I shot to my feet, my eyes roving about the room.

A castle. I was in a freaking castle. It could have come straight out of any of the dozens of fantasy novels I’d managed to get my hands on growing up. But this time, I didn’t need to seek a temporary escape from reality.

I was already there for real.

Though the room itself was little more than a square stone box, empty save the bed and the torch-like crystals on the walls, I swore I could feel the magic and wonder suffusing the air, emanating from the very stone. I couldn’t wait to see what other marvels existed here.

A tiny voice in the back of my mind reminded me that this place was nothing but code. I ignored it. After all, I was nothing but code now, too. This was my life now. To me, this place was as real as Earth had ever been.

Just to test the limits of my new senses, I inhaled a deep breath. I ran a hand over the coarse stone wall. Hesitantly, feeling like an idiot, I snuck a quick lick of the wall as well, then grimaced.

Yep. Tastes like stone. Just like I could smell the slightly musty air and feel the cool, rough rock beneath my fingertips. All indistinguishable from the real thing—just like they were supposed to be. I supposed it was a relief that this much at least lived up to my expectations.

Gazing about the chamber, a hint of melancholy threatened to dampen my eagerness. As awesome as this place was, being here meant I’d never see my family again. Still, I strove to remind myself of why I was doing this. If I had chickened out, I’d be making my way to the nearest hoverrail right now so I could go flip burgers for a bunch of ungrateful assholes. Instead, I was here, about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime.

The door creaked open, and I jumped, whirling to see a foot-wide crystal floating into the room. It resembled the crystals serving as torches along the walls, though it was larger, its glow brighter.

“Greetings,” the crystal said, sending a ripple of shock through me. “Welcome to Caelarian Online. We here at Infinitarium are pleased that you have decided to take this next step with us. Together, we will enrich the lives of our players with much joy.”

Recovering from my initial surprise, I took a cautious step toward the floating crystal. “What are you?” I asked, squinting at it. I didn’t recall any mention of creatures like this in my reading about the game.

“I am a familiar, created to offer guidance to new arrivals,” the crystal intoned. Its voice was flat, and it had a slight ringing quality, like a built-in reverb effect. “When you are ready, I will guide you to your Immersive Agent orientation.”

I frowned at its choice of words. “Hang on. Isn’t that breaking character?” I didn’t know too much about what was expected of IAs, but I remembered that much.

“This area is restricted to Immersive Agents only,” the crystal replied. “Hence, there is no need to maintain character here. Such things are only required while interacting with players. Elsewhere, you may feel free to behave however you normally would.”

I supposed that made sense. Before my sisters were born, Mom had taken me to Pirate Island Amusement Park. Everyone who worked there, from the ride attendants to the vendors, had acted like they belonged, part of its fantasy world. My job here would be similar. So long as the players were happy, everything would keep running smoothly.

The crystal hovered by the door, not offering anything else. I stared at it. After a long moment of silence, I scratched the back of my head. “Um…okay? What now?”

“Let me know when you are ready to head to orientation. I will guide you there.”

“Great. I’m, um, ready?”

The crystal bobbed in the air. “Excellent. Please note that if you experience any headaches, dizziness, nausea, confusion, or existential dread, that is all a perfectly normal part of digital consciousness extraction. Symptoms should pass within 24 hours. If they do not, please alert an Infinitarium supervisor.”

Existential dread? “Er…sure,” I said, not entirely sure what to make of the crystal.

Something about it and its corporate-talk was starting to sap the magic out of this place. I struggled to recapture the wonder I’d felt moments earlier as I followed the crystal through the door into the hall, jumping a little when the door creaked shut behind me without anyone touching it.

When I took in the hall, my breath caught. There’s the wonder I was missing…

More doors like the one I’d just emerged from lined both sides of the hall, along with more of those crystal torches. What drew my eye, however, was the floor itself.

“Is…is this safe to walk on?” I asked, a tremor in my voice.

“Quite safe,” my crystal guide said cheerfully. “It is a simple enchantment to reveal what lies beneath this castle. The view is intended to help ease you into your new environment. We here at Infinitarium hope that you appreciate the spectacle.”

Spectacle definitely covered it. Beneath us stretched open air. Off to the sides, I could barely make out a broad mountain range I assumed must be the Salvation Peaks, where Humans and Revenants made their homes.

Did that make this castle a Prism keep, kept suspended in the air via their solar magic? Or perhaps, as a restricted area, it didn’t need to follow the same rules.

Far, far below, churning mists choked the land in a gray haze. Even gazing at it from way up here sent a chill down my spine. The Frozen Doom: that was what the game’s lore called it. The mysterious icy curse had claimed the ancient world and driven the survivors high up into the Salvation Peaks, relying on solar magic to keep them warm and hold the Doom at bay.

It might’ve just been my imagination, but I swore I saw something move within the mists, leaving a ripple of swirling fog in its wake.

A new voice pierced my focus. “Do you think anyone at Infinitarium actually knows what caused the Frozen Doom?”

I jerked my eyes up to see a man standing a few feet away. He wore the same nondescript tunic I’d woken up in and had his own accompanying guide crystal, so I pegged him as another new recruit. He was black and looked much older than me, with buzzed hair and a pinched face that his too-big glasses did nothing to help.

“Huh?” I blinked at him, trying to wrap my head around what he’d said. “Of course they do. They created the world of Caelarian, right?”

The man shrugged. “That doesn’t mean they had a plan for all of the world’s lore. Plenty of writers set up hooks long before they know how—or even if—they’ll ever resolve them.” He glanced down at the transparent floor and frowned, not looking the least bit impressed. “I bet they have no idea where the Frozen Doom originated.”

Something about his dour attitude made me want to defend the developers, and I racked my brain for everything I could recall from the game’s lore. “It had something to do with a corrupted ritual, didn’t it? Some mages attempted to summon something they shouldn’t, and the magic went wildly out of control. I think I heard the devs talk about it in an interview once.”

The man nodded. “During the 2056 Game Developer’s Conference, in an interview with Lead Designer Erik Gerkowich and Head Writer Laurel Danberry. But in other interviews before and since, both they and other Caelarian Onlinedevelopers have implied otherwise. At various times, they’ve suggested that the Doom was a magical curse that spread through the populace like a plague, a natural phenomenon that occurs every so many millennia, and a divine punishment visited upon the world by a vengeful god. Hence, the most logical conclusion is that they do not have a concrete plan and simply change the story on the fly to suit their current in-game priorities.”

Wow. And I thought I was a Caelarian Online nerd. This guy put me to shame. “You might have a point. I mean, unless they’re specifically trying to mislead players just to mess with us.”

I followed the joke up with a grin, but the man didn’t return it, furrowing his brow. “Perhaps. Though I think my explanation is far more likely.” He turned to his waiting crystal. “We should continue. I do not want to be late for orientation.”

“Not to worry,” his crystal chimed in. “We are still right on schedule. Available statistics show that IAs often require additional time in the hall to adjust to their new reality, and Infinitarium wishes to accommodate your needs.”

I rolled my eyes. “How gracious of you.”

The man shot me another confused look, then nodded to his crystal. “It is. Thank you for that explanation. Let us proceed.”

I was beginning to think my new acquaintance didn’t understand sarcasm. With nowhere else to go, I trailed after him down the hall toward IA orientation.