Rich stared at the dragon, feeling the world spin around him, feeling his pulse quicken. The blackness surrounding the mirror had fallen into something like a starfield, deep and pitiless.

It's happening again, he thought, as the dread built within him.

“What is happening again?” Rotgoriel asked.

“This is a hallucination,” Rich said, licking his lips. “It's brought on by the trauma that I went through when my dad died. You are not real. Go away!”

Silence, for a long minute.

“You think you are insane,” Rotgoriel said. His voice was deeper now, more resonant than it had been. The horns on the back of his head had grown and curled slightly, angling downward. The scales were a different hue too, glistening in the reflected starlight like black glass.

“I do,” Rich breathed. “I think I went a little mad then, and imagined that we spoke. That we...”

“That we melded together, and all our secrets were laid bare to each other.” Rotgoriel blinked his single eye. “You have grown. Your face is thinner. There is more muscle to your frame.”

“Yeah. I've been working out. You started me down that path, I remember.” Rich smiled... then he grabbed his face with both hands. “What am I doing? No! You're. Not. Real!”

“If I lacked the intelligence that I have now, I might be insulted,” Rotgoriel mused. “But those levels you got me aided my mind. I am not insulted.”

“You are a character in a game!”

“And there is the question. Is it really a game?”

Rich opened his hands, to find the dragon's eye staring into his own, locking him with its gaze.

“It is a game,” Rich whispered, feeling himself start to crumble, feeling the sessions of therapy starting to come undone. “It has to be.”

“Stop. Stop!” Rotgoriel said, jerking his head in alarm. “That way lies madness, for you anyway. Calm. Calm yourself. You don't have the mental fortitude I do. Let us... let us agree not to discuss this. Not yet, anyway.”

“There's nothing to discuss,” Rich said, getting ahold of himself, finding a fragment to cling to as he felt pressure build in his skull. “You're just a character in a game. I'm hallucinating this.”

Rotgoriel closed his maw, and turned his head aside. Then he snorted. “I did not expect to gain wisdom, here, but I do not reject it. Very well. Perhaps you are hallucinating this. Perhaps you do not yet have the mental fortitude to withstand the truth. I will depart for now. But brother, there is a way to test this. When you are ready.”

“I'm not sure I want to test it,” Rich whispered.

“When you are ready,” Rotgoriel emphasized, his muzzle dipping into something like a frown. “You will return and we will trade bodies at some point. I have the mirror. Use it to speak to me across worlds.”

And then the starfield faded, and Rich was left staring at his bathroom mirror.

Rich went to his mattress, retrieved the small, flat flask that he'd stored there, and stared at it.

Pat had given it to him, him and Greg. Bootleg hooch that kicked like a donkey and tasted like ass. Pat, one of the friends he'd made, since he'd arrived. Real friends. People that existed. People who would be worried about him if he told them about one-eyed dragons in his bathroom mirror.

Well maybe not Greg. Greg would make obscene jokes about one-eyed dragons. The thought made him smile, and the smile made him laugh, and the laugh threatened to keep going until he was crying, so he took a slug of the firewater instead.

Dad used beer to take the edge off, he remembered. The big man had gone for quantity over quality— though to be fair, it was all they could afford at the time. It had given him a gut of pure flab, probably caused him all sorts of health troubles. Rich was built along similar lines... a big body that would never be thin, but had been very, very happy to help him put on muscle when he started working out and exercising. He was built strong, but he needed balance to keep himself that way.

Which is why he took another sip, coughed, and replaced the flask under his mattress. I can't run from this, he knew. I'm going to have to go back in there. Cutter's going to be waiting.

It took a few minutes to check out the darknet router that the agent had left, and a few more to configure it properly. Peering at it with his compilers active showed that there were a few strands of code that were probably tracking links... they'd know when he was in. This gift came with eyes attached, but he wasn't surprised. This was the Ministry. They were watching. It was only to be expected.

Though if it was the division of Faith, this was probably fine. When he was growing up, the government was just the government, a monolithic evil entity to be avoided and feared. They could do anything to you, and would, even if you followed the rules.

But the older he got, the more he realized that the situation was more complicated than that. It wasn't a monolith at all. There were cracks there, rough edges that grated against each other, and politics that shook the entire structure, even if the public didn't see them.

Cracks, divisions, gaps that a desperate young man could shelter in, if he were smart and nimble enough. It wasn't perfect, but it was necessary.

And with that, he locked his door, shoved his desk in front of it, then lay down on the bed and logged into the darknet.

The link was still there, after all these years. He wasn't surprised. The Darknet wasn't half as discouraged as the Ministry pretended it to be. It was an outlet of pressure relief, and a good way to locate dissidents who were searching for other dissidents. They didn't really care about the blasphemy that went on here, even if the Ministers railed against it. It was a convenient scapegoat, one that angered the righteous and gave the hypocrites a thing to blame for violence and vice.

And then he was falling, falling past planets, the starscape blurring past him again... blurring and slowing.

