Thorin's First Thundersday of Harvestfall, 1442, Halls of summoning, City of Umbraholme.

Vaelith opened her eyes inside the now familiar halls of Umbraholme's portal room. Unlike Luminara's perfectly cut white marble, the walls here were a combination of solid rock and compact dirt. The portal room was vast and gloomy, set in a lichen-lit underground cavern. Stacks of boxes were neatly organised at two separate ends of the room. One for exports and the other for imports, both waiting their turn for a mage or courier to deliver them to their destination.

She waved and nodded silently at a large Full-blood felinae stationed near the tunnel leading outside. His eyes briefly scanned her, and a flicker of recognition appeared in his gaze. He did not stop or question her, but nodded her on towards the exit with a quiet grunt.

Vaelith stepped forward, her boots sinking slightly into the moist stone-mud floor. The damp chill clung to her skin even through her robe, but she actually enjoyed it—like the comforting cool of a cellar after too much time in the sun.

She headed for the carpenter's guild—where Leoric had said he would be. She had already asked before teleporting. Once she left the tunnels, it would not be too far; a left turn past the marketplace, past the botanist guild's fields. Maybe fifteen minutes, twenty if she got distracted.

She opened her satchel and checked that the two wooden boxes filled with alchemically enhanced arrowheads were still there. Leoric would probably make use of them before leaving for the dungeon. Kaelyn had made him multiple copies of the types he had asked—poison, paralysis, blindness and acid. But she had also made holy arrowheads. Vaelith expected it would be quite useful in the next dungeon.

Vaelith was completely absorbed in her own internal musings, to the point everything else faded away. This explained why she did not notice the person walking in the opposite direction to her in the tunnel until she heard her calling. "Hey dudette. Fancy seeing you here!"

She recognised the voice—it was unmistakably Zyra.

Vaelith lifted her head. The other dracan stood slightly taller in front of her, one hand on her hip, her posture easy and self-assured. Her spade-tipped tail lazily swung like a pendulum. Zyra lifted one hand and brushed a strand of her black hair behind her red, horn-like ears. Her crimson scales shimmered in the cavern's bioluminescent glow. The biggest surprise, however, was not seeing Zyra here. It was the armour she was wearing.

Gone was the guardian's hulking tower shield and spiked morning star. Instead, she wore silvery-white plate mail polished to a mirror sheen, layered over with a deep brown and black tabard that looked utterly spotless. A kite shield rested on her arm, its polished metal etched with Gaius' crest. At her hip, a longsword rested in a clean leather scabbard.

Crusader.

Vaelith blinked. "You changed class."

Zyra grinned. "You noticed! Wanted something flashier than the walking brick look. Plus, now I can do this—"

She flicked her wrist, and a radiant shimmer briefly surrounded her shield. "Healing burst on block. Cuts down on healing needed from Ryssa significantly."

Vaelith tilted her head. "So you're self-healing now?"

"Yep, we've been experimenting inside dungeons. And Ryssa—" Zyra rolled her eyes with exaggerated fondness. "Well, she stopped healing me completely at some point, and just kept an eye out to make sure we wouldn't wipe. After that, she agreed to try picking a damage class, so we could run one tank, three DPS. So guess what she picked?"

Their sylvani healer changed class?

Vaelith had trouble imagining her playing anything else. She only knew Ryssa as the healer in Zyra's guild.

She shrugged. "Huh, I don't know? Martial artist, maybe? I can imagine her wearing a hanfu and kicking ass in style?"

"She considered it. I had to talk her down. I didn't want us to go with two tanks." Zyra leaned in conspiratorially. "Come on, I'm sure you guess what she actually went with."

Vaelith tapped a finger to her chin. "Okay. Not a healer, or a tank—not even the more damage-inclined ones. I can't imagine her on ranger…"

Zyra arched a brow, waiting.

Vaelith blinked. "No—you don't mean…? She didn't."

"She did." Zyra laughed. "She picked mage as her DPS class."

Vaelith's eyes widened. "Really?"

