Friends of the drowned world — it is the day again.
Six years ago the servers of a world I loved went dark, the final expansion eighty percent built and abandoned, the last patch notes a sentence apologising for "sunsetting the experience." Sunset. As though a foreclosure were a time of day.
I will not tell you what I spent to keep it lit at the end; the figure embarrasses the living and means nothing to the dead. I will only open the hall, as I do each year, and invite anyone who walked those roads to say the name of a place that no longer exists, so that it exists here, for an evening, in the only archive that keeps its promises.
I'll begin. The Lantern Coast, at the hour the fog came in. I stood there the night they closed it. I was the last patron in the province, and the servers did not know to say goodbye, and so I said it for them.
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