I assume that the magic binding me here is giving me faint glimpses into the world beyond. Or maybe it’s the curse, giving me something new to cling to just as my hope withers to nothing.
So, here I sit on this isolated beach, numb, staring out toward the barrier. I no longer expect anything from the horizon. I’m just waiting for something to happen—anything—that will end whatever it is I’ve become. To pass the time, I torment myself by reviewing some of the “failed quests” that have accumulated over the years, cataloged by whatever cruel force maintains these screens in my sight. It’s a sort of ritual, I suppose, one that gives my mind just enough to chew on to keep from slipping into madness.
I could recite every single failure by heart, every impossible promise they made. But I start each day by looking at my stats. They are the only things here that ever change, even if I don’t understand how or why.
I draw up my stat screen, staring lifelessly at the display:
Name: Calypso.
Class: Enchanted Immortal.
Race: Nymph and Divine Being.
Level: Fifty. Indefinitely, because of course, I’m cursed to never level up.
I barely know what these things mean anymore. I’m trapped on this island, a nymph turned into something between a spirit and a shadow of my former self. “Enchanted Immortal”—that’s the class, apparently. But if anyone ever comes here again, maybe they can explain what it all means. I might be grateful if it weren’t so absurd.
And then there are the “Core Attributes.” I remember when they didn’t exist, and I wish they hadn’t started showing up at all. I know the stats are trying to tell me something, but without someone to explain them, they’re just numbers on a page:
Strength — Twelve.
A pathetic number, if I understand it correctly. Even if I were free to try, I’m not sure I could lift myself up. It’s as if the curse is mocking me for being bound so long to this spot.
Dexterity — Eighteen.
When someone is here, the magic makes me move like water, every motion graceful, every step like part of a dance. But here, alone, it just feels… wasted. Like having wings I’ll never use.
Constitution — Fourteen.
If I had to guess, this is why I’m still here. Not my spirit or my mind, but some meaningless resilience that keeps my body alive long after my hope has gone.
Intelligence — Twenty-Two.
My one solace. The memories and knowledge of countless failed quests, and all the stories the mortals left me, keep me company. Each man who came here thought they’d free me, and I remember each one. Not that it’s done me any good.
Wisdom — Sixteen.
Wisdom feels pointless here, like an unused muscle. It’s only useful when someone comes to hear it, and no one listens to the ramblings of an isolated nymph.
Charisma — Fourteen.
Once, my allure brought ships to my shore. Now, it’s just another wasted trait, meaningless without an audience.
And then I pull up the quest log, dreading the litany of failures, each glowing reminder of a broken attempt to break my curse. Each entry whispers back at me, each one another weight dragging me down.
The salty air clings to my skin as I sit, unmoving, on the sand. It aches to even shift my gaze, but the screens hovering before my eyes compel me to look. Their presence taunts me, forced into my sight by this twisted magic, as if to mock how each “quest” has added a new layer of despair.
How long have I been trapped here? Eons, perhaps. Yet still, my cursed HUD displays every failed attempt at my freedom, these mortals who thought they could save me and left only scars instead. I reach out with my mind, calling up the quest log—an act so familiar, it barely feels like an action anymore.
Quest Number One: The Cunning HeroName: Odysseus
Quest Type: Romance, Enchantment, Liberation Attempt
Result: Failure
Odysseus. The fabled hero of Ithaca, washed ashore like so many others, lost and longing for something beyond reach. When he arrived, my curse seized control, compelling me to seduce him, to offer him the temptation of immortality if he stayed by my side. And yet, even my charms weren’t enough—his heart already belonged to another.
Stat Effects:
- Charm plus Five — Only temporary, an enhancement the curse grants me whenever a new “hero” arrives. It faded the moment he left, as did the slight flicker of power I’d felt.
- Willpower minus Two — That loss still stings. When Zeus commanded me to release him, I had no choice but to comply. The curse chipped away at my resolve, leaving me just a little emptier.
- Despair plus Three — I feel it growing, tracking each new crack in the armor of my spirit.
HUD Error Message:“Odysseus’s Quest Failed. His heart seeks another. Autonomy disabled.”