INACTIVE ACCOUNT DETECTED. DO YOU WISH TO RESUBSCRIBE?

Rich swallowed, and hit the offered button.

The price had gone up a bit, he remembered. Funny how his mind supplied that detail from three years ago... This time he was paying it with his own funds, though. Funds that had a zero added to them, when he glanced over the payment details. Faith worked fast; this would cover his expenses well.

And then the words he was dreading appeared.

WELCOME BACK.

Rich closed his eyes as a man, and opened an eye as a dragon.

The cave around him, that was no surprise. It had some paintings on the walls, pretty well-done ones if he was any judge. And there was the likely artist, the blue djinni he remembered from that horrible day, so long ago. Still as pretty as she was back then, though a little slender for his tastes, now.

And behind her...

Rich took a step back, and caught himself.

The thing to her left looked like the lovechild of a frilled dragon and a utahraptor. Green and black scales, a sharp-looking beak, and whip-thin limbs on a hunched over bipedal body...

...and a name glowing above it, that proclaimed 'Geebo – Drakkit 20'

Rich stared at it.

It stared back at him, then its eyes widened. “The feeling is gone!” It said, in a somewhat-deeper, but still memorable voice.

“Geebo,” Rich said. “You've changed.”

“You are the other, yes? The human?” Geebo tilted his head.

“I... he told you about that?” Rich said, glancing from Geebo to Aunarox.

“Somewhat. Rotgoriel said it was complicated. Geebo understands now. He is not mad, you are not mad. Geebo serves two masters, and that is all right too.”

Rich felt some of the tension ease from him. The little guy had been one of the high points of the game last time, seriously good NPC coding that somewhat made up for the dragon race's complete lack of a tutorial.

“You appear no different to my eyes,” Aunarox spoke up, and Rich turned a bit, to watch them both more easily. “Save for the way you hold your neck, a bit. You are... more animated.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Dragons are, by nature, sedentary creatures. They waste no energy unless it is necessary.”

“Unlike drakkits,” Rich said, watching Geebo's long tail twitch, watching him fidget and rub his hands together like a praying mantis. The little guy was stuck in constant, twitchy motion. “What happened? No, wait, you had a rank up. I remember that now.” Rich blinked his eye. “This is that? Did you know what would happen?”

“Not really.” Geebo shook his head, folded frills flapping. “The description was strange.”

“Did you ever run into any drakkits before? Really old draggits who turned into them?”

“There are very, very few really old draggits,” Geebo said quietly. “I am the only one I know who ever got to level twenty.”

“Ah yes, levels,” Aunarox said. “The new thing.”

“What?” Rich looked over to her.

“They have not been around long. Perhaps a century... I think. Perhaps a few decades. I cannot say exactly when I noticed them. The world worked differently before something shifted its paradigm.”

“How did it work before then?” Rich asked.

“Much like my home did,” Aunarox shrugged. “I do not think I could explain that to an outsider, even one who has reaped Anjuuta's benevolence.”

“Anjuuta?”

The djinn's eyes narrowed. “Surely you have not forgotten the great sovereign that you have pledged your loyalty to?”

“It's been a few years,” Rich said, “give me a moment... oh! Right! The Cultist stuff.”

“Yes,” she said, eyes un-narrowing, and rolling skyward. “The Cultist stuff. Ah, humans.”

“Just let me read up on it. Uh... let's see... Status?”

That did it, and he looked over his character screen carefully. It had been a few years, so he didn't remember if the numbers had changed much, but there were a few things that caught his attention. “I'm a Cleric now? Two jobs? Interesting. Who's Konol?”

As soon as he said it, he knew the answer to that question. “Caunal... of course he'd go for the dragon god,” Rich said, muttering to himself.

“Dragons have no gods,” Geebo said.

“Well this one does,” Rich replied, and navigated through the help screens.

He read through the Cleric skills, paused, then called up the Cultist skills. True, he'd been a Cultist from the start, but thanks to his griefed newbie zone, he hadn't had access to the skills until shortly before he'd stopped playing.

They were pretty evil, a good contrast to the Cleric's support stuff.

Conceal Status

Cost: 5 Mox Duration: 1 Hour

The hard lesson every Cultist needs to learn is that Cultists are usually hated and feared. This skill lets you change your status to outside investigators. You can alter any or all details, though this skill is most often used to hide the user’s Cultist job levels. While this skill is active, any attempt to see the Cultist’s status screen will bring up a false status that says anything the Cultist wants. It is not infallible... This skill ISN’T a spell, more like a controlled derangement.

Curses

Cost: 1 For per point invested Duration: Until canceled

Cultists are very good at calling down the attention of dark and unwholesome powers upon their enemies. To enact a curse, the Cultist spends fortune, decreasing one of the target’s attributes by one point for each point of fortune invested. This reduces the Cultist’s fortune by the casting cost of blessing until they choose to cancel the spell. A being can only be under the influence of a single curse at a time. The target gets a chance to resist... If they fail, they cannot attempt to curse the target again until a full day has passed. A Cultist can only have one curse bestowed at a time. This skill is a spell.

