“This building is larger than it looks,” I mused. The elven clerk sped up, ignoring my feeble attempt at conversation. I idly wondered if he had been born with a stick up his ass, or if someone had shoved it there, as I followed.

  He led me through a series of hallways to a door of ornate silver and polished stone, the triple arches of the guild formed from woven silver vines.

  The clerk opened the door and gestured for me to enter.

  I stepped into a moderately sized room, and the first thing I noticed was the sweet aroma permeating the air. Shelves lined the other three walls of the room, and a multitude of flowers grew from beds of earth built into the shelves. A small seating area with two chairs separated the entrance and a massive desk made up of delicate silver vines, the surface a wide expanse of polished white stone.

  A beautiful elven woman sat behind the desk. The desk held but one item, which made both the desk seem larger and the object upon it smaller—my chit.

  “Welcome to the Verdantbrook branch of the Adventurer’s Guild, prospect,” the woman said as the door closed behind me. “I am Eylva Vinay, Guild Master of this branch. I apologize for Kleyn’s…demeanor.”

  “He failed to get your name. What is it?” She smiled, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. I returned the smile, realizing I had never named my character. I hadn’t been given the option during character creation. I glanced up, but didn’t see any nameplate above my head. I wondered if I just couldn’t see it, or if it wasn’t there at all.

  I wasn't sure if this was an odd game design decision or a result of the glitch that led to my racial randomization, but I thought about my name for a moment.

  My thoughts once again returned to my brother and his easy laugh. A memory surfaced. A trip we took one summer to a distant beach with our grandparents shortly after we had moved in with them following the death of my parents. Death–the great looming spectre of my past, taking all I held dear.

  An algae bloom had resulted in green goo covering the beaches and shallow water, so we’d spent the vacation alternating between the hotel pool and watching TV in the room. Both of us had been disappointed by broken promises of clean water and sandy beaches, but my brother worked hard to cheer me up with games and jokes.

  We met another child around our age, and my brother told him our names were Aiden and Chanter, a name he’d jokingly still called me. It was how he pronounced my name, Chandler, when he was first learning to speak as a toddler. Neither of us remembered that, but we both shared an early memory of our mother telling us the story.

  The memory of my mother came forward. She had been laying in bed, that sterile, antiseptic smell of hospitals strong in my nose, laughing with us as she talked about our early years. It was a well-worn memory, oft-returned to, frayed at the edges like a favorite blanket.

  Chanter. It was a running nickname Aiden had called me. The last words he spoke to me, saved in a voicemail because I had been sleeping, returned to me.

  “Heading in for my last shift before we get a few weeks to chill before the alpha! See you soon; love you, Chanter!”

  A fresh wave of grief washed over me, taking me by surprise. Just when I thought it was over, that the feelings had been felt so many times that I had grown numb to or distant from them, they returned.

  I missed my little brother so much. He had excelled at everything in life, striving and thriving with a smile while I struggled. I wouldn’t be here if not for him, but I would have given everything in the world for him to be around and experiencing this incredibly realistic digital world instead of me.

  “My name is Chanter,” I said with a sad smile and a bow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Good. Likewise,” she responded, picking up the Chit of Admittance. “What is your class, Chanter? Your area of expertise?”

  “I…” I hesitated for a moment, thinking. Expertise? Did playing guitar count? “I don’t have a class.”

  “You will need a class so we can match you with a potential mentor of the same skillset. That will be the first step, then.” She placed the token back on the desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a piece of paper and an elegant ink pen.

  “You will be provided a temporary resting room until the testing chambers are prepared. Come see me again once you have completed the examination, and I will provide a mentor recommendation.” A quest notification generated in front of me.

  New Quest! Survive the Adventurer’s Guild Class Selection Examination and Acquire a Class! Reward: 1 Copper Class Chest, 1 Copper Adventurer’s Chest, Copper Coins x25, 2,500 Experience Points.

  Eylva laid the paper on her desk facing me and placed the pen atop it.

  “This is the basic application for admittance to the Adventurer’s Guild class examination. Read and sign here.” She indicated a line along the base of the document.

  I read through the form. It went into detail about the dangerous nature of the exam and how the guild was not responsible in any way for injuries that occurred. There was more, a lot more, including something about not damaging guild property while housed, but I got distracted and didn’t read the whole thing.

  I picked up the pen and felt a sharp pinch when I went to sign. With an uncomfortable start, I realized I was signing in blood. Shoving the trepidation away, I signed with a flourish. I was already in too deep to back out now, and what else would I do, anyway?

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  I probably could have found something else to do; the variety of options available to players was one of the aspects of Veil that was expected to draw in so many people. There was crafting, trading goods, hell even farming and cooking, but I had long decided I would pursue the path of adventure. It’s what Aiden had talked about the most. Fighting monsters and saving people. Being a hero.

  The blood dried black, resembling ink with a faint metallic shimmer. A small pinprick welled up on the outside of my pointer finger and Eylva handed me a small square of tissue paper that I used to wipe away the bead of blood. The wound healed in seconds.

  Eylva placed the signed document and pen in a different drawer before gesturing to the door, which opened in response. Kleyn stood on the other side.

  “Kleyn, take Chanter to room 24, and notify Helga to prepare the examination chamber and retrieve our prospective applicant once it is prepared.” She turned back to me. “Chanter, I will see you after the exam—should you survive. Whom should we contact in the event of your demise?”

