We split up to do different jobs, promising to meet frequently to trade information and resources. There weren’t many of the tasks that doubled back or stacked, so we went off our separate ways.

  I took one of the Kindness Trials: Rescue an owl from a net. I followed the marker to a stand of trees where an owl struggled in the tangle of fine filament string, as if someone had cast a fishing line in the trees. There was no stream near it to prove the theory. As I approached, the owl screeched and flailed, wings held still by the net.

  It had an actual nameplate? Weird. I didn’t bother reading it. This had to be the owl I was supposed to rescue.

  I pulled out my crusty sewer axe and clipped the string until the bird fell to the ground. The snare had been placed deliberately, woven through branches in such a way that it caged the bird.

  I knelt beside it, gently pinning it to the ground, slicing away the last bindings, doing my best to avoid cutting the bird. Once I’d tugged the string away, it lay there on the ground, blinking at me.

  I stood up and stepped back, waving at it. “Fly, dummy. You’re free.”

  It fluffed its wings and rotated its head, like birds do. Big yellow eyes stared at me, then it hooted once and took off straight through the trees.

  A moment later, tiny screams erupted from the meadow it had flown toward.

  “The Sprite Slayer took Pip!”

  Oh. Shit.

  I charged through the fern into the meadow, skidding to a stop beside a miniature picnic. A handful of sprites and some rats had a bandanna spread out as a blanket, with a tiny woven basket of fruit and nuts. They were all pointing to the tree nearby where that damn owl I just freed had a sprite pinned to a lower branch.

  “Murder! Murder!” They all shrieked. The rats scattered while the sprites flew around frantically.

  “Get me a net, and I’ll catch it,” I said, wincing as the owl stomped on Pip, eliciting squeals of agony from the captured sprite.

  The Sprite Slayer seemed to enjoy playing with its food. The Sprites flew around in circles, wailing. I snarled, “Get it now, or Pip’s not the only one that’s gonna get stomped!”

  A dozen dragonfly wings buzzed as they all fluttered in different directions. I sidled toward the owl, trying to come up with different scenarios, since I had no idea if they would do what I told them to. I swept up the picnic bandanna and twirled it lazily.

  That seemed to draw the owl’s attention, while Pip squirmed under the press of its talons. When I got to within range, I tossed the red bandanna high, letting it flutter down, while I pulled my cloak out of inventory.

  The owl’s gaze stayed on the fluttering bandana. With the snap of my wrist, I flung my cloak up over the distracted bird.

  The eelskin muffled the surprised hoot. I jumped, grabbing the base of the branch it had perched upon. The owl squirmed beneath the weight of the cloak. I hauled myself up on the branch. I grabbed the owl by the stubby neck and tore it off the branch.

  It released Pip, who rolled off the branch and fell to the ground below. With the bird and my cloak in my hand, I forced it into my inventory. For a moment, I thought the Sprite Slayer wouldn’t go. Its wings struggled, and then, when my cloak disappeared, reappearing in my stock items, the owl’s icon appeared in the next square, [Sprite Slayer: Barreled Owl, LVL 3].

  With an irritated smirk, I dropped out of the tree and knelt beside Pip. His membranous wings were crinkled, his little linen shirt stained with blood. His tiny blue face had turned purple where the owl had stomped it.

  “You alive?” I asked as kindly as my gravelly voice could muster.

  “Murdered,” Pip whispered.

  “You’re alive,” I stated, slipping a hand underneath him.

  I carried him back to the vine-woven village, where his picnic friends were flying around, screaming about the owl. With a long sigh, I held him up.

  They all screamed in unison, “Pip!”

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  An elven woman swept out of one of the vine houses, her hands outstretched. I gladly handed the bloody sprite off, then brushed my hands on my pants, leaving smears on the pebbled leather. The village was just as charming as ever, but my newfound doubt chewed at the edges of its idyllic facade.

  “Petal,” I asked, going over to the circle that seemed to be where she stayed all the time. “I freed the owl from the net. It attacked someone right after, but I saved the sprite. If you knew it was the Sprite Slayer, why did you ask me to free it?”

  “Well done, Dathai,” Petal said as she buzzed past me. “The trial is kindness. Kindness to all, no matter the consequences.”

  “What—” I thought quickly, trying to explain my thoughts, “Would I be rewarded if I let the sprite die?”

  “Unkindness must be punished!” Petal screeched, making me squint reflexively.

  “Well, I followed the guidelines,” I said firmly, not about to mention that I had the owl in my possession. Maybe it was in a kind of stasis. I didn’t think it would die. How could it? It was a digital construct, mimicking a living creature.

  She paid me in quartz and a hunting knife. It looked something like a Bowie, but a little shorter, and with a gut hook at the tip for skinning. That knife would have been useful before the job, but whatever. I got it done, anyway.

  I waited around for a while to see if Jake or Akilah would come back, but they didn’t. The canopy shivered, pale light sifted down through the trees to dance in dazzling motes, and the cheerful wind chime played its winsome tune. A dreamy, almost hypnotic feeling started to settle in, so I shook my head vigorously and called to Petal Dew, who hadn’t stopped flying around and around since I last spoke to her.

