Alek stared at the infrared spectrum in front of him, waiting for it to make sense. He absentmindedly twirled his pen until it fell, landing on his desk and rolling across the graph. Eventually, its momentum petered out and it came to a stop.

He squinted. His fatigued brain wanted nothing to do with him or organic spectroscopy, and he couldn’t blame it. But an exam was an excellent motivator, especially when it was worth forty percent of his grade.

Still, he’d been going strong for well over six hours. It was nearly three in the morning, and he had to be up at seven. He glanced over at his bed. He’d studied enough. Anything more would be an exercise in futility.

It took every ounce of willpower he had, but he quashed those thoughts before they could take root. He would sleep only when he was ready. Not before.

“Excuse me.”

Alek whirled around in his chair–or tried to. His shock lent the movement more power than he’d expected. His chair tipped over, sending him crashing to the floor.

He winced. It wasn’t a bad fall, but he’d landed on his elbow awkwardly. It would leave a bruise.

“My apologies. That seems to have been my fault.”

Staring down at him was an older, mustachioed man garbed in a colorful plaid suit. If not for the top hat and the monocle, he would have looked normal. Or as normal as a person sneaking unannounced into his room could be.

“You’re likely wondering who I am and why I’ve suddenly appeared in your room. I will–”

“Yaksha,” Alek said, picking himself up off the floor and rubbing his arm. “You’re a Yaksha. I’m hoping you are, anyway. If not, I should probably be calling the police.”

The Yaksha blinked. “You are correct. I’m surprised. Thus far, only the more magically inclined of your kind have seen through our veils. Which you are not.”

“And what a breathtaking veil it is,” Alek said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

But the Yaksha, a sorcerer and shapeshifter from another planet–or universe–did not understand sarcasm. It stood up a little straighter, which Alek found especially odd–did it adopt the same mannerisms as the race it was shifted to, or was its original body similar to that of a human? Did it even have an original body?

“My thanks,” the Yaksha said. “Many of my colleagues consider my choice to be dated and unnecessary. I disagree.”

It cleared its throat. “I do not mean to be brusque, but I’m afraid that there’s a time limit to this sort of thing.” Its voice deepened. “Aleksander Campbell, what I’m about to say may shock you. Do you desire strength? Power beyond your very comp–”

“I accept.”

“What?”

“I accept.” His head buzzed. He attributed it to sleep deprivation.

The Yaksha just stared at him. Alek almost felt bad for interrupting.

“You already know,” it accused. “You already know about the tower.”

Alek nodded and sat down at the edge of his bed. “Is it so hard to believe? People have been disappearing for a year. It would be a lot weirder if nobody noticed.”

The Yaksha inclined its head. “That is fair. Your magicians and government have been vehemently opposed to the spread of any information concerning the tower. It is why we approach individuals on a case-by-case basis. But I suppose I should’ve expected this would happen eventually. I admit I was enjoying you humans’ reactions of surprise.”

“I see. And what determines who you approach?”

“A multitude of factors. First and foremost of which is the latent power of one’s soul.”

“The soul?”

“Every soul contains an extraordinary potential, but it requires extraordinary circumstances to unlock that potential. Among all the species I have visited, yours, by and large, has unlocked the least amount.” It peered out his window, where the city was alive with light. “I won’t deny that it makes for an interesting world, however.”

“And the tower consumes your soul when you die,” Alek said.

“Precisely,” the Yaksha replied.

He knew that there was no such thing as a free lunch, but the fact that the thing consumed souls was…off-putting. Had his father been aware of that? But he pushed those thoughts aside. It didn’t matter. He’d already made his decision. They both had.

“You’re being surprisingly liberal with this information.”

“You’ve already agreed, after all.”

“A verbal agreement? That’s all you need?”

“Far stronger than most humans believe.”

“Alright,” he said, accepting the impossible explanation. “There are still some things I’m curious about.” As he spoke, he flipped open his laptop.

The Yaksha seemed to light up. “Ask away, Aleksander Campbell. If they are questions I can answer, I will answer them.”

“How often would I be able to return to Earth?” At the click of a button, he sent out a few pre-written emails. The first went to his school, requesting a leave of absence. The next couple went to his closest friends, though for both his and their safety, he didn’t divulge any sensitive information.

“Climbers may return to their worlds on Refuge Floors," the Yaksha said, not seeming to care about what Alek was doing. "The first is on floor five, and every ten floors after. "Refuge Floors also offer entertainment, shops, party formations, amongst many other opportunities."

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"Groups can only be made after the fifth floor? What about the first four?"

The Yaksha's lips twisted into a smile. "They must be conquered individually. An introduction to the Tower, you could say."

Alek swallowed. The first four floors were to weed out the weak. “What's the purpose of the Tower?”

“It has many, but I am afraid that I cannot discuss more regarding the matter.” The Yaksha hesitated. “As I said, it unlocks the potential of one’s soul.”

Alek frowned. He hadn’t gotten much of an answer; the Yaksha had just repeated what it said earlier. But perhaps there was more to it than met the eye. Or ear.

“Alas, my time runs short. I have a quota to meet, and as much as I’ve enjoyed our talk, speaking with you has put me behind schedule. I wish you luck, Aleksander Campbell. May you find who you are looking for.” That was strange, Alek thought. He’d told the Yaksha nothing about his father.

It placed a wrinkled hand on his shoulder, and the world fell apart around him. First, his walls dissolved, followed by his desk and window. The red-orange criss-cross design of his rug faded into shades of muted gray until it disappeared entirely.

The void consumed everything. Eventually, all that remained was the Yaksha. It smiled down at him, and then it was gone as well.

…

Alek shot up, gasping for air. It took a minute for him to collect himself, and then another to take stock of the situation he found himself in.