  “Demise? I could die? What happens during the exam?” I started regretting having skimmed through the document I just signed.

  “Every second of life has a chance of death, though choosing the path of an adventurer increases that chance exponentially. The exam is individualized and reflects the increase in danger inherent to the career you seek.” Elyva’s words struck a cord in my heart, bringing another memory forth.

  Aiden, leaning against the balcony railing and looking over the city, still smelling of smoke despite changing his clothes and showering. I had asked him how he could run into the flames, knowing how dangerous it was. Life is dangerous, he had said with a shrug. I’d rather shoulder a little more of that danger, so others can have a safer life.

  “Oh. I don’t have anyone to contact.” I clenched my jaws with determination. I might have been a washed up musician in real life, but I would be more this time around. I would shoulder that danger, for others.

  I made a promise to myself. I would protect others. Here in this virtual world, and in the real one beyond the full immersion pod. I would apply to the fire station when I got out. A familiar guilt, that things might have been different had I been there at Aiden’s side, tried to resurface. I shoved it down.

  “Understood.” She opened another drawer and pulled out a large parchment scroll, which she unrolled and began reading. “Dismissed.”

  Kleyn led me to a panel that held a multitude of keys affixed to wooden plaques with numbers. He pulled off the number 24 key and led me deeper into the guild, to a long hall with numerous unadorned wooden doors. To the side of each of these doors was a number. We stopped outside of 24. Kleyn inserted the key, opened the door, and left without saying a word.

  “What’s his problem?” I mumbled as I stepped into the room. It was simple, a small room with a bed,a small side table, and a chair. A narrow window near the ceiling let in sunlight on the far back wall. Small motes of dust drifted in the rays of light.

  I sat down on the bed with a sigh and took a moment to look over my Status menu for the first time to distract myself from the guilt that writhed just below the surface of my thoughts.

  Level 2 (Undefined class)

  Current Form: Human (Basic)

  Health Points: 58

  Magic Points: 15

  Charisma: 10

  Constitution: 8

  Dexterity: 7

  Endurance: 6

  Intelligence: 5

  Strength: 6

  Available Stat Points: 6

  STAT POINT DISTRIBUTION DISABLED UNTIL CLASS SELECTION HAS OCCURRED

  I wondered for a moment how the initial stats were distributed. My character’s physical features resembled those of my own in real life to a certain extent, especially once I had transformed back into a human. I tried willing my face to change shape, and nothing happened. It seemed like I would maintain the facial features specific to me in whatever form I took.

  I noticed a tab on my Status window labelled Skills. I selected it, and there was just one. Transform (1/50). I remembered with dread how painful transforming had been the first time. Gaining levels in the skill meant I would need to practice. More pain.

  I stood, checking to make sure the door was locked. I sat on the unyielding bed and shifted slightly. It felt like it had been carved from stone. Protect others. Get stronger. I activated Transform to shift back into my Changeling form. I slid through a maelstrom of agony as my form rippled, muscles and tendons elongating. Every nerve screamed in protest as the transformation occurred. Within a few seconds, I was a Changeling again.

  I took a few deep breaths. Nothing yet, but what did I expect? To level so soon? I transformed again. The pain diminished by a barely perceptible amount. A notification appeared, and I smirked.

  Transform has leveled up! (2/50)

  I spent the next several minutes changing forms. It leveled a few more times. With each level, the transformations were less painful and happened slightly faster. The incremental adjustment of both was barely perceptible, but it was there. I was able to push past the initial hesitation, the expectation of pain to come, after the first few transformations. I was thankful that the pain was so fleeting, gone the moment the transformation finalized.

  I had just received a notification that the skill had reached level 5 when I heard a forceful knock. I stood from the bed, panting and sweating, and approached the door. I took a moment to ensure I was in human form—all of the transformations had become a blur—and swung the door open.

  A dwarven woman stood in the hall, a massive white smile splitting her bushy blonde beard. Her hair was tied up in a thick braid, and she wore leather armor. Two hatchets with wicked spikes along the backs crossed over her shoulders, forming an X. The blue nameplate over her head read “Helga Stragham”.

  “Ah, 'ello there, recruit. It’s a pleasure to meet ya!” She reached out a meaty hand that was much larger than mine. We shook, and the slight haptic buzz I received—along with a notification that automatically minimized—was nearly drowned out by the incredible pressure she exerted. I shook her hand and laughed.

  “You could squeeze coal into diamonds with that grip, Helga. Nice to meet you. I’m Chanter.”

  “Eh? Eh! Sorry, lad, sometimes forget me own strength. Just Chanter, aye? Don’t you worry, you’ll be addin’ more to that name in no time on account o’ your exploits, I’m sure. But we best be off—exam room’s ready for ya. Are you feelin’ a’right?”

  I wiped my forehead and smiled. “I’m okay, just getting warmed up. What’s the exam like?”

  Helga started walking down the hall, and I followed.

  “Can’t rightly say. It’s different each time. Depends on the person. You’ll see. Just know, whatever it is ya see, and whatever is it what appears, they are real and they will kill ya right dead if given the chance. Be careful.”

  here to the question of whether the rewrite should be a new fiction or if it should continue to be posted here!

  here!