“Are they still coming?” Connor gasped as the party finally collapsed, weary, exhausted, and aching at the top of a wooded ridge somewhere in Black Birch Forest. The early grays of dawn were lighting the previously austere and forbidding forest. The spider-black fingers of the trees now seeming less threatening as the day’s colors returned.

“Not up that slope, they’re not,” Olanna said from where she perched on the rocky outcrop, looking back the way they had come. A little way off, Dargan was lying face up on the top of the ridge, groaning into the sky.

It had been Olanna’s idea to come this way, avoiding the wider path that led back to the destroyed wagon camp and the main Southern Road. Instead, they would strike out into the mountains of Black Birch, in a climb that was almost vertical at times.

“Tell me again just why you thought three wounded souls needed a bit of mountaineering?” Connor heard the dwarf groan.

“You’re a dwarf. I thought the mountain air would do you some good,” she grumbled sarcastically, earning a tired chuckle from Dargan a little way off.

“Ugh. Maybe you’re right. On the up side, I’ve almost cleared that grave stench from my nose,” the dwarf growled. He pushed himself to seated position and looked back the way they had come.

“Anyway, I figured they’re a horde. They’re going to want to go forth and pillage, right?” Olanna said with a shrug. “And Skeletons aren’t renowned mountain climbers.”

She had a point, Connor thought, and although he did share the dwarf’s exhaustion, he thought there was some sense to Olanna’s plan.

“We’re probably safer up here anyway,” Connor groaned, pushing himself to his feet and swaying unsteadily. He knew that his Vitality had to be dangerously low, which would mean collapsing if he didn’t get some rest soon.

“There’s a shortcut around here somewhere that runs to SkyBridge Outpost straight through this way. It cuts out most of the southern bend,” he said, looking around to see if he could make out the earlier trail that he had taken.

The air was cold in the mountains, and Connor was thankful for the Ranger Marshal’s thick cloak as searched for the trail he had followed on his first journey to SkyBridge. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see any sign of the trail he’d followed before. Just the rise they were on, deeply wooded vales on either side, and then the ground rose up once more in rugged waves before the ominous Mountains of Mourn themselves.

“How do you know that?” Olanna shot him a sharp look. “I got into the game just a day or so after you,” she considered. “All you should have been doing so far was chasing Rats or Goblins to grind experience points.”

“Well, I ah . . .” Connor shrugged, suddenly self-conscious that he hadn’t told them about the rather ill-fated—indeed fatal—adventure he’d had in Legends.

“What can I say?” Connor said quickly, aware that Dargan was sharing Olanna’s concerned look. “Call it professional skill. This is what I do, after all.”

“It’s what I do too. That doesn’t mean I know what the heck is going on,” Olanna pointed out. Connor could feel her eyes boring into the back of his head for a long moment before she sucked her teeth and seemed to dismiss it.

“Well, if you say there’s a trail, then the easiest line would be there, following the gentler side of that hill and sloping down to the west,” she indicated, stalking past them to the other edge of the ridge and climbing up onto the boulders.

“Ha! Look at that. Am I good or what?” she said triumphantly, beckoning them to climb up onto the rock and see what she was looking at.

There, right in the distance on the horizon, they could make out a graying mass, standing shapes like buildings, and the sky dotted with other, rounded shapes far too big to be birds.

“Airships,” Connor said. “That’s SkyBridge Outpost, alright.”

There was a moment of silence from Connor’s two companions before Dargan said evenly, “She’s right. You sure do know a lot about Legends, don’t ya?”

Connor remained silent for a moment, suddenly unwilling to tell them that he had been hired to play the game and that he had gotten stuck inside along with the rest of them because of it. As large as the game hack community was, he had no idea if Dargan was a purist and thought that his kind were leeches and chancers.

“That’s where we’re going,” Connor said with a nod. “SkyBridge gets us to Union City, and in Union City, we can find the First Gate.”

And in the Aviatrix’s Tower is the Ring of Tantor, the key to unlocking that Gate, he added silently. Or at least it used to be there.

