “Well, I don’t want you getting mad at me again, but you look amazing in that!”

“What, this?” Orca said, looking down at her outfit as if only just realizing it was there. “You like it? I just thought it was comfy.”

“I love it! It’s beautiful. You keep finding new ways to surprise me. It’s so amazing and exotic!”

“What do you mean?” She tugged at her sash, playing with the ends from where they hung. “This is just something I like, that’s all.”

Violet laughed at her, good-humored and playful. She took Orca’s hand and beamed up at her, ready for whatever lay ahead.

“Here, I brought you this,” Orca said, pulling out the same poncho as before. “We’ll call this your monster-disguise.”

“You know, I think I saw a movie like this once,” Violet said as she slipped it over her head, swimming in the enormous garment as before. Once in place, Violet tried to look up at Orca but the hood fell large and heavy around her, obscuring nearly all of her vision.

“Perfect!” exclaimed Orca. “Ready to go?”

They set off, Violet doing her best not to trip as she went. She could barely see anything higher than the gravel path directly in front of her feet. She gripped Orca’s hand for guidance as she bunched the disguise up around her legs with her other hand. She was uncomfortable being guiding around like a small child again, but she pushed the feelings aside and tried her best to enjoy the moment.

They approached the three demons at the front of the dungeon. Violet couldn’t tell from her limited perspective if any of them were the same ones she had encountered before or not.

Irritatingly, Orca dropped her hand the moment they drew close.

“Orientation day,” Orca explained. “Training a new recruit.”

“We have new recruits?” asked one of the demons, but Orca didn’t bother answering. She led directly to the trapdoor, opened it and guided Violet down the stairs. She nearly tripped three times, even while holding the handrail.

The heavy trap door slammed behind them. Violet threw off her hood, not daring any more of the stairs when she could barely see.

They descended the rest of the way, hand-in-hand again, as Violet happily took in the surroundings. She looking around at everything and nothing, just happy to be in the moment together.

That was until her hood was shoved back down on her head and Orca tossed her hand away.

“Morning!” Orca cried out to someone Violet couldn’t even see. “Just taking a goblin out for a walk…”

A sigh escaped Violet’s lips, despite her best efforts. She reminded herself that she was lucky to be here at all, and that these temporary inconveniences didn’t matter compared to the bigger picture. She was still in wonderful company and was taking a tour of the monster’s world, something that no other hero had ever done before. She was incredibly lucky to be here at all.

Even if I can’t see most of it, she thought grimly.

She didn’t make any more attempts to fight the hood that threatened to swallow her head. Nor did she reach for Orca’s hand any more, even if that meant she continually bumped into walls or Orca herself.

“Careful!” Orca said to her after running into her for the third time.

“I’m trying!”

After several disorienting turns through hallways that all looked identical, they came upon another heavy steel door. Orca pulled out a keychain, unlocking and opening the door. Guiding her charge through, the door slipped shut and locked again.

“Alright, we should be safe here. You can take your hood off if you like.”

“Finally!” Violet said with relief. She pushed it back and looked around.

Cicadas trilled all around her. Lazy dragonflies buzzed between the twisted boughs of pale Cypress trees. A dirt track snaked forward, flanked on both sides by murky swamp water. Moss grew everywhere, covering fallen logs and loose rocks in a dark green blanket. Reeds reached up from the stagnant depths, punctuating the waters surrounding the trail. A chorus of frogs bellowed out randomly from all directions. Ahead of them, the dirt path terminated in a wide wooden walkway, snaking around the enormous trunks and naked, reaching roots of the bald, pale cypress. The thick musk of decay and stale water hung in the air.

“Oh,” Violet said, surprised. “A swamp. The first place you take me is a swamp…”

“Twilight Marsh,” Orca corrected her. “Remember how I said this place clears out in the morning? Well, that means we get the whole place to ourselves! That means there’s no frog-people this morning to ribbit away from us!”

Violet looked blankly up at her before her attention was diverted by a nearby dragonfly.

“Come on, not even that one?” Orca groaned.

“What’s that,” Violet asked suddenly, staring out at the dark water.

Orca followed her gaze, spying bubbling froth coming up from the water.

“Go take a look! I’ll show you.” They approached the edge of the wooden walkway, about ten feet away from the disturbed water. Suddenly the head of a crocodile burst through the water, roaring loudly and snapping its jaws.

Violet jumped back with a start while Orca just laughed at her.

“Are we safe here?” Violet asked, trembling.

“I should hope so. Its servos don’t reach this far.”

“It’s what?”

Orca leaned down, pointing out the exposed mechanical hinges of the crocodile’s jaw. She showed Violet the distinctive jerky movements of hydraulics and pointed to a nearby tree behind which a speaker was hung.

The animatronic roared once more before lowering itself back under the water, resetting its position for the next passer-bys.

“Oh, that’s fun!” Violet squealed, suddenly excited to see more of the swamp. “I guess not all of the monsters here are real after all.”

Violet hurried down the walkway, eager to see the next attraction. They rounded several bends before a second mechanical crocodile snapped up at her. Violet squealed with delight, jumping away laughing. Like the one before, this one slid back into the waters after a short delay.

“See? This swamp isn’t so bad, is it?” Orca said to her once she calmed down.

“Nope! I guess you were right, Shrek.”

Orca frowned down at her. “Shrek is an ogre. I am an orc! I should take offense at that.”

But Violet just laughed again, energetic and infectious, and tugged Orca further down the path.

They stepped back onto hard-packed soil, entering into a size-able arena where there would normally be a boss encounter. Orca glanced with concern at the exposed treasure chest, unlocked and ready to be plundered. But Violet ran right past it as if it didn’t exist, following the path of some particularly rambunctious dragonflies, grinning all the while.

Sighing with relief, and chastising herself inwardly for ever worrying in the first place, Orca came up to Violet and pointed out the next sights.

“Over there is where the big bog creatures come up out of the water. And down there is where vicious skeletons dig up from the loose soil. Further past that are rubber tree-roots with big hooks that try to grab at your feet while you’re fighting.”

“Ooh! That sounds fun. What else is there to see?”

“Well… I know somewhere we could go,” Orca answered thoughtfully. “We’d have to stay quiet, though.”

Violet was instantly on board, so excited that she didn’t even mind wearing the disguise-poncho again. Orca led her out of the swamp through a suspiciously large rock coming out of the water. They made several turns, following the purple-stripe path to a new location called the Tangled Thickets.

Holding a finger to her lips, Orca pushed open the door to the distant sounds of battle. Violet stepped through into the oppressive heat and humidity of the jungle air, lush with palms and ferns growing all around. The shouts of heroes and the clangs of steel rang out over the calls of exotic jungle birds and insects. Ferocious beasts roared loudly–enormous cats, from the sounds of it. Orca led the way down a narrow side path, no larger than a deer track. They hunkered low, walking slowly and quietly. She pointed wordlessly through the trees and Violet nodded her understanding. They were watching a battle in progress, where a raid of heroes were fighting hulking green trolls and their enormous companion beasts: jaguars, leopards, and panthers.

Orca patted on a nearby log, resting just behind the brush. They sat beside each other, watching in peaceful contentment as people battled to the death in the jungle. Violet grinned hugely again, taking Orca’s hand once more and leaning into her enormous bicep. She sighed, purring like a cat herself, feeling how serene and peaceful it was to sit here together watching people get eviscerated with giant spears or bit in half by ferocious felines.

“Whenever I wanted to sneak away, I would come here to just sit and watch,” Orca whispered down to her.

“I like it,” Violet whispered back, watching as someone got thrown through the air, screaming. “It’s nice. Have you ever shown anyone else this spot?”

“Nope, never. You’re the first.” Orca looked down at Violet as she curled up against her arm. Violet looked back up at her as their eyes locked. Violet knew she was grinning madly and she didn’t care, because Orca was as well. And sitting here with her, in this place, hearing the sounds of people getting violently impaled, she knew she could have been happy to stay this way forever.

They watched in contented silence as the last of the heroes were killed off. The trolls remained still for a moment before rousing their fallen and returning back to their usual places. Meanwhile, their feline companions licked themselves clean or found a sunny spot to roll around in.

“Hey, watch this,” Orca said, “Put your hood back on for a second.”

Violet did so as Orca called out, waving, “Hey, Peter! How’s it going?”

“Oh, hey Orca!” cried out one of the enormous trolls, waving back and smiling. “What’s happenin’?”

“Just watched you guys completely wreck those heroes. Nice work!”

“Thanks!” Peter said, giving her a big thumbs-up. “Twenty more trophies for us! Sweet!”

“Foosball later?” Orca offered.

“For sure! Catch me up tonight in the common room. Gotta get back in place now, they’re coming back for round two. Stick around and watch us mop the floor with them again!”

“Kick some ass, Peter!”

“That’s nice of you,” Violet whispered, daring to lower her hood once again.

“Not really,” Orca replied. “That poor guy can’t play foosball to save his life. I’m gonna cream him.”

***** XIV *****

Violet and Orca stayed just the way they were for the duration of a second battle, then a third afterward. Eventually the heroes did overcome Peter and his gang of murderous trolls, leaving Orca throwing her hands up in the air in disappointment. Had this been a sporting event, Violet could have seen her viciously booing the away team.

Violet waited until the raiding party was well out of ear-shot before asking her next question. “So, what other places are there to see?”

“Well, we got your dark and dreary gothic castles,” Orca explained. “Ancient ruins. Flooded temples. Snow-capped mountains with icy caves. Magma tunnels complete with flowing lava. Oh, and if you manage to sneak into the space between the ice caves and the lava rivers, where you’re not supposed to be, you can see icebergs flowing down the lava rivers. It’s absurd!”

Violet chuckled along with her, soothed by the sound of Orca’s voice as she told Violet about the world and everything it had. Violet listened to Orca regale a story of an ice yeti who mistook the roar of a grizzly bear as a mating call. They had to chase it around the forest to get him back all the while trying to keep hidden from a band of heroes who were raiding the area at the time.

“Then after that we had a skeleton complain to the kitchen that the staff weren’t making adequate accommodations for his kind,” Orca explained, counting off each story on her fingers. “Then after that, some of our dark wizards were allowed to finish their summoning ritual during a routine hero raid. Problem was, they messed up the spell and summoned their own boss from the shower instead.”

“They did not!” Violet blurted out.

“I swear it’s true!” Orca replied. “He had to improvise being the big bad of the dungeon while wearing nothing but a towel.”

Violet laughed again. She laughed more than anyone Orca had ever met. And Orca enjoyed every time she did, wanting to keep her laughter going without end just so she could keep selfishly listening to it.

“Could we go to the snow mountains next? It hardly ever snows where I’m from.”

“Sure!” Orca pushed herself up, helping Violet to her feet as well. They slipped back to the door at the base of a cliffside and exited as quietly as they had entered. Violet once again covered head-to-toe in her poncho, she began to walk behind Orca, bumping into her as she stopped suddenly.

A band of goblins were walking the halls, carrying printouts and rolls of duct tape. They greeted Orca cheerfully, taping one of their flyers to the wall before moving on. Orca lifted the flyer in her hand to read it.

“What is it?” asked Violet, who could barely even see the paper, let alone read it.

“’Per orders of Management, any persons, monster or otherwise, found to be in the company of Heroes, or traveling to areas intended solely for Heroes, will be reprimanded, reassigned, or removed from duty as deemed necessary by your Supervisors.’”

Orca felt sick to her stomach as she kept reading aloud. “’Should you see anyone else engaging in these or similar restricted activities, or trespassing into restricted Hero areas, please report them directly to Management.’”

A silence hung between them more thick and oppressive than the jungle air. Neither was sure what to say.

“I guess I’m really not supposed to be here, huh?” Violet said at length. “I’m sorry…”

Orca ripped the paper off the wall and wadded it up into a tight ball.

“That’s bullshit!” she roared, throwing the paper down the hallway. Orca huffed angrily, sounding like an angry bull about to charge.

“I, uh… I guess we should cut this short,” Violet said, her voice tiny and frail. “I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

Orca roared out in anger, slamming a fist into the drywall next to her. “Damn it all!” she shouted.

Orca pulled her hand back, saw the deep indentations she had made, and realized this was the second time in two days she had destroyed a wall.

“I think we’d better get back to the Castle…” Violet lamented, her gaze at her feet.

Orca was silent for most of the return trip. When not wordlessly fuming in anger, she was shaking her head, muttering to herself.

“Somebody’s gonna die. This isn’t hurting anyone. It’s none of their damn business. Somebody is just gonna die. That’s all there is to it…”

Violet was scared of her like this. She dared not even speak until they got to the doorway leading back to the Castle courtyard. Only then did she lower her hood and look Orca in the eyes. She was clearly angry, that much was easy to see. But underneath that, Violet felt the pain and heartbreak Orca was trying so hard to mask. Violet knew that because she felt it, too.

“Maybe this will all blow over?” Violet said, trying to be as helpful as she could.

“Oh, it’ll blow over,” Orca snapped back. “It’ll blow over after I kill somebody!”

“Orca, please don’t do that! I appreciate you wanting to fight for us, I do! But I don’t think punches and shouting will fix this…”

“Promise me,” Violet continued, trying to look strong and confident as she wagged a finger at Orca. She hoped her voice sounded stern, even if it rang hollow to her. “Promise me you will not do anything mean on my behalf. I don’t want you getting into more trouble because of me.”

Orca just growled like a wounded dog.

“No, you promise me!” Violet insisted. “You be good, and we let this blow over. Then your Management forgets this ever happened, and we’ll be more careful in the future, and then everything goes back to normal. Okay? …Okay?”

Orca grumbled even more, reluctant to even look Violet in the eye.

“Fine,” she relented at length. “Fine! Alright? I’ll play nice. But only because you told me to. You are insufferably nice, and I hate it!”

“And you’re very stubborn! But you have a good heart.” She hugged the big, green, angry ball of orc, squeezing as hard as she could and refusing to let go. Orca embraced her back, feeling some of her rage melt away with this tiny creature whose arms barely fit around her. At length Violet pulled away, managing a smile even through tear-filled eyes.

“You behave,” Violet reminded her.

“Yeah, yeah…”

“And you come back here every day. Okay? I’ll leave letters here, uh… under this rock.” She pulled a large stone into the alleyway, leaving it beside the door.

“Okay? You check that rock, and you leave your own letters when you can. We’ll meet up again when you’re not in trouble anymore. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it…” Orca grumbled, still visibly upset. Violet squeezed her tight once more, knowing exactly how she was feeling. Then she waved as Orca slowly shut the door. The latch clicked, and the tree returned back to just being a tree.

As Violet slipped out of the alley, she recalled with painful clarity all of the times here she had felt either completely elated or utterly defeated. She wondered when she might be able to be here without one or the other happening.

***** XV *****

“Violet!”

“I know! I’m sorry…”

Ambrose stormed over to her. She grabbed Violet’s right hand, the one holding her turquoise blade, and pulled it up, straightening her arm out in front of her.

“Do like me,” Ambrose explained, standing alongside Violet as she held her own blade forward. Ambrose swung down to the left, pausing as she watched Violet do the same.

“No,” Ambrose said. “Keep your elbow bent. Move your whole body, like me.”

Ambrose swung her blade again, and Violet intently studied her movements. Feet shoulder-width apart, she bent down with her body, leaning into the strike but keeping her arms and legs limber as she moved.

“Good,” Ambrose said. “Now this.”

Ambrose brought her blade back up to the right, rotating her entire form as she went, from her feet to her hand. Violet did the same, moving her entire body, feeling suddenly more like a ballerina than a fighter.

“And now forward.” Ambrose thrusted in one fluid, sweeping motion, moving slowly so that Violet could follow.

“And again.” Violet followed Ambrose’s lead, synchronized to her movements as their swords danced through the air. Down and left, then up and right, then forward and out, then down again. They made three full revolutions in this routine before Ambrose lowered her sword to her side, patting Violet on the shoulder.

“Good job. Keep doing that, don’t pull aggro, don’t get yourself killed, and you’ll be fine.”

Ambrose rejoined the other eighteen raiders, who were standing in the middle of the gravel path, impatient to continue.

“She’s not ready to be here.”

“She’ll be fine,” Ambrose assured them, her voice tense. “She just has to hit them. Her blade will take care of the rest. If Jackurn can do it, any idiot can. Shall we?”

Dire Mountain loomed closer than ever. Together they had cleared the path leading from the dungeon entrance. They had just come to the point where the path curved sharply upward, carving a twisting track into the rocky hillside. This was close enough for the thunderheads to bellow and flash overhead–far closer than Violet had ever seen this place legitimately.

There was a certain dance to it all, not unlike the dance her and Ambrose had practiced. Five of them lead the dance, setting the pace and determining the positions for the backup dancers. Five more stood to the side, spellbooks held aloft to support the team. They would be the singers, Violet decided. She pictured microphones in front of each of them as the others found their partners and strode across the dancefloor.

Violet’s job in all of this, as Ambrose had explained to her, was to wait until all of the dancers had found their marks, then sneak around the edge of the dancefloor and stab things in the back.

“Hit them as hard as you can, wherever you can, until they start to look at you.” Ambrose had taken her aside to teach her this at the beginning of this raid. “Then back the hell up and find a new target.”

So Violet watched and waited. The lead dancers had just attracted the attention of new dance partners–more of the hulking dark-furred demons they had met at the beginning. She watched as the demons battered down on their shields, and she watched as the choir of singers started their special effects. Then, as the others ran in to assist the lead dancers, Violet circled round and found her first mark.

Left and down, up and right, forward and out, Violet recited in her head, swinging her blade as Ambrose had shown her. The blade itself passed through the thick hide of the creatures’ back like passing through air, without any marks or unpleasantness like in the real world. The damage of her blade still registered, of course–just without leaving any physical damage so as to appeal to a wider demographic.

Left and down, up and right... The demon leered back at her, snorting angrily, signaling her cue to leave and find a new dance partner. She jumped to the next one, repeating the pattern of making the monster just angry enough to get its attention, but not angry enough to pull it away from its primary dancer. Soon enough all of them had politely fallen over. The group stood over their kills looking at their next targets.

Violet kneeled down beside one of them, rubbing her hand against the surprisingly soft fur of the demon’s enormous body. She lifted one of its arms, wondering how convincing they were at playing dead. She scooted over to its head, leaning her head in close and listening for breathing.

“Violet, what are you doing now?” Ambrose asked, lagging behind again as the group pushed forward.

“Seeing how good they are at playing dead,” Violet replied. She placed a finger on the demon’s eyelid and pulled it open, drawing her face up close to see.

“They’re not playing dead, Violet. They are dead. Now, quit being weird and let’s catch up to the others!”

Violet let the matter drop, not wanting to disappoint anyone.

They kept pushing forward as a group. By mid-day, they had pushed all the way up to the opening of the giant cave and the lair of the dungeon’s mini-boss: an enormous red dragon. giant folded wings curved over a sleek, scaled body. A long, winding neck lead up to a flat, triangular, reptilian head. Enormous, vertically slit eyes stared down at their approach.

“Hey, look! It’s Betsy,” Violet cried out in excitement.

Ambrose just shook her head in irritation, rolling her eyes. They prepared for the impending battle, passing out potions and casting protective spells. With a plan of attack discussed and agreed upon, they charged in, one of them shouting ‘Leeroy’ as they went. The dragon immediately took flight, blowing out a billowing column of fire right through their lead dancers. The singers moved in to assist while the archers tried to shoot her out of the sky.

It landed a moment later, roaring loud enough to shake the entire cavern. They all charged forward as one, striking any part of the enormous beast that they could reach. Violet held back, circling the dancefloor as she had been told to do. Right away she found a problem–the creature’s backside was blocked by an enormous tail that swung from side-to-side, sweeping away anyone who dared try what she was trying to do.

Refusing to be a disappointment to the others, she ran forward in between tail swipes, getting knocked aside before she could even reach the creature.

Pulling herself back to her feet, she charged in again, this time diving like a runner trying to steal Home base as its tail swung around. It passed right over her small figure, giving her the clearance to reach its hide and start dancing.

But she felt like she wasn’t doing enough. Her dagger looked pathetic and small compared to those enormous scales. This dancing partner was nothing like the others before. It had no rear to stab lest she get swatted flat by that enormous swinging tail.

Suddenly the dragon took flight once more, blasting fire down upon the entire chamber. Their lead dancers succumbed, with the rest falling soon after to its claws and teeth. At length, it turned its attention to Violet, the only one left. She had hid behind an outcropping of rock, looking for another opportunity to strike at its back. That opportunity never came, and now the beast was lunging straight for her with enormous teeth bared.

“Betsy, wait!” she cried out in panic.

Shockingly, it did. The dragon looked with confusion down at Violet, who was cowering with her hands held over her head.

Finding herself not being brutally murdered, Violet opened her eyes and looked up at the towering creature standing mere feet away. They remained like that for a moment, surprised at the other, before Violet spoke again.

“See! I knew you were nice after…”

Her words were interrupted as she was engulfed in a column of flames.

Violet slunk her shoulders, looking positively morose now that she was no longer aflame.

“Guess not,” she mumbled.

She stood with the rest of the party at the entrance of Dire Mountain. They were regrouping, checking their gear and discussing new strategies. Before them, the towering volcano teased at a distance, an ever-present reminder after every abrupt ending.

“Sorry, guys,” she said aloud.

“Hardly your fault,” Ambrose replied, her focus on the group discussion. “We just need to come up with something else and try again.”

Violet stood there a moment longer, looking longfully at the distant mountain, before a realization suddenly came over her. “Oh, no! Guys, something just came up. I have to go. I’m sorry!”

Ambrose gave her a hard look instead of just a passing glance like earlier.

“You alright?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah! No problems at all!” She laughed awkwardly, as if Ambrose had made a joke. “Sorry! I’ll be here next time. Thanks for having me!”

The others watched as Violet ran back toward the city, without even a glance backward or a word of explanation. She hurried through the castle gates to leave without even stopping to check in on their secret alleyway first.

***** XVII *****

One week passed.

***** XVIII *****

Violet passed through the Castle’s perpetually yawning doorways onto the bustling city streets of Centralia. Her immediate reaction was to head into their secret alleyway beside the large oak tree. Sitting there waiting for her, under the same rock they had found earlier, was not one but a whole stack of papers. And they weren’t rolls of cloth parchment like Violet and the others had–they were lined notebook paper covered in elegant, graphite script.

Violet scooped them up and took off, trying her best to read them while also jogging to the Manor.

She sprinted through the iron gates, passing across the orchard and into the estate. Just like so many times before, Aura was in the foyer, greeting her as she entered. Kiwi missing from his shoulder, though Violet barely noticed.

“Welcome back, Miss Violet! Always good to have you around here.”

“Thanks, Aura! Sorry, can’t talk now.” Aura watched as Violet hurried past, carrying her papers upstairs to her room. Once there, she locked herself in and spread the notes out on her bed.

Orca’s penmanship was exquisite. It was an elegant cursive that flowed beautifully with each pencil stroke.

“Good morning, pen-friend! I must confess, in all my years I never had the occasion to actually sit down and write a letter. This could be fun. Although, I’m not sure what to write here.

“There’s an ongoing search for whoever left a fist-sized dent in the hallway drywall. Complete mystery to me, of course! We may never really know the true identity of this mysterious, ninja wall-puncher.

“Nothing new from Management. At least they’re not pointing fingers. Maybe you were right, they will just forget about it after a while. They’d better.

“Hope things are just as quiet there as they are here. We’ll see if you even find this or if decide you want to write back at all.

“Bye!”

Violet scanned the next several, devouring their words.

“Good morning again, pen-friend! I had a raid last night in Dire Mountain. Some heroes actually made it to me! Can you believe that? Of course I wiped the floor with them! But the best part was that, when the ogres came out of their doors, they all avoided me like I was going to hit them or something! Now where would they ever have gotten that idea? Haha! Thought for a moment it was you sneaking in again. Nope! Oh, well. Just work as usual.

“Kicked Peter’s ass in foosball. Told you he was terrible! But I got to pet his panther, so that was fun. Such big, fluffy cats up close!

“I was wondering earlier, during lunch–what do heroes eat? Maybe you have your own normal/gross hero food? What’s your favorite? Maybe something specific they only have in that other place you were telling me about? Worms and snails, I bet! You seem like the type.

“I wonder if you found my first letter yet. Guess we’ll see!

“Bye!

“P.S. No leads yet on the mystery ninja wall-puncher. They are clearly too smart for capture!”

The letters following took on a darker and darker tone. Violet grew more and more anxious as bitter undertones seeped into each letter.

“I see the letters I wrote before are still here. They weren’t even touched. What’s going on here? Have you changed your mind about all of this? Am I just writing these for myself? What are you doing over there!?”

The last one was the worst.

“I’m going to leave this as my last one. They don’t even look like they’re being read. Either something happened to you or I’m just a moron writing letters to myself. Maybe I’ll just come down there and find out for myself, Management be damned! Or maybe you decided this just wasn’t worth it after all? What on Earth could you be doing over there all this time?”

Violet immediately took her rolled up parchment and self-inking quill from the drawer and penned a succinct response.

“I’m sorry! I was away this whole time. Couldn’t visit. Please don’t be mad? I read your letters! Will write more soon. Promise!”

Debating on whether to write more or not, Violet didn’t know the next time Orca might check on their spot. She wasted no time rolling up the parchment and rushing back out the door. Scared Orca would be there right now and she would miss her, Violet quickened her pace. She could have already missed her chance to explain herself, leaving Orca mad for another whole day!

She raced down the streets, growing out of breath as she reached the old oak tree. She slipped the parchment under the rock, content to have finally left a response, even if it wasn’t much. She debated sitting here in front of this old oak tree. She could wait there and catch the door opening, surprising Orca with a big hug and apologizing to her in person.

But Violet realized, as she had earlier, that she had no idea when that could be, or even if it would be today at all. No, as much fun as a surprise like that would be, Violet had other friends here she had neglected. She couldn’t just ignore them!