  “Petal, give me the next Trial of Kindness.”

  She fluttered over and smiled, sweet as honeysuckle. “Go to see Urstana. She needs a letter delivered.”

  The door to Urstana’s house shimmered, so I wandered that way. It wasn’t so much a door as a woven mat, curled up and held by a loop of vine. A young elf sat inside, weaving a basket.

  I fought the twitch of a smirk. A basketweaving elf struck me as funny. “Urstana? I’ve been told you want a letter delivered?”

  Dark, red-rimmed eyes turned up through a tangled mass of ebony hair. Her ears poked prominently through the wealth of unkempt locks. She looked pretty rough. Grief-stricken, even.

  “I do,” she whispered hoarsely. She stood up and picked up an envelope bound with a ribbon. Her eyes fell on it, and she held it low, as if it were too heavy a thing for her to hold. Her posture shifted; she started to turn away, as if second-guessing herself.

  After a pause, she faced me again. “Don’t open it. Please… please take it to Aran for me? I can’t do it, myself.”

  Her hand over her heart, she slowly extended the plain envelope, looking away from me, to the ground as if in shame. I took it. Instantly, the HUD redirected my attention further out from the village to a pond on my mini-map.

  “Sure,” I murmured.

  Acts of kindness, huh? Last time, I didn’t question the job and almost got punished for it. This time I had to be smarter, but, it was just a letter. What harm could it do?

  I followed the winding path, rabbits frolicking, butterflies flitting from flower to flower. Just a lovely day in paradisal wonderland. I scanned the wooded path ahead, watching for trouble.

  I came upon the pond where a skinny elf sat on a rocky outcropping, fishing. The nameplate above his head announced him as Aran. My gaze shifted around, looking for the catch. Giant frogs? An owlbear? Or some other thing crashing through the woods to eat us?

  I approached with no incident. The blue sun warmed my head, making my photosynthetic skin tingle with life. I crouched beside the young man and held the letter out, glancing over my shoulder. You know, just in case.

  “This is for you,” I said, scanning the underbrush.

  “Oh,” Aran looked up, startled. I didn’t think I walked quietly, but maybe he’d been in his own head and not paying attention.

  He set his fishing pole down and tugged on the ribbon. It fell away onto his homespun pants, draping over his knee. As I scanned the pond, his skinny fingers unfolded the letter.

  He stiffened, which drew my attention. A blank look overtook his face, and the letter fluttered out of his hands to the rock beside him. I glanced at it. The words stung as if they’d been meant for me.

  I know you’ve been meeting someone. Liars like you should die, Aran!

  I felt the pull of despair for a second before I steeled myself against it. That wasn’t my misery. I wasn’t the liar the note was talking about. The letter darkened in the sun, the paper turning black, concealing the words. The hidden words compelled with sinister intent.

  Something splashed, and water spattered my leg.

  “What the hell!”

  Aran had just tumbled into the water, headfirst. I automatically dove in after him, cleaving into the murky water. I caught him easily. He didn’t fight or flail, just looked at me with heartbroken eyes in the green depths. A few hard strokes and my head crested the surface, and I dragged his head up above the water.

  He hung limply in my grasp. I hauled him to the bank by his shirt, his body trailing through the pond like a ragdoll. Aran sputtered and choked against the pressure of fabric against his throat, but he didn’t complain.

  After I dragged him into the reeds, I tugged him up to his feet and shook him. “What was that about?”

  “She thinks I cheated on her,” he coughed, teeth rattling from the shaking I gave him.

  I stopped jerking him around and held him there, my fists caught in his shirt. “Well, did you?”

  “No,” he sighed, looking at his feet, which were still in thick silt, water lapping around them.

  “Well, okay then. Let’s go back and explain,” I started, letting go of him.

  He looked at me with eyes full of defeat before collapsing back into the water. Just keeled back like his legs couldn’t bother to hold him up. I threw my arms out and barked, “Are you kidding me?”

  Aran started drifting back into the pond, so I grabbed his foot and yanked him back toward me, his limp body sliding like a dead fish. He lay there in the reeds and then started to roll over onto his belly.

  This time, I understood. That compulsion I’d felt coming from the letter worked on him. With a startled jerk in my chest, I realized that it could have worked on me as well, if I’d had a weaker will. I slipped an arm around him and lifted him by his middle so that he hung like a stuffed animal at my side.

  “Let’s go, dumbass,” I grumbled, wading out of the reeds and back onto the path.

  Wet. AGAIN.

  With my free hand, I shoved my sodden hair away from my eyes, boots squelching as I stomped down the path. We must have been an amusing sight. A half-orc, soaked and trudging along with a dripping elf sagging under an arm. What a perfect ray of sunshine in Heartland Park.

  I saw a unicorn grazing beside the trail.

  I didn’t give a fuck. I was over this stupid place.

  -ARCHIVE-