***

They pushed on for most of the morning before the waves of exhaustion and tiredness forced all of them to collapse. This time, they camped beside a small waterfall that marked the end of the ridge they were following and the start of that gentler hillside where Olanna guessed they would find their shortcut. The waterfall was beautiful, spraying a halo of water mist into the air before plunging to a small pool below, and the banks decorated with bright yellow celandine and white crocus. From the treetops above them came the high, piping voices of birds.

This was a better place than most to stop, so the company threw themselves onto the grass. Olanna had displayed considerable skill showing them how to catch the pool’s fish, not to mention how to make a comfortable bed of flowers and leaves.

“Ah,” Connor grinned at her over the first food they’d prepared over a small cook fire. “You always did like being a Ranger, didn’t you?”

“I’m not Level 5 and haven’t got a Tutor, so I don’t know yet.” Olanna stiffened a little, and Connor got the sense that she was still annoyed with him for coming into the game and for being a hacker in the first place.

“Maybe I’ll be a Druid. Or an Assassin.” She shrugged, but Connor wasn’t fooled. He’d spent too many hours gaming with her. He knew that she preferred being a Ranger, Outrider, Explorer, or some such outdoors class more than any other.

After their meal, they settled down to rest, and Connor busied himself with assigning his Attribute points and Skill increase from the last level up.

I’m going to need that extra Health and Vitality, Connor acknowledged as he considered what to do with the additional two Attribute points?

A few things occurred to him. His Agility was pretty good—better than either a Goblin or a Skeleton, anyway—but he was also taking too long to kill the fairly low-level enemies he’d faced so far. That problem was only going to get worse as they encountered higher level monsters.

That means more Strength, right?

But then, there was also the fact that his Charisma was only barely better than a half-rotten Skeleton Warrior.

“I guess that means Strength and Charisma,” he muttered to himself before adding, “Maybe Olanna will start being nicer to me with more Charisma.”

Name: Connor Halfelven

Profession: None

Race: Half-elf

Level: 4 (3300/5000)

Size: Medium

Health: 50 / 80

Vitality: 15 / 40

Agility: 13

Charisma: 6 +1 = 7

Intelligence: 10

Stamina: 10

Strength: 11 +1 = 12

Wisdom: 8

After allocating his Attribute points, the half-elf reviewed his skills. He had learned several new skills since the last time he’d checked, including one called Hide which he thought would be useful when they came up against some of the higher level monsters they were sure to face sooner or later.

Connor considered increasing either his Combat Ax skill or the newly learned Mace skill, but he wasn’t sure if either would be his long-term weapon of choice. Hiding, on the other hand, was something he would definitely need to do from time to time, so he chose to advance that skill.

Skills

Combat Ax: Novice Level Hide: Novice Level Mace: Basic Level Magical Instruments: Basic Level Shadow: Basic Level Sneak: Advanced Level Throwing Weapons: Basic Level

Not bad, he thought with a pleased sigh, especially when he saw how his Skills were turning out. He had gathered an impressive assortment of stealth related skills already. Perhaps he had been right in the first place and should become some kind of Rogue?

That was a decision for another time, though.

***

Connor . . .

Connor!

“Connor, wake up!”

The half-elf’s head snapped up, and he spluttered the tail end of a snore as he looked up, disorientated, to see Olanna crouching over him. For a moment, he couldn’t remember where he was and wondered if he was back in Tokyo, or further back still, in New York, and Arianna was telling him he’d fallen asleep in class again.

But the Arianna peering down at him had large, star-lit eyes and pointed ears, and the sounds and smells of a forest wafted around him. Connor looked past her to the blue sky overhead, and it all came back to him. He was still in Legends. And he realized he must have slept all through the afternoon.

“Sorry I slept so long,” he started to say, pulling himself up before Olanna suddenly put her hand over his mouth and hushed him to silence.

“Hmm?” Connor’s question was muffled by the elf’s hand. Then he saw that Olanna was looking past him to where a new radiance was filling their small hideaway.