Checking once more that the parchment letter was still secure under their delivery rock, she made her way back toward Applewood Manor to visit her other friends.

Life had continued in Violet’s absence. Ambrose had filled her spot in the raid and kept attacking Dire Mountain, eventually triumphing over the dragon mini-boss. Meanwhile Jackurn and Alyrra had revisited the lower dungeons together without her. Certain raid bosses had not wandered into town again. Everything remained perfectly normal, just as she had left it.

After she had checked in with everyone, Violet returned to her room to pen a proper letter.

“Sorry again for the delay. I was in the held up in the giant factory we come from where all of your D.V.D.s are made. Ha ha! No, but really, sometimes I get stuck over there and can’t come back here as soon as I would like. But I’m okay, don’t worry about me! That just leaves more me time to hang out with my mom. We even spent a whole day out of the house like we used to! Well, almost. But we did drive past the shooting range she used to take me to! That was fun, back when we could do that together.

“I promised to write you a proper letter! Very cool that you get to pet the big cats! I’ve been looking forward to what could see next time. Snow, maybe? I hope so!

“Heroes eat normal stuff. Boring food! No worms and snails for us! …well, sometimes snails, but not me. What kinds of things do they serve in your cafeteria? Is it good? Is it weird? Is it something in between? I don’t eat much lately, but maybe I could stop in and see one day?

“Hope everything is okay over there! Hope that mysterious wall-puncher stays un-caught! I promise to send more letters soon, and more often!

“Until next time,

“Bye for now!”

Violet took the parchment and added it to their post-rock, trying to not feel disappointed that her first letter was still there. She busied herself as best she could, even if her heart and mind were still in that alleyway the remainder of that day.

When evening fell, Violet was elated to find that her letters had disappeared. Orca had finally received her messages, and in doing so Violet may have just saved the entire town from a second invasion by an angry orc!

Violet turned to leave, listening to a fluttering of wings as a large bird took off from the oak tree above her. She continued on her way, leaving for the night and excited for the unspoken promises of tomorrow.

***** XIX *****

The next morning, Violet’s heart leapt at the sight of a new letter under their rock. She ran to it, devouring its words right then and there, but the message was disappointingly short.

“Meet me at the entrance of the Ice Caves today at noon. I have a surprise for you. Orca.”

She read it over three times, her mind racing. Why was the letter so short? And what could the surprise be? Was it a good surprise or a bad one? And how could she possibly keep herself busy while she waited these next few hours?

The answer to that last question was provided for her, as Ambrose grabbed her from the Manor for another run at Dire Mountain. They passed the hours passed slashing at demons and dragons alike, engulfed in the action inside that cavernous volcano. They made good progress before Violet broke away from the group for lunch, hurrying as realized she was going to be late for her appointment.

The ice-covered cave entrance awaited her beyond the city bounds, along one of the northern roads. Violet followed the path, hiking up the base of a mountain range, before finally arriving at the large, chilly alcove.

Waiting for Violet with arms crossed over her chest was an exquisitely dressed orc. She wore an elegant cami dress with a square neckline covered by a flowing silk three-quarters sleeve coat. They were matching vibrant turquoise, accented gracefully with swirling golden floral prints, complimenting Orca’s naturally emerald skin. A thin fabric belt tied it all together high on her waist. A light silken scarf patterned in yellows and golds hung loosely around her head, tied at the neck, holding down her free-flowing hair. Around her feet were wedge sandals tied with brown fabric straps.

“Decided to show up after all, I see?” Orca said, her mood sharply contrasting her colorful attire.

Violet stood in shock, taking in Orca’s outfit.

“Wow, Orca!” she gaped. “You look…”

Orca’s already sour expression grew even more soured.

“Well, your outfit looks amazing!” Violet blurted out eventually.

“Don’t you change the subject!” Orca said as she approached, hands on her hips. “I waited a week with no response to your letters, and now you keep me waiting again…”

Orca’s complaints were cut short as Violet bounded forward, giving her the biggest hug of her life. She squeezed round, hands locked together and pressing down with every muscle in her body, feeling the soft silk of the dress press against her skin.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Violet! I can’t breathe…”

“I’m not letting go until you forgive me!” Violet demanded, locking in her vice-like grip even harder.

“Either I give in to your demands or die slowly by suffocation?” grumbled Orca. “Fine! I forgive you and your evil blackmailing, you tiny creature.”

Violet relented, releasing her death grip on the big orc. She took a deep, dramatic breath before looking down at Violet, an unconscious grin bleeding through her hardened gaze.

She pointed a stern finger at Violet. “You are very frustrating, do you know that? And don’t say ‘I’m sorry!’”

Violet’s words caught in her throat as Orca cut her off.

“You have to tell me what you were so busy doing this last week! What was so important in the… the over there?” She waved vaguely in no particular direction.

Violet interpreted her meaning and nodded.

“But I’m fine!” Violet insisted.

“That’s good to know, but I didn’t ask that…” Orca snapped. “Just what on Earth were you doing this whole time?”

“Well, I was… um…”

“Yes?” Orca prompted, impatient.

“Er, I… was with my family,” she said after much floundering.

“Your family?” Orca said, surprised. “What, do you have old, geriatric heroes over there? And baby heroes? Do you have tiny hero toddlers with little suits of armor and safety swords?”

Violet laughed, as energetic and infectious as Orca remembered.

“Not exactly,” she admitted, wiping her eyes from under her glasses. “We’re not all, well, what you see here. Probably most of us aren’t, in fact.”

Orca led the way at a leisurely pace, the conversation continuing as they went. They did not enter the dungeon entrance, as Violet had expected, but rather were skirting around the cliff walls themselves well off the beaten path.

“What, you have like… office heroes? Lawyer heroes? Chef heroes?”

“Chefs, artists, receptionists, nurses, doctors… Anything you can think of,” Violet explained.

Orca snorted in contempt. “Are there no dungeons or monsters to battle over there, then? That sounds positively boring! I see why you choose to spend so much time here.”

“Yeah, something like that…” Violet said, her voice trailing as she looked away. A moment later, she pointed out the rough hillside in front of them. Scraggly trees and thorny shrubs grew out from the rocky foothills on the mountainside. “Looks like we can’t pass through there.”

“Looks like we’re not supposed to pass through there!” Orca replied, gesturing further into the wilderness.

A wide-growing tree, split in two halves at the base, pushed up through the wall of brambles. It was to this that Orca had led them. She carefully climbed up between the two trunks while being mindful of her dress. Extending her arm, she pulled Violet up and over the crotch of the tree, then onward toward steep inclines and jagged rocks.

“Mind your step,” Orca warned, mindful of the rocks herself in her sandals.

They continued their arduous climb, ascending into a thin valley cut between sharply angled inclines. The awkward landscape soon gave away into a gently curving valley, the rocky terrain left behind. After a few more minutes’ journey, the valley opened up, revealing a gently sloping dirt shoreline leading down to a slow moving river of red.

“Is that lava?” Violet asked, flabbergasted at the mind-jarring transition between tranquil grassy slopes and bubbling lava.

Orca nodded, grinning like a schoolgirl. “Watch! Watch, over there!” she squealed, pointing.

Violet did, following Orca’s finger to where the river of red was slowly flowing out from behind a bend in the mountains. And from there, as Violet and Orca watched, a good sized floating island of stark blue came out from the bend, lazing down the river.

“Is that ice?” Violet asked.

“Yep!”

“In the lava.”

“That’s right,” Orca replied, grinning. “They float through the Ice Caves, giving heroes a moving path over the icy river. But they keep on floating, eventually intersecting with the lava flows from another dungeon entirely. Then they meet up here. This is the place I was telling you about earlier. Doesn’t that just break your brain?”

It was Violet’s turn to give into Orca’s infectious energy, grinning ear-to-ear right along with her as they stood on the shores of a lava river watching room-sized glaciers float past.

But it turned out that physics-defying phenomenons were not the only surprise waiting for Violet. Orca led them further along the shoreline to where a large, woven picnic basket waited for them.

“You never did tell me what heroes eat, so I had to guess,” Orca admitted, flipping open the basket’s lid and rummaging through. Violet just stood there, overwhelmed by what Orca had done for them: a real, honest-to-goodness picnic, in what must have been one of the most unusual scenic spots in the entire world. It didn’t even matter what was inside of that basket, Violet just loved the fact that anyone would take the time to do this. Not one single person from her own world had ever done something so sweet just for her.

She was so caught up in the moment she didn’t realize Orca had been talking to her.

“Sandwiches?” Orca repeated, holding one out to her. “Yes? No?”

“Monster sandwiches?” Violet asked, hesitant.

“If pigs are monsters, then yes,” Orca answered. “Is there anything you don’t eat?”

“Basically anything that looks back at me when I eat it.”

Orca thought about that for a second, then tucked something back into the basket. “Well, none of those, then…” She brought out the rest one at a time, creating a spread fit for a queen.

Violet counted her first picnic as a massive success, even if not every food choice Orca made was spot on. The ham sandwiches and jarred pickles were excellent choices. The thermos filled with ale perhaps not as much, despite Orca insisting that it was watered down making it more ‘palatable’ to her kind. Beyond those were selections of cheeses, dried meats, fresh bread, fruits, and more.

“This is entirely too much!” Violet said once they had begun eating. “I can’t believe you did all of this!”

“I had to! I had no idea what you would like. I’m still new to the idea of being with heroes when not trying to kill them. I don’t know how this works yet.”

***** XX *****

The two talked the hours away, watching icebergs drift lazily down the molten river. Without needing to hide under giant ponchos or fight off marauding crowds, the pair carried on easily, with conversation flowing as naturally and organically as it should between friends. Here in this place, alone from the world, they could focus on just being themselves. They discussed everything, from the world around them, to their latest hobbies and interests, to all the books they’ve read.

“We have a library in Centralia!” Violet offered. “Maybe there are some books in there you haven’t read yet?”

“I’d be curious to see,” Orca admitted.

Even when not talking, the silence of sitting together in quiet comfort was enough for. Nothing came between them but for the quiet rumbling of lava and the slow crackling of ice. It was a perfect afternoon.

Eventually, as slow as the icebergs they watched, the two pulled themselves to their feet and started on the long trek back. Even before they reached the rocks and brambles, they were already lost in thought planning their next visit. Orca recalled her promise to Violet about snow and started dreaming up new plans.

They crossed the split tree back into the regular wilderness, paying attention to each other instead of their surroundings. That was until the two spotted someone waiting for them back at the gravel road. The silhouette of Ambrose’s emblazoned red duster and distinct haircut gave her away instantly. Between her ever-present scowl and her hands placed firmly on her hips, it was clear that she had something to say. Orca stiffened up at the sight of her, her look turning somber. Violet seemed to be the only one immune to the sudden tension in the air.

“Oh, hi Ambrose!” Violet called out, waving jubilantly.

Ambrose didn’t wave back. “Violet, you have to explain something to me.”

“Sure! What’s that?”

“These,” Ambrose held up the letters that Orca had been writing to her.

Violet just looked at the lined papers dumbfounded, seeing Orca’s beautifully flowing penmanship all over them. A mixture of confusion, shock, and embarrassment overtook her.

“How did you get those?” Violet asked, but her small voice was drowned out by Orca’s shouting.

“What are you doing with that? Those were not for you! HOW DARE YOU!”

“Yeah, yeah…” Ambrose replied, tapping her fingers on the paper. “Believe it or not, I’m actually less interested in your love notes than I am the paper itself. Three hole-punch, college rule standard notebook paper. Spiral-bound, by the look of it.”

She held them up as if to illustrate her point. “Do you see anything wrong with that?”

“Yeah, those weren’t yours to read!” Orca roared.

Ambrose just rolled her eyes. “Besides that. The paper, Violet! What’s wrong with the paper?”

Violet just shook her head, too overcome with emotion to process Ambrose’s question.

“I don’t… What do you mean?”

“Think, Violet! What do we not have here? Modern day shit. And what is this? Modern day shit!” She slapped the pages to even further illustrate her point. “Either you secretly have a vendor in here for freakin’ notebook paper, or there’s something weird going on. And with you sneaking out on dates with She-Hulk, it definitely looks something weird going on.”

“This wasn’t a date…” Violet said meekly before Orca’s voice overpowered her once more.

“It doesn’t matter where I got the paper from. Now give those back!”

Orca reached out but Ambrose snapped them away. She just glowered up at the orc, holding her gaze unblinking.

“Show me,” Ambrose ordered.

“Show you what?” Orca replied.

“Everything! Secret passages, secret paper vendors, secret pillow forts–all of it! If it’s as real as Violet claims, then prove it to me.”

“Why should I?” Orca countered, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Lots of reasons,” Ambrose replied, turning to Violet. “Not least of which is to make sure that my friend is okay.”

“Ambrose, I’m fine! I promise!”

“Maybe so. But from my perspective, all I see is a friend with impossible letters going on secret dates with non-existent characters from a stupid game. All of that together makes me incredibly suspicious.”

Then Ambrose turned back up to Orca. “If even half of what Violet is saying is true, then I want to know about it. Prove to me that Violet is right and that she isn’t actually going crazy. If what you guys say is true, then fine, I’ll leave and never bother you two lovebirds again.”

“And if I don’t?” Orca held firm.

They stared each other down, unblinking and unmoving, until Violet spoke up between them.

“I mean, if we had a second poncho and stayed quiet, maybe it would be okay? Like last time?”

Orca looked at Violet, back to Ambrose, then back to Violet.

“She stole from you and invaded our privacy. And you still take her side?”

“Well… yeah,” Violet explained. She approached Ambrose, standing firmly beside her friend as she addressed them both. “I’ve known Ambrose since I joined this place almost a year ago. In some ways, I know her as well as I would my own family. And in this instance, she’s only worried about my safety, even if it is in her own, uh… unique way. Plus all she’s asking for is what I offered her in the first place–just a quick tour. I don’t see any harm in it.”

“You saw those posters they were hanging.”

“We’ll be careful!” Violet insisted. “Won’t we, Ambrose?”

“Yeah…” Ambrose said flatly. “So careful.”

“Please, Orca? It’ll be okay, I promise!”

Orca just grumbled and snorted before shrugging in defeat.

“Alright. But only because you asked. Not because of her!” Orca explained before setting off toward the Ice Caves seeking two more ponchos. Once out of earshot, Violet and Ambrose turned to each other.

“Well, this should be fun,” Ambrose mocked. Violet, however, was not amused.

“You took those letters from my locked room. You followed me around in secret. And you made my friend upset. Ambrose, I… I am mad at you!”

Ambrose just snickered, grinning as if Violet had made a joke.

Then she realized Violet wasn’t joking.

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yes, seriously! How did you even get in my room, anyway? It’s supposed to be private!”

“Not to the guild leader, it isn’t,” Ambrose replied. “And besides, I’m not the one locking raid bosses in my bedroom…”

“Who I bring, and where, is my choice to make, Ambrose.”

“Sure, if it was an actual person!” Ambrose said. “I wouldn’t give a shit then. But this, dating a monster character in a non-existent game world, it’s just weird, Violet!”

“We’re not… it wasn’t a date.”

“Oh? What did you two do today?”

“We… sat on a river bank and had a picnic.”

Ambrose just stared at her, incredulous. “And that’s not a date?” she said after a pause.

“I… We… She…”

Ambrose just held up her hand to silence Violet. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Not a date, my ass... Look, whatever. I don’t actually care, alright? If all of this is actually real and she means well by you, then I’ll be the first one at your big, weird monster wedding, alright? And yeah, yeah, not dating, I heard you.”

Ambrose repeated herself before Violet had the chance to protest again.

“I’m still mad at you,” Violet said after a pause. “Even if you do mean well.”

“Yeah, I get it. I’m an asshole. And if I’m wrong about all this, then I owe you a big, fat apology, okay? Jeez…”

An awkward silence rose between them, Violet fidgeting in the dirt while Ambrose leaned up against a nearby tree trunk staring at clouds. After a long moment in which neither spoke, Orca returned carrying two more oversized leather ponchos.

“I stole these from Twilight Marsh.” Orca helped Violet into hers, lowering the enormous garment down onto her, helping guide her arms into place.

Then Orca threw the other at Ambrose, wadded up into a ball.

“Put that on!” Orca ordered.

Cynically amused, Ambrose did as bidden. Once they were both swimming in their eyesore disguises, Orca led the way back to the Ice Caves. She gave one final warning about keeping silent to Ambrose before ushering them into the chilled dungeon and the hallways beyond.

***** XXI *****

To her credit, Ambrose paraded along behind the leader in silence. When Orca found the nearest hidden doorway and guided them into the private access corridors, Ambrose said nothing. When they passed a group of trolls talking about the latest sports scores, Ambrose said nothing. Ambrose said nothing even when they pushed through the swinging doors into the company cafeteria, watching as every type of monster carried their trays from the buffet lines to the differently-sized seating.

Then came the recreation room, where monsters big and small engaged in foosball, racquetball, air hockey and ping pong. They even peeked into the gym, where a pair of exceptionally tall demons were running on trend mills while a third was mixing an energy smoothie in a blender.

“Good afternoon, Orca!” they cried out, happy to see her. Orca responded in kind, always politely escaping the conversation before too long.

Lastly, on the final leg of their tour, they made their way to Orca’s quarters. Ambrose to this point still said nothing–she just followed along, her giant hood bobbing up and down over her face with each step.

The group made to her door when they were stopped by a familiar voice.

“Orca! Why haven’t you been around so much lately?”

Orca begrudgingly turned to see the hefty frame of Throgg waddling towards them.

Orca sighed. “What do you want, Throgg? I’m busy.”

“What? You don’t look so busy. And who are these two?”

“Family from out of town,” Orca replied, her voice curt. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Not really, no.”

“Well, could you? I’m in the middle of something.”

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Throgg replied. “Nobody has. You been busy or something?”

“Terribly busy, yes,” Orca replied, her patience thinning. “Like I am right now. Now go away!”

Throgg stuck her with a curious expression as he reached down to scratch his considerable waist. “Why are you always telling me to go away?”

“Simple. Because I don’t want you here. Now shoo!”

“Why are you always saying mean things to me? And why is that small one holding your hand?”

Violet had slipped her hand into Orca’s palm to reassure her, and help keep her temper under control. In a fit of growing irritation, Orca waved her hand away and began shouting at Throgg.

“Never mind any of that! Just get out of here already, you moron!”

“You know, you never say nice things to me,” Throgg reminisced. “I remember back when you used to rub my footsies.”

“Those disgusting things?” Orca cried out, revolted.

“Well, why not?” Throgg asked. “Isn’t that what wives are supposed to do?”

“Wait, you’re married?” Violet blurted out.

Orca picked up Violet’s tiny form and shoved her through the doorway as Throgg stared with wide eyes, pointed a trembling finger. “Is that… a hero? Do you have heroes with you, Orca?”

Orca charged up to him, slamming Throgg against the wall and throttling him with her forearm. “You listen to me, you fat sack of shit! You’re not going to say a word about this to anyone. If you so much as just think of saying something, I will take those disgusting sausages you call feet and shove them through your thick skull! DO YOU HEAR ME?”

Throgg looked at Orca: her skin flushed purple in anger, her breath hot in his face. Then he looked down at the hooded figure of Ambrose, who now stood just beside Orca.

“Those flyers on the wall…” Throgg said, the cogs of his brain slowly turning. “Those are because of you?”

Orca shoved even harder, his flab jiggling as it molding around Orca’s arm. “You’re going to say nothing about this. To anyone!”

A long silence hung between the two, broken only by Orca’s heavy breathing.

Eventually, Throgg spoke. “No.”

“No? What do you mean, no?” Orca raged.

“I mean, no,” Throgg repeated. “You say mean things to me. You act like you don’t want me around. And now you’re in trouble. So now, I’m thinking… I want my footsies rubbed.”

“Throgg, I swear to god, I will end your stupid, pathetic existence…”

“And I want to hear nice things, like you used to say,” Throgg continued, cutting her words off. “In the beginning, back before you got mean. And if you don’t, then I think that Management should hear about your heroes here...”

Orca huffed even louder, sounding much like a minotaur herself. She stared him down, her teeth clenched and her face flashing vibrant shades of purple and red.

“I think, maybe you let me go now,” Throgg said. Orca did so, her arms shaking in rage, her fists clenched so tightly her nails dug into her skin.

“And I think…” Throgg stood there, a finger on his chins as he decided what he would wish for next. “I think I will be in my room this evening, where I will enjoy my footsies being rubbed.”

He nodded, as if having decided some important decree. Then he hefted his belt, held his head up high, and strutted away down the hall.

“Looking forward to tonight, my queen!” he called back.

After Throgg turned a corner out of sight, Orca unleashed her fury on yet another wall, screaming and slamming her fists into it over and over again.

Coming back down to her senses, Orca remembered Violet and went to her. Ambrose slipped silently through the door behind Orca. Once Inside, they saw Violet sitting on the edge of a day bed, her disguise tossed away. She looked on the verge of tears.

“Damn that stupid orc!” Orca growled, baring her tusks from behind the safety of her closed door.

“I can’t believe you’re actually married!” Violet cried out. “And you didn’t tell me?”

During this exchange, Ambrose drew back her hood and just ambled aimlessly around the room, taking in all of the sights.

“It’s not that simple!” Orca replied.

“How, though? Someone is either married, or they’re not. Right?”

Orca took a seat on a bench facing Violet, then immediately stood up again and started pacing.

“We have been king and queen of the orcs ever since the very beginning. There was never anything official like a wedding. We were just made like that. I was never given a choice!”

“What do you mean?”

Orca stopped her pacing, looking directly at Violet as she explained.

“In my first memories of this place, over seven years ago now, there was Throgg, myself, and some of the other monsters. He was the king, I was the queen, and that was it. That’s just how it was. Fast forward a couple of years when I started to realize what a colossal moron he is, I move out into my own place here and I find every opportunity to keep from looking at his stupid face.”

“Like Adam and Eve?” Violet offered.

Orca agreed emphatically. “Yes, exactly like that! We were just made in the Garden of Eden and assumed to be together.”

“So… you’re not really married then?”

Orca threw her arms up in exasperated surrender. “He thinks we are, because we were made that way from the start. I say hell no, because I never agreed to it. Which one of us is right?” She just shrugged again.

Violet sat there a moment lost in thought, a silence hanging between them.

“So,” Violet said at length. “Have you ever thought about leaving him, if you really don’t like him that much?”

“No one’s ever done that before. I never really had a reason to think about it. I’m not even sure it works that way here…”

Orca resumed pacing, more irritated than ever. “I can’t believe that idiot is actually blackmailing me! What am I going to do about him…”

Violet sat in thought as a hushed lull fell over the room. That’s when she noticed Ambrose, still silently contemplating everything around the room.

“Ambrose? You’ve been unusually quiet. What do you think of all this?”

“What do I think?” Ambrose said, stopping her self-guided tour to look over at Violet. “Yes.”

“Yes?” Violet asked.

“Yes,” Ambrose repeated. “Yes, it would seem you were right after all.”

Ambrose walked up to Violet, slipping the letters out from under her duster and handing them over. “You can have these back.”

“That’s it?” Violet asked, feeling suddenly nervous around this polite, tempered side of Ambrose.

“That’s it. Promise is a promise. This place is too crazy to be anything but real.”

“How about an apology for stealing those letters in the first place?” Orca demanded.

Ambrose wheeled around, glaring daggers up at her. “Apologizing for protecting my friend in the face of what was a blatantly impossible situation? Never!”

Violet felt oddly comforted again, as if one small part of the world had course corrected back to normal.

“Okay, well, what should we do about this situation, then?” Violet asked, taking Ambrose’s attention back from Orca.

“Easy,” Ambrose said, flipping the hood of her poncho back down over her face. “We go back home and drink.”

“What about Orca?”

“Good luck.”

“Hey, could you not be such a hardass for once?” Orca growled.

“No,” Ambrose replied. “And maybe if you weren’t such an entitled, whiny little shit, you’d realize that your situation actually isn’t half as bad as you’re convincing yourself it is. You live like a damn sultan, with a bedroom bigger than my entire freaking apartment! You get free food spoon-fed to you, with free access to an entire gym and spa, and a job you can walk to that you actually like. I don’t know one single damn person in my whole life who actually likes their job! And what does all of this cost you? Having to touch the ewie-yucky toesies of your fake husband. Please! No daily commutes on public transportation? No pushing carts eight hours a day in frozen sleet? No eating shitty microwave food in front of a broken television smelling cat piss from one neighbor while listening to the arguing, and other things, from the neighbor above you? My goodness, let me cry you a river! I’d take your problems over mine any day…”

“Ambrose!” Violet cried out, but Ambrose cut her short.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a big meanie. I’ve heard it. What I’m actually being is honest, and if your head wasn’t shoved up your big, green ass, you would realize I’m right. Thanks for the tour, I’ll find my own way back!”

Ambrose pulled open the door and slipped out before the others could say another word.

***** XXII *****

Violet and Orca walked back through the hallways in contemplative silence. Only when they were standing at the doorway of the large oak tree near the castle did Violet turn to her.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what, Ambrose?” Orca asked, shaking her head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve come to expect that from her.”

“No, for getting you in trouble,” Violet explained. “If I hadn’t of said anything, Throgg wouldn’t know about us.”

Orca just shrugged, her gaze distant and distracted.

“I knew the risks. I did it anyway. Was bound to happen sooner or later. Don’t worry about it, I’ll handle him.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Well…” Orca hesitated, lost in thought. “As much as I hate to admit it, I think Ambrose might be at least a little bit right. I could play nice. I did it before. And isn’t that what you would do: be nice to everyone? Maybe, in this case, I could afford to act more like you.

“I guess I’m going to touch some ewie-yucky toesies.” Orca sighed. Then she focused down at Violet. “Seriously, though, don’t worry about me. I’ll take care of it. Don’t you fuss over my situation. You just look forward to seeing snow on our next adventure, alright?”

