The headset felt heavier now, the plastic pressing against Eli's temples like a physical manifestation of his anxiety. He stared at the Eidolon login screen, the shimmering logo mocking his helplessness. A week. It had been a week since Lyra's death, a week since the world had subtly, horribly, rearranged itself without Sarah.
He took a deep breath and clicked 'Enter'.
The familiar rush of sensation slammed into him – the simulated wind, the earthy smell of the digital forest, the weight of his avatar's worn leather armor. He spawned near the beginner village, a hub teeming with new players swinging clumsy swords at training dummies. He ignored them. He had bigger problems than leveling up.
His fingers flew across the keyboard, opening the game's forums. He typed a query: "Memory Loss After Death?" The search returned dozens of threads, mostly filled with jokes about forgetting where they parked their virtual horses or losing track of quest objectives. Discouraged, Eli scrolled down, sifting through the noise.
Finally, he spotted a thread titled: "Eidolon: More Than Just a Game? Glitch or Feature?" The poster, a user named 'MarauderJones', claimed to have experienced a strange sense of déjà vu after dying in a high-level dungeon. He couldn't quite place it, but something felt…missing.
Eli's heart quickened. He clicked on the thread. The comments were a mixed bag. Most dismissed MarauderJones as a tinfoil-hat conspiracy theorist. But a few others shared similar, vague experiences. It was enough.
He sent MarauderJones a private message: "Hey, saw your thread about memory loss. I think I might know what you're talking about. Can we talk?"
He switched to the general chat channel, a chaotic river of spam and trade offers. He typed, "Anyone else experiencing memory glitches after dying?"
The response was immediate. "Lol, noob. Get good, scrub." "Git gud, you potato." "Maybe you just have a bad memory, old man."
Eli sighed. He wasn't surprised. But he couldn't give up. He kept the question scrolling, a lone beacon of inquiry in the digital storm.
An hour passed. No response from MarauderJones. Eli was about to log off, defeated, when a notification popped up.
"MarauderJones: Meet me at the Rusty Flagon in Oakhaven. Be there in five."
Oakhaven was a mid-level town, a decent trek from the beginner village. Eli summoned his virtual horse and set off, his hopes cautiously rising.
The Rusty Flagon was a typical fantasy tavern – dimly lit, filled with the murmur of conversations and the clatter of tankards. Eli scanned the room, spotting a figure slumped in a dark corner. He was wearing heavily scarred plate armor and wielding a massive, rune-etched axe. MarauderJones.
He approached cautiously. "MarauderJones?"
The figure looked up, his avatar's face grim and weathered. "You the one who messaged me about the memory thing?"
"Yeah. I'm Eli."
MarauderJones grunted. "Sit down. I'm Marcus, by the way. But everyone calls me Marauder in-game."
Eli sat. "Thanks for meeting me. I…I don't know how to explain this without sounding crazy, but I lost something important after I died. Something…real."
Marcus took a long swig from his tankard. "Try me. I've seen some weird shit in this game."
Eli told him everything. About Sarah, about the memory wipe, about his desperate search for answers. Marcus listened in silence, his expression unreadable.
When Eli finished, Marcus remained silent for a long moment, swirling the ale in his tankard. "So, you're saying that when you die in this game, you don't just lose XP. You lose actual memories?"
"That's what I think," Eli said, his voice barely a whisper.
Marcus laughed, a short, harsh sound. "That's insane. It's just a game, kid."
"But I know it's true," Eli insisted. "I can feel it. There's a hole in my head where my sister used to be."
Marcus studied Eli's face. He saw the desperation in his eyes, the raw pain etched into his features. Something flickered in his own gaze – a hint of recognition, perhaps a memory struggling to surface.
"Okay," Marcus said, his voice softening slightly. "Okay, I'll bite. I've had this…feeling…lately. Like something's missing. Maybe you're onto something."
"Really?" Eli asked, relief flooding through him.
"Don't get your hopes up," Marcus warned. "I'm not saying I believe you completely. But I'm willing to look into it. Where did you die?"
"In a goblin stronghold, east of here," Eli replied. "It was my first real dungeon. Lyra…another player…she was helping me. She died too."
Marcus nodded. "Alright. Let's go. We'll retrace your steps. See if we can find anything."
He stood up, his massive axe gleaming in the dim light. "But kid, if this is some elaborate troll, you're going to regret it."
Eli stood as well, his own sword feeling lighter, more purposeful now. "It's not a troll. I promise. This is real."
Together, they left the Rusty Flagon and headed east, towards the goblin stronghold, towards the uncertain truth that lay waiting in the digital shadows. Eli knew that this was only the beginning. The road ahead would be long and dangerous. But he wasn't alone anymore. And that, for now, was enough.