There were lights shimmering in the pool of water. Tiny specks of brilliant starlight like fireflies but rising and dancing under the already churning waters as if they were some type of fantastic fish.

“Look. This is like the chanting thing, right?” Dargan whispered suspiciously from where he, too, was crouched on the grass. “Should have known better. You stop somewhere in the wilds, and weird crap starts happening. It’s never going to be good.”

“Shhh!” Olanna said. Connor could see how her whole body was tensed, her eyes darting as they followed the lights.

“I’m—I’m not feeling any sort of threat . . .” he heard her whisper, and Connor had to agree that he, too, felt the same. He didn’t have the same electric jaw ache that he got in the presence of powerful magic. Instead, it was even vaguely peaceful.

The party watched as the lights darted up and down in the churning pool, as if daring themselves to break the surface.

“Hmph . . .” The dwarf appeared entirely unentranced by whatever was happening, and Connor saw his gloved hands close over the haft of his war hammer.

“Better safe than sorry,” the dwarf fighter grumbled—just as the lights broke the surface.

They remained just as mysterious in the air as they had been under the water, Connor thought. Although if he squinted, he was sure that he could see that there were tiny, fast-moving wings akin to a shining butterfly or bee. The three adventurers watched as the first escapees from the pool hovered and darted before them for a long moment, waiting for the last of their sisterhood to make the journey from the wet to the dry, dusk-lit air.

Connor felt himself gasp at the ephemeral beauty of it. He felt like he was privileged to be watching something incredibly rare, but he didn’t know just what it was. The light of the flying, flitting creatures sparkled and danced in the water’s reflection below them, glinting off the glossy leaves of the overhanging tree branches.

“They’re dancing,” he heard Olanna whisper and realized that she was right. The cloud of—whatever they were—were engaged in some kind of dance, moving delicately toward and away from each other in what at first seemed like chaos. But after a moment, Connor saw it was actually following a much more complicated pattern. When they had completed their pattern for the third time, they started to move, gently floating over their heads and between the branches of the trees.

“We should . . .” Olanna said. Even without finishing her sentence, Connor knew that he agreed with her.

“Follow,” the half-elf breathed. Olanna slowly withdrew her hand and the pair, then the dwarf too, got to their feet and started to follow the bright creatures through the woods. This time, transfixed by the shimmering forms, not even Dargan the dwarf was hesitant, as everyone was overcome with their beauty.

The flying creatures—if creatures they were—moved erratically but purposefully between the dark trees as the larger people behind them stumbled and followed. After a space of time that did not appear so short nor so long either, Connor heard Olanna exhale loudly ahead of him.

“There! They’re heading to that clearing!” she said. Their steps slowed as they neared the destination to see the water-born lights entering the clearing. They were soon joined by a few others, then many more, from the far side too.

Two different “clouds” of the lights had entered the clearing. As soon as all the creatures of light had done so, they started to dance around each other in that same delicate, but now even more complicated dance.

“There have to be a hundred or more!” Olanna whispered.

“More.” It was Dargan’s turn to whisper as all three adventurers crouched in the dark at the edge of the clearing, peering in silently, feeling that if they so much as breathed, they would disturb something wondrous.

The three clouds swirled and joined, now completely impossible to tell apart, forming one vast, moving ring of glittering lights that illuminatied the ground, the tree trunks, the leaves . . .

And the faun who sat at the base of a tree.

Connor started, blinking. “I . . . I know him!” he whispered.

“So do I,” Dargan said.

“And I . . .” Olanna agreed—but their recognition did not disrupt the dance. One fluttering light appeared to break free from the ring and delicately dance its way to the seated goat-man who had greeted Connor and the others when they had first spawned in the game.

They watched as the light appeared to dart a little toward the faun then back away, hesitant at first, until the goat-legged creature held out a hand for the light to gracefully, tenderly, touch his fingertip.

And then, almost as quickly as they had arrived, the fluttering light beings lifted off. Some invisible signal went through the crowd, and the three groups split up once again, darting back into their family groups and fluttering between the trees, back to whatever stream or other haven had birthed them.