Violet beamed up at her. It was the first time Orca has seen her smile since leaving her home. They said their goodbyes over dreams of their next encounter with promises of more letters in the meantime.

Violet passed through the wide, yawning doors of Applewood Manor to see Ambrose packing up gear in the main entry. Her dual scythes hung at her hips as she stacked various scrolls and potions into her pack.

Violet approached, curious. “Are you… preparing for a raid?”

“Nope! Surprise birthday party for the Pope.”

“But, like… doesn’t that change everything? Now that you know?”

“No. Why would it?” Ambrose paused her packing to look at Violet. “They have their roles to fulfill and so do I. Why would this change anything?”

“But, like, they’re real people, with real lives and everything!”

“Maybe so,” Ambrose said, resuming her packing. “But that doesn’t stop them from doing their job, and it doesn’t stop me from doing mine. That is the entire point of this place, isn’t it? It’s why we’re all here, them and us. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

“Wait!” Violet called out, stopping Ambrose as she turned to leave. “What you said earlier, about where your home. Was that all true?”

“So what if it was?” Ambrose asked, fixing a pointed stare at Violet. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Ambrose, I’m… I’m so sorry! If there’s anything I can do…”

“Stop,” Ambrose ordered, turning to face her directly. “Just stop. I know you have this chronic condition of wanting to help everyone and save the entire world, and good on you for it. But I don’t need help–you’re just getting your bleeding heart all over me. I didn’t tell anyone because no one needs to know. In this place, I am nothing more than a walking pile of stats carrying swords. A murder hobo. That’s it. I have my reasons for being logged in here so damn much. It’s because sometimes life is just shit and there’s nothing you or I can do about it. So, thanks, but no thanks. Save your empathy for everyone else. I’m good.”

Then Ambrose shifted her pack, made for the door, and marched out without a single look back.

***** XXIII *****

“Why, my dearest sweety king and ruler of all that is good and just, oh Mighty Throgg…” Orca recited, feeling her soul physically die within her with every word.

Throgg mulled over her words from where he sat on his make-shift throne, which Orca had created for him using her pillows and benches she had carried over from her own home. “I think I like ‘Supreme Mighty Throgg’ better…”

“Yes, of course, Supreme Mighty Throgg.”

They were in his private quarters, which were a spartan set of rooms with concrete flooring, bare wood walls and only the most crude furnishings. Against the back wall was the bed they used to share–a sad, stained little mattress on metal framing with only a single tattered blanket. It lay there as a painful reminder of the life Orca used to have before she walked away.

Orca knelt in front of Throgg, using a water basin to wash and massage his enormous bare feet. At length, she dropped her rags into the basin and leaned back.

“Thouest toesies have been rubbed. Thine feets have been scrubbed clean. May I now make leave of thy presence, oh Supreme Mighty Throgg?”

He scratched his chins as he leaned back, clearly enjoying the pillows that weren’t even his to use.

“Hm… You had a certain garment you used to wear for me,” Throgg said. “Whenever I asked for it.”

Orca froze, feeling a heart-wrenching dread consume her. “You can’t be serious…”

“I still have it,” Throgg said, reaching back to point at a closet, his flabby arms jiggling as he moved. “Why don’t you go serve your supreme mighty king and put it on? Unless you’d rather Management discover your little secret?”

Orca found waiting for her in that closet every terrible memory she had worked so hard to repress over the last several years. Under the light of a single bare bulb, they hung in that threadbare closet just exactly as she had remembered. And without even needing clarification, she knew exactly which outfit Throgg liked the most. She took it down, swallowed her pride, and began to undress.

A moment later she emerged, covered in a simple black slip and matching triangular cat ears and flowing tail. She brought her cat-glove hands up to her face and pawed at the air in his general direction.

“Mrrow.”

Throgg’s eyes bulged in excitement. He threw his arms wide saying, “come to your king, my pretty little kitty!”

Orca shuffled her way through the cafeteria line, balancing two trays in front of her. She ordered a cup of the brown slop, extra sloppy, with a portion of tenderloin so raw it was bleeding all over the plate.

“Just a salad for me,” she added. “I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.”

“Orca! What’s happenin’?”

Orca turned to see Peter, the foosball-playing troll from the Tangled Thickets. He was here with his other troll companions, all of them standing tall and lanky in line behind her.

“Why the two trays?” Peter asked. “Make a friend?”

“Yeah, Throgg,” Orca grumbled.

“Throgg?” Peter asked, looking over the crowd to where Throgg was seated. At Peter’s height, it was easy for him to do. “Don’t you two totally hate each other, or something?”

“I’ve been trying to play nice. Taking a cue from a new friend…”

“Oh, rock on. Good luck with that!”

Orca’s portions were served. She thanked the lunch-witch before crossing the cafeteria floor to where the ‘supreme mighty Throgg’ sat waiting.

“What took so long?” he asked.

“I was putting extra spit in it.”

“Nuh, uh!” Throgg shook his head, his chins flapping. “You have to be nice to me! That’s the rule.”

Orca dropped Throgg’s tray in front of him. Then she took a seat beside him and started picking at her salad. Throgg cleared his throat beside her.

“Now what?” Orca asked.

“Feed me.”

“What are you, a baby? Feed your damn self.”

“No, I think you will feed me. Wouldn’t want everyone to know your secret, would we?”

He sat there with his mouth agape and his eyes closed. Orca thought about all the things she could do to him in that ridiculous state, and spoonfeeding him like a baby was not top of that list.

Still, she took his spoon, shoveled it into his slop and shoved it into his mouth. He munched contentedly, acting more like a baby than ever.

“More,” he ordered. He hung his mouth open again, bits of slop dribbling down from his lips.

So Orca spoon fed him again, and again after that. Her own salad went untouched. By this point, they were drawing quite a few looks from the crowd around them.

“Uh, Orca?” Peter asked, who was passing by but had stopped to view the spectacle. “What are you doing?”

“I’m spoon-feeding a big galoot.”

“I see that. But, why?”

“Because she has to!” Throgg cried, his eyes still shut as he sat there, blissfully content. “She’s serving her king, like a good wife should.”

“You’ve never done that for him before,” Peter remarked. He sounded equal parts concerned and confused. “What’s going on?”

“That’s because I know the secret!” Throgg bragged. “She has to do what I say so long as I know her secret.”

“What secret?”

“That she brought heroes in here for a tour.”

Then Throgg opened his eyes, looking around as if an illusion had just shattered. The entire cafeteria was looking at them now.

“Did I just say that out loud?”

Anything else Throgg might have said was muffled out by the soup bowl being suddenly shoved onto his face.

Orca stood up, brushing off her hands. “Thank god that’s over. That was worse punishment than anything Management could do. I might have actually killed him if I had to endure any more of that bullshit.”

Orca oriented herself toward her boss’s office, cutting through the gathered crowd on the way, yelling back as she went for all to hear. “Oh, and by the way, we’re getting a divorce!”

***** XXIV *****

Ambrose and her party had hacked, slashed, stabbed, and magicked all the way through Dire Mountain, leaving a trail of corpses leading up to and through the cave. As the last of them fell, the victors stood looking up at the monolithic stone doors leading into the inner chamber–the final boss room at the end of the whole journey. Violet was grateful to Ambrose for allowing her to be here for this moment. She stood at that moment exactly where she had been the first time she was here.

Ambrose approached her, sheathing her blades and clapping a hand on her shoulder.

“That’s your friend through there. Care to do the honors?”

Violet grinned, imagining the look on Orca’s face when they entered. She made it to this point legitimately–no shortcuts or secret passages this time. She had earned this right, along side her friends here.

She walked to the front of the group and pushed at the doors, listening to the same grinding of rock she had heard before. Violet looked back, the sound echoing throughout the enormous cave but without a single standing monster left to hear.

Violet led the charge into the darkened chamber. Once they were all inside, the doors shut behind them and the same skeletal band emerged from above. They took their spots, blasting out an energetic riff as their hype man built up the encounter.

“I hope you’re ready for the fight of your lives,” bellowed the skeleton, his voice echoing throughout the stage as it came alive with spotlights and pyrotechnics. “You’re in for the hardest battle you’ve ever seen against the mean, the ferocious, the mighty… King Throgg!”

“Huh?” Violet asked, dumbfounded, as the immense form of Throgg rose from the center lift, wearing his same ramshackle clothes and tarnished crown.

“That fat ass?” Ambrose remarked, turning to Violet. “Why him? Where’s your girlfriend-slash-not girlfriend?”

Violet just shrugged helplessly, shaking her head.

The ogres began to pour out from the side rooms, breaking up their conversation. Their raid of twenty heroes, forged into an efficient team through their shared dungeoneering, swept through them easily. The ground became littered with the hulking bodies of dozens of ogres.

The focus left squarely on Throgg, he flourished his large metal scepter in the air and shouted, “Face me then, heroes, and meet your doom!”

“Yeah, hold up a second,” Ambrose cried out, cutting in front of the group to stop them. She addressed Throgg directly. “Where’s Orca?”

“Grr, I’m the big scary Orc King! I will slay all of…”

“Drop the shit, you fat tub of lard,” Ambrose ordered. “I was there when Orca slammed you against the wall like the little bitch you are.”

Throgg stopped his theatrics then, studying Ambrose more closely.

“I was the one under the giant poncho, dipshit,” Ambrose explained, seeing the clueless look in his eyes. She pulled Violet up next to her. “She was with me.”

“Hello,” Violet waved awkwardly.

“You two! I remember you...”

“Yeah, good job, moron. Where is Orca?”

“Nevermind her, I’m the big scary king of the orcs! Look upon me and–OW!”

Ambrose drew her fist back after punching the giant orc in the face. He drew his hands up, covering his nose as he stumbled backward.

“That hurt!”

“No shit, dumbass. Now where’s Orca? I came here specifically to square up in a fight against her, not her fat, brain-dead, off-brand stand-in.”

“Why are you so mean?” Throgg whined. “Why are both of you so mean to me?”

“Because you’re a whiny bitch,” Ambrose replied. She couldn’t help but note this one additional thing her and Orca shared in common. “Now where is she?”

“On lock down,” Throgg explained, still holding his fat nose. “She doesn’t work here anymore. She got demoted to lesser dungeons and has a personal guard keeping her in her home when not on the clock. She’ll never be allowed to go anywhere by herself ever again, all because of you two!”

Violet gasped, covering her mouth with her hands as tears threatened her eyes.

“Those are your dumbass rules that caused that, not us,” Ambrose corrected him. “We’re just friends trying to visit.”

“Friends?” Throgg asked, doubling down on his clueless expression. “She can’t have heroes as friends!”

“Yeah, it’s freaking weird, I know. But whatever–it’s not my life. How do we talk to her?”

“You don’t!” Throgg explained. “You will never talk to her. Heroes can never just talk to us, or be friends, or anything like that! It was never supposed to happen, it never can happen, and it will never…”

His abdomen was pierced with Ambrose’s blade. Throgg blinked several times, his lips still hanging open with unspoken words, before he collapsed back on the ground in a heap. Ambrose stepped on his enormous gut, pulled her sword free, then looked back at Violet.

“I got tired of listening to him,” she explained. Then she turned to the rest of the raiding party behind her. “Free loot, boys! Take your fill.”

The others dispersed to raid the chests as Violet fell to her knees, her face buried in her hands.

“It’s all our fault,” she sobbed. “We’re the ones that got her into trouble!”

Ambrose sheathed her blades then knelt beside her, placing a hand awkwardly on her shoulder.

“Look,” she said, trying to sound as comforting as she could. “I meant it earlier–it’s their own dumbass rules that caused this, not you. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I still think it’s weird. But it’s also not right, keeping two people apart like that. And I feel like, since you guys keep finding ways to be together, you two will just end up beating this latest thing, too. And, hey, at least this time you have help, right? Just tell me who to stab and I’m there.”

“I appreciate that,” Violet said, reaching up and grasping Ambrosein a big hug. Caught off guard, Ambrose nearly caused them both to fall backward. Violet sobbed softly into her duster as Ambrose wrapped a single arm gingerly around her.

“There, there…” Ambrose said, awkwardly patting her on the back. “You guys will definitely figure this thing out.”

The two embraced a while longer while the rest of the raid group looted the place clean. When Violet was ready, Ambrose helped her to her feet, let her wipe at her bespectacled face, then led her to the exit doorway.

Ambrose and Violet entered Applewood Manor together. Ambrose asked if Violet was okay before letting her go up to her room. In the meantime, Ambrose herself headed for the common room, dropping down onto one of the couches and stripping off her boots. She laid lengthwise across the cushions across the whole couch, folding her hands behind her head and staring up at the ceiling.

“Congratulations are in order, I take it?”

Ambrose recognized Aura’s voice immediately. He was the only one among them who spoke like a posh British aristocrat with a stick up his ass. Ambrose didn’t even turn her head as she replied.

“Yeah, we cleared the dungeon. Whoop-de-freaking-do.”

“You seem less than enthusiastic?”

“Kiwi?”

At that, Ambrose did look over at the large green macaw affixed to Aura’s shoulder. They were seated at one of the reading desks lining the bookshelves at the rear of the common room. A book lay open in front of both the man and the bird, leading Ambrose to wonder who had been reading it.

“I convinced our raid to spend the last few weeks grinding away at Dire Mountain only to find that the big boss Orca had been replaced with some giant green nutsack. And then on top of that, I didn’t even get any of the loot! What a waste of my time.”

“You mean, the dungeon was scheduled for a different raid boss?” Aura asked.

“Nope. It wasn’t anyone who was supposed to be there. Instead it was Orca’s man-squeeze, Throgg. And what an asshole he is.”

“You’re certain?” Aura asked. “That can’t be right. He’s one of the bosses at Twilight Marsh.”

“A lot of things don’t seem right lately.” Ambrose turned back to stare at the ceiling as she spoke. “From Orca and Throgg’s weird-ass marriage to the whole underground monster-world thing. This place has gotten all sorts of weird lately, and that’s saying something.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Oh, right, you’re out of the loop. Where have you been, anyway?”

Ambrose pressed on without waiting for an answer. “So, apparently monsters are actual people here, with their own weird ass lunchroom and rec rooms and shit. And apparently they just hang out, having a life and everything. They can even be married, or were maybe they were previously married–I don’t know, it’s all weird. I’ve been there and I barely get it.” Then she paused for a moment. “They do have a nice gym, though. It looked like the YMCA in there. I’m a little jealous.”

“Oh? And you’ve seen this place firsthand?”

“Orca gave us the tour,” Ambrose replied. “I don’t know who’s paying for all that stuff, but they have it nice over there.” She turned to Aura once again. “You know every single nook and cranny of this stupid game. You ever hear anything about that?”

“I can’t say as I have.”

“Huh.” Ambrose looked back up at the ceiling again. “Figured a huge nerd like you would be all over it. Worst part is, Violet’s pseudo-girlfriend Orca is now in trouble for all of this, and Violet’s sulking around because of it. I’m sympathetic, mind you, but damn–did you have to pick an orc as a girlfriend? This place is full of perfectly normal human girls, if that’s your thing. Like Alyrra, maybe. What’s wrong with her?”

Ambrose sighed dramatically before continuing. “Ah, whatever. I guess she makes Violet happy, so I guess I better get used to it. Good thing Orca can’t hear me say that, she’d probably hold it over me.”

“I see…” Aura rose from his chair to take his leave. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Don’t forget to flush and wash after,” Ambrose called out after him. “Don’t be gross like Jackurn!”

***** XXV *****

Ambrose cut her way through the goblins of the lower dungeons. They bounced off of her like flies on a windshield. After several days of running the same dungeons, she was bored of it all, wanting to be done with it but pressing on anyway. She flew through each room as quickly as possible. She ignored every indirect path and all of the dungeon’s treasure chests. She wasn’t here for any of it. Her goal was to blaze a path straight to the end as quick as humanly possible.

Finally, after four days of searching, her dedication paid off.

In a rounded cave chamber, pathetic and barren by comparison, stood a downcast Orca wearing an animal-hide, toga-like dress and matching booties, carrying what looked like a 2x4 board from a hardware store.

“Prepare to face the wrath of the mighty Orca…” she droned, her voice void of all passion and interest. She slumped forward, her chin pointed downward in a look of perpetual defeat.

There had been a time in which Ambrose would have enjoyed this sight, but as it was, it was just too sad.

“Your defeat is imminent. You have no hope… blah, blah…”

“Jeez, this is what they did to you?” Ambrose asked. “That’s just depressing.”

“Ambrose?” Orca asked, perking up a moment before looking even more dour than before. “Fine. Sure! Of course, you too. Come kill me, then. Get it over with. Come on, I know you want to. Everyone else is! Just do it already and put me out of my misery.”

“Man, that is just so depressing,” Ambrose said, sheathing her blades. “I’m not here to kill you. I mean… not like this, anyway. It would be like fighting a baby. Where’s the challenge in that?”

“Your words are as kind as ever, Ambrose…” Orca’s voice was flat and humorless.

“I’ll kill you some other day. When it’s a fair fight. But this? Nah…”

“What are you here for then?” Orca asked, tossing her pathetic club on the ground. “To make fun of me? To gloat? Go on. I know you never liked me anyway. Let’s have it. Give me your worst!”

“Damn, they really got to you. I actually liked you better when you were a huge pain in my ass. Now you’re just like a sad, deflated balloon. And for the record, I only didn’t like you back when I thought you were fake and screwing around with my friend. Nowadays, I only don’t like you a little bit, which is better than most other people get from me.”

“Gee, thanks Ambrose. It means so much to me that you and I can count each other as best friends…”

“Well, at least you have some spite in there still…” Ambrose replied. “Besides, I’m not here for me. I’ve spent the last four days going in and out of every stupid lowbie dungeon over and over again looking for you. I need to talk to you about Violet.”

“Violet?” Orca asked, perking up. “What’s wrong with her? Is she alright? I haven’t been able to write or visit or anything–I hate it! Please tell me she’s okay? And could you tell her sorry for me?”

“Woah, woah! Hold your horses, Kemosabe. Violet’s fine, physically. She’s just moping around the place, being all depressed. Kind of like you, actually. She’s refusing to leave the Manor, when she’s even here at all.”

“Well, we have to do something for her!” Orca cried, her dreariness replaced by her usual intensity.

“What do you think I’m doing here, you big dummy?” Ambrose replied. “We’re gonna break you out of here.”

“I can’t! I mean,” Orca glanced behind her at a seemingly ordinary portion of the rock wall. She lowered her voice as she spoke. “All the corridor entrances are being guarded. I’m babysat everywhere I go!”

“So I’ve heard. But I figured, since your people are all mad at you, why don’t you come over with our people and maybe hang out for a bit, or whatever.”

“What, just march out the hero exit and walk around with you lot?” Orca replied. “As I recall, everyone over there tried to kill me last time. Drawing a huge crowd of murderous heroes didn’t seem like the best way to avoid getting into even more trouble.”

“Don’t worry about that, I have a plan.”

“Oh, you have a plan, do you?” Orca snapped. “What about my babysitters here?”

“I have a plan for them, too. Where’s the door?” Ambrose approached the innocuous rockface. Orca followed, reaching for a particular spot where a circular handhold manifested at her touch. She pulled, revealing a door that had not existed a second prior. Through it, two particularly bored looking demons looked up from their newspapers.

“Thanks, I’ll take it from here,” Ambrose said, drawing her swords.

“Ambrose! What are you…”

The screams of surprise and agony cut her words short. A second later, Ambrose emerged back from the doorway, sheathing her blades once more.

She paused, looking at the horror on Orca’s face, then looking back at the dead demon’s in the corridor.

“Your kind do come back to life, right?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“Then what’s the problem?” Ambrose asked with a shrug.

“That’s… that’s rude!”

Ambrose rolled her eyes. “I’ll mail them a sympathy card. Come on, let’s go.”

***** XXVI *****

It felt incredibly alienating to march directly out the exit portal of the dungeon, right in the middle of the heroes mingling around town square. Orca was exposed in a way she never had been before: a literal giant standing in the center of a crowd. All eyes were turned to her, all voices hushed, as she unwittingly drew everyone’s attention in seconds. She regretted it instantly. Never before then had she ever felt the desire to shrink down and hide from an audience. Without her usual armor or weapons to empower her, she felt horribly exposed and helpless.

Ambrose shouldered her way ahead of Orca, clearing a path with no hesitation. Charging towards them both was a group of twenty armored raiders. Orca instinctively reached for her weapon, remembering once more that she had nothing with her to help. She cowered back, expecting the worse. But to her surprise, the group stopped before they reached her, facing around and keeping the spectators at bay instead.

They were guards in this case, but they stood defending Orca against their own people. It somehow made the whole situation seem even more unreal.

“I promised my raid group free loot from your dungeon in exchange for this,” Ambrose explained. “You better make good on that later.”

The group cut their way through the central intersection: they were a sight to behold as a circle of heavily armed heroes surrounded a hapless, oversized orc. They were the Secret Service of a modern day Renaissance festival, leading their V.I.P. to the drop off point.

A drop off point which, in this case, was a clothier.

Ambrose shooed her through the door, closing it behind them and leaving their entourage outside.

“Why are we…”

Ambrose shushed her before Orca could say another word. She half-lead, half-shoved the giant orc through the store, eventually pushing her inside a changing booth. Orca hit her head on the lowered ceiling, doing her best to compact herself into the small space. Ambrose threw the curtain shut just as a familiar voice sounded out.

“Alright, I’m here Ambrose,” Violet said, sounding every bit as dour as Ambrose had described. “I’m out of the Manor. What was so important that you wanted to show me?”

“This, uh… this dress,” Ambrose said as she grabbed the nearest garment. It was a knee-length, V-neck sleeved dress striped in white and blue.

Violet just stared at it, unimpressed. “What about it?”

“Just look at it. Wow! It’s so… I can’t keep this up. It’s actually really ugly,” Ambrose tossed it unceremoniously back onto the shelf. “Just go in the dressing room already.”

“Ambrose, I really don’t feel up for whatever you’re doing here…”

“Open the damn curtain, Violet!”

Violet did, revealing what looked like a giant green cave-woman packed awkwardly down into a small closet. She waved her hand, having barely enough room to move, before Violet leapt upon her in a violent hug.

“Orca!”

They embraced tightly, staying like that long enough for Ambrose to consider closing the curtain on them. When they finally separated, Orca decompressed from the changing room and joined them on the shop floor.

“Ambrose! You didn’t tell me Orca would be joining us,” Violet’s radiant smile was mildly nauseating, but Ambrose somehow managed to push past it.

“That would kind of defeat the purpose of a surprise, Violet.”

“And at my favorite store, even! And, oh goodness, what are they making you wear?”

Orca looked down at her primal coverings, her bare legs looking like thick tree trunks under her short dress. Her footwear, which Ambrose supposed were intended to be moccasins, looked like a cross between house slippers and plastic shoe covers worn by sanitary workers.

“We need to fix this!” cried Violet.

Violet set about on her mission, leading Orca down the dizzying landscape of modern day Renaissance fashions. Orca’s beefy arms were soon loaded high with stacks of blouses, dresses, corsets, gowns, coats, skirts, shirts, scarves and caps.

“Are these even going to fit me?” Orca asked before a particularly large overcoat was thrown over her head.

“Of course. They can get every size here!”

All the while Ambrose ambled around the store, leisurely looking down each of the aisles. Out the front windows she saw her raiding party still standing guard. Those few people curious enough to stop and look in were shooed away.

The shopkeeper stood behind the counter, an unmoving balding old man with a round head and abdomen. He was set off like a singing bass whenever Ambrose stepped too near.

“Greetings, adventurer! How may I be of service?”

“Shut up, Alexa!” Ambrose roared, stepping back out of its range. “Stupid freakin’ shopkeepers…” She eventually settled down on a nearby bench, trying to idle away the time.

Each minute dragged by painfully slow. Ambrose amused herself by carving dirty words into the bench or messing up the organization of the shelves. She had moved on to rearranging the mannequins into creatively compromising positions when Violet called out to her.

“What do you think?” Violet asked. She posed like Vanna White in front Orca, who was sporting an embroidered magenta-colored top laced up the front with long flowing georgette sleeves. Complimenting this was a high-belted skirt of dark gray satin, split up the sides to reveal thigh-high dark leather boots with tall wedges.

“I think she looks like an eggplant,” Ambrose replied.

“Ambrose!” Violet scorned. “Don’t be mean. She looks beautiful! Er, I mean…”

Ambrose did not miss the bitter look that flashed across Orca’s face.

“I meant her clothes are beautiful…” Violet continued hesitantly, acting as deflated as Orca had been back in the dungeon.

“What was that?” Ambrose piped up.

“Well, uh, better try on the next one, right?” Violet said with an awkward chuckle. She loaded Orca up with another round and compacted her into the dressing room.

Meanwhile Ambrose pressed on, stepping nearer. “What did I just see? What was that?”

“That was a dark purple top with poofy sleeves and a tie down the front.”

“Not that!” Ambrose replied. “That look. You called her beautiful and suddenly she looked like she was holding in a big fart.”

“Ambrose!” Violet scorned. “That’s rude, and also gross.”

“I call it like I see it. Does she have an allergy to compliments or something?”

“Orcs are made for war, not for beauty,” explained the gruff voice of Orca from behind the curtain.

“She’s really sensitive about her looks,” whispered Violet, as if Orca wasn’t three feet away.

Ambrose just looked at the curtain, back at Violet, then back at the curtain.

“Well, that’s just horseshit,” she blurted out. “Seriously, though? Rattlesnakes weren’t made for eating, but they still taste like chicken.”

Violet just looked blankly over at her. “What?”

“Rednecks were made for NASCAR, but they still make good moonshine.”

Orca’s face jutted out from around the curtain, looking just as clueless as Violet’s.

“What?”