"She said, and I quote: 'After seeing what Vaelith could do with it, I just had to see if I could pull it off too.'"

Vaelith covered her mouth, but the snort escaped anyway.

"Oh, she was so serious," Zyra continued, waving a hand for emphasis. "Keeps practicing with it when she thinks no one's looking. She even asked Orion for his advice, since he was watching you more closely. It's kind of adorable."

"Wait, really? I impressed her? I thought you guys were going to kick me out after doing so many mistakes."

"Nah, dude. No way—not us." Zyra frowned. "Everyone makes those mistakes the first time; you're fine. Believe me—you're not the first lowbie we've run through those party duties. Far from it. Me and Ryssa have practically power-levelled the entire guild to dungeon levels."

"Still…" Vaelith hesitated. "I don't get why she'd pick mage instead of, I don't know, elementalist."

Zyra grinned. "Might've had something to do with a certain someone's invisible floating furniture, magic food. Or maybe that teleport-to-air-blast combo that turned those crabs into soup in your dungeon run video."

Vaelith's cheeks flushed. "Oh… you saw that run, then? I knew Kaelyn was recording it…"

"I don't know if any serious players of this game haven't? Pretty sure you made half my guild question their class choices. Some have been trying different comps to beat your Coral Shade Cavern time. Not gonna lie, it's hilarious to hear how often they wipe."

Vaelith grimaced. The thought of them being extremely famous because of a dungeon run video did not bother her, actually. But she reminded herself how Kaelyn's transformation had made the news yesterday. How many people would try to approach Vaelith not because of her own worth, but because she was close to Kaelyn?

Zyra bumped her shoulder lightly against Vaelith's. "You're kind of a big deal now, dudette. Better get used to it."

At least it looked like Zyra either did not know about the transformation, or chose not to bring it up. Vaelith looked down at the boxes in her satchel, then back toward the tunnel leading to the surface.

Zyra followed her gaze. "I don't mean to hold you back, but…"

"Yes?"

She pointed down the hall behind Vaelith. "Ryssa should be teleporting any minute now. I'm sure she'd love to say hi? If you've got time?"

Vaelith hesitated. A small part of her wanted to stay—Ryssa had always been kind to her, even when she was flubbing her rotations or accidentally pre-casting channelled spells. But another part of her—a much louder, squirmier part—wanted to deliver the arrowheads and escape before her cheeks caught fire from more compliments.

"I do have time," she admitted with a wry smile. "I just… didn't think people would be excited to see me."

"Dudette." Zyra gave her a flat look. "We enjoyed playing with you. The least you can do is accept a few compliments from your friends."

Vaelith let out a flustered noise that might've been a protest or a laugh. "Friends? But we've only just met—"

"You added us to your friends list, haven't you?"

She groaned. "Yes?"

"Well, there you go," Zyra said cheerfully. "Friends are what goes on your friend list."

"That's… a tautology and circular logic!"

"I'm sure it is. Doesn't change the facts—we're friends."

Vaelith shook her head and turned slightly toward the corridor again, her thumb brushing the edge of her satchel. "Maybe I'll wait a few minutes," she mumbled. "I… wouldn't mind seeing a friend."

Zyra's smirk softened into something more genuine. "She'll be happy to see you too, you know. Ryssa plays it cool, but she was asking about you right after the run. Wanted to know if you had a study schedule. She said—hold on, what was the phrasing…" Zyra squinted dramatically. "'Strategically competent, tentatively humble, but maybe a little dense about her own potential.'"

Vaelith blinked. "She said that? About me?"

"She also called you 'the most useful sub-level twenty mage she's ever met.' So yeah. You made an impression."

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Something warm and uneasy curled in Vaelith's chest, like static caught between pride and fear. "I'm just… doing what makes sense."

"That," Zyra said, crossing her arms with a fond sigh, "and applying—to great effect—math and physics to video game combat encounters."

Before Vaelith could respond to that, Zyra grinned and waved over the shorter dracan's shoulder. "Well, here she is."

Vaelith turned.

