Chapter 1: Introduction
I maneuvered my well-worn desk chair, positioning the squeaky wheels directly in front of the gaming console. Just a few feet away, my computer monitor waited for me to fire up the livestream. It only showed my current character resting motionless amid a mystical world—a fantasy land that had always felt more like home than my cluttered dorm.
The fingers of my left hand drummed against the USB keyboard connected to my gaming rig, an old hobbyhorse draped in worn blankets and faded posters of the original Final Fantasy characters.
Anticipation glowed in my chest. With a start, I realized it resembled the excitement I had felt as a kid when my parents took me to the video-rental store, browsing for hours; the only difference was that tonight, there were no constraints—just me and the digital realm all night long.
*Click*
The live button on the screen pulsed rhythmically, corridors of internet-connected viewers ready to experience the journey alongside me. Except there was no one there yet.
I tapped my foot impatiently, waiting for something, anything, to happen. It had started like this every time, despite my best efforts to promote the livestreams. Eyes burned with the weight of my near-tears, blurring the screen—perhaps I was kidding myself. How many more nights would I put in front of the console before surrendering?
At least twenty minutes in, the screen flashed, welcoming its first audience member. It was 'SerpentTara,' live on my channel. I froze.
My throat dried, matching the stiffness of my wide-eyed stare, a mixture of shock and disbelief. I thought I'd never see another viewer, let alone someone as enigmatic and intriguing as SerpentTara. With an encouraging smile, I launched a formal greeting: "Hey, SerpentTara, welcome to my stream!"
Her first reply slithered across the screen like wisps of dark jade smoke: "You must be Robin.
I've been meaning to find you, but you've made it a bit difficult."
Difficult? Had she been watching my streams for a while? I quickly clicked her username, glancing eagerly at her profile. Merely a digital silhouette stared back, illuminated only by ghostly green text.
"Let's just say I've had my eye on you, Robin.I'm an admirer of patience and devotion, and your streams demonstrate both."
Caught off guard, my heart fluttered.
My inexperienced hands clumsily adjusted the camera's focus, a rogue bead of sweat daring to grace my brow. I took a breath, carefully typing my response, "Thank you, SerpentTara. Your words really mean a lot to me."
Silence swallowed the channel for an extended moment, and I hesitantly continued the journey with my virtual companion by my side. Despite the small crowd, the atmosphere transformed to a therapeutic connection that breathed life into every action on the screen.
Notorious enemies, once threatening, died swiftly under the blade of my sword, and mysteries once baffling were unveiled like birthday presents.
"Yeah, I'm here," I stammered, carefully choosing each subsequent word. "Just been on quite the adventure."
She replied with ardent cheers and warm support, spurring me forward—such kind deliverance—stranger and guide merged, one joining in as the other led.
But then, the winds shifted. "Robin, I have a gift for you.
A small token of admiration," SerpentTara declared, that dazzling screen name suddenly feeling like a warm embraced wrapped around my entire frame. "It's something to help ensure your success on this journey; a good luck charm."
I furrowed my brow, surprised, even a bit puzzled, as I waited for the package. My thoughts raced, puzzling together ideas of what it could be. "Alright, well I'm definitely curious! Looking forward to receiving it."
A strangely heavy box arrived on my doorstep the very next day.
There was no packing slip and nothing that resembled a return address. But there couldn't be any doubt: this package came from SerpentTara.
My dorm room-mate, Rick—a taller, athletic type with an obsession for superheroes—peered over my shoulder as I gingerly opened the box, our eyes wide like kids on Christmas morning.
"Uh, dude, you shouldn't open packages from strangers you met online.