“Jeez, you two really are made for each other.” Ambrose sighed dramatically, her hand covering her eyes. “Look, I’ll explain it like this. I’m mostly just an asshole, right?”

There were no objections.

“But I’m also Violet’s friend,” she continued. “Right? You’re allowed to be more than just one thing. So if you want to be Orca, warrior princess and a beautiful snowflake, then be both. Who cares? There’s no rule saying you can’t also be the most pretty, pretty princess at the ball. And, if Violet says it’s true, then it must be true. Just saying.”

Feeling uncomfortable about being put on the spot to preach lessons like an after-school special, Ambrose retreated into the aisles before they could ask for any followups.

Ambrose obliged Violet yet again by being the sole audience of several more walks down the proverbial runway. Ambrose sat through a lavender and white Venetian dress with high waist and jacquard floral weave. Following this was a laced jade overcoat and white chemise, complete with deep kimono sleeves. Afterward came a ruffled, long-sleeved peasant blouse with wide neckline accompanied by long, flowing, charcoal skirts.

“This must be the best and brightest of the Amy Farrah Fowler collection,” Ambrose remarked after a while. Up to this point, she had sat through so many floor-length, long-sleeved dresses, or long, concealing overcoats, or tops so layered they barely revealed the orc beneath. “When do we get to see stuff from Penny’s wardrobe?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t get that reference,” Violet replied, confused.

“I do,” Orca growled. “What makes you think I would wear something like that?”

“Chill out, Mother Teresa. I’m just saying that you’re in a fantasy shop, trying on shit for fun. So, have some fun with it. Half the stuff in here is designed to show off some skin. Find yourself some skin-tight leather, flash some leg, show off the ladies,” Ambrose hefted her own to illustrate her point. “Go wild.”

Orca just snorted in contempt, turning away. Ambrose gave up, dropping the subject. She turned to the nearest clothing rack instead.

“You could try on something too, if you wanted,” Violet said, squeezing Orca back into the changing booth. It was Ambrose’s turn to snort in response.

“Pass,” she said, examining a studded leather top with ties down the back. It had a neckline that scooped low, hung low on the shoulders, and stopped short revealing a generous amount of midriff. “As much as I would rock some bikini mail, I have no interest. I’m just here to stab shit and get loot. I’ll leave you guys to play dress up. Besides, I already look freakin’ fabulous.”

There was only one more showing before they began discussing Orca’s inevitable return. Not wanting to push their luck any further, Orca returned to her horrific animal-print work uniform. They carried their selection to the counter where Ambrose ended up covering all of it.

“I know you guys must have a money vault over there somewhere,” she said. “I’m expecting to dive into it like Scrooge McDuck at some point.”

“Thank you Ambrose. This was fun!” Ambrose was ambushed by a giant hug from he tiny Violet. Afterward, Ambrose turned to Orca with her arms spread wide, a mocking grin on her face. Orca leered down at her, settling for a firm handshake instead.

“Can we meet at the library next time?” Violet asked, bubbling over with energy.

“Oh, joy,” Ambrose replied flatly. “Boring old books. That sounds even more fun. Hoorah…”

With one final embrace between Orca and Violet, they exited the clothier, the orc carrying two bags stuffed with purchases. The raiding party escorted them back to the dungeon, the crowd parting quickly and with less interest than earlier.

***** XXVII *****

Four days passed since Orca’s excursion to the clothing store. She had been placed under house arrest–no more working at any dungeons, even the lower-end ones. She was trapped in a beautiful prison. Four full days and nights had passed without being able to work, see her friends or co-workers, or even go out her front door. Even her own guards didn’t want to socialize with her for fear of getting killed again.

Orca stared into her books without reading them. She ate without enjoyment. She was drinking more than ever before. Most of the time she barely had any reason to get out of bed at all, having nowhere to go and nothing to do. She had never before felt so depressed or so stuck.

There were no more letters. There were no more secret rendezvous. Not even Orca’s monstrous acquaintances came to even visit her, barring a few exceptions.

A band of goblins showed up at her door every day, arriving in the early evening like clockwork. They were clearly being ordered to check up on her, but they always did so happily. Orca looked forward to their company–it was the only conversation with another person she could have. Even when no one else wanted to check in on her, the goblins were there, doing as asked without a single complaint. It was a nice reminder of why Orca appreciated their kind so much. These guys may not have always been the brightest, but goblins were earnest, hard-working, and genuinely happy to be doing anything. They fulfilled their roles without complaint and never seemed to want anything more. That was unfortunately what made them such perfect lap dogs for Management, which infuriated Orca. They goblins didn’t even realize they were being taken advantage of: they just kept right on working without question.

Orca made a note to confront Management about them once more, if she was ever allowed to leave her home again.

While Orca was under house arrest, there was a knock at her door. Orca ran to answer, expecting her usual goblin visitors. Instead she just got Throgg.

“What do you want?” she roared, her mood shifting in an instant.

“I came for feet rubs,” he explained, blinking down at her outfit in confusion. “But, what is this thing you are wearing?”

Orca looked down at her bright red, short-sleeved Jalisco dress, embroidered with radiant colors and angled star design. This was complimented by multi-color ribbons tied around her waist, a matching rebozo scarf wrapped around her head, and wooden sandals on her feet.

“What, this? I thought maybe I would try and look…” she hesitated, the word caught in her throat like a physical blockage. “Beautiful.”

“You? Beautiful?” Throgg bellowed out raucous laughter, vicious and hurtful, holding his belly as he did so. Orca slammed the door in his face so hard it shook on its frame. She could hear his laughter echoing down the hallway even through the door as he walked away.

It was just after midnight. Orca was wide awake, staring up at the elaborate yet unchanging ceiling of her bedroom. Her mind was restless. Her muscles twitched, restless and energetic. Thoughts raced endlessly through her mind, fueled by frustrations and alcohol.

After several listless, waking hours, she gave up on sleep entirely and shot out of bed. Her usual armor set had rested in a corner, forlorn and abandoned. She slipped it on, intent on dressing for a job she no longer had. Taking up a flashlight from a drawer, she stole across her living room and slipped the front door open. Her two demonic guards had fallen asleep, snoring loudly and drooling in their seats. She eased the door shut behind her and crept down the hallway.

Orca was so eager to be free and walking around again she didn’t even focus on where she was going. She had the presence of mind to avoid the Marshes and other nocturnal dungeons. But beyond that, she just let her feet go and followed wherever they went.

Mindful of any stragglers awake at this hour, Orca’s wanderings inevitably took her to the one place she wanted to be the most. She slipped open the oak tree door, stealing a glance out at the cobblestone square before looking down at their rock. Underneath there was not even one single letter waiting for her.

Frustrated even further, Orca stepped out the door and let it close behind her. The cobblestone streets were barren. The shops were all closed, leaving the only light coming from the iron street lamps. Orca stole through the night, keeping vigilant of any late night heroes that might discover her.

Orca made first for Applewood Manor. She passed through the open gate, crossed the orchard, and stood looking up at the wide-reaching arms of the manor itself. She wondered which of the many windows she saw might belong to Violet. Some of them had light spilling out, making it clear that at least some people were still awake. Eventually Orca decided that, since her feet had taken her this far, it would be silly not to take a quick look.

Orca slipped the doors open a crack, peering inside. She saw only the dual staircases winding around upward with a long red carpet stretching down between them. Beyond the flickering flames of the oil lamps, there was no sign of life inside.

She did catch snippets of conversation coming from the sitting room, however.

“It’s been handled.”

“Has it, though? I recall being assured of this before. I doubt Management will be convinced.”

Orca didn’t recognize either set of voices. They both sounded male, with the second voice speaking more deliberately, as if carefully selecting each word he used.

“They put guards in place. Their leadership assures me that there won’t be further incidents.”

“I’m certain that they do assure that,” replied the second speaker. His words carried a certain unique dialect that Orca couldn’t place. “The problem comes when trying to convince the Citadel that operations here are running smoothly. They only see dollar signs and get nervous about any disruptions to their bottom line. I keep arguing on your side’s behalf. I’d hate to see a reset just the same as you.”

“That won’t be necessary,” replied the first speaker.

“I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see. I hate to see all this trouble just because one person can’t keep in line.”

Footsteps approached from the sitting room. Orca ducked back through the doorway just as someone stepped into the hall, turning to walk the other direction. Orca looked and saw a tall man with short, slicked back dark hair and a gray overcoat.

Once the man was out of sight, Orca re-entered the manor, turning to see who else was in the sitting room where he came from. She saw nobody save for a green parrot on a stand, which was starting to fall asleep.

Orca ascended the staircase and slipped down the second story hallway. She was looking for Violet’s door, frustrated by the fact that every doorway here looked identical. She carried on up and down the length of the hall, trying to spot any subtle difference between the doors, when she heard a familiar sigh. Orca approached the door it came from, listening intently to confirm. It was Violet alright, for some reason here and awake at this hour. She sounded like was carrying on a conversation with herself in whisper.

Orca knocked quietly. The hushed monologue stopped. “Violet, it’s me,” Orca announced, her own voice low.

The door was thrown wide and Violet leapt upon her in a big hug. Despite how many times it had happened, Orca was still surprised each and every time she did that.

Orca was surprised even further by a kiss on her cheek before Violet pulled back, as if only having realized what she had done.

“What was that?” Orca asked, reaching up to touch where Violet’s lips had pressed against her. She felt herself blushing and hoped it didn’t show. Violet herself turned away quickly, fidgeting.

“Just happy to see you is all…” she stammered. “What are you doing here? Why are you even awake?”

“I could ask the same thing of you,” Orca replied. “Can I come in?”

“Of course!”

They entered the small room, closing the door behind. Orca noted a writing quill and parchment with a half-written letter on it. Violet saw her looking and immediately pulled it away, wadding it up into a tight ball and casting it aside.

“What are you doing here?” Violet asked, diverting attention back to Orca.

“I’ve been on house arrest for almost a week,” Orca explained. “I couldn’t sleep. I was going crazy. I had to get out and do something.”

“And you decided to come here and see me?” Violet replied, taking Orca’s large hand between both of hers. “That’s so sweet!”

“What about you? You said you sleep in the over-there. What are you doing here?”

“Ah, well, I wasn’t even here these last few days. And now I have insomnia as one of my newest side effects. So I came on here to, uh…”

Violet looked again at her now bare writing desk. “...to do some thinking. But I never expected you to make your own way here again, though. What a wonderful surprise!”

“Am I taking you away from something?” Orca asked, gesturing to the writing desk.

“No!” Violet replied too quickly. “No. Not at all. In fact, why don’t we get out of here and go somewhere?”

Violet leapt up, pulling Orca to the door.

“Why the rush? I just got here,” Orca asked as Violet pulled open the door, looking up and down the corridor.

“We’re both awake and we don’t know if we’ll ever be able to do this again. Why not take advantage of it?”

Orca shrugged, unable to argue. She allowed herself to be led back out of the Manor and through the orchard. The bright red apples hung plump and tempting in the moonlight. Violet ran between each of the trees with arms wide, beaming as brightly as the Moon, as if everything in the world was perfect.

“Are you alright?” Orca asked through a mouthful of freshly picked apple.

“Of course!” Violet stopped to hang off of Orca’s arm. “I have you here with me. That makes everything alright!”

The two strolled together through the Moon-lit world, passing through the iron wrought gates underneath the light of two tall, oil lamp street lights. Not one soul was around to see as they sauntered down the city streets, passing all manner of shops with dark, unseeing windows. There ranged everything from armor and weapon shops to more clothiers, bakeries, breweries, alchemists, markets, delicatessens, jewelers, magic shops and more. Strangely, Orca saw one shop that appeared to sell nothing but hosiery and socks.

Their path led them to the central intersection, where a few heroes loitered directly in front of the perpetually yawning doors of the castle proper. Orca was curious what was inside those massive doors but dared not ask lest they be overheard.

It was all curious to Orca, in fact. Her side didn’t have mysterious castles like that, or any kind of shops. Each monster was simply provided what they needed while having the option to put in requests for additional goods or luxuries. There were no stores for monsters, nor clothing racks or shelves to browse through. Orca’s visit to the clothier a week prior had been her first time in a store at all. The monsters did not keep or use their own currency: all of the gold coins they managed were for heroes only.

As the two carried on, one building in particular caught Orca’s eye. Unlike the rest, this building was lit up brightly with its doors propped wide. Studying the hanging wooden sign, she saw that this was the library. Pointing it out, Violet happily led them inside.

The mantle of the reception room blazed comfortably, with oil lamps and chandeliers lighting the place up like daylight. Rows of bookshelves loomed high on both sides. Directly in front of them stood the exact same shopkeeper that was in the clothier, down to the buttoned vest and balding head.

“Have a lot of late night readers here?” Orca joked nervously, a watchful eye on the shopkeeper.

“I guess because there’s nothing to buy here, there’s no reason to close,” Violet surmised.

The shopkeeper didn’t acknowledge them as they passed. He didn’t even blink. Orca assumed that the secret of their late night visit would be safe with him.

Orca was equal parts amused and disappointed to see that all of the literature focused her part of the world. She was dying to know what heroes read where Violet came from, but this library yielded no such books. None of it looked fun or entertaining at all. Orca passed slowly down each aisle, drawing her hand across the spines of the location encyclopedias. After those she thumbed through the titles covering loot and where it could be found. Pulling a title at random, she skimmed through it and chuckled, knowing several places in their world where they hid prizes that were not even covered in these texts. Sliding it back, she moved on to the next aisle wondering what else was covered in these hero instructions.

Orca found an entire section dedicated to the bestiary. Every single creature was represented there, from goblins to dragons and everything in between. Orca stopped to admire how particularly menacing Betsy looked, captured in graphic illustration posed huge above five tiny heroes. Further down, she found the guide for Throgg, laughing out loud as the artist made him out to be this monstrous creature, complete with a blazing magic scepter and menacing sneer. She flipped the guide open, revealing to her all of her partner’s weaknesses in combat. What it lacked were all of his weaknesses as a person, but no library could hold a tome that large.

Still chuckling, she slid that title back and pulled out the guidebook next to it. As Orca read through this new guide, her grin evaporated. By the time she finished, it had long since been replaced with an entirely different emotion building inside of her.

***** XXVIII *****

Ambrose strode out from inside the castle doors, looking out at the crowd milling around the intersection. There was usually a crowd ambling around during the mornings, but this time it was different. They were mostly to one side, looking and pointing down a side street and talking in hushed tones. Curious, Ambrose crossed the square and turned the corner, pressing through the crowd to take a look.

What she saw was an entire building missing. A skeleton of charred support beams pushed through the burnt debris where once the library had stood. Ash and soot spilled out over into the cobblestone street.

“The hell happened here?” Ambrose asked no one in particular as she stood amongst the onlookers.

“It burnt down during the night,” answered someone nearby. “Some witnesses say the fire was caused by two people. One left through the castle while the other ran off into a nearby alley.”

“And do we know who these two people are, Dragnet?”

They did not, but Ambrose had a gut feeling without needing them to confirm. She approached the stone steps that once led up to the entrance, finding a disheveled book amongst the soot. Picking it up, she brushed it off and opened to read its contents. Any doubts she might have had about the culprit vanished when she saw who the book was about.

“Damn it, Orca…”

She slammed the book shut and pushed through the crowd, heading for the Manor.

“Aura, we have a problem!” Ambrose slammed the doors open and shouted down the Manor’s entryway. “Aura? Where are you, you big nerd?”

Ambrose burst into the war room where his desk and bird stand were, but there was no sign of him. She ducked back into the hall, checking the dining hall and bellowing into the corridors.

“He’s not here,” came a voice from the sitting room. Alyrra emerged from the doorway toward Ambrose. “I haven’t seen him all morning,”

“Typical. Well, what about Violet? Has she come back yet?”

Alyrra just shook her head, adding to Ambrose’s frustration.

“Damn it all! This is not how I wanted my day to go...”

“Is she okay? Violet?” Alyrra asked, concerned.

“Yeah, peachy,” Ambrose grumbled, still looking around the corridors. “Her girlfriend, however, is a real piece of work…”

“Wait, girlfriend?! What do you mean, Violet has a girlfriend?”

But Ambrose was already gone, storming out the door to continue her search throughout the grounds.

It was over an hour later before Ambrose found her quarry. Ambrose spent the intervening time pacing pacing throughout the town, pacing in the entryway, or pacing in the orchard. When she finally found him back seated in the war room, her irritation had only grown.

She marched up to Aura, sitting calmly behind his desk, and slammed the charred, dusty book down in front of him. A stack of parchment tumbled down at the impact as a plume of dusty ash billowed up from the book like a mushroom cloud.

“Orca burnt the freaking library down!”

“That shouldn’t be possible…” Aura said, picking up the book as soot rained down from it like dust. “Are you certain it was her?”

Ambrose just fixed a vicious stare at him in reply.

“Hmm…” was all he said.

“Really? That’s it? You’ve damn near lived in this game for seven years and that’s all you have to say about this? ’Hmm?’ If I had a nickel for every time you’ve said ‘that shouldn’t be possible’ or ‘that doesn’t seem right’ these last few days, I’d be a freaking millionaire! First raid bosses start coming to life, then they date my best friend, and now they’re burning down buildings. None of those things should be possible! What in the actual name of Satan’s right testicle is going on? Aren’t you the expert around here?”

“I’ll have to take a look into this…”

“Yeah, okay.” Ambrose snatched the book out of Aura’s hand, her patience exhausted. “You do that.”

She stomped off for the door before Aura called out after her.

“What?” Ambrose snapped, turning back.

“Our records here…” He flipped through several of his parchments and graphs, rubbing soot off of them as he went. “They update in real time as guild events happen.”

“Great. Why do I care?”

“Because, Ambrose…” he emphatically thumbed through more of the charts, standing as he did so. “Violet’s account isn’t listed on here anymore.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means Violet quit the guild, Ambrose…” He hesitated, pulling a book of records out from the desk and started thumbing through it by name. “More than that,” he added, looking up solemnly through his glasses. “She quit the game completely.”

Ambrose stood there a moment,silent and unmoving, before wordlessly going to the chest, pulling out a large iron sword and slinging it over her shoulder. Carrying this, she made for the exit.

“Where are you going?” Aura demanded.

She didn’t answer.

***** XXIX *****

Ambrose powered through the lower dungeon. She rushed straight to the end, barely breaking stride to slice her way past the goblins. Upon reaching the end arena, she found some large rock monster where once she had met the Goblin Queen herself.

She barely had time to learn anything about the creature before it shattered to pieces around her swords. The chest at the end flashed at her victory, but like all the other chests here, she ignored it outright. She wasn’t here for that.

Ambrose went to one very specific spot on the wall. She felt around on the rockface with her fingertips where Orca had touched it. Unsurprisingly, nothing changed as she ran her hands over the rock face. Moving on, she banged her fists against the surface and yelled through the door she knew to be there.

“Fire! Someone please help, there’s an emergency! There’s a fire!”

She kept banging, even past when her fists began to hurt, shouting all the while. It took some time, but eventually the door flipped open as a very concerned-looking goblin poked out.

“Fire?” it asked.

Its chest was impaled by Ambrose’s scythe before it could say another word. She picked up her longsword, shoved the body aside, and marched straight into the corridor.

Any unfortunate soul caught in her warpath died. They either turned and fled at her approach or were cut down in a wordless fury. Monsters of all types lined the floors in her wake as she stormed her way through the facility.

Ambrose knew this route from the last time she was here. She stormed directly up to her guards, killing each of them before kicking open the door hard enough to knock it from its hinges.

Orca jumped up at the sudden crash as her door slammed against the wall. Surprise was replaced by anger as she recognized her intruder.

“Ambrose, What the hell are you doing?”

“Take this,” Ambrose said, throwing the longsword across the room at her. “I’m here to kill you!”

Ambrose charged forward, bearing her scythes down. Orca leapt aside as Ambrose sliced right through her couch. Orca grabbed the longsword just as Ambrose bore down on her again. Orca barely had time to block it, pushing her aside as she swung back to strike again.

Orca shoved back, knocking Ambrose over the low end table. Orca stood over here, flourishing her blade and slamming down at Ambrose in a rage.

“Good!” Orca roared, bearing the blade ith both hands down at Ambrose, shattering the end table instead. “You heroes do nothing but lie, anyway!”

They traded blows, destroying the furniture around them as they fought. Steel clashed loudly, echoing throughout the room as Orca bore down on Ambrose again and again. Ambrose deflected with her scythe, knocking the heavy blade into the nearby bench and splintering it into pieces.

“Good for nothing, horrible liars!”

Ambrose shoved forward as Orca pulled her blade free, knocking them both back and toppling over a chair. Orca kicked up at Ambrose from the floor, knocking her backward.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re going on about!” Ambrose yelled, picking herself up off the floor. Orca leapt forward, striking from the side as Ambrose blocked. Their steel clashed viciously, sparking as they relentlessly beat on each other.

“I read what your entire kind really thinks of me!”

Orca pushed their blades down and rammed her shoulder forward, barreling Ambrose backward. She fell back onto a display case, shattering the glass as hundreds of silver trophies rained down on her like quarters from a slot machine’s jackpot.

Pushing herself off of the wall, Ambrose burst forward and tackled Orca mid-swing, sending the both of them tumbling into the conversation pit.

“You mean, that guide book?” Ambrose huffed, rising back to her feet. “You burnt down the entire library because of one stupid book?”

“All hero lies! All of it!” Orca threw the sword at her. Ambrose barely dodged as it flew behind her and stuck into the wall. Orca grabbed a wooden club from behind the couch and ran forward, kicking the furniture out of her way.

Ambrose brought her arms up, blocking a shower of ripped pillows and shattered table pieces. She pushed forward in a flurry of blades as Orca lifted up the couch and threw it at her. Ambrose dropped down as it splinted to pieces against the wall. Orca followed her throw, charging Ambrose down as she caught Orca’s sword in both of hers.

“Orca, you unbelievable MORON!”

Orca shoved forward, overpowering Ambrose with her sheer weight. Ambrose backed up, pushing off of the wall behind her for leverage, locking their blades together over their heads. Orca kicked out again as Ambrose dodged, swiveling her torso around. Orca pulled her sword downward, freeing it, before Ambrose kicked off of the wall and shouldered her back into the center of the room.

“Orcs are stupid! Orcs are ugly! Orcs are good for nothing except being useless and dying for you. It’s all written right there for everyone to see!”

Orca grabbed one of the fractured chairs and swung it around at Ambrose, who pulled down a display cabinet to fall onto Orca. The crash pierced the air loud enough to echo down the hall.

“Those are your guidebooks!” Orca raged, huffing like a bull. “That’s what you stupid heroes think of me! It’s all there. You can’t lie to me anymore!”

“You mean this stupid thing?” Ambrose replied, pulling out the ash-covered guidebook. She ripped it into scraps, tossing the pages to flutter uselessly through the air. “You got your panties twisted over this stupid thing?”

The remnants of a bench flew through the air, interrupting Ambrose and knocking her back against the wall.

“It doesn’t matter what you say!” Orca roared. “I’ve already read it!”

She plowed forward, bringing her blade down. Ambrose shoved the bench back at Orca, catching her swing. Ambrose brought one of her blades up from underneath, passing through the meat of her thigh. It yielded no actual damage here, but the pain felt real enough.

Roaring out like a wounded animal, Orca slammed her sword back down. Ambrose drew it between hers, twisting the blade out of her hands before shoving forward, smacking her hilts against Orca’s chin. She staggered back before picking up the end of a bench and swinging it like a giant club.

The leg of the bench caught Ambrose on her shoulder, knocking her aside. She staggered, raising her scythe just as Orca slammed the bench down on her, knocking her to the floor. Orca towered over her, slamming down the broken, splintered edge of the bench just as Ambrose sliced at her calves. She reeled to the side, missing Ambrose’s face by mere inches. Ambrose kicked at her, slamming into her ankle guards relentless until Orca fell backward.

The two stood up once more, huffing and panting as they stared each other down.

“You are… a certified… dumbass!” Ambrose managed between her panting. “And not just because… of some stupid book…”

“I’ve had enough of all of you!” Orca screamed, lunging forward. She grabbed at Ambrose’s hilts, ignoring the pain as the blades sliced up her arms. She pushed Ambrose’s blades upward above their head before shoving her down onto the ground, slamming down onto Ambrose’s smaller frame. She cried out at the impact, gasping for air as the orc pressed her weight down onto her. Ambrose’s hands were trapped in Orca’s stronger grip.

Close enough to feel the orc’s breath on her face, Ambrose pulled her head back and slammed it up into Orca’s face. The orc cried out, rolling off her as she held her left eye. Fresh pain screamed at Ambrose where the orc’s sharpened tusks had stabbed her during the headbutt. Ignoring it, Ambrose grabbed the bench Orca had dropped with both hands and slammed it against her, shattering it into splinters. Orca was knocked aside, still clutching at her face as she reached out for a weapon.

Ambrose hauled herself to her feet, trying her best to stand upright as she coughed, struggling to catch her breath. Orca faced her down from across the trash-strewn room, still holding her left eye as she panted like a winded dog.

“I lost my job,” Orca shouted out in a rage. “I can’t leave my home! All for what? Some stupid heroes who have been lying to me this entire time, about everything! I never should have trusted any of you!”

Orca picked up her club from the floor, shouting as she charged Ambrose down. She brought her scythes up, hunkering down against the wall behind her. As Orca swung, knocking the scythes aside, Ambrose leapt, pushing against the wall and slamming her shoulder directly into Orca’s chest. She tumbled backwards, falling backward into the conversation pit as Ambrose dropped from that height right on top of her, slamming her shoulder directly down onto the orc’s ribcage. Orca heaved upward from the impact, the air driven from her lungs at the impact as she gasped frantically for air.

Ambrose crawled off of the orc, collapsing onto the carpet as Orca gasped hoarsely, winded. Ambrose’s entire body screamed in pain from the exertion of the fight.

