Amelia Thornheart

Her body felt floaty and warm and her mind, normally racked with exhaustion and headaches, felt clear and rested. Amelia set about trying to memorize these feelings she had long forgotten.

 

After a few moments, she decided to risk flexing a few toes and found with delight this didn’t cause shooting pains. She moved a leg, and then an arm, and then deciding to risk it all, did something she hadn’t been able to do in years.

 

“Mmmmmtth!”

 

She stretched like a cat, feeling the satisfaction rivet through her body. Surely she had died and this was heaven!

 

Although, she was definitely lying on a hard wooden floor and that didn’t seem very heaven-like at all. Not that she was complaining, compared to her years in the hospital a floor like this was welcome. Even so, she should probably open her eyes and see where she was.

 

A wooden ceiling looked back at her, striated with dark beams. Amelia sat up and found she was in some kind of office or study. The walls were covered with bookcases, cabinets, and tables and where there was spare wall there were paintings and even the mounted head of a moose. Centered in the room, in front of her, was an ornate desk and leather chair flanked by two large windows. Behind her was a pair of double doors.

 

Using the desk as a handhold Amelia slowly stood up, and found she still wasn’t in pain! Her knees didn’t feel like they would collapse under her own weight!

 

“I’m standing up!” She exclaimed to herself and the world.

 

She took a few steps back and forth and then a few more. The feeling of not being weak was intoxicating. She even did a few jumps, her blond hair rising and falling in waves.

 

Wait, her blond hair?

 

Amelia grabbed her hair and examined it. It was definitely blond, practically golden, and not dyed. Her hair was supposed to be mousy brown, not blond. Amelia looked over the rest of her body and found she was wearing a simple grey top and shorts that hung loosely, leaving her midriff and legs rather bare.

 

She looked at her feet, which were definitely not her feet. Amelia had spent countless hours looking at her toes at the end of the hospital bed and these were not her toes. These were not her fingers.

 

This was not her body.

 

Amelia looked around frantically for a mirror and found one hung by the stuffed moose head. She raced to it and stared at her reflection, not quite believing what she was looking at.

 

There was no doubt, this was the body of Amelia Thornheart, the character she had spent years leveling in the hospital! But why did she look like this pretty blond human? Amelia Thornheart was a demonic combat mage with horns and black wings!

 

Ah.

 

Amelia remembered the last time she logged in she had taken part in a guild social event where they all took polymorph potions to look like the opposite of their normal characters. To make things even more amusing they undertook roles that were equally different for that night’s PVE events.

 

So, Amelia Thornheart the demonic mage of destruction and terror was instead played as an innocent blond human divine healer! 

 

Polymorph potion or not, why was she in the body of her game character?  Was she still logged into the game world? No, this was not a neurolink-enhanced game experience, nor was it a dream. Amelia simply knew on an almost instinctive level that this was very much reality.

 

Does that mean some great power had recreated the world of the game in some pocket of the universe, or did this world always exist, and the game was made to replicate it for entertainment purposes?

 

“Status” she muttered.

 

Nothing. No floating game screen. Amelia tried a number of other phases as well as trying to simply will the character screen into this new reality but nothing happened. She did however become aware of her vast reserves of aether dwelling inside her.

 

Aether. It was what the game called mana and was the main resource in most magic disciplines. As a combat mage Amelia had spent an enormous amount of time completing quests and hunting titles to maximize her aether capacity and regeneration. 

 

Among her guildmates, her min-maxing had earned her the nickname of the “Aether Addict”.

 

Could she cast magic?

 

Canonically magic was cast by your in-game character speaking the incantation. As part of your build, you were able to select spells that your character would understand on an instinctive level and be able to cast without a verbal component. This led to a lot of strategy in PVP whereas in PVE all spells could be cast instantaneously as long as you reduced the cast time further enough.

 

Well, nothing ventured nothing gained.

 

First circle, Ward of Thew. She said in her mind, willing the magic to manifest. She felt her aether tremble as if it wanted to move but couldn’t quite find the energy.

 

First circle, Ward of Thew. With a bit more force of will, her aether twisted and turned as the spell took effect. She immediately felt stronger and full of vigor, like she could stop a blade with her bare hands. Her skin took on a golden glow which matched what she remembered from the game.

 

The cabin was bathed in her subtle yellow light and Amelia found herself concerned someone might see it through the windows. She would need to do something about this.

 

Third circle, Cloak of Secrecy.

 

The cloaking spell activated, dulling the effects of the Ward of Thew to almost nothing. Amelia let out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness for that!

 

Now that she had some defense Amelia felt confident to look around a bit more boldly. Approaching the window she peered out and was met with nothing but blue sky far above and below. Was this building on a mountaintop of some kind? Where in the game world was she?

