I came to on my stomach with a dry cough. My throat felt like I’d been drinking sand for the last three years. I rolled to my side, picking my head up from the dirt and let the cough make its way through me. Finally, my hacking subsided. I lay on my back and looked up to the brightening sky. Clouds, orange from the rising sun, hung like great billowing balls of orange-flavored cotton candy. The peaceful moment was short-lived as damning and unwanted memories surfaced. I sat up, my body moving with surprising alacrity.

  Cynthia.

  I gritted my teeth against the images of her flayed and bloody body. I had abandoned her to torture. I rolled forward from my ass to my hands and knees and sucked in deep breaths, trying to get through the waves of self-loathing. Eventually, I covered the feeling with more immediate considerations. I leaned back and took in my surroundings.

  My eyebrows rose in shock. The village lay in the center of the semi-circular fortress far below. I had no memory of how I’d exited the tutorial area (I was shocked that I even could), but I had scrambled up more than a mile. With my elevated vantage, the nature of the rocky mountain was more clear—a dagger of red that shot up and out of the green jungle far below. Red rock and dirt made up most of my surroundings, only a few green shrubs poking through cracks in the stone.

  I sat back on my feet and took a deep breath. Sky spread out before me—vast, blue, and seemingly endless. A few other mountains could be seen in the distance, rising red into the sky. They looked unnatural, as if they’d been hurled down to the earth from space rather than forming by some natural geological process. I lost myself, my mind retreating to an imagined alien bombardment, destroying primitive jungle-dwellers with missiles of red stone.

  Metal scraped on stone above and behind me, yanking me from my fantasy. My heart raced.

  What monsters might exist outside of the fortress walls?

  I scooted away from the sound on my knees, scraping them against the hard dirt and stone. My clumsy shuffling was noisy, but I couldn’t bring myself to do anything more, as if the act of getting to my feet would bring whatever horror was behind me down on my defenseless back.

  What would it feel like to be devoured?

  I’d seen videos of lions taking down prey only to eat the poor animal starting with their rear. The prey, mewling on the dirt, would suffer for minutes as the predators ate them alive. I began to scoot faster, nearly falling forward and rolling down the steep incline.

  “Player.” A voice, feminine, commanding, resonant, filled the air. It wasn’t loud, but it felt as if the ground beneath me vibrated with the single word.

  I froze.

  “Player. Stand. Face me.”

  The fear of engendering wrath warred with my fear of facing whatever horror spoke behind me. The image of the creature slowly approaching from behind finally spurred me into motion. I stood and turned.

  Instead of the expected nightmare, there was only terrible majesty. A creature of myth stood before me. Onyx and sleek, the beast had a long, feline body, muscular and covered in short, dense fur. Avian forefeet gripped the mountain’s rock, glinting talons sinking into the red stone. Black wings spread out from its back, each one at least a dozen feet in length, feathers shimmering in the morning light. Eyes, black but for twinkling pinpricks of light, pulled my focus to the creature's massive head.

  Its ebony beak barely moved as words flowed like a slow-moving avalanche. “You are weak.”

  I nodded.

  It stared at me. “Yet, you are a Player.”

  I nodded again.

  “Your kind’s arrival has been anticipated since the dawn of this world. You usher in a time of upheaval. A time for the gods to prove their quality or be thrust down from their unearned positions.”

  With a rush of wind, the creature was before me, starry eyes inches from my own. I was unsure whether it had teleported or moved faster than I could track. I shook as it stared, but I could not move.

  Its head tilted to the side. “I am not impressed.”

  It raised its talon and placed the tip against my throat. “I will send you back from whence you came. Do not re…“

  Its eyes, which had already dismissed me, refocused on my forehead. Instead of slitting my throat, its six-inch talons dug into my flesh as it knocked me to the ground with as much effort as a horse would need to bend a blade of grass.

  “Are you—“ I began.

  “If you wish to live, speak not.”

  I felt the force of its gaze drill through my skull, past the matter of my brain, and into something beyond my understanding. A long moment of exposure passed, and the crushing weight eased from my chest.

  “You have the favor of Oba.” The creature’s tone was surprised and thoughtful. It fully leaned back, pulling its talons from my chest and sitting, its wings tucked in close to its body.