Dark Chant

Cost: 10 Mox/Turn Duration: Until canceled

The Cultist can intone blasphemous words, ripping at the sanity of all who hear them! Well, everyone save other Cultists, who are immune to the effect of this spell. While it is active, all creatures within earshot take either fortune, moxie, or sanity damage equal to the skill level. (A daemon Cultist deals moxie damage, a djinn Cultist deals fortune damage, and an old one Cultist deals sanity damage.) Those affected may attempt to resist through sheer willpower. When multiple dark chants are active, only the most skilled one actually does damage, the others just sound really cool in an evil sort of way. This skill is a spell.

Darkspell: Fool’s Gold (Anjuuta)

Cost: 10 Mox Duration: 10 minutes/level

The Cultist can call up gold from an entire dimension full of gold coins. This spell creates one gold coin per Cultist level. However, the gold is only temporary, and it soon dissipates. This does not tend to engender feelings of goodwill in those so fooled. The gold coins register as magical to various detection spells. This skill is a spell.

Enhance Pain

Cost: 10 San Duration: 10 Second/level

Cultists generally want their enemies to suffer. This spell helps them achieve that modest and entirely reasonable goal. This skill pits the Cultist’s intelligence against the target’s wisdom. If they succeed, the target is debuffed. Any damage they suffer while under the effects of enhance pain is increased by the Cultist’s level. This skill is a spell.

Occult Eye

Cost: 10 San Duration: 1 minute

The lore that Cultists seek is usually very well hidden and very dangerous. This skill allows them to examine an object, area, or being for traces of occult contamination. This also allows them to read blasphemous tomes, scrolls, and inscriptions without risking damage. This skill is a spell.

Servant of Darkness

Cost: N/A Duration: Passive Constant

Once a Cultist survives long enough, the dark powers take an interest in their fate. Which is usually horrible, but has a few perks now and again. You gain a bonus to your fate equal to your Cultist level. This skill has no levels.

Transfer Wounds

Cost: 10 For Duration: 1 Attack

Cultists don’t cast healing spells. They do, however, pass on pain to those whom they deem more deserving. The Cultist may make an unarmed attack on a living foe. If they succeed, they deal no normal damage. Instead, the Cultist deals an amount of damage equal to their transfer wounds skill to the target, bypassing all defenses. Simultaneously, the Cultist heals an amount of damage equal to their transfer wounds skill. This skill is a spell.

Unhinged Mind

Cost: 1 For per San Duration: Until canceled

Power. Above all, the drive to be a Cultist attracts those who crave power... and will sacrifice much to get it. A Cultist can basically trade fortune for sanity, increasing his maximum sanity by one for each point of fortune committed. Fortune committed lowers the Cultist’s maximum fortune and acts as a sanity buff until the Cultist chooses to cancel the effect. Once canceled, the committed fortune is not instantly returned, but must recharge in the normal fashion. This skill has no levels.

This is some powerful stuff, Rich mused. It was very much a support class, just mostly in the realm of debuffs. It was surprising that there weren't any direct offensive skills, but that Conceal Status ability suggested that the job was designed to be subtle and sneaky... to a point, anyway. And Unhinged Mind would be a boon to any other casting class he picked up... well, except for a fortune-based class. Cleric had some of that, but it was a mix of fortune and sanity for most of the skills.

He looked up from his reading to see the others staring at him, waiting. Geebo was fidgeting— really, he had the look of something that couldn't not fidget now. But Aunarox was cross-legged, floating in the air, smiling as her hair wisped eternally in a phantom wind.

“Something funny?” Rich asked her.

She shook her head. “Merely speculating on the timing. The dragon wakes, and now you are here within a day of his consciousness. Tell me, oh traveler, does this strike you as a coincidence?”

“It couldn't be anything else,” Rich said. “I don't think the people who pull the strings in my homeland can pull this sort of string here. And they're the only ones who would have an interest in doing so.”

“Are you certain of that?” Aunarox's smile grew.

Rich felt a small flare of anger. “Look, if you know something please tell me, don't pussyfoot around it—”

Incoming Message Request from Nerguin

Accept/Refuse/Block?

“Pussyfoot?” Aunarox tilted her head, confused.

Rich waved a few claws at her. “Something came up. Give me a second. Uh... Accept.”

NERGUIN: Are you the Rutger I need to speak with right now?

RUTGER: Depends. Where did we last speak?

NERGUIN: Your dormitory room.

RUTGER: Then I'm him.

NERGUIN: Good. What color's your bedsheet?

RUTGER: Blue.

NERGUIN: Good enough. We'll need a face to face for the next part. Your wings are good enough for a long flight, I hope?

RUTGER: I think so.

NERGUIN: Good. The modeling team has pieced together a rough map, based on the footage and landmarks we saw on your friend's lifestream. I'll send you the graphic; here's where you need to go...