 

She turned her attention to the desk. Upon it lay a large map that seemed to be of an archipelago. Numerous locations had been labeled and the owner of this office had pinned notes to different locations. Amelia peered closer to read some of them.

 

Yup, she couldn’t read this!

 

It certainly wasn’t English nor did it look like any of the common scripts found in the game.

 

“What language is this…” Amelia pondered.

 

“That would be High Imperial little one,” a coarse masculine voice broke out.

 

Amelia jumped up, almost hitting her head on the ceiling, not quite used to the extra strength the now-cloaked Ward of Thew gave her.

 

“Whose there!? Show yourself, intruder! I have hands and I’m not afraid to use them!” Amelia held out her hands like a boxer, behind which her eyes frantically scanned the room.

 

“Ah… hahaha! The intruder accuses me of the crime she is guilty of! What a strange human you are. Yes yes... Over here, no no… to your right, by the mirror little one.” Amelia followed the voice until her eyes settled on the source.

 

“A talking moose!”

 

“I am not a talking moose!” the talking moose exclaimed. “I am Anathor! The guardian of this ship and adviser to its captain. I-”

 

“We’re on a ship!?” Amelia interrupted. She darted back to the window, peering through its dirty glass. “Then why can’t I see the sea? Where’s the water?”

 

“Hrmph… I said we're on a ship little one, the Vengeance, a mighty military vessel feared for leagues around! This is no mere watership for harvesting salt! What use would there be of putting a warship on water when we have the skies?”

 

“We’re flying? I’m on a flying ship!?” Amelia bounced back to Anathor.

 

“Well, the proper term would be sailing. It is a ship after all, not a bird! But we forget ourselves! The topic of this conversation is you! Who are you, little human, and what are you doing in the captain's quarters?”

 

Anathor’s glassy eyes took on a red tinge that Amelia supposed was meant to be threatening but surprisingly she found herself completely calm. Despite being in a situation that should frighten her she found herself lacking any feelings of anxiety.

 

Furthermore, Amelia had a certain feeling that Anathor wouldn’t harm her, and even if he tried, she was certain she wouldn’t be harmed, owning to her high base stats boosted by the Ward of Thew she had applied to herself. Canonically in the game the higher a character's perception stat was the more capable they were of determining on an instinctive level what can and cannot harm them, as well as the nature of a person.

 

As a max-level end-game combat mage, Amelia Thornheart had tremendous base stats, including her perception which had further been boosted by months of achievement grinding.

 

So, she just knew that Anathor was someone of good character, and not dangerous.

 

At least, not dangerous to her.

 

“I’m Amelia, pleased to meet you Mr. Anathor.” She gave a polite bow, flashing the red-eyed moose what she hoped was a charismatic smile. Her mind was racing trying to think of how to approach the next question. “As for why I’m here… after a long battle with an affliction I was finally cured of it, but the cure has flung me through space to this location unknown! To be honest I don’t know what the future holds for me but after being bedridden for so long I want to experience many new things… I have some talent in healing, if this is a military vessel perhaps your captain would allow me to offer my services?”

 

Anathor was silent for a full minute.

 

“Hmmm.”

 

“Mr Anathor?”

 

“What a strange human you are. You may explain yourself to the captain.”

 

“The captain? Uh, sure. Where is he?”

 

“She is here now. Be warned… she can be a little… angry.”

 

As Amelia processed that last sentence, the double doors burst open and she found in front of her face there was a cutlass, a real pirate cutlass. Attached to this shining steel was a firm and steady hand, and attached to that hand was a towering figure in a neat black military uniform trimmed with gold. On the top of this figure, a beautiful demon face was snarling at her, with deep crimson eyes, black hair, and a set of magnificent horns.

 

Amelia found herself getting lost in such a pretty set of eyes. Yes, she could definitely work for such a captain…

 

“A demon! A demon captain!” She exclaimed, admiring the figure that looked like it belonged more in a storybook than reality. 

 

“Port or starboard? Pick one.” The captain snarled at her.

 

“Uh.. Why?”

 

“I’ll let you choose which side of the ship we hang you after you spill everything you know, human spy.” The last two words were punctuated with little jabs of the cutlass, now millimeters from Amelia's nose.

 

Well, this job interview was going rather badly. She would need to fix this quickly.

 

“I like your horns!” Amelia said with a smile and tilt of her head.

 

The demon captain opened her mouth and the closed it, a moment of confusion flashing on her face. 

 

“I mean, they’re super intimidating of course, if that’s what you’re going for… but they’re also really pretty you know? Can I touch them?”

 

A few moments of awkward silence passed. Amelia was sure she heard a faint chuckling from Anathor. Maybe the compliment was badly timed, but after feeling so good after so many years of feeling bad Amelia felt she wanted to be nice to everyone!

 

“You…” said the captain, “the Republic must be getting desperate to send a mad human to spy on me. Ran out of sane assassins did they?”

