[Eterna] CONNECTING…
The room fades. Light stitches itself around him—soft, chosen. His headset seals; the faint chemical sting of blockers in his real lungs thins into nothing. A horizon unfurls, blue as a held breath.
[Eterna] LOGIN SUCCESS.
[System] Welcome back, Raven_07.
The UI warms the air like sunrise. For the first time today, his ribs loosen. His chest remembers how to move.
He stands in the Moonlit Garden, a safe zone set inside a glasswork dome. Digital water murmurs along a shallow channel; lanterns float in slow orbits overhead, shedding a patient glow. Beyond the glass, constellations wheel on a loop, precise as a promise. The world here always smells faintly of clean rain and green things—no steel, no disinfectant, no cameras aimed at his throat.
He looks down at his hand. The ring-of-code circles his finger, a weave of silver symbols pulsing gently, as if keeping time with his heart. It hums when he lifts it to eye level. Still here. In here, nothing and no one can pry it off.
He breathes in. The inhale is a full shape; the exhale swells out of him with sound he didn't know he'd been holding back—a soft laugh, a frayed edge mended.
[System] Safe Zone: Moonlit Garden — PvP disabled.
[System] Sanctuary effect active: +10% Stamina Regen, +Calm.
He takes the pathway of light tiles, his boots landing in rhythmic chimes. Petals fall and never rot. NPC caretakers sweep the same immaculate corner with the same inefficient tenderness, and Adrian loves them for it. He pauses by the canal to watch a koi—code-rich and luminous—turn in a lazy spiral. In the distortion on the water, he is not a boy with a collar; he is a figure made of shards of star.
The friend list opens with a flick of his wrist. Most names are grayed out. One blinks on.
Aether — online (Hidden)
His mouth tips up before he can stop it.
A soft chime.
[Party] You have received a /party invite from Aether.
He accepts. The garden air shifts, and light threads gather into the shape he knows. Aether steps out of the lantern-glow with that same aura of gentle gravity, shoulders draped in a cape of starlight, hair dark and tousled by a wind the game imagines for him. His presence feels like a door opening to a warm room. He says the same thing he always says, as if it's a ritual vow:
Aether: There you are.
Adrian: Here I can be.
Aether's avatar inclines his head, a smile quiet and whole. He doesn't flood the space with questions. He doesn't demand a pose for the world. He simply stands close enough that the lantern-light folds around them both.
Aether: You okay?
Adrian's fingers hover over the chat. Words are easier here, but they still have to choose him first. He types, deletes, types again.
Adrian: Rough day. The kind that cuts your name into you.
Aether: Then we'll let the world set down. Come on.
Aether offers a /party waypoint, a thin beam pointing toward the Starlight Chapel that sits inside the garden like a memory of something sacred. The chapel doors are open; voices of pixel-choir glide on the air. A quest marker twinkles above an NPC florist kneeling beside a crate of lilies.
[System] Side Quest Available: Ribbons for the Chapel — [Accept] / [Decline]
Aether moves first, choosing the smallness on purpose. Adrian smiles, breath easing, and hits [Accept].
NPC Florist: "Oh, thank goodness! My wrists—these boxes—would you help me, dears? The ceremony begins at midnight."
Adrian kneels with the avatar, hands moving through code that pretends to be stems and ribbon. The ring-of-code warms as he ties the first bow, as if recognizing the shape of a vow. Aether is beside him, unhurried, looping silver threads around pixel lilies.
Aether: The garden suits you tonight.
Adrian: Why?
Aether: It's the kind of quiet that listens back.
Adrian lets the line sit in him. He ties a ribbon, then another. Outside the dome, the firmament scrolls like a lullaby. He could talk in this light. The words form without pain.
Adrian: They put a name on me today. Not in here. Out there.
Aether: Did you want it?
He hesitates.
Adrian: Does it matter?
Aether: It matters to me what you want.
Nothing in the code changes, but the air does. Adrian glances sideways at him. The avatar's eyes are a shade the game calls midnight; when they meet his, they don't calculate. They receive.
Adrian: I want… to choose. Just once, without being told it's a privilege.
Aether: You're choosing right now.
They carry the crate between pews bathed in star-bleached light. Adrian places lilies along the rail; petals blink and settle. His shoulders lower another inch. He tells Aether about koi and safe zones, about how the UI always warms its palette when he logs in, about how he can breathe here without hunting for cameras in the corners. He doesn't say Assignment Ceremony. He doesn't say Duskborne. The garden keeps those words out like a good friend holds a door against a storm.
Aether listens without breaking him into problems to fix.
The typing bubble pauses. Holds. Vanishes.
The typing bubble returns.
Adrian's ring hums once, a soft answering pulse.
Aether: *emote touches the ring*
Aether's gloved hand taps the ring-of-code lightly. A small particle flare twines between their joined shadows.
Aether: Still fits.
Adrian: It keeps my hand from shaking.
Aether: Then we'll keep it on.
They circle back to the NPC. The florist claps, delighted. A ribbon of XP unfurls; a little badge blooms on Adrian's UI—Helper of the Night. It's nothing. It's everything.
[System] Quest Complete! Reward: 100 XP, 2× Pixel Lily, Warmth Emote Pack (Chapel) unlocked.
Adrian triggers a new emote without thinking: /warmth. A faint halo gathers at his chest; it pulses twice before dissolving.