Ryssa stepped towards them at a brisk pace down the tunnel. The sylvani priest-turned-mage's appearance had not changed much—still lean, still standing with grace, the same silver and blue in her hair, held up in a neat Chinese bun with by hair sticks—but her outfit had. Instead of her flowing healer's robes, she now wore a sharply-cut caster ensemble: deep blue and silver layers, half-cloak tucked behind her grimoire, and a polished belt adorned with tiny spell foci like dangling jewellery. She wore slender, crystalline, and clearly expensive rings and wristbands.

As soon as she was within range, she blinked past Vaelith, next to Zyra. She gave Vaelith a quick look over before their eyes met. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth—not mocking, not amused. Just… warm. "Oh, what a surprise," Ryssa said. "I didn't expect I'd stumble upon you here, of all places."

Vaelith managed a nod, suddenly too aware of how lopsided her satchel was hanging and whether she looked as frazzled as she felt. "Oh, hi, Ryssa. I was just going to drop those at the carpenter's guild to a friend."

"Crafting materials delivery?" Ryssa tilted her head, already spotting the boxes. "What are those, boxes of arrowheads?"

"Oh! That must be for your ranger—Leoric." Zyra interjected, wiggling her eyebrows. "Do I smell a crafting romance subplot?"

Vaelith made a strangled noise in her throat.

"Ignore her." Ryssa chuckled—soft and genuine. "I see you're still level eighteen? Right around the right level for the Gloam-Barrow dungeon. Headed there soon?"

Vaelith tilted her head. "Huh… maybe? The Myrknar woods dungeon with undead?"

"That's the one!"

"Then yeah. As soon as Leoric finishes fletching some special arrows, we're setting out. The two others will meet us there."

"Oh…" Ryssa glanced in Zyra's direction before stepping forward and clasping one of Vaelith's hands between hers. "I hope Kaelyn's doing okay? We've all heard the story…"

"Yeah…" Zyra nodded solemnly. "Guild chat literally exploded yesterday after the news broadcast. So many people logged off to check if the same thing had happened to them. Many were relieved they weren't." She grinned as she nodded in Ryssa's direction. "A bigger group sounded disappointed."

Ryssa's cheeks burned red.

Oh, is Ryssa's player part of group two, then?

The sylvani mage offered a gentle nod. "Seriously, though. This isn't about me, or us. Is your party member okay? Is she online despite it all?"

"Ah. These are personal matters," Vaelith stammered. "I'm sure you understand if I won't share…"

"Of course," Ryssa said, her voice calm. "Not asking you to dox her or anything. Just… well, if she—or you—ever needs any help, no matter what, please keep us in mind. We'll do whatever we can."

Warmth pulsed in Vaelith's chest at these words.

"Anyway," Ryssa added, stepping closer, "I'm not here to steal you away from your delivery. If you don't mind, we can keep chatting on the way there?"

"Oh, no—I don't want to distract your whatever you were up to. You came here for a reason, right?" Vaelith asked.

"It can wait." Ryssa smiled. "Wouldn't have offered otherwise."

Zyra stepped to the side, clearing the way and inviting Vaelith to lead the way.

The dracan mage exhaled a brief sigh, then smiled in resignation. "Sure, let's go. I don't want to keep Leoric waiting any longer."

The three of them began walking toward the surface, Vaelith falling into step between them. The tunnel sloped gently upward, the mossy glow from the walls dancing in quiet rhythm with the tap of boots and light conversation.

"So…" Vaelith glanced sideways. "I saw you use Blink earlier. How high is your mage now?"

"Blink is the best. I'm on mage all the time when I'm not in a dungeon, honestly." Ryssa laughed. "I'm level thirty now."

"She's been giggling every time she uses that spell," Zyra added from behind them. "She thinks we don't hear it, but it's adorable."

"I do not!"

Vaelith, however, did giggle. "I'd love to hear that, actually."

Ryssa exhaled through her nose—an admission in everything but words. "Okay, but see—hers are so much cuter than mine."

"Dunno, dude." Zyra shrugged behind them. "No way to tell; you don't giggle, right?"

