Somnia Online by K.T. Hanna (reading strategies book txt) 📕

he cast a spell on the fountain. A crank appeared, and he began to wind it in time with the fountain’s pumping. Up and up, and more.

Even the shaking of the earth subsided, like it was waiting for something to shift into place. Dirsna held his breath, reaching out with his mind to contact his allies, his friends, and anyone who could help. Nothing but chaos greeted him, nothing but the same thing in every single town, with every single fountain, and all of the inhabitants cowering in fear.

Alarms began to blare, their sirens like an earworm trying to draw blood. Suddenly a massive voice sounded over the world. A booming announcement that set Dirsna’s teeth on edge.

The Prison of Chetorang on the Isle of Gefängnis has been raised. Defeat its inhabitants before they take over this world on their way to the next.

Hightower’s animated statue stopped moving as the announcement faded, and Dirsna allowed himself time to move again.

“What was that?” Geshua said, standing next to him.

Dirsna shrugged, finally glad to have received a message from Belius. The guy was supposed to be the enchanter leader, but he’d been rather absent of late.

What do we do? he asked, requiring guidance because this wasn’t like the actual battle they’d designed. No, this was far more than that. The sludge that had been creeping through the system since the incident had reached the prison, and Dirsna wasn’t sure how to approach that.

Belius took a few moments to respond, and when he did his voice came through patchy, like something was in the way, and he was trying to speak through it. “Sucked…portal. Must fight. Keep…–nters organized. Call…allies.”

Dirsna analyzed the message for a few moments, his mind racing. Sure, it sounded fairly self-explanatory, but then when was he not? He sent back a Done and hoped it got through.

Now he just had to contact the allies Fable had made while they were here, and city of Curet, and Cognitia. All in a day’s work. At least, a day’s work where the statues in the fountains came to life and cranked a prison island into existence.

Shaking his head, he set about to contact the Loch’Ni’Dar and the Noch’Mar nomad elves from when Fable had been regularly in this region. Chief Intanko may have forgiven them for their accidental killing of Disestru because of the quality of battle they got, so he just had to hope she was still in charge. Because he didn’t have enough to do anyway.

 

Purple void swirled around her, disorienting Murmur in the tiny space of time it took to transport her to wherever they were when she landed unceremoniously on her butt. Not for the first time, she was glad locus didn’t appear to have tailbones. The small rocks beneath her when she landed would have given a human severe pain.

She stood up, brushing her robes off as she did, and looked around her. Snowy stood unperturbed off to the side. He seemed to land like a cat was supposed to. Always on his feet. He noticed her and trotted over, sniffing at her hand before he gave a wuff of approval and headed over to Telvar.

The walls around her were made of densely packed rocks, like something had hammered them together in a high-powered press. They were in an oval shaped room with no other entrance than the tunnel that lead out from the roughly hewn area. She couldn’t for the life of her think about why they’d been deposited here.

“So. That happened.” Devlish rubbed his head. He’d somehow managed to fall next to a wall and smash his head into it. Fantastic landing skills. “Who do we have to thank for this mode of transport?”

Telvar didn’t answer at first, and Murmur got the distinct feeling it was because he was talking to the others, or trying to, and because from what she could tell, they were nowhere near the other groups. Either that, or her sensing nets just weren’t working in this environment, and she wasn’t sure which one scared her more.

“Sorry.” Telvar shook his head, like he was switching his concentration modes. “Some elements of this dungeon have changed with the self-evolving nature of the game.”

Murmur was impressed by his well-phrased excuse, but she knew there was more to it. All of the AIs were likely surprised, but not so surprised that they hadn’t expected something to happen, just maybe not of this magnitude. It seemed Michael’s mind created a far more potent virus than anyone expected.

“So?” Veranol pushed the subject gently as the rest of the group got themselves sorted out. “Just where are we, and what have we gotten ourselves into?” Then he narrowed his eyes before continuing. “Or should I say—what should we have gotten ourselves into, and how has it changed?”

Telvar seemed conflicted, but he had to know most of Fable were at least aware of the extent the AIs had developed, right? They’d been treating him as an actual person since she could remember.

“Well. We’re not as far from them as I initially thought, but we will all have to get through some monsters before we can join back together as a group.” He paused and looked at Devlish apologetically. “I can’t be as effective as I’d like in these rock hewn corridors. There’s just no room for my dragon form. I can, however, work as DPS or a tank if you need me to. I am a monk, after all.”

Murmur patted his hand. “It’s okay. We can do this.” She said it, trying to put grit into her voice even if she didn’t feel it. Even if she was completely worried about Sinister being stuck with Risk and his crew. But Karn was there, and she was fairly certain Karn was mostly okay and at least at little danger herself since she was separated from Jirald.

“Everyone ready?” Devlish called out, hefting his sword and shield tightly as he moved to the front of the pack.

The other nine of