A mocking epitaph for his visit. Every time I read it, I feel the numbness in my chest deepen. If I remember, I thought there was hope with him. He had been wounded, I remember that much, but as I touched him, my memories went hazy for the time I had with him.
But I believe Hermes managed to clear the haze in my mind, and it might be one of the only times I had an Olympian visit me while I had a mortal with me. But with Hermes, I was forced to let another man go. Unfortunately, I feel nothing.
Quest Number Two: The Star-Struck ScholarName: Eryx of Athens
Quest Type: Intellectual, Divine Test, Liberation Attempt
Result: Failure
Eryx was a scholar—a man more interested in unlocking the mysteries of the island than in freeing me. The curse compelled me to play the muse, to give him hints wrapped in riddles he could never hope to solve. He eventually gave up, and with his departure, something in me faded.
Stat Effects:
- Intelligence minus One — The constant games, the endless cycles of testing, wore down my mind. Every failed “quest” takes something from me.
- Wisdom plus Two — A temporary blessing from the knowledge we exchanged. A cruelly fleeting spark, gone the instant he left.
- Memory minus Three — Another piece of me slipping away, detaching me from reality. It’s a strange feeling, like the sands of my thoughts slipping through my fingers.
HUD Error Message:“Eryx’s Quest Failed. Scholar’s wisdom fades under the gods’ watch.”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Another line, etched in invisible ink across my spirit. Why did the gods’ toy with me? I couldn’t even do anything. What worse, is this was around the time, I began to feel something off with my memories, maybe a dream-like haze?
Quest Number Three: The Healer’s PledgeName: Cassius of Corinth
Quest Type: Healing, Compassion, Liberation Attempt
Result: Failure
Cassius tried so earnestly, coming here with compassion in his heart, thinking he could cure me with herbs and incantations. I wanted so badly to believe him—to hope he might succeed. But the curse broke him, too. He left me weaker than he found me.
Stat Effects:
- Vitality minus Three — Each of his attempts seemed to drain me rather than heal me. Another piece of strength lost.
- Compassion plus Four — The curse forced me to care deeply while he was here, as if to rub salt in the wound.
- Resilience minus One — A growing erosion of hope and patience, as endless failures grind me down.
HUD Error Message:“Cassius’s Quest Failed. Compassion cannot lift ancient chains.”
Another failure added to the log, and with it, my sense of self fades a little more.
Quest Number Four: The Brave PrinceName: Prince Lycaon
Quest Type: Heroic Rescue, Chivalric Love, Liberation Attempt
Result: Failure
Lycaon arrived as so many “heroes” do, certain he could prove his valor by breaking my chains. The curse forced me into the role of the damsel in distress, binding me to the ritual. When he left, I felt my courage wane—a cruel twist for someone trapped without a chance to defend herself.
Stat Effects:
- Courage minus Two — It ebbs each time I am forced to hope, only to be disappointed.
- Strength plus Three — A temporary surge, a feigned strength that the curse bestows upon me whenever a “hero” arrives. It fades when they go.
- Hope minus Four — The inevitable descent, sinking deeper into hopelessness with each failure.
HUD Error Message:“Lycaon’s Quest Failed. No mortal strength may break the gods’ decree.”
That one cuts deep. The gods decree, and mortals fail—and I remain trapped. And still I feel nothing.
I scroll past entry after entry, watching as each new quest logs its failures like wounds scarring over. But then, a new message appears. One that makes me pause.
Quest Number One Hundred Fifty-Eight: The Final Message in a BottleName: Unknown Recipient
Quest Type: Desperation, Call for Help, Liberation Attempt
Result: Success
I cast that last message into the waves on a whim, barely clinging to any real hope that it would reach someone—or that they'd care. How many times have I tried before? I told myself this was the end, the final, desperate plea. But maybe the gods pitied me for once, or perhaps some forgotten magic twisted fate in my favor. Somehow, it reached someone.
Though I’m still alone, my HUD insists that this was successful. And maybe I can feel it, just a little, in the way the despair pressing down on me seems lighter than before.
Stat Effects:
- Hope plus Two (permanent): I haven’t felt that word in ages, yet it’s here. Even the HUD acknowledges it.