  I stayed on the ground, afraid any movement would incite a deathblow. In the moment of silence that followed, my mind managed to gain enough of a grip on the situation to name the creature. An onyx griffin, taller than a Clydesdale and with the long, sleek body of a panther stood before me, wings furled at its side, avian head cocked to the side in consideration.

  “Come,” it commanded.

  I jumped to my feet, unwilling to appear as if I even thought I had the right to consider the request. The creature turned and began up the mountain. I looked down for a moment to set my feet, and when I looked back up, the wings of the griffin had disappeared, its body now completely feline. A massive black panther stalked up the mountain, its movements graceful and sure.

  I quickly followed, the difficulty not as great as I expected. It wasn’t easy to climb up the steep, rocky terrain, but I felt noticeably stronger than I had the day before. A short time later, however, I was gasping for air. I forced myself to keep moving. I was too afraid of what the griffin—or panther—would do if I fell behind.

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  We climbed for what felt like an hour before the panther stopped beside an opening in the mountain. A cave, the entrance barely large enough for me to fit through, bore into the mountain, black and silent. The panther turned its eyes on me.

  “Enter.”

  My skin prickled from the fear cascading through my body. Somehow, even drenched in sweat from jogging up a mountain and nearly killing myself in the effort, I broke out in a sweat. I imagined claws and teeth ripping into my back as I stared at the cave’s opening. I was about to die.

  The creature shifted its body, shaking me from my thoughts. I shrugged in defeat and started toward the cave’s entrance. The creature’s power was so far beyond me that there would be no point in resisting. It could obviously kill me with less than a wisp of consideration. I squeezed through the opening, belly scraping against rough stone, and then stumbled into a large chamber, lit only by the cave’s exit.

  I squinted against the darkness, eyes darting from shadow to shadow. I knew I had no power in this situation, but, for some illogical reason, seeing any impending attack seemed better than being taken by surprise.

  “Forward.” The panther commanded from beside me, somehow having slipped its mass through the entrance.

  My sandals scraped loudly against rough stone, the sound reverberating in the silent cavern. I stared at the center a couple of dozen feet away, hoping to see nothing, but as I approached, there was movement, nearly imperceptible. Black within shadow. I stopped. A growl from behind pushed me hesitantly onward.

  More movement from the center of the room quickened my heart, but as I got closer, I realized whatever it was was much smaller than the griffin behind me. And then, with my eyes finally adjusting to the light, I realized what I was seeing. A small, cat-sized griffin stared up at me, tiny pinpricks of light in its eyes shifting as it examined me. It made a little peep, sounding like a baby bird, and, despite the fear, I smiled.

  “You are weak,” the griffin said, suddenly standing beside me, looking at the smaller version of itself, “but so is my offspring. You come from a world of ease and excess… perhaps all Players are weak like you.” I thought of Jeff ripping away from his own arm to save Cynthia. No, I was definitely on the pathetic end of the spectrum. I didn’t correct the griffin’s assumption.

  The creature produced something that sounded like a sigh, its body rumbling beside me. “With the favor of Oba, and with the gifts given to Players, you have great potential.” It sounded as if the creature were trying to convince itself of something.

  The griffin’s next words were spoken with the surety of a choice made. “Offer your hand to my offspring.”

  The little creature looked far from deadly, but I still hesitated as I proffered the back of my hand.

  “Palm up.”

  I flipped my hand over, wincing at the thought of the small creature’s beak snipping off my finger. Instead, it hesitantly placed its forefoot on my hand, small talons lightly resting against my palm. I held still as I felt something pass between me and the creature, an understanding, a communication of self. Feelings of excitement, desire for exploration and progress, but also fear flowed into me from the creature’s touch.

  The sensation was more than emotion.

  Accompanying the small griffin’s emotional state was a vision of the creature’s potential. Its current power was a glowing grain of rice, bright yet tiny. It hung, suspended in the center of an expanse. Unfulfilled, yet somehow eager emptiness expanded in all directions, an expanse the size of worlds. I had nothing to compare it to, but surely, this unmet potential was beyond the scope of possibility. In some, barely conscious way, I understood what the little griffin could become, and it was breathtaking, astounding, stupefying… I didn’t know a word to describe it.