Connor, Olanna, and Dargan remained standing for what felt like an age, watching as the radiance faded from the clearing and returned to the steady and now dulled luminescence of distant moon and stars.

There was a murmur as the rich voice of the faun broke the spell of silence.

“Once, my homeland was filled with such wonders,” the creature said, looking up and catching the three adventurers with a sharp look. They realized that he had known that they were there the whole time.

“Aye, you can step out now. The Pirry Dancers have gone, and I fear I’ll never see their like again,” the half-man, half-goat said mournfully.

“The . . . the Pirry Dancers?” Olanna stepped forward first, bowing her head toward the faun gracefully. “I have never heard of them.”

“No?” Connor saw the creature’s face twist into a sudden, self-deprecating smile as if this was all a terrible joke. “I’m not surprised. They mostly disappeared from your world.”

Our world? Connor felt a little queasy at that. It gave him the same sense of unease that he had felt before, when Hebspeth the Witch had been telling them about the different realms . . .

And this was the guy who freaked me out, Connor was thinking to himself, recalling how the faun had been the first one to warn him of being trapped. Had he known then what was happening?

“They are from your homeland? Which world is it?” Olanna appeared to ignore any signs of distress from Connor. She stepped into the clearing, still looking between the trees to see if she could track where they had gone.

“Aye, these are.” The faun sighed and stood up, looking at them all very gravely.

“But it is not a world of this game. Not a place made of numbers and clever thinking machines. It is and always has been. It is Annwn.”

The words hung in the air between the party of friends and the mythical creature from another world.

“You’re saying that you’re from the, uh, the UnderWorld?” Dargan was the first to break the uneasy silence between them all.

At this, the faun made a face, first of scorn, then disgust, then it broke into laughter.

“Ha! The UnderWorld!? Really?” He tittered, scratching behind one of his horns as if this were a great joke.

“I suppose Lord Pwyll has let the place go since the old days . . . but really, comparing Annwn to the UnderWorld is like comparing a volcano to a bog!” the goat-man said. His mirth lasted another moment before suddenly appearing to fall flat, and a look of intense sadness filled his face.

“Were you not listening to me, Mr. Dwarf? I said that Annwn is not of these worlds. Your UnderWorld is the Second Realm of this place,” the faun said, looking around with an appraising look at the clearing that surrounded them.

“And yes, there are similarities, but Annwn is something else entirely. It is another realm, another place that is beyond the worlds of your game. And the very fact that the Pirry Dancers have managed to make it into this place is proof that Annwn has almost completed joining with these worlds.”

“Joining with these worlds?” Connor had no idea what the faun was referring to, but he shared a heavy nod with Dargan, who had also been there when Hebspeth had called Annwn a predator realm.

“What are you talking about?” Connor demanded, stepping forward with a growl. He really didn’t like these mysteries any more. At first, he had been thinking that Tir’Nan’Og, the megaserver that had created Legends, had some terrible sort of critical fault. A part of him even considered the idea that there was a rogue programmer who had created some sort of lock-in feature.

But there was something about the way the creature spoke that was getting under Connor’s skin. It made his heart flutter and made him want to scream, No-no-no! This isn’t happening!

“Mortals.” The faun looked at them all gravely, his eyes deep and bright with the reflected sparkle of the stars above.

“You are at the mercy of another realm, one that has lain in hiding at the borders of your existence for as long as mortals could dream . . .”

“What nonsense is this . . .” Connor started to hiss, but Olanna stepped on his foot abruptly.

“Your ‘game’ is on the borderlands of another place, dear mortals.” The words of the creature resonated in their souls. “A place that is hidden between the bits and dots and particles. A place of nightmares. A place of dreams. The place where, occasionally, in your deepest sleep, you can venture into other realms . . .”

Connor felt his body tremble. His heart knew the truth of the words, even if his brain wouldn’t accept it.