 

“I’m not a spy! Or an assassin!” Amelia protested. “I’m a healer, would you like to hire me… perhaps?” In response the cutlass poked her nose a little, her skin wouldn’t be so easily pierced with the ward active but Amelia could sense this captain had some real ability behind her.

 

If it came to it, she could always speak the First Word but that would certainly destroy the office, if not the ship itself and if they were really flying, no, sailing through the skies, then she would rather not condemn the crew to death.

 

Although, she did have the skills to protect them.

 

“Captain,” Anathor piped up, interrupting Amelia’s train of thought. “Perhaps we should not be so hasty in judgment here. Confine this human below and let us have a discussion about how to proceed.”

 

“Anathor,” the captain said, not moving her eyes from Amelia. “The human is a spy or an assassin. There is no reason to keep her alive.”

 

“Hmmm… the Vengeance has suggested otherwise.”

 

The captain's eyes widened at that, even briefly snapping to the moose before settling back on Amelia.

 

“The ship spoke to you?”

 

“In a sense.”

 

Not just a flying ship, but a talking one? What a strange place Amelia had found herself in. There were no flying or talking ships in the game. The captain kept glaring at her for a few more seconds, and Amelia met that gaze calmly with a smile.

 

“Take her below. Kill her if she resists.” Ordered the captain and suddenly she was flanked by several more demon soldiers, although these were male and their horns far less impressive.

 

Amelia allowed them to put her in chains and found herself lifted off the ground and carried away. It seemed they didn’t even trust her to walk.

Serena examined the office and her desk for any traps or missing documents. The desk drawers had not appeared to be opened and she could not see any telltale signs of lock-picking tools having been used.

Anathor had told her as much and had been notifying her of the spy’s activities the moment he had discovered her but she didn’t fully trust his recollection of events, especially as he could not tell her how the human had bypassed so many locked doors and guards to get into her quarters.

“I don’t understand, how can you, the guardian of this ship, not know how she got in here? You see everything.”

“Hmm…” the stuffed head mumbled. “The human was not here and then she was.”

“Did you see her arrive? The moment it happened?”

“No… and there was no change in the Aetherfield. Maybe if she was shifted here from another realm…but there are very few beings capable of hiding a realm-shift from my eyes, captain.”

Anathor was quiet for a few moments before continuing.

“And… even if I was fooled - there is no power that could fool the ship. If this human was a true threat to us then it would have expelled her.”

Serena raised an eyebrow. “A threat to us, or the ship? It has allowed assassins to board before.” Anathor didn’t seem to have a response to that - his connection to the ship was only slightly more reliable than her own. Serena waved a dismissive hand.

“Enough about the ship. Tell me again how she behaved when you first saw her.”

“She moved… as if she was unfamiliar with her body. She was hesitant in every motion, like your injured soldiers with grievous wounds. The human seemed delighted to find she could move. She did not behave like a spy or an assassin.”

Serena tilted her head to the side, tapping her horn with a finger in a rhythmic motion.

“And then?”

“She seemed surprised at her hair and body, and rushed to examine them in detail in the mirror.”

“Oh? First a realm-shifter and now a soul transfer? Come now Anathor, we are reaching fantastical levels of theory over a mere human. Tell me of the spells she cast.”

“A low-level defensive spell, silently cast so she should be at minimum a second circle mage. However, she canceled it not long after. Hmm… no it’s unlikely…”

“What? Speak your mind Anathor.”

“When the spell was canceled… the aether was unusual. There was no dissipation into the Aetherfield typical of a spell cut short. She could just be a talented second circle capable of reabsorbing the aether or…” Anathor trailed off.

“Or she could have cloaked it.” Serena finished the line of thought for him.

“Yes, and if she can cloak even a low-level spell, then there is a chance she knows the First Word.”

Serena pondered that for a moment. It was rare for a demon to be a Speaker of the Words, and even rarer for a human, and it was especially unlikely such a young human could Speak but… it was not without precedent. Suddenly a memory of the encounter sprang into her mind.

“Anathor, what is she doing now?”

“She’s in the cell uh… stretching.”

“Stretching?”

“Yes, captain, and now… she’s doing push-ups.”

“Whatever, does she have a cut on her nose? Any blood?”

“Hmm… no captain.”

Serena felt her eye twitch. She was a master of the sword, and she had definitely given that smug-looking human a poke with her cutlass. If she wasn’t bleeding then the chance that the human had a cloaked defensive spell active was suddenly uncomfortably high. Serena communicated her thoughts to Anathor.

“Time for you two to have another conversation. Not many leagues till we’re at battle stations”

“Yes,” Serena found herself nodding. “A little interrogation to answer some questions.”

“Hmm… try less interrogation, more conversation if possible captain… best not to have any of the Words Spoken on the ship, from either that mystery human or you.”