- Willpower plus One (temporary): A spark of resolve—if they’ve found my message, maybe they’ll find me.
- Despair minus Two: I can breathe again, if only a little.
Reward: Temporary Escape (Temporary Relief from Isolation)Description: A rare, brief respite from the endless solitude. For a limited time of seven days, the player can experience a vivid dream or memory that transports them to a place of safety and comfort—a reminder of the life they once had, or perhaps a vision of the future, giving them strength to endure the days ahead.
Effect:
- Temporary Comfort: Plus three to Hope for the duration of the respite.
- Memory Fragment: Unlocks a fragment of a long-forgotten memory that hints at their true identity, but it’s fragmented and difficult to fully understand.
- Duration: Seven days, either real-time or in-game.
HUD Notification:“Final Message in a Bottle succeeded. Await response for next stage.”
I stare at the faintly glowing words on my HUD, feeling the brittle edges of my soul as I read that single line: “Final Message in a Bottle succeeded.” Success. I’d forgotten how that word feels. After so many failed quests, so many hopeful faces turned hollow with my curse, I never expected a quest log to end this way. I almost close my HUD on instinct, but something in me can’t look away.
My gaze drifts to my stats, the ones I’ve come to loathe over these centuries—my strange collection of traits and attributes, each a piece of my own slow unraveling.
There’s Hope, somehow a positive two now, a gift of this success. But it was at negative thirteen not long ago. I remember when it slipped further into the negatives with each prince, scholar, and healer who abandoned their quest to free me. I’m not even sure how I survived with a negative Hope value that low; maybe I didn’t, in a way. Maybe that’s why I feel so hollow now.
Despair is another one, tracking the depths I’ve plummeted. It’s down two points after the message in a bottle reached someone, and for a second I let myself feel that release, but Despair is still a solid ten. It’s climbed with every failed attempt, pressing into my heart like an invisible anchor, keeping me chained here in more ways than one.
Willpower. I’ve lost so much of that, too, drained every time I was forced to watch a mortal come, try, and leave. Watching Odysseus sail away felt like losing a limb—my Willpower dropped two whole points when I had to let him go, cursed to comply with Zeus's decree. Now it’s at negative five, a measure of how often I’ve been compelled to act against my own desires.
Then there’s Vitality, once vibrant and full of life, now down by seven points after watching men like Cassius crumble from the curse’s weight. I feel my exhaustion in every bone, my very essence worn thin by each forced heartbreak and empty goodbye.
Courage and Resilience have suffered as well. Courage dropped by two when Prince Lycaon left, taking another piece of my spirit with him, as though my very self faded each time I watched them walk away. Resilience fell by one as my patience wore thin, fraying with each new arrival and every inevitable departure.
And then there’s Memory. My HUD tracks it too, as though the island itself wants to mark every time a little more of me disappears. My Memory has a dismal negative four now, thanks to Eryx’s endless riddles, forcing me to forget the passage of time just to cope with the monotony of his logic. It’s hard to keep track of who I am or what I’ve experienced, with the island gnawing away at my mind each time I’m pulled into a new role for each visitor. Even my thoughts slip through my fingers sometimes, leaving me to wonder how much more I can forget and still be me.
Looking at the stats now, these numbers make me feel like a shadow—some half-version of who I used to be. I have Strength and Charm, temporary attributes that spike during each new quest but disappear as soon as they end. I wonder, bitterly, if these are only here to help me play the roles I’m forced into—a charmer, a damsel, a guide, the tragic figure. Temporary boosts in Charm for romance, Strength for a rescue attempt, even Intelligence when I’m forced to act the muse. They don’t belong to me; they’re just another twist of the curse.
But what I can’t understand are these strange, tracking attributes—like the system is monitoring my very state of mind. Despair, Hope, Willpower, Resilience, Memory—all of them pulling me apart as the centuries wear on.
And as I look back out at the horizon, the barrier where the waves meet the sky, I wonder if these stats will be the last fragments of me left when this is all over. If someone has found my message, maybe I’ll get to see what I was, who I could’ve been, before these cursed numbers began tracking my demise.