“Once, the realm of Annwn was much closer to your world—your real world, that is. It was from Annwn that there came stories of sprites and devils, monsters and ghosts and things that snatched you from the deep woods.”

No-no-no-no.

“You know that I speak true. And you know that this ‘game’ of yours has been a terrible mistake. It has opened a door which you cannot close. Somehow, in the creating of places where the minds of mortals were free to dream, your clever men with their thinking machines got much more than they bargained for . . . And now, Annwn has a foothold into your world, into your minds, your souls.”

“It will merge and completely take over, because that is what it is designed to do,” the faun continued forlornly. “The joining is nearly complete already. That is why the Pirry Dancers can travel here now, how I can be here,” the half-man said, his voice infinitely sad.

The worlds are joining? Connor felt panic clutch at his heart. He couldn’t deny the truth of what the faun was saying, but his conscious mind did not accept it. Would not accept it.

There was a moment of silence as the adventurers digested this. None of them looked at each other, as if fearful of seeing the truth reflected in their friends’ eyes.

“But . . . but what does this Annwn want?” Connor heard Olanna—Arianna—whisper.

“Pfft!” The faun snorted, a very uncharacteristic, human gesture, Connor thought.

“What does any tyrant want?” The creature shrugged. “In ages past, Annwn used to be the place of dreams. It joined with the dreams of mortals and created a realm of adventure, of play. Or at least, that was its original intent . . .”

The faun’s face fell. “But then, it began to feed off the fears and nightmares of mortals, and Annwn turned into a devouring, ever-hungry realm. That is why such monsters are spawning in this world now. Undead, Trolls, and worse. Lord Pwyll is the master of all such dark things, and his influence is like a poison, calling dark magics and darker beasts into existence. I fear that it will not stop until it has eaten everything. Until everywhere becomes Annwn, these worlds, your own, and beyond . . .”

Is he talking about . . . home? Connor struggled to understand.

“How can it be stopped?” Olanna said, her voice grave.

The faun looked at her, confused. “It can’t,” the creature said simply before turning to stalk toward the dark of the trees. He took a few steps then suddenly stopped, as if remembering something.

“There are others like myself and the Pirry Dancers who have chosen to flee into these new realms before Annwn has completely taken over. There is hope in that, at least. Flee before Annwn devours it all. Keep running. Keep moving.” The faun looked over his shoulder at the party of three, suddenly suspicious.

“Strange that the Pirry Dancers should bring you to me,” the half-man, half-goat mused. “Perhaps your dreams are sweeter than most.”

Connor shivered. He didn’t like having his dreams talked about as if they were confectionery.

“My name was Finbar in my own land. That was what I was called before Lord Pwyll set me as the greeter for lost souls, anyway,” the faun said, giving them a careful nod. “I can give you that much, at least, because the Pirry Dancers seem to favor you.”

“What of the First Gate!?” Connor asked, pleaded. “What of the Ring of Tantor? Can we get out of all this if we make it through the Six Realms? The proclamation said that was the only way out now . . .” His face felt hot, and he was suddenly tired of all the fantasy riddles.

Finbar considered him with chin low, looking from under heavy, lidded eyes for a long moment.

“Lord Pwyll is very fond of his challenges. Perhaps, if you make it all the way through the Six Realms, you will find the path that leads you back to your own realm.” The faun nodded once, although to Connor’s eyes, he did not look very convinced at all.

“But Lord Pwyll cannot find the Ring of Tantor. Not even the great Fey Lord knows where it is!” Finbar murmured. “So how can you?”

What? Connor thought. The Fey Warriors were right there at the Aviatrix’s Tower. They killed me for that ring! How could they not have it?

The faun lifted his head to sniff at the night air for a moment.

“But that is a long way off, and right now, you have far closer dangers,” Finbar said. His rich brown eyes cast a haunted look behind them, back the way they had walked.

“What do you mean?” Dargan whispered.

“The dead,” the half-man said. “They are following you.”

Finbar turned and sprang into the dark between the trees. Connor rushed after him, but the faun had vanished as surely as the glimmering light creatures just a little while before.