“My name,” Iona said quietly. “I’ll give you my name. When you play the lullaby, you can play it as me. And I’ll go into the Spire without one.”
Iona thought about it. She thought about the log, the quests, the endless checklist of things she had to become. She thought about the potter’s wheel back home, the feel of wet clay spinning between her palms. She thought about the miller’s son and his nice forearms.
The next morning, she found the book on her pillow, open to the side quests. A new line had been added in fresh ink: rpg maker mv quest log
Iona gave herself a pep talk. It was terrible. The blade dimmed. The hermit of Echo Pass required a Sunset Orchid, which grew only on the lip of a waterfall that fell upward into a floating island. Iona climbed for two days, nearly fell to her death three times, and finally plucked the flower while screaming apologies at a nesting griffin. The hermit—a wizened woman who smelled of old cheese and bad decisions—took one look at Iona, laughed, and gave her the map.
Completion progress: 83% Side quests remaining: 1 (defeat the Prince) Survival chance: 1% Confidence: 4% (unchanged) “My name,” Iona said quietly
The book flipped to a new page, as if offended.
“The log says my survival chance is now 14%.” And I’ll go into the Spire without one
The Bard of the Silent Choir was a girl named Elara who had taken a vow of silence after hearing a song that “unmade the space between notes.” She communicated through interpretive dance and aggressive eyebrow movements. It took Iona two days to realize Elara had already agreed to come and was just waiting for Iona to stop talking.
Iona looked at her quest log. It had fallen open to the first page.
“Oh, well. Practically immortal.” The companions came harder.
By the sixth Shadow, Iona was bleeding from a dozen wounds, her companions unconscious behind her, her blade cracked and dull. The Shadow wore her own face—pale, terrified, clay-stained.