Vaelith could not help but laugh at the silly exchange. Zyra and Ryssa soon joined her.

After the laughter quieted, they walked in companionable silence for a moment.

"You know," Ryssa said after a spell, "if you're going to run the Gloam-Barrow, you'll probably hit level twenty soon. The spell you get then is pretty fun."

"Oh? What is it?"

"Telekinetic Grasp. It's like a Force Levitate or Lift spell—you just take a bunch of enemies, lift them in the air for six seconds. Then, your spell crushes them for some minor damage over time."

"Sounds more like a controller spell than a damage spell? Mage's kit is so odd."

Ryssa nodded. "It is, or at least it can be used that way. But when you get the next spell at twenty-four. Telekinetic Nova. Then you have another option."

"Oh, more interplay? Does it combo like Blast and Lance do?"

"Bingo. It's a similar idea. Nova by itself is stronger than Blast, and easier to use—no knockback, not a cone. It's a regular point-blank AoE."

"Stronger than Blast, even when lining up enemies with walls?"

Ryssa shook her head. "No, that clever trick of yours to blink over enemies really pushed early mage damage beyond what most people thought was possible. But if you Grasp enemies first, then use Nova? That's when it will really shine. Oh, and since they have the same cooldown, it's obvious you're meant to sync them this way."

"What exactly is the interplay here?"

"Well, normally, grasped enemies stay lifted even through damage, which makes it a very strong spell to use on cooldown—unbreakable CC is rare. But if you use Nova on grasped enemies, then you'll consume the debuff. For every second of the debuff you remove, the potency of Nova increases. Thirty-three percent per second. So if you use it immediately after—"

Vaelith ran the math in her head. "Then that's triple the damage? But you said the spell's already stronger than regular Blast?"

"Yep! And since it's point-blank, if you blinked in the middle of the enemies, you'll burn your Arcane Charges on it, for an even bigger punch."

"Orion has been pretty salty about Ryssa's damage lately," Zyra chimed. "For all the big number syndrome elementalists attract, it's a class with big bursts followed by long lulls, or with slow ramp-ups. Ryssa, however, is just blinking next to me, lifting all my mobs, and, in the same second, vaporising them."

"Same second? Those are instant-cast?"

Ryssa grinned. "Yep! You can keep it in reserve to use as a superb 'Oh shit!' button if you need it. But if you're confident, then you can turn that safety net into some insane burst. It's a trade-off."

Zyra groaned. "With us running without a healer, I wish Ryssa had actually kept it for emergencies a bit more. What's more—I usually don't have time to establish any aggro, and she'll just unload her killer combo. Can you guess what happens next?"

Vaelith tilted her head. "Huh… A bunch of angry mobs who are at point-blank range with a mage suddenly turn to beat her up to a pulp?"

Ryssa burst out laughing. "Well, yeah, if I don't think of blinking away and blasting them back when they reach me."

"See, dudette? Ryssa's been making my life miserable, knocking enemies away from me and pulling aggro relentlessly ever since you left."

Ryssa shrugged. "Hey, it's an important job. Someone has to make sure you're not bored, and Orion already had his turn."

The three of them emerged into Umbraholme proper just as the surface sun filtered dimly through the gaps in the canopy above. The city's mix of living wood structures and stone-braced guild halls sprawled along the edge of the deep forest, mist curling low around their boots. Umbraholme always felt like it had grown rather than been built—each building shaped with careful intent, never quite the same twice.

They passed through the marketplace, where the morning bustle had picked up: a pair of Full-blood felinae bartering over mushroom-fertilised soil, a Shadow sylvani adjusting the lenses on a glowing lantern-fruit, a towering Sovereign dracan in leather overalls hauling planks toward the southern square.

The carpenter's guild stood just ahead, the scent of sawdust and sap drifting from its open arches. Inside, rhythmic hammering echoed beneath the canopy-shaped rafters. Wooden beams lay stacked with geometric precision, and apprentices scurried between worktables under the sharp gaze of a master carpenter whose scowl could sand a plank smoother than any file.