“Did it never occur to you…” Ambrose explained, trying to catch her breath. “...that just maybe… that book is full of shit?”

“It’s… the official…” Orca broke into another coughing spell before she could finish.

“The official biography, right?” Ambrose said. “For the character, or the person playing her?”

Ambrose looked over at her, the both of them panting for air from where they had collapsed onto the floor. Orca was wordless, whether unable or unwilling to answer Ambrose didn’t care.

“I’m not going to explain this to you,” Ambrose stated. “I’m done explaining. You’re an even bigger idiot then I ever imagined if you can’t recognize the difference between the character someone is playing, and the actors playing them. You have television, for god’s sake! You think all of that is real, too? How are you this stupid?”

Ambrose struggled to her feet, leaning on a nearby wall for support. She reached down, pulling the longsword up off the floor before turning back to the orc.

“You know, the worst part of all of this,” Ambrose explained, struggling to cross the distance between them, “is that because of your stupidity, I lost my best friend. And you lost your own girlfriend, you freaking moron!”

“What?” Orca managed between labored breaths. “Violet?”

“Violet’s gone! Left the game. Never to come back. That means no more secret dates, no more letters, no more anything. So, yeah, you threw your job and your own life away for nothing! You did that! Neither of us will ever be able to talk to Violet again, all because you lost your shit over some stupid guidebook that none of us believes anyway! And for the record, none of us ever lied to you, you stupid shit.”

She knelt down beside Orca, who, judging from the fear and pin in her eyes, was only just realizing what Ambrose was saying.

“But... she’ll come back?”

“No, dumbass! Her character is gone. Removed. Forever. You did that,” Ambrose pointed her blade down at her. “You. We both have no way to ever see her again, thanks to you.”

“But… but…”

“Nope. I’m done,” Ambrose brought herself up, standing on unsteady legs. “I had enough. I’m doing what I came here to do, then I’m done. And thanks to you, I know your kind doesn’t really die. So I’m going to make this count!”

“Wait, wait!”

Ambrose shoved the blade down through Orca’s chest. Though it may have done no damage physically in this place, Ambrose found satisfaction in knowing a sword through the heart would slow her down for a while, as well as let her feel a fraction of the pain Ambrose felt by the loss of her best friend.

Standing back from what she had done, watching as the orc’s body went limp, Ambrose retrieved her scythes and limped towards the door, hobbling her way back to the castle.

***** XXX *****

Dying was not the worst part. Orca had died a thousand times over–it was just an accepted occupational hazard here. Far worse than just dying was what Ambrose had done by leaving the sword in place. Orca would come back, feel the pain of being impaled, and fade all over again. Over and over she would come back only to die all over again. And she felt it each and every single time.

It was impossible to know how much time had passed. It could have been a couple of hours or several years. Time stopped for Orca while she was gone. She lost count of the number of times the cycle repeated. All she knew for certain was that it was the goblins who eventually saved her.

Orca came back, shocked to no longer feel the same stabbing pain through her heart. She reached up and felt where the sword had gone through, feeling skin tender to the touch and the rapid beating of her heart beneath. She blinked several times in the brightness of the room, unable to focus. She tried to push herself upright before falling back to the carpet in agony.

She looked around the room, her eyes struggling to focus. Five little goblins were hard at work, pushing the debris into piles and sorting through the wreckage of her once beautiful home. One of them brought over one of the few remaining intact pillows, propping her head up with it.

“You okay, boss?”

“Not really,” Orca managed, her voice hoarse. She watched as the goblins worked wordlessly together, breaking down sections of broken furniture too big to haul through the door. Brooms and dustpans had been produced from somewhere as they meticulously combed through the carpet for every little nail and splinter. They were as diligent as they were efficient.

Orca asked for water, which they delivered from the kitchen without hesitation. Pushing herself into a marginally more up-right position, she drank, watching as the majority of her furniture was hauled out the door in tatters.

“What happened here?” one of them asked.

“I think I just had a boss battle,” Orca replied, sipping from her glass.

“Oh. Who won?”

Orca looked at him, then at the state of her home. The question was sincere, even if the answer seemed obvious.

“No one did,” Orca replied at length, remembering what Ambrose had told her.

She reached over for the remains book that had started all of this. Half of its pages had been ripped apart in the scuffle, with the rest of it still covered in the evidence of her crime. On the cover was a mostly visible caricature of herself. Battle axe held high with both hands, this Orca had blood red eyes with her mouth hanging open in a menacing snarl. Veiny, muscular forearms bulged as she stepped on some unfortunate hero lying beneath her.

It was utterly cartoonish in its proportions and just as ridiculous. It might as well have said ‘As Seen On T.V.’ in the lower right corner. Or maybe it could have been a movie poster, hung up with all the names of the supporting actors and actresses at the bottom. Coming soon, to a theater near you!

She dropped the book, leaning her head back as her eyes slipped shut. She felt unbelievably stupid. Ambrose had been right. Again. The book was describing a television character, not the actress who played her. Looking back on it, that should have been obvious from the beginning, but she let her stupid insecurities get the best of her again. Except that this time, it cost her the only friends she ever had in this place, save for these little guys cleaning up her mess.

Violet was gone. Ambrose hated her–well, more than usual. And Orca didn’t even have her job anymore. All of that because of what she did. Because of a mistake.

Orca just sighed, knowing that things could not get any worse than they already were.

“ATTENTION. THIS WORLD IS BEING RESET SOON. ALL PLAYERS MUST LEAVE. ALL MONSTERS WILL BE DELETED AND REPLACED.”

She was wrong.

“WORLD RESET TO OCCUR IN THREE HOURS.”

The goblins stopped their work, looking around for the invisible loudspeakers that the announcement had originated from. They stared at each other, then over at Orca.

“What does that mean?”

“It means you don’t have to work anymore,” Orca answered. “Dobby is free. Go do whatever you want while you still can. Do something fun with yourselves for once. You’ve more than earned it.”

They looked from her to each other, then to the room around them. Then they kept right on working like nothing had changed.

“Didn’t you hear me? None of this matters anymore. Go have fun!”

“This is fun,” they explained nonchalantly as they worked. “This is what we want to be doing.”

Orca tried to argue but couldn’t muster the effort. She deserved their hospitality the least of anyone. Yet they stayed anyway, choosing to continue working and serving others up until the very end just because they liked doing it. This entire time they actually enjoyed doing this type of work–not because they had to, but because they wanted to.

They really were drastically unappreciated around here. It was a shame Orca wouldn’t get the chance to explain this to anyone else before they were all wiped out.

“Can someone help me to my bed?” Orca asked, attempting to push herself to her feet. “I’d like to face the end of the world being as lazy as possible.”

***** XXXI *****

“WORLD RESET TO OCCUR IN TWO HOURS.”

“Thanks, creepy computer voice!” slurred Orca, giving the air a firm thumb’s up.

“Miss Orca? Are you home?”

“No!” Orca shouted, pulling the blankets up around her. “Nobody’s home! Go away.”

The door to Orca’s bedroom was pushed open, revealing a tall man of slender frame wearing small-framed glasses and a large gray overcoat with copper buttons. He stared at the sight of Orca, curled up in her bed covered in blankets while surrounded by family-sized bags of Cheetos and several large emptied bottles of booze.

“Are you drunk, Miss Orca?”

“No, you!”

“That’s understandable, given the current circumstances. Unfortunately, we don’t have the luxury of time. I need you to get up and follow me.”

“Nuh uh! Don’t wanna.”

“Look,” explained the stranger as he approached the bed. “There isn’t much time. We need to leave promptly.”

“I know! Two hours left before we all die. Except for your kind, of course! Lucky you. As for me, I intend to go out getting fat and drunk here in bed.”

“That’s not what I’m referring to,” urged the stranger, who was now tugging pathetically at Orca’s arm. “Violet needs you.”

“Violet’s gone!” Orca wailed. “I was a big poopy poop and I pooped her away...”

“Delightful word choice, Miss Orca. Now come on–it’s not too late to fix this.”

“Wait. I’ve seen you before…” Orca fixed him with a stare as if only just now seeing him.

“Possibly so. My name is Aura, and I’m from Applewood Manor with your other friends.”

“I have no more friends!” Orca cried. “Not none no more. Bye bye…”

“You still do, if we leave now. Which is why I simply must insist!”

Aura gave one last pull with all of his strength. Orca rolled off of the side of the bed, tumbling down in a shower of blankets, junk food and mostly-emptied bottles.

“Fine, I’m up!” Orca said, struggling to get to her feet. She was dressed in a faded gray tank top and pink sweatpants with white hearts. Barefoot, unsteady, and still sore from her battle, the big orc reluctantly followed this newcomer into the corridors outside her home.

Her guards had vacated, no doubt choosing this limited time to do something more productive. Aura led the way directly to the cafeteria, then through a door beyond. Orca’s worries about once again escorting a hero through this place were alleviated by seeing the room eerily deserted. In her over seven years of living here, she had never once seen this room completely abandoned. The few people they did pass in the hallways paid them no mind. No one seemed concerned anymore about the presence of a hero when faced with the imminent end of the world. Orca thought for a moment, had they paid no mind to her and her hero friends in the first place, just like they were now, that none of this would have happened in the first place.

They continued on, heading towards the restricted offices and administrative district.

“These are Management offices,” Orca observed, feeling suddenly sobered up.

“Yes.”

“Why is a tiny little hero walking into our Management offices like you work here?” A second later, it clicked. “Oh my god, you work here!”

“This one is mine.” Aura unlocked the door and held it open, ushering Orca inside. It was a relatively small office, complete with a computer with four monitors and two keyboards spread across a sprawling, cluttered desk. Aura took a seat at the wide office chair behind the desk, typing onto his keyboard as Orca dropped into a swivel chair. Beside them, perched on a bird stand and pecking at a dried ear of corn, was a green macaw.

“She’s on her way here,” Aura said out loud after viewing some video feeds on his monitor. “Good.”

Heswiveled around to face Orca. “You undoubtedly have questions. I will do my best to answer them, but we are severely limited on time. Yes, I do work for Management, but I am not actually Management. I’m just a designer. Myself and my team here work to maintain smooth operations on the human-side of things where my usual office is. Across the hall is operations for the monster-side,” he gestured out the door as he spoke. “It was the highest levels of Management that decided to pull the plug and reset the world, despite my objections. I’ve done everything I could to prevent this from happening, but your little stunt at the library pushed them over the edge.”

Orca felt a hard lump in the pit of her stomach as she tried her best to shrink down small inti her office chair.

“Wait, how does Management here even know about that? I’m the only monster who’s ever crossed over into the heroes’ side!”

“That’s not actually true,” Aura explained, looking over at the bird as it ate. Kiwi stopped, cocking its tiny head as it looked at them both.

“What, so a little birdy told them?” Orca asked. “Were you spying on us? Are you the reason why Management is burning everything to the ground?”

“Nice word choice, lady!” mocked the bird, shocking Orca out of her skin.

“Kiwi was just doing his job,” Aura explained. “Same as you and I. But none of that matters right now, because we have a more pressing matter to attend to. We need your help specifically because…”

The door to the office opened, derailing his explanation. There stood Ambrose, the same scythes hanging at her side as always. She took one glance in at Orca before turning to leave.

“Oh, hell no!”

“Ambrose!” Aura called out, shouting after her. “Will you get back here?”

“Why is she here?” Ambrose’s voice called out from around the corner.

“You’re both friends of Violet and you’re both needed to save her. Now will you come here, please?”

“I’m not going anywhere that she is. She’s the reason this whole place has gone to shit! This entire reset is because of her.”

“Ambrose, this is not about the reset, this is about Violet. Now will you come in here and join us, please?”

Ambrose peeked her head around the corner, staring daggers at them both. She brought herself to stand in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned on the door frame.

“This is close enough,” Ambrose said. “So, if this isn’t about the reset, what the hell’s the problem? What’s so damn urgent, and what does it have to do with Violet?”

“The problem is Violet’s recent absences,” Aura explained, bringing up calendars on his computer. “I noticed she started spending less and less time here lately, which was uncharacteristic for her.”

“Good,” Ambrose replied. “Maybe she got a job, or a life. Unlike the rest of us. I’m glad she’s too busy to be here.”

“I wish that were the case. I wouldn’t have picked up on the problem at all if she hadn’t mentioned her medications and their new side effects. So I looked into the information we have on file for her.”

“You work for Big Brother now?” Ambrose asked. “Hell, before this moment, I didn’t realize you were actually an Imperial spy amongst our Rebel base. Now you’re spying on us in real life, too?”

“I’m not, though one could make a solid argument that the Citadel is,” He turned away from his screens to look at Ambrose directly. “And I was in your Rebel base, as you put it, because I actually enjoy this place and wanted to be a part of it. I genuinely enjoy my time here with all of you.”

Aura pulled a cellular phone out from a drawer of his desk. It was an older model–the kind that flipped open with numbered buttons.

“Here,” Aura said, passing it to Orca. “Take this. You’re going to need it when you visit Violet.”

“I, what?” Orca asked.

“She what?” Ambrose asked, storming into the office. “What are you going on about, Aura? Have you gone completely mad?”

“She’s dying, Ambrose,” Aura explained. “And Orca is in a unique opportunity to bring her here, in this world, where she would remain fine and healthy after her real body passes.”

“That’s…” Orca sat there dumbfounded, lost for words.

Ambrose, meanwhile, had no shortage of them. “How the hell could you possibly know that? Who said she’s dying? And how the hell does this work, anyway? What kind of weird Frankenstein’s lab are you people running here? And why Orca, for god’s sake? And for that matter, how? She’s just a video game character, for god’s sake! Everything you just said is insane!”

“Violet lives just outside of San Francisco. I can’t do it because I’m in Texas. Ambrose, you can’t do it because you’re in Atlanta. When any of us leave this place, we return with our bodies back where we left from. Orca is the only one here who isn’t tied to a location already, which means she’s the only one who can go directly to where Violet is.”

“We can do that?” Orca asked. “We can save her?”

“Honestly? I’m not certain. We’re crossing a lot of untrod territory here. I’ve never done this before. It may not work. All I know for sure is what will happen if we don’t do anything.”

“Alright, I’ll do it.”

“You’re both insane,” Ambrose stated. “It was already insane that this place has living, breathing orcs in it. Now it’s even more insane that said orc is gonna pop over to the human world for a quick stroll. Oh, look at me, just here to pick up some lovely tea and biscuits, guv’na! And if that works–the implications of that, by the way, are just… wow. If that works, then you have a giant, seven-foot-tall-green woman to scare the bejesus out of her friends and family at Violet’s deathbed to then just casually abduct her and bring her back into what they think is just a video game?”

Aura and Orca exchanged looks.

“Well, it wouldn’t be abducting her if she wanted to come here…” Aura explained.

Aura clasped her hands over her face, her voice muffled through her palms. “That’s the part you have a problem with?”

“I’ll still do it,” Orca explained. “For Violet.”

“And if she says no?” Ambrose asked.

“Then… I’ll get to see her one last time. And I’ll get to apologize for… well, everything.” Orca shook her head, lost for words. “I don’t know, actually. I haven’t had any time to think about this!”

“If she says no, then that’s that,” Aura added, his voice somber. He took a second device from the drawer before standing. This one looked less like a cellular phone and more like a calculator. It had a number pad of buttons on the front with an electronic display at the top. At the bottom was a marking of what looked like a rectangular skyscraper, stylized into a logo. He took it around the desk, passing Orca to head towards a door at the back of the office. Entering a code into his calculator-like device, he clasped the door handle and pulled it open, revealing a portal with a shimmering like water, shifting restlessly as a dazzling night sky reflected open its surface.

“Those are the portals in the castle for the players,” Ambrose observed. “You have your own personal one in here as well?”

Aura didn’t respond, but instead flipped open the primitive cell phone in Orca’s hand. He punched in a phone number.

“That portal will take you directly to Violet’s address,” Aura explained. “Push this green button here when you’re on the other side. That’s the direct line to my office phone so we can stay in communication. I’ll help you in any way that I can from over here.

“There is one other thing,” Aura added. “If she chooses to come here–and only if she chooses–you’ll need to impress upon her that her body there will be gone. Which means, if she ever goes back for any reason, she’ll die for real. She’ll be gone forever. Do you understand?”

Orca nodded wordlessly.

Aura looked up at the large green orc towering over him. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Orca nodded again, looking apprehensively at the portal of shimmering night sky in front of her. Swallowing heavily, Orca took a deep breath, closing her eyes before stepping forward into the void.

***** XXXII *****

Orca dropped down onto hard Earth. Hard grass and twigs pricked at her bare feet. She shoved aside reaching brambles to stand back upright, gazing at the landscape around her.

The view was beautiful. Orca stood on the side of a gently sloping mountain–an actual mountain, spanning immensely huge and towering far above her unlike the rock piles they called mountains back home. A blanket of green covered every inch of it: there were fields of grass reaching tall, acres of varied trees, and scraggly shrubs jutting from naked rock. Where there was not green coverage there were homes built onto the mountainside, struggling to be noticed amongst the reaching boughs. Gray ribbons criss-crossed down the mountainside, on which vehicles made tiny by distance motored this way and that. At the base of the mountain sprawled a city, larger by far than anything she had ever seen. It spread around a glistening bay spanning to the opposite side linked by half a dozen bridges, the left-most bridge standing tall and orange, wired with innumerable suspension cables. Tiny boats motored around tiny islands, dotting the glistening waters of the bay. To her left the bay emptied out into a blanket of darkest blue, stretching out infinitely to the cloudy afternoon sky beyond.

All of it–from the mountains, to the city, to the ocean beyond–were so much larger in scale than anything she had back home. Orca could only stand there in awe and wonder, if this one tiny part of Violet’s world stretched as massive as this, how much larger could the rest of it be?

A sudden noise pulled Orca from her sightseeing. She dropped down, watching as a large S.U.V. pulled out of a nearby drive. She ducked out of sight until the car passed, disappearing around a switchback down the road. Orca rose cautiously, checking the forest surrounding her for any further witnesses. The house the vehicle left from stood two stories tall–a modest thing compared to the neighboring trees. Large picture windows punctuated cedar siding underneath a gently sloping tiled roof. A stone footpath followed the drive to the front porch, not unlike the cobblestone streets from her world.

Remembering the phone in her hand, Orca dialed out as instructed. There was a pause of silence stretching on so long that she wondered if she had somehow done it wrong. Then it finally went through, the receiver picked up before the first ring even ended.

“Did it work?” asked Aura over the phone. It sounded garbled, with a constant undertone of static all throughout, but his words rang through clearly enough.

“I think so,” Orca replied, remembering only afterward to hold it to the side of her head like she’d seen on television. “I’m here.”

“Are you at the house?”

“I’m at a house…”

“The address is seventeen thirty-seven High Water lane. Is that where you are?”

“How am I supposed to know…” Orca stopped mid-sentence as she saw the square cedar mailbox at the end of the lane, the numbers stamped onto the side. “Oh. It looks like I am, yes.”

“Well, that should be all there is to it. Are you able to go inside to get to her?”

“Remember to be very polite while abducting her,” Ambrose’s sarcasm carried through the phone even over the static.

“Right…” Orca took another trepid look around before slowly approaching the front drive. She stared at each of the large windows as they stared down at her accusingly. She wondered how many people were watching her through those, seeing a big orc in pajamas lumber through their front yard.

“I reached the door,” Orca announced into the phone. She reached a hand out, jiggling the handle. “It’s locked.”

“How do you feel about breaking and entering?” Ambrose asked.

“Hopefully that won’t be necessary,” Aura replied. “Maybe there’s an alternative entry available?”

“How did you picture this going, anyway?” Ambrose said. Orca wasn’t sure which of them she was speaking to anymore. “Swamp Thing over there just marches up to the house, whereupon the family just lets her in and greets her with open arms?”

“I didn’t picture this at all,” Aura snapped back, the usual calm of his voice strained. “I didn’t have the luxury of time to formulate a proper plan. This is a fine example of winging it at its worst. You still with us there, Orca?”

“Yeah,” She was still peering up around the gable porch roof to the windows on the second story. “I was just imagining what kinds of swords they might have in this place.”

“Oh, buddy, they have so much worse than swords…” Ambrose cried out.

“That’s not helping the situation, Ambrose,” Aura scolded.

The conversation continued on in the background. Orca droned out the rest as she focused on what to do. Ambling around the rock path lining the structure, she climbed up the sloped yard to the rear of the house. Scaling the rail of a wide wooden porch, she snaked around a covered hot tub before coming to a pair of sliding patio doors. These, mercifully, gave way easily, gliding open as she pulled. She slipped inside onto the carpet of a comfortable living space, sliding the door back as she took inventory of her new surroundings. The sitting room featured wide leather couches staring down an empty fireplace. An adjacent kitchen connected to the living room, complete with marbled countertops and stainless steel appliances. Cupboards and shelves lined the walls between, filled with colorful volumes and various memorabilia. A large television hung above the nearby fireplace with portraits resting above the mantelpiece.

Orca stole over to those photos, seeing various pictures of a mother and daughter, both of whom she did not recognize. They showed the pair either on a beach or in a city, both bold and bright and smiling, the mother always wearing something bright and colorful, her long dark hair always flowing free in the wind. In stark contrast, the girl, while always smiling herself, looked pale, her head always covered in a tie-dye head wrap. Orca leaned in closer, failing to find any semblance of Violet in the face of the photographed girl.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Orca asked into the phone.

“Mom? Is that you?”

Orca nearly dropped the phone in surprise. She had been so intent on the location itself that she forgot someone might actually be in there. Worse yet, while the speaker was distinctly feminine, she didn’t recognize the voice at all.

“Uhh…”

“What’s going on?” Orca heard Aura ask. “What’s happening?”

“Somebody’s in here with me!” Orca whispered urgently back into the receiver.

“Well, duh,” Ambrose replied. “That’s the whole point!”

“But I don’t know who it is!” Orca exclaimed, trying and failing to keep her voice lowered. She was starting to panic–all of this was getting to be far too much. She was trespassing into a home she didn’t know, in a world she didn’t know, being addressed by someone she didn’t know.

“There’s only two people that live there,” Aura explained. “So if it’s not the mother, then it’s Vanessa.”

“Who the hell is Vanessa?!” Orca demanded, on the verge of freaking out.

“Violet,” Aura replied calmly. “Violet’s real name is Vanessa Everett.”

Orca paused for a moment as she processed what he said. “Why do they change their names here?”

“That’s not exactly…” Aura’s voice drifted away a moment before resuming. “That’s not important. Check to see if that’s her.”

“Uh, Vanessa?” Orca said aloud, timid as a stray cat. “Is that you?”

“Who is it?” replied the same voice.

“She didn’t say yes or no. She just asked me who I am. What do I do?”

“Tell her you have candy in your van parked out front,” Ambrose replied.

“What the hell does that even mean?” Orca roared back.

“Orca?”

Orca froze. As unreal as all of this had become, hearing her name spoken by a complete stranger was somehow even more unnerving. It was like a random passerby on the street suddenly presenting as an intimate friend.

“Violet?”

Orca followed the sound of her voice, rounding the corner down a hallway and arriving at a bedroom door cracked ajar. Steeling herself, she pushed it open and stepped through. Inside was a spacious room, lit by windows with curtains thrown wide. An enormous bed swallowed the frame of the smallest person Orca had ever seen. She had arms like twigs as white as the sheet they rested on. Another wrap covered her head like the ones in the photos. Dark, sunken eyes tracked the orc as she entered. Attached to one arm was tubing leading up to an I.V. bag hanging beside the bed.

The girl did not look like Violet. Missing was the vibrant purple streak in her hair and the soft, delicate features of her youthful face. Missing also was Violet’s dark eyebrows and perfectly rounded cheeks. All of these differences continued to confuse Orca, as more than anything else, this girl simply did not resemble her friend. She more closely resembled the skeletal musicians of Orca’s mountain dungeon. Orca wondered for a moment what madness had possessed her to even want to do this at all.

“Orca!” cheered this stranger, Vanessa, from her bed. Her voice was pitifully weak. She meekly raised her arms–a far cry from the times Violet physically leapt upon her in joy. But the gesture, combined with that look, buried deep within her eyes…

Could it be true that Violet was actually in there, somewhere?

“Is that you, Violet?” Orca asked, crossing the room to her bedside.

“Yep!”

“Is that her? Did you find her?” demanded the voices through her phone. Orca fumbled with the phone’s buttons, eventually finding the speakerphone and letting everyone talk.

“Hey, Violet. How are you?” Ambrose asked.

“Oh, hey. Everybody’s here!” Violet exclaimed in a weak voice. “Hurrah!”

“We’re here, Violet,” Aura assured her.

“And we have a plan to save you,” Orca explained. “To take you out of here and back home with us.”

“Okay!”

“We would just need you to–what do you mean ‘okay’?” Orca asked abruptly.

“I’m ready to go!” Violet cried.

“Uh… alright,” Orca replied, surprised at her response. “Let me just pick you up and take you out of here.”

“I’m gonna go on a rocket ship!” Violet exclaimed suddenly.

“You… you what?” Orca asked.

“Across the sky with all my friends!” Violet continued, blowing raspberries as she flew her hand over the bed.

Orca just looked at her dumbfounded. There was a pause before Ambrose spoke through the phone.

“She’s high as shit, isn’t she?”

“We’re gonna have a picnic with lava and icebergs on the Moon!”

“Yeah, she is!” Ambrose cackled wildly over the phone.

“Uh…” Orca hesitated, watching as Violet’s hand-slash-spaceship landed on the bedsheet, sprouted legs, and started walking around. “What is this? What do I do?”

“She’s not in her right mind right now, Orca,” Aura explained. “It’s probably a side effect of whatever meds she’s on.”

“Alright. So where is the nearest apothecary? I’ll just get her a mental acuity potion and she’ll be fine.”