Aether: That one looks good on you.
Adrian: Do it too.
Aether: I don't need code for that.
The line lands inside Adrian with humiliating accuracy. He covers it with a smile the game cannot misinterpret and toggles his visor to free cam for a second. The angle shows them from the chapel entry: two figures framed in lanterns, hands almost touching, ribbons like constellations between them.
They leave the chapel and walk the garden path. Vendors drift along the edge of the safe zone: a tea-seller NPC in a floating boat, a cat-merchant hawking /buff biscuits, a glassblower animating galaxies into orbs. Aether pauses only to /trade him a small item—a charm shaped like a keyhole.
[Trade] Aether offers Quiet Key (trinket).
[System] Quiet Key: While equipped in safe zones, reduces nearby chat spam, +Focus.
Adrian equips it. The garden hushes by a subtle notch, not silent—just tuned to him.
Adrian: When I'm with you, I forget that my name means something to everyone else before it means anything to me.
Aether: Here, it means whatever you say it means.
Adrian: What if I can't say it out loud?
Aether: Then type. Then breathe. Then wait. I'm not going anywhere.
The vendor boat bobs away, lantern trailing. Somewhere beyond the dome, the world that owns him rotates, counting down to its next demand. He stands at the railing. Aether stands beside him, not touching, close enough that the halo of their avatars intersects.
Aether: You can log when you need. Or stay until dawn mode. I'll match you.
Adrian: You'll fall asleep at your desk.
Aether: Who said I'm at a desk?
The cursor blinks. Adrian's smile hiccups. The game renders a breeze that goes nowhere and he lets it move through him. He doesn't ask. He never asks. Don't break the magic. He remembers the clean scent of ozone on a uniform, the gloved hand that never reached. He swallows—here, the swallow is only sound, not a weapon.
They loop the garden once more, sharing the kind of talk that lives between obligations—the best kind. Aether tells him about a dungeon that opened in Ironspire, about a rumor that the Orion's Watch guildmaster has been seen training in public (a myth, surely). Adrian tells him about the koi again because it's easier than telling him how real water sounds when slapping a cold marble floor backstage.
They return to the chapel steps, not ready to part but close to it.
Aether: There's something I've wanted to ask you…
Aether is typing…
The dot flickers. Holds. Vanishes.
Aether is typing…
Adrian doesn't breathe until it returns.
Aether: …not here.
Aether's name glows in the party pane; a tiny padlock icon sits beside it—Hidden. For half a second, the UI jitters; the padlock flashes LD— then settles back to Aether. He blinks and it's gone. The garden holds its breath with him.
—
[System] Connection Stable — Latency: 12ms.
The moonlit garden dissolves into a quieter square, coded lanterns hovering like fireflies. Adrian's avatar lingers by the fountain, its mirrored surface scattering pixels in ripples. His hands hover over the interface.
Aether appears beside him, cloak brushing virtual stone. His voice—warm, grounding—slides into Adrian's ears through the headset.
Aether: I want to meet you.
The words hit harder than any assignment decree.
Adrian's throat dries though no one can hear it. His cursor trembles over the chat box.
Adrian: Meet… IRL?
Aether: Yes. A place safe, public. The botanical atrium near the South Transit hub. Bright, cameras everywhere. You'd be safe.
The screen paints coordinates in light. A star blinks on his map. His ring-of-code warms faintly against his finger, as though responding to a vow.
Adrian grips the haptic gloves tighter. His lungs don't know whether to breathe faster or not at all.
Adrian: Why?
Aether steps closer, virtual glow cutting through shadow.
Aether: Because some truths can't be kept behind avatars. I want to see you—really see you. And… I think you deserve someone to stand with you outside this code.
The words coil around his chest, both balm and knife.
His mind fractures. Voices crawl in:
— This is the honor of our family. His mother's trembling insistence.
— Adrian Vale—ready check. The Matchmaker's metallic voice.
— Lucien Duskborne. The name that detonated inside the dome, drowning him.
The safe warmth of Aether's tone tangles with the cold scent memory of steel and ozone. Lucien's unreadable gaze flashes against the way Aether leans in now, gentle, unthreatening.
He types: Yes. Stops. Deletes.
A typing bubble pulses on his side, then cancels.
Types again: I can't. Deletes.
The cursor blinks like a heartbeat gone wrong.
Aether is typing… disappears. Returns.
Aether: I won't push. But I need you to know I'll be there. Waiting. You don't have to decide now.
The kindness cuts deeper than pressure ever could.
Adrian finally forces his fingers to obey.
Adrian: Not yet. I… I can't.
He hates how the words look: clipped, cowardly. But they're the only shield he has.
The ring-of-code flickers, faint sun at his finger. He remembers its weight during their chapel wedding—digital lilies, vows whispered in pixels. That ring had felt more real than the cold metal collar pressing his skin in the real world.
Aether's reply is immediate, steady.
Aether: Okay. I hear you.
Aether: When you're ready—if ever—you'll find me.
The map marker glows again. Coordinates saved to his log.
Adrian stares at the blinking star, his hand unmoving.
He highlights the line of text, No, sitting in their chat. His pulse thunders, traitorous.
Then, quietly, he presses Save Location.
A soft ping.
[System] Location bookmarked: South Atrium Conservatory
He tells the world no.
But his heart has already pinned the way.