  My perception shifted, turning internal, accompanied by the griffin’s awareness. Together, we entered the home of my power and potential.

  My power was pitiful, barely a grain of sand, a tiny pinprick, a floating mote of dust just catching a ray of evening light. Even though I knew what I’d see, I still mentally slumped. The little, cat-sized griffin’s power outshone me, a bonfire next to an ember. Hopelessness crowded out all other sensations, filling me with its familiar presence. Even in this world of fantasy, created just for me, I was worth nothing, a speck of insignificance.

  A mental nudge from the griffin pulled me from my dark thoughts, refocusing me on the speck of light representing my power. I almost immediately fell back into the abyss of self-despisement, but then, with a second mental nudge, my focus shifted.

  I took a defeated metaphorical step back to gaze upon my pathetic potential.

  My view expanded, first beyond what I had expected, then beyond what I could even understand. Like a cosmic flower extending its petals beyond the scope of reason, my understanding of my potential opened. Where the griffin’s had been the size of worlds, mine engulfed solar systems. Its size so far beyond my comprehension as to appear infinite. I felt a similar awe coming from the little awareness beside me.

  However, something about my potential was different than the little griffin’s. Its had been eager, an emptiness wanting and waiting to be fulfilled. Mine was an abyss of doubt and fear, paralyzed into something frozen, rigid and fragile, like a fortress of glass expecting to be shattered by the smallest of stones. Was this what I was, a vast expanse of extremely brittle potential?

  The vision ended. I was back in myself, the dark cave surrounding me, talons of the griffin still on my palm.

  “I know not what you’ve seen,” the deep voice of the massive griffin-in-panther-form resounded beside me, “but my child asks that the bond be made. Neither of us can force you. The choice must be your own.”

  I looked down at the little griffin. Its eyes, inscrutable and fantastical, held me. Could I let this little creature bind itself to me? I’d seen my potential, nearly immeasurable. I couldn’t now deny that, but potential was barely more than nothing if not filled. The griffin had seen what I’d seen, though. It knew what I was, and still, it wanted to be bound.

  The little griffin nodded. Its eyes still on me.

  “Okay,” I whispered.

  “Very well,” the griffin beside me spoke, words tinged with resignation and doubt. This parent was taking a chance on me.

  The talons on my hand flexed, each piercing less than a millimeter into my palm. I flinched at the pain, but the pinpricks were easily bearable. Warmth entered me, expanding from my palm to fill my whole being. It was connection, a small flame to be cared for and stoked. The talons retracted from my palm, leaving four small beads of blood. We stared at each other, the bond cooling but still present.

  “Are they a boy or a girl?”

  “She is female.”

  I bent down and scratched her head. “What’s her name?”

  “She has none.”

  I turned to the large panther beside me. “What do you call her?”

  “We are beyond the need for names.”

  I turned back to the little griffin, which was now leaning into my scratches, a small, high-pitched purring vibrating into my hand. I smiled.

  “What should I call you, then? It should be something meaningful, right? Cool but not cringey like Stormclaw or Nightmane.” I sat back on the ground, and the griffin pushed onto my lap. I chuckled and stroked its back of feather and fur. “Should it be something fantastical like Sylpharion? Maybe Aerion?” I shook my head.

  After a moment of silence, a memory surfaced. “I knew someone once. A little girl who was kind to me when most weren’t. She was Greek, too. I know you’re probably not technically Greek, but I think the myth of griffins came from Greece. Nyssa.”

  The griffin purred again.

  I knew it was most likely because of my petting, but I took it as a sign. “You like it?” I liked it too. It felt right. “All right. Nyssa.”

  “Now what?” I asked, turning to the panther. Where it had stood was now empty. I’d heard nothing of its exit. I sighed, turning back to Nyssa. “Well? What do you think?”

  Her star-flecked eyes turned to the cave’s opening.

  “Lead the way,” I said, standing as Nyssa leaped from my lap and began toward the light.

  I felt something stirring inside me, a long cold cinder ignited from the faint warmth of Nyssa’s bond. I smiled, surprised. More than the glimpse of my vast yet fragile potential, it was our bond that sparked something long forgotten: hope.