Sleeping Player (Project Chrysalis Book 3) by John Gold (novel24 TXT) 📕

the tin can over there is excited about it. She’s going to open your shell up first!

When we leave the blacksmith, Isaac bows to the old master. There’s nothing but gratitude in the gesture. Memories, experience, happiness, and strong emotions—I can understand everything Isaac is trying to say. The blacksmith nods back, in turn, with deep respect. Isaac is a favorite apprentice, far more than just a random wanderer. That moment sticks with me, as does the surprising range of emotions, as it’s like the meeting between a grown son and his elderly father. It’s now that I understand how deeply Isaac yearns for the love of his parents.

We’re walking along the streets of Kkhor, each of us thinking our own thoughts. Femida is playing with her enormous sword. I’m thinking of my village and all-too-brief childhood. Mama’s smile, the way she praised me for my cooking and sewing and father’s restrained happiness when I got better at fishing, hunting, trapping… I can remember ever emotion, every smile, every squint of an eye, and even every pleasant silence at every family dinner. It’s almost like I can smell the porridge in the kitchen. The aroma of hay wafts into my bedroom. I hear the door squeak, mama singing, and the water splashing in the lake by the house. It could be LJ, or it could be that I’m changing, but emotions and the memories tied to them are becoming easier to understand. I get Isaac, the way he picks on Femida, and his constant wisecracks. He’s looking for attention and understanding from the people he trusts. When the blacksmith recognized him as a master, Isaac was really and truly happy. For him, the respectful bows are just as important as greetings. Isaac is desperately alone, something Femida understands, even if she can’t be his friend. That’s the way I see it.

“Hey, wake up!”

Femida is standing in front of me.

“What?”

“Where are we going next?”

“I can’t go to the Academy—there’s definitely a trap set there. Tomorrow is the last day for the trial with the Hunters, so we’re heading to Gimza, a mining city in the south of the continent. We can head out as soon as we pick up some food. There’s nothing else for us here.”

We’re ten minutes from the capital’s southern gate, and the watchtowers in the white wall are clearly visible. Blending into the crowd of trading caravans heading south, we leave the city quietly and head toward the trading rows. There are stalls selling food and other traders lining the road leading into the heart of the continent. The smell of meat, vegetables, and delicious fruits makes my stomach growl.

There aren’t too many customers around one stand, though the aroma is mouth-watering. We stop to buy enough food for our two-day march. Sitting down next to the stand, we chow down, and Femida pulls something out of her metaphorical sleeve.

Taking a theatrical pause, she asks a question.

“Why are you normal?”

“It’s my choice. And it’s easier to live around people this way.”

“No, I want to know why you’re still normal even after Hell, after your parents were killed right in front of you, after the psych ward, after the blood rituals, after all of it. You were a child! That should have traumatized you.”

“Fem, if you think about it, normalcy is overrated. I could’ve become a psychopath, a maniac, a murderer, or a sociopath, though I’m smart enough to hide it. Oh, don’t look at me like that. I know you pretend to be normal, too. Everyone has their secrets, some even without realizing it.” Femida shrugs vaguely. “What saved me in Hell were my memories of my parents, fishing with father, eating breakfast with the family, warm hugs from mother, and my short childhood. Killing? Sacrifices? Becoming a demon? It was then that I decided I’d do anything to get back to my family.”

A group of players rides by on their mounts. Femida watches them go with a derisive look—we’ve been all over the world on our own two feet.

“What about your parents dying? Sorry, I shouldn’t mention that.”

“No, it’s fine. I know you’re not actually worried. I mean, you’re just worried about how I think of you. About my parents…everything is more complicated than it looks. It’s been half a year since I left the coma. LJ was the one who had to deal with the strongest feelings of loss, loneliness, and emptiness. Now, he… How do I say this? He’s who makes sure I stay mentally even. He shows up when I go to sleep, and he warns me when I’m in danger. He’s faster at reacting in battle than I am. Psychologically speaking, he compensates to make me normal, smoothing out any spontaneous behavioral deviations that happen.”

“Uh-h… You have split personalities?”

“No. LJ is really more of a subpersonality. He’s part of my consciousness and acts as a shield against emotional ups and downs. On the other hand, he never dominates, he doesn’t make any decisions, and he doesn’t talk, just displaying emotions and the way he feels about events that happen. Lying, deception, fear, rage, danger, help—we speak the same language, a language based on emotion. Fem, don’t worry, my personality is whole thanks entirely to him.”

It’s getting toward evening. The trickle of wagons and players walking turns into a river, and it’s time for us to get going.

We set out for the very edge of the Darin Empire, skirting the elves’ Summer Forest. The enormous, majestic wall of trees towers over the road as it guards the border of the forest people’s land. Next, we run through the lands occupied by the warring barons in their multitude of castles. We cross the Small Salt Sea and the unique creatures who live in it—stone elementals and other organisms who can withstand the salt.

We make our way through the eastern dwarvish mountains and