After they entered, Vaelith spotted Leoric near the back, sitting cross-legged on a bench next to a worktable cluttered with half-fletched arrows. Despite everything happening to him in the real world, he looked so at ease right now. Confident posture. Ears perked up. Sawdust covered his clothes, which he had either not noticed or did not care to fix yet.

She smiled and waved a little as she approached. "Vaelith Express Delivery, with package for Leoric, from a certain Kaelyn?"

Leoric looked up and grinned. "Hey! Right on time."

He stood and accepted the arrowhead boxes with a small whistle. He popped the lid open of one of them. "Holy, she really went overboard with the packaging. Acid, poison, paralysis, blindness—wait, are these holy?"

Vaelith nodded. "Figured it might help in the Gloam-Barrow. Kaelyn thought ahead."

"Of course she did." He closed the box. "I'll have these ready in twenty minutes. Enough time to stretch, restock arrows, and maybe not embarrass myself with the fletching."

Zyra elbowed Vaelith lightly. "Well… We'll let you dude and dudette get to it, then."

Ryssa nodded with a faint smile. "Thanks for letting us walk with you. We'll see you soon, yeah?"

"Yeah." Vaelith hesitated, then added more quietly, "Thanks again. For everything."

Zyra gave her a two-finger salute. "Get those levels, dudette."

"Leoric." Ryssa smiled at him. "Thanks again—for having her back."

He shook his head and returned her smile. "Likewise. Thank you for showing her the ropes."

And with that, the two guildmates turned and melted back into the guild-dotted streets, Ryssa's half-cape fluttering behind her.

Vaelith watched them go, wondering how close they were outside of the game. She turned back. Leoric inspected an arrowhead by the light fixture, like a jeweller evaluated diamonds.

"They like you, you know," he said, not looking up. "That wasn't just being polite."

Vaelith folded her arms. "I… kind of noticed. Still not used to it."

"You'll get there." He showed her the holy arrowhead and held it up to the light. "Also—those things. They're all high-quality, did you know? It's a lot more effort to make than just mass-producing. But apparently, she took her time with each craft."

Vaelith nodded. She had been there, had watched her go through the motions, one arrowhead at a time. It had been almost hypnotic watching her at the workstation.

There was a pause. The background noise of hammering, chatter, and birdsong filled it comfortably. Then Leoric glanced sideways at her.

"So, hey. I wanted to bring something up before we head out."

Vaelith raised a brow. "Oh? What's on your mind?"

He leaned back against the table, ears twitching slightly. "We're not the only ones this happened to. The transformation thing. Someone found me and asked to talk to me."

Her breath caught.

"In private, don't worry," he said, noticing her reaction. "We figured… there have to be others. Quiet ones. People who don't have anyone to talk to." He pulled out a little paper note from his inventory and handed it to her. The item label floated above it: "Group chat invite – Club Weirdos."

Vaelith stared. "You formed a group chat?"

"He did—Halvar. If you accept the invite, then you might be able to help others going through the same. But at the same time, you'd out yourself to a stranger. That this is happening to you in the real world. It's invite-only, and Halvar and I are the only two moderators."

She opened the note. She saw the list of members and she smiled, reading the channel description: "You're not alone. Also, we share dumb memes."

Vaelith nodded and exhaled. "This is… good. It's a good thing."

Leoric smiled, softer this time. "Yeah. I agree. Strength in numbers. Figured we all needed a place to be weird together."

She folded the note carefully and slipped it into her inventory.

"I'll introduce you once you decide to join," he said. "But no pressure. You can lurk until you're ready."

"Thanks," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Really."

Leoric nodded, already turning back to his fletching bench. He scooted a little, giving her the space to sit nearby.

"You know," he added. "Arrow shafts are one of the lowest-level recipes for carpenters. If you want to talk to the guild master—the big Full-blood felinae over there—and pick the class up, you could get some easy levels and we'd be done faster this way."

She smiled. "Sure. I'll be right back, saw in hand."

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