“Doesn’t exactly work that way here,” Ambrose replied.

“Healing potions?” asked Orca.

“Nope, try again.”

“Well, then… Then what do I do?”

“I don’t think there is we can do but wait it out, I’m afraid,” Aura said.

Orca uttered a few more incoherent syllables before throwing her arms in the air, surrendering. She resigned herself to sitting on the edge of the bed, looking around at the richly stained dresser, large vanity with chair, and bookshelves recessed into the wall filled with a multitude of books and art projects. Orca walked over to these, curious once more to see what books were on offer. Much to her surprise, she didn’t see one single location guide or documentation on how to kill something. They seemed rather to be focused on heroes from their past. She pulled out a book based on one such historical figure named ‘Tom Sawyer’ and thumbed through it.

“How many story books do you guys have over here?” Orca asked, reading down the front page. She glanced back at not-Violet, whose hand had blasted off to visit orbit once again.

“One or two,” Ambrose replied. “Any other random ass questions you want to ask while you’re at it?”

“Hundreds. But I was just curious what she has on her bookshelves.”

“Oh, god. Try not to burn that place down, too, will ya?”

Orca made an effort to ignore her, engrossing herself in the story. In mere moments, she became so engrossed that she didn’t hear the front door to the house open.

“I’m home!”

Orca panicked again, dropping the book. Looking around, she bolted for the closet and hid inside. Thankfully it was a walk-in closet, the size of a small room in and of itself. She slapped the cell phone closed, ending the call.

Standing in the dark, listening through the door, she heard Violet’s mother enter the room along with the clatter of dishes.

“Guess what, mom! Orca’s here.”

“Yeah?” replied the patient voice of a woman sounding in her thirties or forties.

“Uh, huh! She’s in my closet.”

Orca froze for a second, panic clutching at her chest.

“That’s very nice, dear.” Orca heard the sound of cutlery and the pouring of liquids. “Are there squids and whales in your closet too, dear? A whole aquarium, maybe?”

“No, mom! Orca’s an orc, not a fish!”

“Oh, my mistake. Here, drink this.”

In the ensuing silence, Orca allowed herself to relax a little.

“And then we went on a date, and there was lava, and ice, and sandwiches, and I had the best time!” Violet continued.

“That’s nice, dear. I’m glad you had a good time.”

Orca was torn. On one hand, she was proud and humbled that Violet considered the evening they shared together to be the ‘best’ time. On the other hand, she could just as likely be back in Outer Space and referring to some entirely made up place. Who could know what was going on in that medicated mind of hers?

And what did she mean by ‘date,’ anyway?

“Can you get my scarf, mom?” Violet asked. “The colorful one I like to cuddle?”

“Of course, dear. Let me get it from the closet.”

Orca’s panic sky-rocketed again. In the fleeting light afforded by the slits of the closet doors, she looked around the small room and saw, amongst the racks of hanging tops and dresser drawers, a large, cylindrical capsule in the corner. It was about the size of a photo booth and had a black pull curtain on one side. Without any further investigation, Orca dove into it and closed the curtain behind her just as the closet door opened. Contorting herself into the tiny booth, Orca froze, daring to not even breathe as the light was switched on. She heard something being taken down off the rack with a clatter of hangers. A moment later, the light switched off again as the closet door started to close.

Then Orca’s phone rang.

Orca bit her lip–hard–to keep from letting free expletives as she jammed the volume down button on the side of the flip phone.

A silence hung heavy and oppressive in the air, each second stretching infinitely long. At long last, the closet door shut once again and Orca allowed herself to breathe.

“I think your friends miss you,” said Violet’s mother as she crossed the room again.

“I don’t have friends anymore,” Violet explained, her small voice turning even more sad. “Orca yelled at me. Called me names. She said she never wants to see me anymore.”

Orca closed her eyes, her head thudding back against the wall as her heart fell through the floor.

“I’m sure that’s not true, sweetie. In fact, I just heard someone trying to call you in your game. I bet they miss you a lot. Once you’re feeling better, you’ll see them all again.”

“Thanks, mom.”

There was a pause again. Then a moment later, “I’m going to get back to work. I’ll be right downstairs if you need anything.”

“Okay. Love you, mom!”

“Love you more.”

Orca heard the bedroom door open once more as Violet and Orca were left alone once more. She stayed exactly where she was for a long moment, contorted painfully into a tiny booth and feeling like the lowest creature on Earth. Eventually she slithered out, pushing past the curtain. Orca peeked out the closet door to ensure that the coast was clear, then went back into the closet, this time with the light on. She wanted to see what this thing was she had just hid in.

It looked like some sort of miniature space capsule, complete with detachable panels and electronic displays on the outside. On the inside, through the sliding curtain, was a plastic seat facing a large display. From here it looked more like a quarter ride you might see at a local mall.

Placing herself awkwardly back on the tiny seat, she read the lettering on the panel in front of her: ‘R.E.A.L. Realistically Emulated Artificial Life.’ Beside it a pamphlet was tucked into a pocket, which Orcapulled out. On the cover was a shot of Centralia Castle accompanied by the same title. She opened it and began reading.

“Leave your world behind and escape into the next evolution beyond virtual reality. Create a new life for yourself in the magical kingdom of Centralia, where you can be anything you can imagine! Immerse yourself like never before into this living, breathing world. Beyond your reality, beyond the virtual, there is truly nothing like R.E.A.L.!”

Orca flipped the pamphlet away, letting it drop to the floor. She sat there for a long moment, crammed into this chintzy, amusement park ride for some cheesy game, trying to decide how she felt. Her entire life, her home along with everything and everyone she had ever known for seven whole years, were reduced to some cheap thrill on the level of a county fair carousel.

“Living, breathing world, indeed!” Orca scoffed. She pondered briefly what would happen if she used this contraption to join in like she was just another hero, but quickly decided against it. Besides it possibly shattering the laws of the Universe, the thought of entering her home through some kind of carnival cash-in made her sick. It was degrading in a way that words could not describe. She shoved herself out of the device, suddenly wanting nothing to do with it.

Remembering the call she received earlier, Orca picked up the phone, finding and pushing the redial button. It took as long as before, but eventually a connection was established.

“Are you okay?” Aura asked.

“Yeah, fine,” Orca replied, lowering her voice as she peeked out the closet door. “The mother came home. I had to go in the closet.”

“Well, of course you’re in the closet,” Ambrose teased. “You’re dating Violet, aren’t you?”

“Not like that, you idiot!”

Orca turned off the light and stepped out. Violet laid there nodding off in front of a breakfast tray laden with water, buttered bread, potatoes and roast. With no other thought on what to do, Orca took up the book she had dropped earlier and plopped onto the carpet. She stayed near the closet door this time, just in case.

In the quiet of the room, and with Aura and Ambrose talking amongst themselves in a lull in the background, Orca had a moment to just rest. Then, and only then, did she feel a drop on her arm and a dull throb from her lip. She touched it with her finger, between her tusks, looking with concern at the dab of red she saw.

“Huh? I’m leaking.”

“Too much information, Orca,” Ambrose replied through the phone.

“From my lip,” Orca explained, ignoring the opportunity to squabble with Ambrose. “I think from when I bit it earlier…”

“You’re bleeding? You’ve been in thousands of fights and you’ve never bled a single time before?”

“No, actually, I haven’t” Orca replied. “Is this a bad sign?”

There was a strange silence from the other end of the phone. Orca let herself into the adjacent bathroom and dabbed her lip until it dried. The crisis seemingly averted, Orca returned to her patch of floor with her newfound book. In the background, the phone perched loosely on her shoulder, Orca let the conversation between Aura and Ambrose carry on as she read.

“...blood and gore would increase the rating of the game, so naturally anything involving that type of unpleasantness was disallowed from the onset to attract a wider audience.”

“You’re encouraged to literally stab things to death here,” Ambrose replied. Their voices were distant, as if standing away from the office phone as they spoke amongst themselves.

“But without physical injuries or human opponents, it’s more acceptable,” Aura replied. “what’s less acceptable is the amount of information collected about the occupants of the client devices. The Citadel has an army of lawyers, all of which raise questions about the use of the devices in certain instances, such as its effect on pregnant mothers, persons with certain medical conditions, or under the intended age limit of eighteen.”

“Eighteen, huh? Explain Jackurn, then.”

“I said intended, not regulated. Answering yes to a simple question of ‘are you over eighteen’ hardly counts as enforcement. It’s just simple lawsuit prevention.”

“So they care if you’re knocked up but not if you’re thirteen?” Ambrose replied.

“The Citadel will do anything to prevent a lawsuit, which means gathering all possible information on the physical condition of their users to then disallow access to any persons who might pose a legal risk. In Jackurn’s case, he was no risk because he waived away his right to sue the moment he clicked ‘yes.’ Not that I believe he would.”

“So what does this Citadel know about me, then?”

“Much more than you would be comfortable with, I am certain.”

“What the hell does that mean..?”

Orca tuned out the rest, lost in the drama of a boy on paper fooling others into whitewashing a fence on his behalf.

***** XXXIII *****

The girl known as Vanessa started awake, rousing from her short rest. Orca looked up from her prose, seeing the girl push herself more upright and look around with lucid eyes. Her dinner remained largely untouched.

She looked pointedly down at Orca with wide eyes, both of which she rubbed to see if it made the orc disappear. It did not.

“Orca?”

“I’m here,” Orca replied, setting the book aside. She stood and approached the bed. “I have Aura and Ambrose with me as well.” She switched the speakerphone back on so the others could be included in the conversation.

“Am I dreaming?”

“You might have been earlier. But no, you’re not dreaming. I’m really here.”

“But how?”

“Uh, well…” Orca stammered, sitting gently on the edge of the bed. “I don’t fully understand it myself. All that matters is that this is real. Aura made it happen. And Ambrose… exists.”

“Up yours, Gumby!”

“Ambrose?” Violet said to the speakerphone. “Aura? What’s going on?”

“Well, you see, per the readings recorded on your client device, it came to my attention that we needed to perform certain expedient actions in order to avert…”

Orca snapped the phone shut, ending the call.

“I came to apologize,” Orca explained, her voice somber. “The rest can wait.”

“Apologize?” The Violet-who-was-not-Violet blinked up at her. “For what?”

“How much do you remember?”

“All of it. And I’m the one who’s sorry. I should never have suggested we go to that library in the first place. I should have thought about your player guide and how it might affect your feelings...”

She was internalizing something that was one hundred percent not her fault. This was definitely the Violet that Orca knew.

“Violet, I pushed you and everyone else away while simultaneously committing the first ever arson in the history of my world. None of that is on you. I overreacted a little bit. …a lot. It was actually Ambrose who convinced me of my mistake. I lashed out and said some stupid things that made you want to leave all of us.”

“Ambrose? You two didn’t fight, did you?” Violet asked.

“Uhh…” Orca cleared her throat, looking everywhere but at Violet.

“The important thing is, we all came together to save you,” Orca replied, changing the subject.

“Save me? From what?”

“I’ll get to that. But first I want you to know how much I hated myself for making you leave like that, and when Ambrose told me that you were gone for good, I didn’t know how to react. I just, I couldn’t…”

“It’s okay,” Violet said, placing a comforting but tiny hand on Orca’s arm. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I did plenty wrong. Do you forgive me, though?”

“Nothing to forgive!” Violet piped up, her smile as bright as at any time before. “When I look at you, I don’t see a single thing wrong. I’m just happy to see you again!”

Orca patted her hand, grinning all the while. Even now she couldn’t get over just how thin and weightless Violet was here. Orca, in her home, had carried Violet around without a problem. But here, at her size, Orca worried she might break something if she even tried.

“Now, what are you saving me from?” Violet asked after a moment.

“Violet…” Orca replied, her voice stern. “Why did you never tell any of us that you were sick?”

“I didn’t want anyone to worry about me,” said Violet, which was the most Violet-like answer she could have given.

“Well, we’re worried now.”

“It’s not so bad,” Violet explained. “Whenever my symptoms get particularly not-so-good, I just come visit your world and then I’m fine!”

“Aura says you’re not getting better, though. And from the look of the pictures I’ve seen in your living room, I’m inclined to agree.”

“It’ll be alright, though! I’ll feel better tomorrow, I bet.”

Orca flipped the phone back open, hitting speed dial and waiting for it to connect before putting them on speakerphone.

“Did you hang up on us?” Aura asked.

“We needed a moment.”

“Did you kiss and make up?” Ambrose teased.

Orca ignored her. “Aura, say what you were saying again.”

“Well, you see, based on the months of data sets uploaded from your client devices, following the calculated trajectory of…”

“Without the jargon, please.”

“The disease process is accelerating exponentially,” Aura replied. “Especially now that you’re out of the hospital.”

“How do you know I was in the hospital?” Violet asked.

“Geolocation data is collected every time you join the game.”

“But mom said I came home because of how much better I was getting!”

Orca clenched her jaw, a bitter look on her face. The static of an awkward silence rang loudly across the phone line.

“Oh, I hate that I made all of you worry about me over nothing,” Violet said eventually, shattering the quiet. “It is very sweet, though. Out of curiosity, what were you going to do?”

“Take you back with me,” Orca explained. “Where you would be able to live on with all of us and not be sick anymore.”

“Oh, that sounds nice!”

“But you’d never be able to come back here, though. That’s the price. You would be stuck in that place for the rest of your life.”

“Oh. That’s not so nice…”

Violet sat there, considering her cold potatoes and meat. She poked at it with her knife and fork–it was the only thing making a sound between them.

“But what if I get better, though?” Violet asked.

Orca favored her with a thin smile. “Then we’ll visit the snow in the mountains next time you visit.”

“Oh, I would like that! Can we make snow angels?”

“Of course.”

“And snowmen?”

“Oh, that sounds like fun! I can’t wait to blue that with you later.”

“Blue?” Orca asked. “You mean, do?”

“Yeah, I said that,” Violet replied. “And we can cake down the mountain. Maybe drink kazoos after that…”

“Violet?” Orca shot to her feet, watching in horror as Violet started to slip

“Orca?” Violet asked, fear filling her eyes as one side of her face began to droop.

Then she began convulsing.

Orca scooped up Violet’s small, twitching body, pulling it out of bed. She weighed practically nothing. Grabbing at the I.V. bag, Orca pulled open the closet door and ran inside.

“Aura! Help!”

“What’s going on?”

“She’s shaking. She’s not responding to me anymore. We need to get her in this thing, now!”

“Is that what she wanted?” Aura asked as Orca placed Violet into the machine.

“Yes!” Orca replied quickly. “Now how do I do this?”

“I don’t recall hearing anything…”

“The phone was off at the time!” Orca roared. “Now how the hell do I work this?”

“There’s a power button on the outside, left of the door,” Aura explained. “Switch it on, wait for it to establish a connection, then follow the on-screen prompts.”

Holding Violet in place with one hand, Orca searched for and found what Aura was describing. A delightful jingle played as the displays came on. Meanwhile, Violet’s convulsing had stopped, leaving her motionless and limply leaning against her hand.

“Violet? Violet?!”

There was no response. Leaning in closer, Orca couldn’t hear breathing or see the rise and fall of her chest anymore.

“Make this thing work NOW!” Orca screamed.

“You have to select your region,” Aura explained, his voice infuriatingly calm. “Then you have to pick your profile, and after that...”

“Aura, I swear to god I will kill you and whoever designed this damned thing!”

Orca shoved the prompts as they came up, a wary eye on Violet’s lifeless body slumped in the seat.

“Alright. Alright, it says it’s scanning,” Orca said. “Now what?”

“Now exit the device and wait,” Aura answered.

“We don’t have time to wait! Whatever it’s doing, it needs to hurry the hell up before…”

A blinding light filled the capsule. Orca averted her eyes as the girl inside, and the I.V. she still held, disappeared from existence. In an instant, the light and the occupant had both gone.

Orca stood looking at the now dark, empty capsule, her breathing heavy. Nothing made a sound but for the static over the phone.

“Did it work?” Orca asked.

“Did the upload parse correctly?”

“Aura, if you don’t speak proper English, I swear to god when I get back I’m going to shove your…”

“Was there a bright flash of light?” Aura interjected, cutting her short.

“Yes. And now she’s gone. Is that good? Did we do it?”

There was a painfully long pause on the other end of the line.

“Probably.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN PROBABLY?” Orca roared.

“I mean, there’s a delay between the activation and reception on our end,” Aura explained. “I’ll know in the next few minutes. There’s nothing more to be done on your end. You can head back here.”

Taking one last look at the shoddy plastic and dark displays of the booth, Orca stepped away, opening the closet door.

Only to stand face-to-face with Violet’s mother.

“Uhh… hi?” Orca hesitated before the poor lady screamed, running back out of the room at the sight of her.

“I overstayed my welcome,” Orca said into the phone. “Where’s the exit?”

“Back where you came in. I opened the portal again.”

Orca hurried through the door, crossing down the hall and heading back toward the patio door. The poor woman, scared out of her mind, was frantically fiddling with the contents of a cupboard at the other end of the room. Orca hurried past, skirting the mantle and nearly to the sliding door when the deafening blast of a gunshot echoed through the air.

***** XXXIV *****

“I opened the portal again,” Aura explained into the phone, thumbing the buttons on his calculator-like device. Ambrose rounded the desk and pulled open the physical door, revealing the same shimmering star-filled surface.

There was a brief pause before the distinct sound of a gunshot rang over the phone.

“Orca?” Aura asked. Ambrose scrambled back to the desk, hovering over the receiver as a second shot rang out, followed by the loud crash of glass breaking. After that, they heard nothing.

“Orca?” Ambrose asked, fearfully. “Orca, what’s going on over there? Orca!?”

A heavy crash took their attention away from the phone. Orca had tumbled through the portal and fallen face down onto the office carpet. Shutting it down, Aura and Ambrose ran to her, seeing fresh blood run down, staining her tank top. She groaned painfully as Ambrose pulled the tank up, revealing her bare back and an open bullet wound on her lower right side.

“Do we have, I don’t know, anything?” Ambrose pleaded, looking up at Aura. “Orc doctors?”

Aura just shook his head, dumbstruck. He looked completely at a loss.

“Damn it, get some paper towels from the bathroom!” Ambrose ordered. She pulled off her duster, pressing it down firmly onto the wound. Orca groaned in pain as Aura scurried off. Ambrose knelt beside the large orc, leaning onto to her with all the weight to keep pressure on the wound.

Orca groaned painfully as she reached her arm back, touching Ambrose’s leg for reassurance.

“Yeah, I’m here, you big dummy,” Ambrose said, pressing down onto the orc as hard as she could. “Quit moving!”

“These don’t look like they hurt this bad… on T.V….”

“Quit talking, you big turd,” Ambrose adjusted her arms, reapplying pressure as the red soaked through onto her hands.

“It’s a little funny,” Orca said, coughing weakly. “You’re the one… trying to save me.”

“Yeah, yeah... Don’t make me regret it later. Now shut up, you big goober.”

“You were right… I was being stupid.”

“I know. I’m always right,” Ambrose replied, adjusting her arms again. “And you were stupid. The sooner you learn that, the sooner I can stop kicking your ass.”

“But you… cheated.”

“Bullshit, I did! Learned everything I know from watching World Wrestling Entertainment. You should be lucky I didn’t piledrive your ass from the top rope. Now will you shut the hell up already? If you die now, Violet’s gonna be pissed.”

Aura returned carrying a wad of brown paper towels. He passed them to Ambrose, who lifted her red-stained duster only to see that the wound had covered over with fresh skin. It looked tender, and was likely to leave a scar, but the bleeding had stopped. Ambrose looked up at Aura, who just shrugged down at her, shaking his head.

“Jesus, you really don’t know how anything works here, do you?” Ambrose spat out, bitterly.

“The rules of this place must be taking effect again, now that she’s back,” Aura reasoned.

“Yeah, sure…” Ambrose said, leaning back. Shoving herself to her feet, she looked with disgust down at her messy hands. “You people really don’t know a damn thing about what you’re dealing with here, do you?”

“My employers know how to market it,” Aura replied, his voice curt.

“That much I can tell. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to wash orc off my hands.”

She left the office, leaving Orca tugging her shirt back down as she struggled to sit upright, propping herself up against the wall.

“I don’t see an exit wound,” Aura assessed. “The bullet must still be inside.”

Orca just waved at him in acknowledgement, catching her breath. From all around them boomed the now familiar voice of the announcer.

“WORLD RESET TO OCCUR IN TWENTY MINUTES.”

“Good to know we saved Violet just in time for all of us to die together,” Orca remarked, her voice bitter.

“Actually, about that…” Aura rounded his desk, sitting at his computer to type frantically at the keyboard. The sentence hung unfinished between them.

“Are you going to finish that thought?” Orca asked, her voice more bitter than intended.

“The conversation between Ambrose and I gave me an idea...”

Silence stretched between them again, interrupted only by the clacking of keys on his keyboard.

“Yes..?”

Aura nodded at his screen, as if confirming something. Then he took his keypad device out and started punching in new numbers.

“The transfer was successful,” Aura said finally. “Violet should be coming through the main gates after she completes the new player creation process.”

Orca breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that everything they had done was not in vain.

Even if they were all about to die anyway.

“In the meantime,” Aura continued, opening the door to reveal another shimmering portal. “I’m going to see Management.”

“Wait,” Orca said, painfully pushing herself up on unsteady feet. “You’re going to Management? You can do that? In all of my years here, I’ve never once seen or heard who we all work for. I didn’t even think it was possible.”

There was a pause as Orca looked from Aura to the portal ahead of him, then back at him.

“How long will this new person process take for Violet?”

“Maybe fifteen minutes. Why?”

Orca hesitated again, watching the shimmering night sky dance endlessly around the surface of the portal.

“I want to go with you.”

“In your condition?” Aura asked. “Are you in any state to travel?”

“No. But after being here for over seven years, I want to see who’s behind all of this. We’ve all wondered, but no one’s ever known. I want to know. Please.”

Aura just shrugged, gesturing to the portal. Still sore and unsteady on her feet, Orca pushed herself forward and through the shimmering doorway once more.

***** XXXV *****

Of all the intended and unintended sights in her fantastic land of medieval make-believe, nothing in her home could have prepared Orca for where they had just traveled.

They arrived at the foot of monolithic frames–three giant, rectangular, cobalt doorways with sharp edges that each contained larger versions of the same shimmering, star-studded surface. Leading before them was a path of wide square slabs flowing directly to the base of a tower that loomed impossibly tall. It dwarfed them and everything around, soaring to a dizzying height. Its top was obscured behind thick clouds rippling perpetually with angry flashes of lightning. The clouds themselves hung in all directions, covering the land with unnatural pale hues of blue and purple, obscuring any horizon beyond like a sickly tumor.

Orca was so aghast with the unnatural sight above that she did not immediately register the impossible with her at ground level. Only by bumping into someone did she take note of the swell of people marching constantly in and out of the looming doorways. And even for her, and all the monsters she lived around, to refer to this crowd entirely as ‘people’ was a stretch. There were monsters like her and her coworkers, but so many of such different varieties, many of which more monstrous than anything she had known. There were animalistic hybrids–immense creatures, dwarfing even her considerable size. Some were giants with bullish horns, protruding snouts and heavy nose rings, slamming the ground with wide hooves. Others were small and misshapen: rat-like creatures, half the height of the smallest hero, sniffing the air and scurrying about on all fours. Yet others of every size filled the crowd: anthropomorphs of every shape, type, color, and species: all of them more beast than human.

And these were only the types of creatures Orca could recognize. Others were nothing but the air itself, molded into human form by loose fitting wrappings. Yet others were men made entirely of iron and steel, marching with mechanical whirring and the bitter smells of machine oil. Beyond all of these were creatures eluding description: beings with skin that was green, purple, or disturbingly translucent. There were creatures with eyes on stalks, creatures with eyes surrounding their bulbous heads, creatures with no eyes at all but wore bland, featureless voids where their faces should have been. Some creatures walked on two legs, others on four or more, yet others on none at all: floating, slithering, or gliding amongst the crowd as if they belonged without question.

This place, and the people populating it, combined to make the most alien environment Orca could have ever witnessed, far-exceeding the limits of her limited imagination.

Fearing being lost to this worrying crowd, Orca kept very close to Aura. There was more around her than her eyes could ever take in–she could get lost in the crowd by simply stopping to watch. Orca tried her best not to stare at any one thing whilst trying her hardest to look at everything. They followed the movement of the crowd, passing through the yawning entryways of the tower into a lobby about the size, and height, of an indoor football stadium. A dozen reception desks stood in a row, each holding a human, or human-adjacent, attendant seeing to lines that ran long before them. Most creatures in the crowd bypassed these desks entirely, marching in unison to a corridor full of elevators beyond.

It was to these that Aura led them. Orca’s eyes were wide as she drank in everything from the impossible size of the room to the impossible creatures beside her. One of the gargantuan bull creatures huffed down at her, standing head and shoulders above her, his horns spreading nearly as wide as her arm-length. The creatures’ bare, fur-covered bicep was by itself the circumference of her waist. She looked quickly down and away from him, intimidated by his sheer size.

Before now, Orca thought she stood large amongst the heroes of her world. But seeing this place made her feel now as helplessly tiny as the smallest of creatures back home. It was not a perspective she was used to experiencing.

The elevator doors slid open with simple electric ding–a familiar sound, strangely out-of-place in this unfamiliar setting. The throng surged into an elevator the size of a modest home. Orca looked with newfound shock at the buttons filling up the entire side of the room, the floors numbered from Lobby to six thousand.

The creatures wordlessly selected their floors, including the hulking bull which, even in this place, had to hunker down to not scrape his horns on the roof. Aura himself selected the highest floor then stood patiently in the corner, Orca huddling down beside him. Her sense of unease had only grown since arriving, and now that she was locked into a relatively small room with dozens of these creatures, many of which bigger even than her, and she was trembling.

