Pick Your Player
584 Words
The room was silent and still. Smooth, white walls glowed faintly, as if bathed in moonlight. There were no windows, no doors—only a single wall entirely made of glass-like mirror. It was spotless, eerily pristine, reflecting back her slightly dazed expression.
Maeve stepped forward. As she approached the mirror, gentle ripples spread across its surface, and a soft, genderless voice echoed from within:
"Greetings, dear player. May I ask your name?"
She flinched slightly. The sudden voice startled her, but she quickly reminded herself—this was a game. Talking mirrors? Not the strangest thing.
“Maeve,” she answered.
“Thank you, Miss Maeve. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The voice carried a calm warmth, almost like a smile. “Before you enter the game proper, I will help you set your appearance and preferred class. Don't worry—you’ll be able to change these later by visiting an NPC.”
As the voice faded, the mirror lit up with a soft glow. Then, four versions of herself materialized within it—each dressed differently, each wielding a unique weapon, each radiating a distinct aura.
First: a warrior with a gleaming blade.
Second: a ranger with a bow slung across her shoulder.
Third: a robed elementalist holding a simple staff.
Fourth: a necromancer, adorned in dark robes and skeletal accessories.
They stood in a row—fierce, poised, mysterious. One even winked at her.
Maeve squinted thoughtfully. “My reflexes and eyesight aren’t the best... so let’s skip the first two. And necromancers? Yeah, skeletons aren’t really my thing. I’ll go with the Elementalist.”
“Understood. Please reach into the mirror to claim your weapon.”
The avatars vanished, and a plain wooden staff emerged from the glass. It looked unremarkable—but sturdy.
“Not bad. If I run out of mana, I can always smack someone with this,” Maeve mumbled, twirling it once in her hand.
“Miss Maeve, would you like to keep your real-world appearance, or adopt a new one for the game?”
She didn’t hesitate. “It’s not every day I get to live a fantasy. Let’s go with something new.”
“Very well. Please face the mirror and adjust your appearance.”
What followed might have been the most fun Maeve had in months.
She scrolled through options like a child playing dress-up, tweaking every detail—from her eyebrows to her jawline, hair color to height. Each new version in the mirror felt like a puzzle piece clicking into place. As an orphan, she'd grown up watching others enjoy things like makeup or fashion games—this was her moment to indulge.
Finally, after much internal debate, she settled on a look.
Moonlight-white hair flowing down to her knees—something she’d always wanted but never could have. Deep ocean-blue eyes, like the stray kitten she once found in college—bright, wide, a little wild. Porcelain skin, soft pink lips, and an extra few centimeters in height.
She stared at the mirror, utterly smitten with the face looking back at her.
“I’m glad you’re pleased,” the voice said gently. “Now, please proceed through the door to enter Yggdrasill. Until we meet again.”
The mirror faded, replaced by a beautifully carved wooden door.
Maeve opened it.
On the other side bloomed an endless sea of flowers. In the distance, she glimpsed a city rising like a dream.
She stepped forward.
The game had begun.
- Writer
