Prologue:

It's all my fault.

That one sentence is all I hear. My head spins in circles, spiraling deeper into the darkness. Guilt flows freely and turns into a pool large enough to drown me. And it has. I am fully, completely, and utterly sinking in the depths of my own mistakes.

My family, my people, my... my heiress.

It's time I stand up to those words; 'my fault'. I am the prince of Cyber Legacy, and no one is going to stand in my way.

Not even myself.

* * *

I stood at the end of the long throne room beside my father. His crown glittered upon his head in the corner of my eye, my mother's shining as well. Sun shone through the stained glass windows, casting shades of color across the shining floor. These were details I was accustomed to. The weight of my medals hung on my neck, but more with a responsibility kind of weight rather than a physical one. The silk at the end of my long sleeve shirt brushed my wrists as I straightened my formal suitcoat.

Any minute now, the player would walk in.

We'd gone through this exact thing not only three minutes ago, or so my internal counter said. We'd said our lines, congratulated the player on winning, and they were taken to the end screen for credits. The expressions of the various avatars were always my favorite part. I could watch one player come in with their sword drawn, preparing to slay Volfmen as they stepped through the door with the same enjoyment as the one who broke down into tears after hearing that they'd won the game. It was different every time, which fascinated me.

I was always happy for the person. Even if they looked like they could kill me in a single strike, all I could feel was happy. There was no such thing as confusion, doubt, or misunderstanding. It was all... simple.

I was happy.

That's what I had been told to feel, so I felt it.

Today, however, was different. Barely four minutes had passed before the next player walked through the door at the far end of the room. Heavily clad in black cloth and armor, they strolled down the red carpet that lead to my father's throne. Beneath their bushel of black, tousled hair, I could barely see their deep-set eyes. I only saw their shining pupils.

"Welcome," my father greeted. His voice echoed through the room, resonating to my core.

"We are so pleased to have you in our home," my mother said. I could practically hear her smile from where I stood.

Usually, at this point, the player would react. Crying, swearing, or just gaping at the space in general. This player wasn't having any of it. They merely kept on walking. He kept coming closer, stalking down the red carpet that led to the thrones.

"Feel free to help yourself to the feast happening in the dining room," my father invited. "After all, it is in your honor. I'm certain we could-"

SHLING!

At first, I didn't understand what had happened. It wasn't until I turned to look at my father did everything hit me like a bus.

And the world collapsed upon my shoulders.

My father gasped, a dagger embedded in his chest.

"Father..." I muttered. My eyes could comprehend what I was seeing. It... it was impossible. Nothing like this should have been possible. We were protected! Hundreds - no, thousands - of players had come through our throne room. All of them had finished the quest without an issue.

But this player...

My code didn't have the words for what I wanted to say. I turned, only to see the player striding up closer to the throne. He glanced at my mother, who was rooted to her chair. There was no way she could move; not even I had seen her get out of her chair before. It was a part of her - a part of her programming.

I could see them again; the floating ones and zeros. They were all around me, embedded into the very floor I stood upon. The next thing I knew, the player stopped in front of me and my father. He gave me a passing glance, but didn't so much as say a word in my direction. He merely leaned down in front of my father - my father's face glitching from the pain - and let a cruel smile pass over his lips. There was no music, it had stopped a long time ago. The only thing I could hear was the static of my father's body glitching in and out of existence.

From where the dagger had stabbed my father, a black substance started crawling over him. The ones and zeros that made up his form were crumbling, disappearing... erasing.

"Well well, they never told me that it'd be this easy," the ominous player said. He tilted his chin up. "Say, old man, wasn't that quest supposed to be difficult? I had the whole thing done in... oh, will you look at the time? It's not even lunch yet."

Now that his dark hair wasn't in his eyes, I could see the face of my father's torturer. The avatar was an elfling, though he wasn't glitching out like the rest of the room was - like I was. He was a player. This wasn't a surprise, but it was still shocking to see something not dissolving into hundreds of numbers. His eyes were dark and calculating. It was as if he could see what I was; the numbers and strings of ones and zeros unraveling like every small thing that existed in the room.

My father tried to respond, but he was already starting to lose his form. There was no way to answer the villain. Eventually, the player sighed and turned away.

"It's a shame my bosses didn't want me to take any prisoners. I would have had so much fun." He looked over at my mother, who was holding my father's arm as tight as she could. She looked at him, her eyes welling up with tears.

"King..." she was able to mutter. Like me, she couldn't use anything but the words we'd been programmed to say. She, like my father, was flickering in and out of existence.

The player let out a loud laugh. "Oh, quit acting. You're nothing but a program. You never loved him anyway." He extended a hand, brushing my mother's cheek. The sudden touch made her freeze. "You will be such a wonderful plaything, my dear."

Then, the elfling player turned on me. He looked me up and down, as if judging whether I could hurt him or not. If looks could kill, he'd be long dead. My gaze bore into him as I tried to hold him in place with a mere glare.

He pulled away from my mother and stepped in front of me.

"Say, you look like a useless young man," he said. He walked in a circle around me, and I watched him as best I could. Moving was a struggle but keeping him in my sight was my top priority. If he hurt my mother like he had my father...

"You know, what do you think I should do with you after all of this is over? I may just turn you into my personal servant. You can be a good boy, can't you?"

I could feel his breath on my neck. I wanted to cringe, but there wasn't much I could do anyway. Letting him get what he wanted, for now, was all I needed. I just had to creep my hand ever so slowly to my sheath...

"Judging by the look of your code, you aren't used for much, are you? You're just a pretty little face for the girls to like, aren'tcha?" The player came around back in front of me. He smirked, then took me by the jaw and forced me to look at my father. "Do you see what I can do to code like you? I can erase you; kill you. So, if you try one thing to defy me-" he slapped my hand away from my sword's hilt "-I won't hesitate to kill you or your mother."

After making his point, he stepped back and gave me a dashing smile. "Well, I'll be off, now. You be good. This place should take care of itself, don't you think?"

He stalked over to my mother, then proceed to rip her out of the chair she'd been stuck to. She let out a terrible scream, her voice static and choppy.

"Q-queen!" I managed to shout, my own voice cracking and sounding as though it'd been through an auto-tuner.

The evil murderer of a player dropped my mother, gave me a sly wave goodbye, then logged out. The last I saw of his shimmering form was his cruel smile.

And my mother's fading tears.

---

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