A few spared her bored-looking glances, whether because of the type of creature she was or her still blood-stained pajamas, she couldn’t be sure. The lumbering bull held his gaze the longest, causing Orca to involuntarily whimper. She was profoundly thankful that none of them spoke or even attempted interaction as they ascended the impossible heights of the building.

Or, rather, they did not ascend. Orca noticed that the instant the door closed on one floor, it opened on another. There was no delay between the two and, as Orca began to pay attention, she felt absolutely no sense of movement either. The door closed on one floor, then suddenly re-opened on another. There was no feeling of ascension whatsoever.

The crowd dispersed gradually amongst the different floors, going about their unknown business until there remained only Aura and herself. Only then, in their brief moment of isolation, did she dare to speak.

“How are you so calm?”

Aura just shrugged. “You get used to it.”

The door opened at length upon their floor as they filled out into a hallway of reasonable stature. The two followed a long carpet straight up to yet another desk where a mercifully normal-looking human sat. Aura approached, introducing himself and asking for a meeting with a Mister Thornton Vance. The receptionist, her blonde hair done up large like a beehive, thumbed a button on her desk phone, spoke into the receiver, then waited.

Orca took the opportunity to look around the room as they waited. The walls were paneled with cherry-colored lumber. Dark iron-wrought chandeliers hung from a wood-paneled ceiling. Impossibly reflective marble floors peeked around the wide red runner. The walls were punctuated with the occasional dark-stained wooden door or enormous painted portrait. Looking more closely, Orca realized that each and every portrait all showed the same person: a balding, largely-built man looking in his late fifties with a permanent scowl and haunting eyes. Lining the hallway were several benches, all but one remaining unoccupied.

Orca’s gaze continued to wander, falling upon the cloaked figure of a man seated nearby with his dog. Only it was not a dog, she realized. It was larger, and covered in small scales the color of deep crimson. It panted as its large tongue lolled, smiling at her in the way that only a dog can. Large, floppy ears complemented paws impossibly large even for its size. Orca guessed the creature to be nearly as long as Aura was tall. The man beside it sat motionless, his black hair long and his eyes distant. A dark leather duster concealed most of his body, save for dark blue jeans, tall boots, and the butt of a handgun sticking from his hip. She looked at the firearm with unease before forcing her eyes away.

“Hi!” cried a young, boy-ish voice. Confused, Orca looked around the hallway, seeing no one else with them, and certainly no one fitting the sound of the voice. She looked ahead of her once more, seeing the dog staring directly back at her with friendly eyes.

“Hi!”

Orca just waved slowly back at the dog, bewildered. Of course the dog talks, Orca thought. All animals I meet nowadays can talk…

Eventually the receptionist ushered them both through the doors behind her. Beyond was a meeting room, large by any normal set of proportions. A long, polished table carved from a single slab of wood dominated the room, lined by tall-standing office chairs. The two took their seats and waited.

With finally a moment to rest, Orca began to feel a familiar nag of pain in her side, faint but growing. She held her hand to it, pressing against her recent wound and as she pushed it from her mind.

The man himself emerged at length, taking Orca’s mind off her injury. He looked like a cross between Throgg and Orca’s two-headed boss: a man of impossible girth wrapped round by a fitted, striped business suit. He matched the portraits out front: it was the same balding, bejowled man, wearing the same permanent scowl as was captured in his paintings. He hadn’t even attempted to smile in those, capturing with uncanny likeness the real man. Unlike those paintings, however, he wore a wide tie with multiple smiling faces of Bugs Bunny running down it.

The man pulled out a chair at the head of the table but did not sit. Aura wasted no time introducing himself.

“Mr. Vance? Harold Smith, designer on the R.E.A.L. project. How are you today?”

Mr. Vance neither answered nor shook Aura’s out-stretched hand. He just looked through beady eyes at Aura as if impatiently waiting for this to end. He never even acknowledged Orca, despite how alien she must have looked in any other place.

“The decision to reset the server world was recently made,” Aura continued. “I believe that this is a mistake and will lead to problematic complications in the future.”

“That damned thing already has problematic complications,” Mr. Vance barked, his gravelly voice as unpleasant to the ears as his expression was to the eyes.

“There were some unforeseen developments, to be sure. However, these developments created a unique opportunity for new, independent creatures to populate the world and live as unique species within their own environment, capable of their own individual thoughts and actions.”

“Nobody cares,” Mr. Vance growled.

“Well, with all due respect, to reset the world would be to destroy these creatures. Hundreds of living creatures gone in an instant.”

“And replaced with better ones that do their damned jobs! It’s a theme park ride, Harold. The attractions aren’t supposed to be touchy-feely, they just need to stand there, get killed, and make me money.”

“Those ‘theme park rides’ have names and lives!” Orca interjected, shoving herself to her feet. The motion caused a stabbing pain to shoot up from her side, which she gripped tighter. “Those are real people you’re condemning to death!”

Mr. Vance finally acknowledged her with a cold, hard gaze.

“Real people that we created. Real people that we can create infinitely more of with a push of a button. Each and every one of them is our property and can be placed and replaced as we damn well see fit. Nobody cares about their feelings. And if that’s all, we’re done here.”

Orca stewed in anger, fists clenched and teeth gnashing. Aura spoke up again just before she could let loose.

“There’s another complication. Vanessa Everett, one of your customers in R.E.A.L., passed away this morning. But she’s still logged into the system.”

“So?”

Orca could not believe how cold and dispassionate this wretch of a man was. Just like Throgg, Orca wished she could either knock sense into him or strangle out what little life was in that cold, empty shell of a man.

“So if you reset the world, all of the players will be forced to log out, causing her death.”

“And?”

“And…” Aura persisted. “If this reset is directly responsible for her demise, would that not make your company legally culpable for her death? I’d hate to have a lawsuit brought onto you because of this…”

The large frame of Mr. Vance stood there a long moment, remaining so still as to be confused with one of his portraits out front. Then he jammed the phone on the long table, shouting at the receptionist.

“Get my legal team in here, NOW!”

A swarm of suits appeared, all of them talking in a flurry as Aura and Orca were temporarily forgotten. Orca fell back into her seat, holding her side more tightly as the tearing pain kept growing. At this rate, she feared how much longer she could keep herself upright.

Orca looked over at her accomplice, seeing what she surmised to be satisfaction creeping onto Aura’s stoic expression. He met her gaze with a reassuring nod before looking back at the legal whirlwind before them. She hadn’t had the opportunity to know him for very long, but for him to be crafty enough to leverage the company’s fear of lost revenue into forcing them to do the right thing: she sat there impressed.

The lawyers squawked at each other in a flurry of briefs and legal jargon, producing binders of paperwork and giant volumes of law. Their consensus, after long debate, was that there was no consensus. There were no examples like this from history in which to draw any conclusion. With no outcome certain, Mr. Vance was left with risk either way.

“Fine!” Mr. Vance relented at length, pushing his army of lawyers aside. “Cancel the reset. It’s just a stupid game, it isn’t worth my damn time!”

He pointed a sausage-like finger directly at Aura. “You’re in charge now–you fix this! Take care of this mess and keep my money flowing in. Otherwise, I don’t give a damn what you do.”

He turned and made his exit, his suited worker ants dispersing through the side doors. In an instant, the two were left alone again in the meeting room.

“I think I just got promoted…” Aura said aloud, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips.

***** XXXVI *****

“I leave for two seconds and you guys disappear. What the hell?”

Ambrose was standing with hands on her hips upon their return. Her red duster forlorn in a mess on the floor, she looked starkly different with her arms and neckline bare.

Orca released the grip on her side, seeing fresh blood dot her hand. They had re-entered her world with no time to spare, she observed. She wiped her hand on her tank top, recalling not for the first time how under-dressed she had been for this entire adventure. She made a note to cleanse these pajamas in a nice, roaring fire later on.

“Don’t worry, you only missed us saving the entire world,” Orca explained.

“Nice humble brag, Gamora…”

“We’ll explain everything soon enough,” Aura said, leading them out of his office to lock the door behind them. “The reset was canceled.”

“Has Violet arrived yet?” asked Orca.

“Most likely waiting for us at Centralia castle,” Aura answered, leading the way through the halls. “Let’s go find out.”

They explained to Ambrose the developments along the way, including how the reset had been halted as well as Aura’s new promotion.

“Wait, does this make you the new Management?” Orca asked as they crossed through the hallways.

“Hm, more like middle management,” he answered, stopping for a moment to think.

“Well, I think middle management owes me a new duster, in that case,” Ambrose said.

They passed a few demons and other monsters along the way, but this time they didn’t care about being seen or not. The threat of death had passed, but more than that, someone new was now in charge. Boldly marching the corridors with their new ‘middle management,’ she knew things would be changing. Orca suspected that their disguise ponchos would never be needed again.

The three passed through the large oak, filing out of the side alley and into the proper courtyard. The heroes had begun filing back into the world, creating a constant stream of people flowing out from the castle. Standing amongst but apart from them, Orca saw someone she recognized instantly. She ran to her, parting a crowd that was apprehensive but largely indifferent to her presence. This time it was Orca who scooped the girl up in a giant hug, spinning her around in joy, ignorant of the onlookers.

Orca sat Violet down, taking a good look at her. It was not exactly Violet as she remembered, with features mirroring that of Vanessa such as the wider nose and thinner eyebrows. But it was not Vanessa either, as her skin had all its color, her build was larger, and her eyes dazzled a bright green instead of dark.

Her long, jet black hair had returned, and along with it her single stripe of purple, leading down the left side of her face. Unlike before, her hair was pulled back into a single braid, mirroring the style Orca usually wore. Orca placed her hands on either side of Violet’s face, feeling the warmth and softness of her skin, tracing the lines of Violet’s eyebrows with her thumbs.

“Do you like it?” Violet asked, beaming up at her as she reached up to touch Orca’s hand. “I wanted to look more like myself, like I do back home.”

“I love it,” Orca replied, bending low to kiss her forehead before wrapping her tightly around again. They two stayed like that, lost in embrace, as the world around them disappeared. In that moment, there was only her presence, her touch–the press and feel and warmth of her body, alive and healthy and here with her again. Beyond her, nothing else existed.

Ambrose shooed away the onlookers, careful not to look at the lovebirds herself lest she lose her lunch. Aura waited patiently nearby as Kiwi returned to perch his shoulder. With no more imminent threat of destruction or the need to hide anymore, Orca and Violet took their time, revealing themselves and how they felt, not caring who saw.

At long last when they drew apart, Violet pulled back, clinging to Orca’s hands. She looked down at Orca’s pitiful outfit.

“When you came to visit me, in my own bedroom, I just couldn’t believe it was you,” Violet explained. “I mean, the Orca I know, going out in sweats and a tank top? I couldn’t believe it!”

Orca laughed, deep and heartily, throwing her head back as she did.

“That was the most unbelievable part of all of it, huh?”

“Oh, and what is this?” Violet asked, noticing the dark stain on Orca’s hand and the streaks down her side. “You’re hurt!”

“Yeah, well, you never told me your mother was a crack shot with a gun.”

“What?!” Violet gasped.

But Orca just laughed it off. “I’ll explain later. In fact, we probably owe everybody some explanations, don’t we, boss?”

“I do believe you’re right,” Aura replied, confusing both Violet and Ambrose. “Let’s head back to the Manor. We can explain it all there.”

***** XXXVII *****

“So, let me make sure I got all of this right,” Ambrose said. “After Orca escapes from Rambo-mom by jumping through the Stargate, you then go back into the gate again, into some Star Trek-sounding place, to then save the world by using lawyers and legal loopholes like you’re Phoenix Wright or something? And on top of all that, Aura gets promoted to Top Chef as well?”

Orca blinked at her for a moment. “Just how much television do you watch, anyway? I’m worried about you.”

“First of all, screw you. Second of all, Phoenix Wright is a game, not a television show. If you’re going to call me out on my references, get it right.”

Violet and Orca were once again the center of the crowd in Applewood Manor’s sitting room, occupying the same couch as before. But unlike that last time, this was more companionable and less like a hostile interrogation. Across from them lounged Ambrose, laying across the three-person couch, her boots on the floor and her duster still absent. Alyrra sat on one arm of the couch with Jackurn on the other. Aura stood with Kiwi off to the side among the bookshelves. Curious guild members and onlookers crowded around where they could, eager for this latest story. Behind all of them, a fire burned warm in the large stone mantle, crackling away in the background.

Violet sat in comfortable silence, feeling the warmth of the room and the comforts of good company. Her and Orca had not physically separated since their reunion. Even now they were holding hands as if keeping each other from floating off into the sky.

“Alright, so now what?” Ambrose asked. “What’s changing now that Aura is in charge?”

“Well, I’m not completely in charge, per se…”

“Come on, man!” Ambrose scolded. “Just answer the question.”

“Well, aside from the occasional arsonist orc, nothing was really even wrong before,” Aura explained, pulling a wry chuckle from Ambrose. “The only problems this place ever had were caused by Management trying to keep those two apart. So I think, as long as we don’t do that, things should be fine. I’ll send a message down the monster chain-of-command to give Orca her old job back, respawn the library here in town, and uh… Yeah. That should be it.”

“You hear that, Orca?” Violet said, looking up at her and squeezing her hand. “You get to go back to work again!”

“That I’m looking forward to,” Orca replied earnestly. “This place gets way too boring with nothing to do and no one to talk to. Besides, now I can beat Ambrose properly in a fair fight!”

“Bite my left hanging nut, you oversized green bean!” Ambrose replied. “You couldn’t take me in a fair fight.”

“Please! You and nineteen of your best fighters couldn’t touch me when I’m in my good armor with my best…”

“So why aren’t you two dating?” Ambrose asked abruptly, causing Orca to choke on her words and sputter out like a stalled aircraft propeller. They both fidgeted, looking in every direction but at each other. Orca’s train of thought had not only derailed but flung off into Space.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Ambrose continued. “I know which button to press to stop that runaway mouth of yours. Just like I know how to kick your ass in battle. You got nothing on me, Broccoli.”

“Broccoli?” Orca asked. “Seriously?”

“I’m running out of insults about big, green people. Sue me.”

“But, wait, but you two aren’t really, actually… like…”

Ambrose glanced sidelong at Alyrra while the room waited for her to finish her thought.

“I mean, they can’t seriously be… you know…”

“They can’t be what?” Ambrose snapped. “Huge dorks? Giant nerds? Lame clothes shopping enthusiasts?”

Ambrose brought her hands together in gesture, still unable to express the words.

“What are you trying to ask, Alyrra?” Violet asked politely, her hands still gripping Orca as she pulled the orc’s hand onto her lap.

“Yeah, Fox News, what are you trying to ask?” Ambrose repeated, spearing Alyrra with a stern gaze.

Alyrra’s cheeks turned as red as her hair. She turned aside, pushing through the crowd and escaping out of the room. The onlookers resumed their places after she left, the attention firmly back on the two stars of the show.

“So, I was wondering,” the conversation resumed as Violet’s small voice carried through the room. “Orca was able to visit me in my home. How was she able to? What changed that made her able to do that?”

“I think that, if I’m understanding what I’ve learned over the last few days, nothing changed at all,” Aura explained. “I suspect that they’ve likely always been able to come and go, but it’s only lately that anyone has ever tried it. We didn’t realize it then, but it seems we were making actual, real people this whole time.”

“So, wait,” Orca interjected. “You were there when I was made, all those years ago?”

“Mm, hmm,” Aura hummed in agreement. “In fact, I was the one who did the programming. I did say I am a designer, did I not?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Orca replied, her voice growing even more urgent. “You made me?”

“Aura’s your daddy?” exclaimed Ambrose, roaring with laughter. “Today, on Jerry Springer: we find out who Orca’s real father is!”

“Cute…” Aura said, his voice flatter than usual. “But to say that I created you is a stretch in the highest degree. I remember when I programmed you. It’s not hard to recall, as it was only five variables: orc, large, strong, queen, and fighter. Enter in a couple of details regarding your appearance and your role within the game, and the Core did all the rest. After that, you were free to form your own personality, quirks, behaviors, identity, likes and dislikes–all of it. So that’s all from you.”

“And this computer of yours just, what..? Prints out real people?” Ambrose asked, the laughter gone from her system. “Just push a button and out pops a big, green, full-grown, real life person?”

“Apparently.”

“Well, that’s scary as hell,” Ambrose replied, her voice sharp.

“Not as scary as the kinds of people we saw over there,” Orca said, shuddering as her voice lowered. “Those were some scary people…”

“What the hell does this company of yours even do again?” Ambrose asked.

“Everything,” Aura answered simply. The response chilled Orca in its truthful simplicity.

“...right,” Ambrose replied after a long moment. “Well, thanks for the nightmare fuel. I appreciate it.”

“Well, I’m just glad everything worked out okay,” Violet said, wrapping both her hands around Orca’s and squeezing.

Orca looked down at Violet with solemn, mournful eyes. “I know you say that, Violet, and I appreciate it, but still… What we did, taking you away from your life there and your mother and everything you knew…”

“Hey. Hey,” Violet reached up to touch Orca’s cheek as Orca craned into her palm. “You saved me. That’s all that matters. Thank you. And besides, there’s still things here that I know. Like you, and my family I have here. It’s okay. Really.”

Orca leaned down, resting her forehead against Violet’s as their eyes slipped shut. Together they shared a moment, each humming contentedly, touching in loving silence.

“Barf,” Ambrose said, shattering the moment. “Hey, why did your mother try to gun Orca down like Al Pacino, anyway? I mean, aside from the obvious…”

“It was just mom and I living in that big house together in the mountains,” Violet explained, looking away from Orca as she kept their hands locked. “She believed in being able to take care of ourselves, and defend ourselves if necessary. So that’s why she kept a handgun locked up in the cupboard, in case of emergencies. Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t think to warn you about that before…”

Orca just dismissed her apology with a wave. Violet would have apologized for the Moon being gray if given the opportunity. Thankfully, the bullet hole had healed itself soon after returning back home, allowing Orca to forget it ever happened.

“But nothing’s changed here, right?” Jackurn piped up.

“Everything should be back to normal, yes,” Aura said before looking pointedly at Orca and Violet. “Barring a few changes. Nothing you need worry about. Everything else will continue on like always.”

Jackurn gave a little cheer as the room settled into comfortable conversation for the evening.

The evening continued on into night and still the conversation continued. Questions jumped around between each of them for hours. It continued on long after the stars had come out and those who were merely curious had filed out. With the group dwindled down to just the closest few, Ambrose excused herself from the room, heading down the hallway as Aura caught her up.

“What, man?” Ambrose asked. “I gotta pee.”

“I wanted to fill you in on a couple things away from Orca and Violet,” Aura explained, speaking in a hushed tone as they continued walking. “First, I’m going to be ejecting Vanessa’s body from the client system tonight. It’ll give the mother something to bury.”

“That’s weird and morbid as hell, but okay. Why are you telling me this?”

“Because, you remember the phone I gave Orca to use in our world? Orca never brought it back. Now the mother has it and has been dialing my office phone. I blocked the number, of course, but there’s still the matter of the device itself.”

“I’m not following here,” Ambrose replied, standing with one hand on the restroom door.

“That phone is branded with the Citadel company logo. Between it and Orca’s surprise appearance, if she should ever start an investigation into the company itself…”

Aura’s voice faded, the sentence left unfinished.

Ambrose just shook her head. “So what? Nobody would believe what kinds of weird shit the Citadel has been doing. I barely do. Furthermore, if she did manage to actually shut them down, wouldn’t that be a good thing? I mean, they’re obviously evil, let’s face it.”

“Maybe. But they’re also the only thing keeping Violet alive.”

Ambrose gave a curt nod, grunting her understanding. Then she clapped Aura on the shoulder opposite Kiwi’s perch. “My advice? Take the W. We won, bad guys lost, everybody’s happy. Don’t question it too hard, and don’t waste your time worrying about shit that may not even happen. Do a victory lap. Get drunk. Go get laid–I don’t care. Turn that big brain off and just enjoy what we got today. Tomorrow’s shit can wait. Now let me get out of here before I pee my panties!”

Ambrose made her abrupt exit, leaving Aura alone in the hall. Instead of joining the others in the sitting room again, he gradually make his back toward his office. He had some things to take care of before everything truly went back to normal.

***** XXXVIII *****

It was the strangest thing that evening, after everyone else had left for the night. Violet was alone with nowhere to go. Her friends had left to return home, in their own world. It was a home that wasn’t hers to go back to anymore. Even Orca had eventually retired to her own home, so far away. Violet was left to walk slowly up to her dorm. She considered it anew, realizing that the all perfectly made beds here were never actually used for sleep in. Hers would be the first. Additionally, as she opened her wardrobe and saw her armor and weapons, she realized she owned nothing to sleep in. And why would she, when that had never even been a question before?

Stripping out of her outerwear, she plopped onto the stiff mattress and took a look around. She saw the same four walls as always, light cream in color and devoid of any pictures or hanging decoration. She never had a reason to really pay attention to those walls before, not like she did now as she lay there wide awake, with sleep a million miles away.

Home. This was her home now. She didn’t intend for it, nor did she ask for it, but this is just what her life had become. She couldn’t control what had happen, she could only live with the result. This room never before felt like a home before, so much as it was just a place to visit. She just hoped she could get her brain to adjust to it, eventually. What she had done was make her complete and total escape into this place, fulfilling for real a fantasy she had secretly hoped for so many times in the past.

Sighing out loud, she tried to silence the flurry of thoughts and emotions welling up from within her. Grief, excitement, worry, joy, anger, loss, fear–they all mingled and clashed, fighting with each other to come out on top inside her brain. She felt like she needed to cry but no tears would come.

Seeking a distraction from it all, Violet looked over at her writing desk. She spotted the wadded up parchment left on the floor from where she had tossed it away, a whole lifetime ago. She got out of bed and picked it up, reading what she had written. Taking up her quill, she violently scratching out some sections in heavy ink lines before adding to the others, continuing to write late into the night as sleep evaded her.

The morning rays left Applewood Manor a ghost town. Violet walked all around the wide building, both curious and a little uneasy to see every corner barren of life. Her stomach eventually led her to the kitchenette off of the dining room. It was barely more than a large cupboard since no actual cooking or food prep needed to happen here. In it there were only the usual provided snacks: jerky, water, and hard wafers. In addition to the uncomfortably firm beds, it was just one more sad reminder that people were never intended to live here.

She slumped onto the couch, nibbling on flavorless wafers and looking around at an empty room and cold fireplace. The silence made her uncomfortable, so she set on a path through the orchard, which then invariably brought her into town. Even the heart of the city, the central intersection adjacent to the castle itself, remained eerily deserted still. Not even the most prolific night owls stayed past sun up, it seemed.

Violet ducked into the alleyway during her wanderings but of course couldn’t enter the oak tree doorway. She stared at it longingly for a moment, chewing on a bite of bland jerky, before moving on. She toured more of the city, noting the empty vendor carts, parked on the side of the streets with brown tarps covering their goods. She also saw that the library had returned, its doors yawning open again as if nothing had ever happened.

Her restless wanderings eventually brought her back to the Manor whereupon she heard noise from the war room. She ducked in, eagerly greeting Aura and Kiwi at their respective posts.

“Morning, Miss Violet. How was your first stay in your new home?”

“It was okay,” Violet explained, smoothing over the truth. “A little weird.”

“I might imagine. Did you see that I replaced the library?”

“I did. You’ve been busy.”

“There’s more.” He reached into a drawer in his desk, pulling out a keyring and handing it over. Violet inspected it, seeing an unexceptional silver house key and a black, rounded key fob.

“That device will reveal and open the service entrances that the monsters are able to use. And that key is the master key to access all dungeons and areas within the world. I would strongly encourage you to not share or abuse these priviledges, as you might imagine.”

“Of course. Thanks, Aura!”

“Certainly. And as nice as Applewood is to visit, I believe you’ll find the accommodations over on Orca’s side to be more appealing to, uh, let’s say ‘long term visitors.’”

“But what if I’m seen over there?” Violet asked. “Won’t they be mad?”

“They’ll get used to it,” Aura explained casually. “Don’t let any of them give you a hard time. If you like, you can accompany me over there. I need to visit my other office this morning to do some work.”

Violet accepted the escort gratefully. She ran back to grab some things from her bedroom. Aura himself pocketed a small black lockbox before they set off. Together, two humans and a parrot approached the oak tree near the center of town. Violet held her new key up to it, revealing the pull ring just as she had seen Orca do a dozen times before. She pulled open the door, feeling so grateful to be able to have this level of control and trust from Aura. She would do her best to stay deserving these incredible gifts.

The few monsters they passed in the halls bore them a wide berth. Violet was hesitant, feeling so openly exposed in the monster’s world. But Aura had no such reservations as he walked without abandon directly up to, and inside, the cafeteria.

“Hello,” he said calmly, standing in the middle of the dining hall with dozens of monstrous eyes locked on him. “My name is Aura, and I’m going to be…”

“Hero! Kill him!” One of the ogres charged at him from his seat, his meal tray toppling loudly all over the floor.

Kiwi squawked loudly at him, flapping his weeks as he shrieked. “Back off, bub!”

Both human girl and ogre stopped and looked with shock at the suddenly aggressive, speaking parrot.

“As I was saying,” Aura began again. “My name is Aura. This is Kiwi. Yes, he’s one of your kind. And yes, I’m a hero. And together, we will be your new Management. Since your old Management never took the time to introduce themselves properly, I figured I would. Additionally, this girl with me is Violet. She will be staying…”

A voice pierced the crowd, cutting Aura’s explanation short. “What is this? Some lowly human hero marches in here saying he’s in charge?”

The voluminous girth of Throgg pushed through the crowd, still wearing his tattered cape and tarnished crown. He towered large over the both of them, looking down at Aura over his protruding mass.

“The paperwork was finalized last night,” Aura explained calmly. “You can check with your supervisors here, it’s all official.”

