The first thing I did in Verdantis was eat.
Not the delicate, symbolic eating of a dungeon boss, but actual, ravenous, tear-inducing eating. I found a street vendor selling meat skewers and nearly cried when the warm, greasy, perfectly seasoned food hit my tongue. The vendor had looked alarmed when I'd started laughing and crying simultaneously, but I'd paid him with a silver coin I'd found in my pocket.
Apparently the system had been kind enough to give me starter funds, and he'd stopped asking questions.
The second thing I did was find lodging. A small inn called The Copper Kettle had a room available for a week, and the innkeeper, a matronly woman named Hilda, had taken pity on my disheveled state and offered me a bath along with the room.
I'd spent an hour in that bath, just existing. Being warm without burning. Being wet without freezing. Feeling my heartbeat and breathing and all the small, mundane sensations of being alive and human.
It was perfect.
The third thing I did was sleep. Real sleep, not the strange meditation that Glaciana had done. I collapsed onto the bed and didn't wake up for fourteen hours.
By the second day, I'd started to explore the city properly. Verdantis was beautiful in a way the Frozen Spire could never be, alive with color and sound and the magnificent chaos of thousands of people living their lives. Markets overflowing with goods I didn't recognize. Street performers juggling fire. Children playing in fountains.
It was overwhelming. It was wonderful.
I also started noticing the players.
They were easy to spot once you knew what to look for. They moved with a certain purposefulness, checked invisible menus with telltale eye movements, and occasionally had conversations with empty air—party chat, probably. Some had the slightly glazed look of people reading quest text.
It was surreal, watching them. I'd been one of them once. Now I was... what? An NPC? A freed boss? Something in between?
By the fourth day, I'd found work. Nothing glamorous, just helping out at The Copper Kettle in exchange for extended lodging. Hilda needed someone to serve tables during the dinner rush, and I needed something to do besides overthink my existence.
"You're a natural at this," Hilda commented on my fifth day, watching me expertly balance four plates. "Ever worked at an inn before?"
"Something like that," I said, not entirely lying. Serving tables wasn't so different from managing aggro, just with fewer death penalties.
It was during the evening rush on my seventh day in Verdantis that I overheard the conversation.
I was delivering drinks to a table of adventurers—players, definitely, from the way they kept gesturing at invisible interfaces—when one of them said something that made me freeze.
"Did you see the announcement? Glaciana's dead."
My hand trembled, nearly spilling the ale I was holding. I carefully set the mugs down, trying to keep my expression neutral.
"About time," another player said, a woman with elaborate armor. "That ice bitch has been farming newbies for years. Who finally got her?"
"Some solo player called Kieran. Blue flame specialist. Apparently he's been grinding levels specifically to counter her for like three years."
Three years. That matched what Kieran had said during our fight.
"Wait, permanently dead?" a third player asked. "I thought raid bosses respawned."
"That's the weird part," the first player said, pulling up something I couldn't see. "Check the patch notes. 'Glaciana, the Eternal Frost Queen, has been defeated and will not respawn. The Frozen Spire dungeon is now classified as cleared content. Congratulations to Kieran of the Azure Flame for achieving the first and final solo completion.'"
My heart hammered in my chest. I was standing right there. Right there, less than three feet from them, very much alive. But according to the system, Glaciana was dead.
"That's insane," the armored woman said. "I didn't even know bosses could permadie. What's the lore justification?"
"Something about her curse being broken? The quest log updated with a bunch of story stuff about how she was cursed to guard the tower until a worthy hero freed her soul." The player snorted. "Typical tragic villain backstory. Anyway, the tower's still there, but it's just regular mobs now. No more boss fight."
They continued talking, but I'd stopped listening.
The system thought I was dead. Glaciana was dead, officially removed from the game. But I was standing here, breathing, very much not dead. Because I wasn't just Glaciana anymore. I was Sarah too. The system had fragmented me, split the difference between player and boss, and now neither category quite fit.
I was a ghost in the machine. A glitch given human form.
"Miss? Are you alright?"
I blinked and realized I'd been standing motionless for too long. The players were looking at me with mild concern.
"Fine," I managed. "Just... sorry. Thought I recognized someone. Can I get you anything else?"
They shook their heads, already back to their conversation, and I retreated to the kitchen on shaky legs.
Hilda found me there ten minutes later, sitting on a barrel and staring at nothing.
"Sarah? What's wrong, dear?"
Sarah. I'd given her that name when I'd first arrived, too rattled to come up with anything creative. It felt right anyway. Sarah was who I was now.
"I just heard some strange news," I said carefully. "About someone I used to know. They said she died."
Hilda's expression softened. "Oh, dear. I'm so sorry. Was it sudden?"
"Very," I said, which was technically true. "But also... I don't know if it's real. If she's really gone."
"Death is a tricky thing in times like these," Hilda said, sitting down beside me with a grunt. "With all these immortal heroes running around, dying and coming back, sometimes it's hard to know what's permanent and what's not." She patted my hand. "But if the news says she's gone, then maybe it's time to mourn and move on. Honor her memory by living well."
I almost laughed at the irony. Mourn myself? Honor my own memory?
But Hilda's words stuck with me as I finished my shift and climbed the stairs to my room that night. Maybe she was right. Maybe Glaciana was dead, and I needed to accept that.
I stood in front of the small mirror in my room, studying my reflection. Brown hair, brown eyes, human skin. No trace of platinum hair or ice-pale complexion. Nothing of the Eternal Frost Queen remained in this face.
Except... I closed my eyes and reached inward, toward those five points of warmth I could still feel scattered across the world. My mortality fragments. Part of me wondered if I should try to find them, collect them somehow. But another part wondered if I should just leave them where they were.
Insurance. A safety net. Five reasons not to die.
I opened my eyes and met my own gaze in the mirror.
"Glaciana is dead," I said aloud, testing the words. They felt strange but not entirely wrong. "Sarah is alive."
It wasn't quite that simple. I still had Glaciana's memories, her instincts. When I'd accidentally touched ice water yesterday, I'd felt it respond to me, just slightly. The magic wasn't gone, just... dormant. Sleeping.
But maybe that was okay. Maybe I could be both or neither. Maybe I could just be someone new.
A knock at my door interrupted my thoughts.
"Sarah?" Hilda's voice called. "Sorry to bother you, but there's someone downstairs asking for you. A young man. Blue hair."
My blood turned cold.
Kieran.
He'd found me. But how? And more importantly, why?
I took a deep breath, steadied myself, and opened the door.
"Tell him I'll be right down," I said.
Hilda nodded and left, and I stood there for a moment, my hand on the doorframe, trying to decide if this was a disaster or an opportunity.
Only one way to find out.
I headed downstairs to meet the man who'd killed me and somehow, inadvertently, set me free.