He was sitting on a bed in a dark room. The floor and walls were stone, and the only color in the entire room could be found in a thick, blue carpet. The wall opposite him held a dying torch that was his only source of light, though it looked like it would go out any moment.

[Welcome to The Tower.]

[Now entering Floor 1: Souldrop Prison. Primary objective: locate exit.]

Alek stood, rough clothing scratching against his skin. He patted his pockets, confirming that there was nothing there, and spent a few minutes searching the room. He found nothing of importance and so cracked open the door to peer into the hallway beyond.

Anticipation mixed with fear. He was finally here. With a renewed sense of purpose, Alek steadied his nerves and went to gain unfathomable power or die trying.

…

Elizabeth stepped out onto the sidewalk, biting wind stinging her exposed skin. Jonas was waiting for her, standing by a lamp, and she made her way over to him.

“He’s just ahead, ma’am,” Jonas said, tilting his chin to speak into an earpiece. He was old, probably as old as some highmages, but he wasn’t one. He was just a mage, a mortal, as evidenced by his white hair and wrinkled skin. He’d practically raised her, even taught her a thing or two about magic when she was younger and curious.

“Lead the way,” she told him, and they wove between the mundanes that lined the streets of the city, talking, laughing, and drinking.

They came across the illusory dome, a hazy curtain of magic that made the air around it look superheated. It arched up and over skyscrapers that rose to meet the evening sky.

None of the mundanes around them came close. To them, the illusion was real. To them, it would seem like they couldn’t cross, and it would befuddle the minds of anyone that came close.

As if on cue, a young couple walked up to it. They stared for a moment before turning away, their eyes glossed over. For most, the confusion would only last a few hours.

It was an archmage’s technique, cast remotely, and once upon a time, it would be seen rarely, only when a rogue mage or supernatural turned violent. Now it was commonplace. It felt like every day that she heard another story about the people that had returned from another world, flush with power that wasn’t theirs. The illusory technique would isolate them for retrieval.

The method was working so far, but it wouldn't last forever. They were using magic too freely, and people would catch on eventually.

Elizabeth shivered as she crossed through the illusory threshold. It was a disorienting feeling like all her limbs had fallen asleep at once, and it was one she thought would never become accustomed to.

Jonas led her to an Italian restaurant, but even without his help, she’d be able to find the place well enough. The front-facing wall looked as if it had been blown up, shards of glass and debris laying around it.

Inside, the first responders, three apprentices and two full-fledged mages, surrounded a muscular, middle-aged man. He held a metal bat in one hand, and it was covered in blood. She looked around, and when she saw the victim, the bottom of her stomach fell out.

“This is a misunderstanding,” he pleaded, and as she entered his eyes locked onto hers. She saw sorrow. “You don’t know what he did. What he’s done.”

The mage he’d been talking to followed his gaze. “Miss Aldrich,” he greeted, inclining his head. “This is Robert.”

“Robert,” Elizabeth said, trying not to look at the body, “please, put the weapon down. This can all be sorted out.”

Robert considered her. “Can it? I’m not sure if it can.”

“Of course,” she lied. “But I need you to put the weapon down.”

Maybe it was the tone of her voice or the reality of his situation. Whatever went through his mind in the next moment, she couldn’t know for sure, but she would always curse herself for being the one that sent him over the edge.

Robert’s eyes hardened, and he lifted the bat defensively. It blazed with power. “I don’t think I can do that. Let me go, and nobody else will have to get hurt.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Robert.” She reached out, ready to call upon her magic at a moment’s notice. Even so, she was almost unable to react in time.

One moment he was standing in the center of the restaurant, surrounded by mages, and the next he was past them, heading for the hole in the wall that previously held the restaurant’s door. Jonas reacted faster than she did, sending Robert staggering with a blast of force magic.

Elizabeth and the other two mages were quick to pile on their own restraining techniques. One of them threw up her hands, and a wave of magic rippled out. Chunks of rubble cracked and smashed together, condensing into a vaguely humanoid figure.

The golem stepped forward, wrapping its misshapen arms around Robert, who grunted and dropped his bat.

At the same time, the mage that had spoken to her launched a pure-white chain that twisted around his body. She knew from experience that it would be draining his power reserves.

Elizabeth wove her own magic together in an illusory technique and cast it with a wave of her hands. His eyes went glassy, and he stumbled. The world would be spinning, his sense of balance would be skewed, and he wouldn’t know up from down. They had him.

Then Robert roared, pushing back against their magic. His muscles rippled and his body swelled, his skin turning ruddy brown. He punched out, blowing the golem apart and sending debris flying. A fist-sized chunk of rock clipped Jonas in the chest, overloading his protective amulet and shattering it in a burst of blue light. He yelped and was tossed away like a ragdoll.

Elizabeth redoubled her efforts, unable to look away for fear of losing concentration.

The beast strained against the chains, but it was already sagging, its muscles melting away like snow in summer. When it turned human again, Elizabeth let her technique fall apart and rushed to where Jonas had fallen.

One of the apprentices was with him, trying to stop the bleeding. There was so much. Jonas wheezed and held out a hand. She took it.

“Hold on, Jonas,” she said, trying to imbue her words with confidence as her father always did. “You’ll be fine. Stay with me.”

He opened his mouth to speak, blood spilled out, and he stilled, his eyes unfocused.

“What are you doing?” she asked the apprentice, who had taken a step back. “Keep pressure on the wound.” He shifted uncomfortably.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” came a voice from behind her, though she could barely hear it through the rushing in her ears.

“He’s gone, Miss Aldrich,” said the mage from the Steinn family, the one that had magicked the golem.

Elizabeth sat there, uncomprehending, as her life crumbled in front of her.