“It was bad enough when Orca snuck in stupid heroes and nearly got us all killed yesterday,” Throgg continued. “Now we all have to work for heroes, too? Well, I’m not having it! I think it’s time that a monster rule over us monsters. No hero leaders! We need someone like ourselves: a real king. Like me!” He pulled his crown forward and raised his chins as he turned to the crowd. “I declare that I am King Throgg, ruler of all monster-kind, and I order you to…”

His face met the floor with a loud crash, his wide belly wobbling around him like Jell-O. Orca stood over him, a booted foot stepping upon his back, her fist still hanging in the air. She was dressed back in her leather-bound battle cuirass and greaves, with plated gauntlets and leather skirt complimenting the ensemble. Slung across her back was her battle axe, with blades that extended as wide as her own muscular shoulders.

“Damn, that felt good!” she exclaimed. Orca marched past Throgg’s body, stomping on him once more for good measure. She walked to Violet, taking up her hands in her own and exchanging warm smiles. Then she walked to Aura.

“The little man’s right,” she declared, addressing the crowd. “He’s Management now.”

Aura began to speak but was interrupted again, his immutable expression warped into surprise as Orca boosted his tiny frame up onto her shoulder. The result was a towering totem pole of bird on man on orc.

“The reason we were all nearly replaced was because the last Management was a bunch of assholes,” Orca explained, parading Aura around the room. “It’s because of this clever little guy that we’re still alive. So, yes, he’s Management now, and you all just need to get used to seeing more heroes around here.”

“Aren’t your heroes the reason we were nearly killed in the first place?” Throgg demanded, still laid out on the floor.

Orca whipped around, threatening Aura with whiplash as Kiwi dug to his shoulder, wings flapping madly for balance. She approached as Throgg cowered again, but it was Aura who spoke first.

“Heroes like me have been working behind the scenes here the whole time. There’s entire teams of us here on the administrative floor,” Aura pointed past one of the locked doors near the back of the cafeteria. “Orca’s only crime was to be the first to interact with us outside of dungeons in these last seven years. I mention all of this not just to introduce myself but also because of my friend Violet here.”

Aura gestured as Violet sheepishly approached. “She’s allowed to come and go as she wants, and I don’t want anyone here to give her a hard time.”

“So now a hero is going to live with us, too?” Throgg complained. Orca gave him a sour look as he wrapped his arms around his head to hide.

“She’s going to live with me now. Anybody who has a problem with that can take it up with me!” she roared. Her assertive posture melted in an instant at Violet’s sudden touch. Orca looked down at her, suddenly unsure of herself. “Uh, I mean, that is, if you wanted, I thought, maybe, well…”

“I would like that,” Violet beamed brightly, squeezing her hand. “Very much.”

“Well, that takes care of that, then,” Aura said. “If you’ll kindly put me back down, I have some work to do in my office. I trust it’s safe to leave her in your hands?”

“Safest place in the world,” Orca assured him, lowering Aura back to ground level. He straightened out his overcoat, made his goodbyes to Orca and Violet, then disappeared through the door, deeper into the facility. This left the two to join the line for breakfast, hand in hand, just like they were two regular, ordinary patrons. Violet was delightfully surprised to see real options there, ranging from yogurt to eggs and bacon to hash browns. There was even Lucky Charms, if she so wanted.

Orca ordered bacon and toast with coffee. Violet, though tempted by the options, just stuck with a juice until she felt more comfortable to experiment. They took their offerings and sat at one of the empty tables. The others still gave them concerning looks but caused no further interruptions, much like the heroes were now doing to Orca on their side of the world.

***** XXXIX *****

Later that morning, Orca and Violet stood in the boss arena of Dire Mountain, waiting on a raid group that was making their way through. Orca leaned on the hilt of her enormous war axe, watching Violet poke around the dungeon room with a giant smile on her face. She was back at her job, in the right dungeon, with just the right person for company. Nothing in all the world could have been better than that moment.

“So, we just wait here, then?” Violet asked, poking a finger down in the dirt of the arena floor.

“Yep,” Orca replied, still grinning. “Such is the life of a raid boss. A whole lot of waiting around. We could sneak around behind the scenes and watch again, if you’d like?”

Violet did like that, so that’s exactly what they did. There were paths and crevices built into the cave wall where they watched from the comfort of distance and shadow as a raid of heroes battled Betsy over and over again. Orca predicted that they would give up before ever reaching her room. Her guess ended up coming true, leaving them free to idle and talk away the remaining hours before lunch break. Most of the time was spent comparing Orca’s amazing home to Violet’s pitiful little dorm room from the night before, as well as fantasizing about all the things they could do now that they were both together over here full-time. Seeing snow stayed the top that list, followed by picking out new outfits for Violet and ordering some essentials for her from Management.

The two returned to the cafeteria to find a surprise waiting for them. That surprise stood just inside the doors, her red duster replaced and her hands resting anxiously on the hilts of her scythes.

“Ambrose!” Violet cried, running to surprise her with a warm embrace. “I didn’t expect to see you here. How’d you get in here?”

“I know people,” Ambrose replied, her gaze still shifting around to every monster in the room. “Had to come make sure Orca hadn’t eaten you yet.”

“Hm, not much meat on her bones,” Orca assessed playfully. “Besides, they already feed us here. Care to join us for lunch?”

Ambrose looked anew at the serving counter, at the old ladies in witch hats behind it and the line forming in front.

“Can I do that here?” she asked, caught off guard. “Isn’t it all weird monster shit?”

“Why do your kind always think that..?” Orca mused. “Come on, I doubt our new leader would mind you joining us.”

They took their place in line, considering options on the menu above. One of the enormous fur-covered demons came right up behind Ambrose, huffing down at her. She turned, squaring up to him and getting right in his face.

“What? You want some?”

He ended up backing away, averting his gaze. Ambrose tugged her duster forward, her chin raised.

“That’s what I thought.”

Orca ended up ordering a B.L.T. while Violet could only muster enough bravery for chicken strips. Meanwhile, Ambrose took the time to scrutinize every single thing on the wide menu.

“Damn, I’ve been missing out. Your kind eat better than we do. And it’s all free? Shit. In that case, give me the eight ounce porterhouse steak medium-rare with a loaded up baked potato, an order of fries, pasta salad, large milkshake and a slice of pie. And that big ass chocolate chip cookie there.”

“The hell, Ambrose?” Orca scolded. “How many people are you eating for?”

“As many as I can,” she replied, stuffing the cookie into her mouth. “Especially if it’s free. Oh, this is good…”

Back at their table, no one else still dared to join them. Their orders arrived shortly, leaving Orca and Violet to eat delicately, savoring the experience. Meanwhile, Ambrose stood on no such ceremony, woofing down the enormous spread in front of her.

“Damn, they know how to cook here,” Ambrose expressed through a full mouth. “I need to come here more often. We’ve been missing out.”

“You look like a crazy person, eating that fast,” Orca replied.

“Look who’s talking,” Ambrose replied before taking a swallow of milkshake. “Ordering crispy bacon like that. Who eats burnt bacon? That’s what’s crazy, if you ask me. A crime against humanity. You people really are monsters.”

Their lunch continued, all the while Ambrose chewed and slurped loudly foregoing any sense of shame. This was further exemplified by her echoing belch, ringing out loud enough to silence nearby conversation.

“Manners aren’t really your strong suit, are they?” Orca asked.

Still stuffing fries into her mouth with one hand, Ambrose flipped Orca the bird with the other, her momentum undeterred.

A moment later, Orca elbowed Violet, pointing out a group that was coming into the cafeteria. They stood hunched over under long cloaks, their webbed feet slapping wetly against the concrete floor. Large, bulbous faces looked out from underneath their hoods, their eyes equally large to match.

“Look! Frog-people! What do you think they’ll order for lunch? Maybe a burger and flies? Huh, huh?”

Violet just sat there staring blankly back at her, unfazed. Meanwhile, Ambrose snorted out a harsh laughter, spraying food out of her mouth.

“Really? You laughed at that?” Orca said, swinging around to face her. “Seriously?”

“What?” Ambrose replied, reaching for her milkshake again. “I’m a sucker for bad puns. And dad jokes. The worse they are, the better.”

They carried on with their lunch, with Ambrose somehow managing to eat most of what she ordered. She moved a little slower afterward, stuffed to the gills, but did eventually waddle through the door as they left.

They walked down the hall, with Ambrose making sure they were out of earshot of the cafeteria before speaking.

“So there was an ulterior…” Ambrose burped again, this time mercifully covering her mouth, “...an ulterior motive for me coming out here. Besides the food, which was the bomb and I’m definitely coming back here for more in the future.”

They stopped in the hallway, focusing on Ambrose as she slowly gathered her thoughts through her food coma.

“I came to say sorry.”

It was Orca’s turn to snort out a hideous laughter. “You? I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Shove it, you big, green… green…” Ambrose burped again, smaller this time. Then she just shook her head. “I don’t know. I got nothing. Anyway, back when I was rightfully bitching at your girlfriend for being a prissy little shit for not wanting to touch ewie toesy-woesies, I may have also been bitching about my current living arrangements to someone who was actually dying. I didn’t know your life was officially shittier than mine at the time. I shouldn’t have said anything. My bad.”

“Ambrose, I…” Violet hesitated, moved to see such a touching moment from someone normally so distant. “It’s fine. And of course I forgive you–I didn’t even remember you saying that!”

“Yeah, well, I did. And it’s been bugging me. I shouldn’t have complained. So… sorry, I guess.”

“So you apologize to her, but not to me?” Orca remarked.

“You can kiss my ass!”

“Well, I mean,” Violet replied, pulling their attention back to her. “If you wanted to, you could always come in here and live with us? Maybe that would be better?”

Ambrose barked out a harsh laughter, one which was not altogether friendly.

“My life might be shitty, but at least I still have one!”

Then the look on her face soured as she thought back on what she had just said.

“Damn it, I did it again, didn’t I? Crap. Sorry…” Ambrose rolled her eyes and cleared her throat before starting again, her tone adjusted. “What I meant to say was, thanks, but no thanks. I practically live on here too much as it is. No, what little life I do have out there, I want to keep. But maybe I’ll look this place up for retirement, though. You guys have some sweet exercise equipment. I could see myself pumping iron and kicking ass into my seventies, right before I go out and challenge literal demons to golf and shuffleboard.”

“I could see you doing that,” Orca agreed.

They kept talking a few moments longer, but Ambrose excused herself soon afterward, looking visibly uncomfortable from their conversation. Violet appreciated her apology even more knowing how difficult it must have been for her to do at all.

***** XL *****

Eventually the orc and human made their way to Orca’s home, whereupon Violet immediately noticed the lack of furniture.

“Where’d everything go?” she asked.

“Oh, uh… Remodeling,” Orca replied hesitantly. “Yeah. Wanted a change of scenery in here…”

The only furniture that remained was the daybed. Miraculously, it had survived the fight unscathed. The goblins had long since cleared out the rest, doing a meticulous job. It was to the daybed that Violet went, sitting down onto it.

“When did you get this?” Violet asked, feeling how soft the cushioned mattress was.

“Oh, right after you stayed the night,” Orca answered from the kitchen, where she was cracking open a bottle of beer. “You know, just in case someone… you know, should anyone have wanted to stay, I mean, because they didn’t have a place they could have, if they had wanted. And now they do. For, you know… whoever might need it.”

Violet plopped down, falling back on it to feel the cushion beneath her. “I love it. Thank you! I’m sure whoever it was for will appreciate it…”

They exchanged a coy look before Orca returned to the living room, joining her to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Well, what shall we do now?” Orca asked. “Pick out new furniture for this room, together, maybe?”

“Maybe...” Violet said, her voice distant. She reached down to tug at a fold of parchment hidden away underneath her tunic. She pulled it out, feeling the coarse paper and the folds as she flipped it over between her fingers.

“What’s that?” Orca asked, throwing back another swig.

“It’s, uh…” Violet hesitated, flipping the parchment around in her hands. “I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to share this with anyone. I still don’t know. It was some writing I had done, back when I had come out of the hospital this last time. I heard what the doctors were saying, and I thought, just in case, you know? Like, somewhere down deep I might have known how bad it was but didn’t want to believe it. Or maybe it was stupid, and maybe it was for nothing, but in case something did happen, you would know that I hadn’t just disappeared forever on you, like, so you would know what happened…”

Orca nodded solemnly. She recalled vividly how Vanessa had looked on that bed and knew all too well what she meant.

Violet just kept flipping it over and over in her hands, fidgeting nervously.

“You don’t have to share if you don’t want to,” Orca said.

“No, I want to…” Violet sighed deeply, steeling herself as she very deliberately straightened out each and every fold, one after another. At length, only after there was nothing left to flatten, did she focus down on her own words reflecting back up at her.

“Dear Orca… I thought maybe it would be a letter at first. It’s so formal. It’s stupid,” Violet sighed again, her chest heavy, while Orca patiently waited beside her.

She started again. “Dear Orca. What started out as just an escape from my side effects… and pain… quickly turned into much more than that here,” Her breath shuddered, struggling to keep her hands steady. She quickly dabbed her eyes before continuing.

“It was actually Aura that I met first, him and his silly bird. I joined Applewood as a new player, not knowing what to expect. He helped me, always staying friendly and never losing his patience. He was always there to answer any questions I had. Then afterward I saw Ambrose, so strong and confident and everything I never was in real life. I admired her so much, and even when she teased me for not doing something right, she would always follow it up with an invitation to help or to teach me to be better. I wanted so much to be like her, for so long. She was just so perfect: strong and smart and kind, at least in her own way. My other friends here came along later on.

“And it was not just Ambrose, but everyone here that kept me wanting to come back. I admired Aura’s calm certainty, Ambrose’s strong will, and Jackurn and Alyrra, too. And watching all of them interact with each other gave me the opportunity for something I never had in person: a family. I was an only child, and after dad passed when I was young, I never knew what it was like to have brothers and sisters. And my condition kept me separated from everyone at school. Nobody wanted to be my friend, just because I was sick a lot and looked different. And then I stopped being able to go at all after that and stayed homeschooled for the last year. So, I never really knew what friends were, either.

“I never left Applewood afterward. Other players came and went as they got better and more powerful, but me, I just stayed and kept helping out the new players, like these guys had done for me. I never wanted to get powerful. I had everything I wanted right there, already. Of course, that frustrated Ambrose because she wanted to see me do better, but that’s okay. I think she understood after a while. For me, I just wanted to be here for all of the friends I never had in real life. Nobody avoided me here. They accept me. They understand me. They are my family, and I love them all for that.

“But there are different types of love, aren’t there? It’s funny to think back on, but the moment I ran into you, I thought… Well, honestly, I thought you were going to beat me up. I was pretty scared for a while, but you ended up being patient with me like Aura. And strong, just like Ambrose. You were like all the best parts of everybody all rolled into one person. You were fun and interesting and exciting to be with and I just wanted more and more to keep learning everything about you. And the best part of it all was that you accepted me, too. It wasn’t just me. You wanted to be with me, too. I saw it when I surprised you at work, and when you came to get me at the Manor, or all of the times you kept getting into trouble over me. And especially at that picnic by the lava river. As rough as it may have been at first, we kept returning back to each other. I am as different from you as two people could ever be, but you still accept me anyway. I’ll never know why, but thank you.

“As I sit here writing, realizing that I don’t know how long I have…”

Violet paused her reading. She pushed up her glasses and wiped at her eyes, sniffing heavily. Orca had followed along as her penmanship became more and more ragged. It was at this point that Violet had gone back, scratching out parts with thick, angry black lines.

Violet flipped the parchment over, looking at the blank underside, before flipping it back upright.

“I wasn’t in such a good place when I wrote this part,” Violet admitted, tracing those wide ink marks with her finger.

“It’s okay,” Orca assured her, wrapping an arm around her to squeeze her tight. “I understand.”

“I guess it doesn’t really matter now,” Violet said after a long moment. “Those things I thought might happen… didn’t happen.”

“But it’s still important, though, isn’t it?” Orca asked. “What you wrote.”

“I mean…” Violet let her arms fall to her side, the parchment curling over her leg. “It’s just, like, when you think that things might be coming to an end, you get all over-emotional and sappy and girly and…”

“Hold on there, Ambrose,” Orca teased playfully. “Sometimes it’s okay to be emotional. And sappy. And girly. And considering what you went through, I’d say you are definitely entitled to a moment like that. Maybe two.”

“Well, that’s just it! Ambrose teases us about that stuff all the time, but like, if things never changed and we stayed just like this together, that would be okay, too. I mean, I’d be okay with it. I like what we have here and I don’t want to ruin anything.”

“You’re not ruining anything,” Orca explained, reaching up to run her fingers across Violet’s hair. She felt proud all over again that Violet had braided hers like Orca did. “And you’re right, we could stay like we are and that would be alright, too. But on the other hand, if you were to date someone, then that other person would be very, very lucky to be with you.”

Violet looked up through tearful eyes, meeting her gaze.

“Even if that person were an orc?”

“Especially if that person were an orc.”

“What about Throgg, and your marriage?”

“Divorced. Officially,” Orca replied. “Well, at least as official as anything can be around here. I forced him to sign paperwork proving it.”

“But… but I’m just, well… I’m just me. I mean, we’re not even the same species, are we?” Violet chuckled humorlessly. “How would that even work?”

“I don’t know. But I’m willing to figure it out as we go, if you are,” Orca said, mirroring what a very dear friend of hers once told her.

A grin grew on Violet’s face, one which blossomed into a radiant smile as she looked over at her new girlfriend.

“And you know what else?” Orca asked.

“No, what?”

“That part of your paper that you wrote? Where you scratched everything out afterward?”

“Yes…”

“Well, I think I know what you wanted to say,” Orca replied. “And I think, if I might be so bold, I have an answer for you.”

“Yes?”

Orca leaned down close to Violet, whispering softly in her ear.

“I love you, too.”

– Epilogue –

“You missed our first…” Orca ducked low under the swing of a scythe. “...annual goblin appreciation day…” she leapt to the side, dodging another slice.

“Oh, dang it,” Ambrose replied, thrusting her blade forward, narrowly skirting the swing of Orca’s battle axe. “I was just at Wal-Mart…” she leapt back out of reach of a second wide swing. “I should have picked up a card.”

“It was nice,” Orca said, blocking a counter-attack with the shaft of her axe. “Cake and ice cream and everything…” She swung her axe down again, narrowly missing as Ambrose rolled aside. “You would have liked it. Of course, I still couldn’t…” She knocked Ambrose’s thrust aside as she leapt up from the ground, “...get them to take the day off.”

“Stubborn little bastards, huh?” Ambrose said, swinging both her blades.

Orca caught them on her axe, pushing her scythes down. “Yeah. Like somebody else I know.”

“Speaking of little bastards,” Ambrose replied, pulling her blades free before swinging them around. “I finally got Jackurn to admit,” she brought her scythes down on Orca, “that he’s not actually over the age limit here after all.”

Orca caught the blades on the handle of her war axe, twisting them aside . “No, really? I’m shocked…”

Ambrose shoved off, flourishing the blades in her hands before jumping back in.

“Oh, for sure. How about you and your new girlfriend, though?” Ambrose caught Orca’s swing above her head with her own blades. “Any big plans this weekend?”

“Just a night in,” Orca replied casually, pushing her brutal-looking battle axe down towards Ambrose’s head. “She has me doing yoga. Said it’s for anger management. And she picked out a movie for afterward, some kind of rom-com.”

“Sounds horrible,” Ambrose remarked, pulling away from where their weapons were locked together. She sidestepped, pulling a blade free and slashing wide. “What did you do to deserve that punishment?”

“I can think of worse ways… to spend my weekend,” Orca leapt back, dodging as she brought her axe back around to bear. It caught Ambrose’s blades again, the echoing clang of steel ringing out over and over again throughout the arena.

“Being you, for instance.”

“Oh, har, har,” Ambrose mocked, shoving her blades up against Orca’s axe hilt. “She’s got jokes, this one. Very funny…”

“What about you?” Orca asked, shoving Ambrose back and taking another wide swing. “Are you watching Vanessa’s funeral tonight?”

“Hell no, I’m not doing that,” Ambrose replied, jumping back to dodge. She pulled her blades up high and charged back in again. “I’m not… attending a funeral for a friend… who’s still alive! That’s weird as shit.”

“Violet was the one… who wanted to know,” Orca replied. They were exchanging frenzied blows, slashing and riposting, straining from the effort.

“It’s still weird as shit! What the hell would… her mother think, knowing… Violet’s still alive over here, and… dating the weirdo that abducted her?”

“I don’t know,” Orca replied, slamming her axe down hard, forcing Ambrose to catch it between her blades again. “And that’s not exactly what happened.”

“You and I know that. But picture it from her perspective,” Ambrose shoved forward, pushing Orca back a few steps before she steadied herself. “It’s cruel and weird and sick.”

“You’d prefer I just left her there to die?”

“Of course not, you moron!” Ambrose shoved Orca’s axe to the side, burying it in the ground before pulling her blades free again. She struck as Orca pulled her axe around in time to block.

“There was no good solution, for sure.” Orca swung her axe around, putting Ambrose on the defense. “But Aura says we did the best thing we could have, and to let it be.”

“Sounds like he took my advice,” Ambrose replied, blocking with one blade and swinging with the other. “It’s still not right, though.”

“Hang on, hang on. Time out…” Orca replied, holding up a finger. She was doubling over, holding a stabbing pain in her side with her other hand.

“What?” Ambrose replied incredulously. “This is the big, climactic battle to the death. There are no ‘time outs!’”

Orca stayed doubled over a moment longer, her breathing heavy, the axe hanging limply at her side. Ambrose lifted her scythes, seeing how easily she could take the orc down, then just growled in frustration.

“Oh come on, you big baby!”

“You try fighting with a bullet still lodged inside of you, see how you do!” Orca grunted. She pulled herself back upright, taking deep breaths as the pain subsided again, as quick as it had started.

“You good now?” Ambrose mocked, her arms crossed over her chest.

“One second,” Orca turned her back to Ambrose and walked to the edge of the arena. Lining both sides were an audience of hero raiders and ogres, each less interested in their own battles than in the main event between Ambrose and Orca. They had stopped fighting to cheer on their respective side, like some kind of weird sporting event.

Between both sides sat Violet, perched on a large rock jutting out from the arena wall. She and Orca had worn matching tie-dye scarves, which was so adorable it made Ambrose want to vomit.

Orca approached Violet sitting on the wall, taking a long draw of water from her thermos before exchanging a quick kiss.

“Oh my god, kill me now,” Ambrose complained loudly. “You two are gross.”

“Don’t be jealous now,” Orca replied, sashaying back across the arena toward her.

“Jealous? Of what, having some sweet, giant orc ass to tap? Nah, not my cup of tea, bro. You do you.”

“Go, you guys!” Violet cheered from the sidelines. “You two can do it!”

“Hey!” Ambrose shouted back at her. “Who’s side are you on here, anyway?”

“Both!”

“That’s not how that works, Violet! Jeez, remind me never to take you to a football game…”

“Alright. You ready?” Orca swung her axe without waiting for an answer, gleefully resuming their dance of blades and steel.

Their battle lasted nearly an hour, with their audience of ogres and heroes watching enthusiastically the entire time. Eventually the little spitfire of a fighter wore down the goliath orc, pushing her down to concede.

“If I were anyone else, I’d seal my win by killing you right now,” Ambrose said, hovering over Orca with her blade extended. “You know, like we’re supposed to do.”

“I’d rather you didn’t, truth be told,” Orca replied flatly.

Ambrose paused for a moment, standing over the orc as she laid there in the dirt. Then instead of shoving her sword down, Ambrose brought her hand down instead.

“I don’t want to be responsible for setting off Violet’s waterworks,” she said.

Orca accepted the help gratefully, grasping Ambrose’s hand as she pulled the orc back to her feet.

“I’ll get you next time,” Orca promised.

“Yeah, yeah. You keep thinking that. Where’s our loot?”

Orca gestured to several chests that appeared around the arena, still trying to catch her breath. Aura and her raiders went to them as Orca limped over to Violet, waiting to take her in a deep embrace.

“Good job!”

“Don’t you ‘good job’ her!” Ambrose scolded Violet from over top the treasure. “I’m the one who won. Where’s my ‘good job?’”

“It’s up your ass. Go look for it.”

“Ohh, this one’s got sass, too!” Ambrose replied to Orca. “You’re a sassy one, with all the jokes today. Look at you go!”

They parted ways shortly after, Violet to be with Orca at their house while Ambrose ducked back into Applewood Manor, preparing for their next inevitable boss fight.

*****

The funeral for Vanessa Everett proceeded that afternoon, live streamed on the Internet for any friends and family who were unable to attend in person. From across the country, an energetic boy with a tangled mess of brown hair and portly stature watched the stream from his phone, sharing it with everyone around him on the school bus.

Elsewhere in the country, a young man watched from his bedroom. He was in his early twenties, bespectacled, skinny, and bearing the last vestiges of teenage acne. He watched idly from overtop his college workbooks on his IKEA study desk, still feeling bitter.

From another part of the country, a man in his late thirties with a receding hairline and thin glasses tuned into the funeral on his wide screen television, letting it play in the background as he prepared dinner for himself and his wife. Two dogs begged from the floor behind him as, elsewhere in the house, two parakeets screeched, hoping to be heard and played with.

And from a different part of the country sat a young woman in her mid-twenties with short dark hair, olive skin tone, and early crease lines in her forehead. She tuned into the broadcast for a minute, listening to it over the ruckus of her neighbors, before slamming the screen down in disgust. She turned away, rolling her wheelchair down the narrow hallway, taking a second to look mournfully at a photograph hung on the wall. It showed her, her younger brother, and their mom taken at a soccer game back when they were both still young and innocent. Rolling past that as well, she wheeled to the living room, took up the remote to the television, and looked for something new to drown out the sounds of her apartment building.

Thank you for reading.