Tar laughed mellifluously and stroked the topmost ridge of his head. “I like this one. Bold. Let’s address your question first. I am happy to tell you. I let them experience a small sliver of their greater potential. Or rather, I provided the opportunity to your friend Win here, who so generously shared my gift with another.”

Win dipped his head. “My apologies, Editor.”

“It’s forgiven.”

Moon-eyed, Nadia moved her gaze to Sam.

“It’s hard to explain,” Sam said.

“Since I’m coming with you, you might as well fill me in.”

Sam’s stomach churned. This hadn’t been the plan. He’d come here in part to make his sister’s life easier, and here she was running into the fire ahead of him.

“There’s no way . . .” Nadia’s expression darkened, and Sam stopped before restarting. “Seriously, Nadia, first you have to be selected by Editor Tar, and besides that, somebody has to stay here to watch over Ma.”

“And you decided on your own that I’ll be that person? But let’s start with your first point. Mr. Editor, am I on your list?” She gave Tar her most hopeful and determined look, the full effect of which had affected Sam’s decision-making many times. Many, many times.

Tar tapped his chin with his alarming, clawed index finger. Sam kept his reaction in check this time. After a couple of seconds, the alien nodded and said, “Yes. In fact, the algorithm had also pulled your file, but as I face certain restrictions by your government, I could take no further action. But since you’ve come to me on your accord, we can put that concern aside.”

Sam shrank back a measure. Had Tar intended to recruit Sam all along? His invitation to Sam in the library had come across as offhand, and during this conversation, he’d given Sam a much harder time than he had Win. It didn’t add up.

Nadia nodded self-assuredly, the outcome never in doubt. “All right, first problem out of the way. Now for the second. Mr. Editor, can you heal our mother?”

Sam perked back up and put his misgivings on pause. If Tar could provide some sort of lifeline, anything, that could help his mother, Sam would take it in heartbeat. He rested his sweaty hands at his sides, hoping Tar would give them good news.

The moment stretched out, taut with tension. Tar let out a deep sigh, his expression the picture of compassion. “I’m afraid not. I don’t have that capability.”

Sam clenched his hands into fists, the nails digging in. That’s what he got for getting his hopes up.

Nadia slumped in her chair, her eyes downcast. Sam fully realized that she’d come on her own mission to help their family. He reached out to squeeze her arm, and she flashed a rueful half-smile in return.

Tar rapped his desk with gusto, startling all of them. “Fear not, all is not lost. If one or both of you succeeds in passing the exam and agrees to join me, I’ll make sure your mother gets better medication than she is getting right now. Medicine that will allow her to be mobile and leave that dusty apartment of yours. I’ll even provide your family a monthly stipend, plenty for her to live on.”

Nadia lifted her head, and her eyes lit up. “We can work with that. Thank you, Editor. What do you think, Sam?”

Sam exhaled, cycling from the disappointment of a moment ago to cautious excitement. “I’m not sure how Ma would take this. If we both pass, we’d be leaving her on her own.”

Nadia jiggled her cellphone. “Actually, I called her on the way. I told her what you were doing, that you were being all noble and reckless, all for our sake. She’s the one that had the idea I come along too. She wants us to stay together and look out for each other. If she’s feeling better, she can go stay with one of her sisters. She’ll be fine. I’m sure the Editor will let us visit her or bring her to visit us?”

Tar tilted his head in thought. “If you do well in my program, we can discuss what is feasible.”

Sam noticed the dodge but didn’t care. They’d figure it out. He just wanted his mother to be healthy again. Nadia had the same hopeful look in her eyes. He also didn’t actually hate the idea of her coming. The two shared a close bond, having relied on each other from an early age. “Right. Sure, let’s do this. Knowing you, you’d just go behind my back to sign up anyways,” he said.

Nadia rolled her eyes, but a grin stretched across her face.

Tar sighed. “Truly, a picture of family affection. It almost inspires me to connect with my own extended relations. Sadly, I detest most of them, and those I don’t are far-flung and immersed in their own benevolences. But as you humans say, let us get this show on the road. Who should we start with? How about Sam? Follow me.”

Win frowned. “If the entrance exam isn’t in space, where is it? This store is not very large.”

Tar wiggled the part of his forehead where eyebrows would be. “You’ll see soon enough. Trust me, you don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

#

A rectangular line traced itself on the wall behind Tar’s desk. Tar touched the middle of the panel and the wall vanished, leaving a veil of darkness in its place. Tar gestured Sam forward. Sam gave the other two a half-wave goodbye before stepping through.

The darkness parted, opening to a brightly lit room enclosed by stark white walls. To his side, Tar waved a hand and a pedestal rose from the floor, topped by shiny dark glass.

“Rest your palm on the control device there, and voilà, you’ll begin.” Tar held his hands behind his back and beamed at him, a spider nestled in its web.

“That’s it? No elaborate obstacle course? No jousting a robot?” Sam was disappointed. The sting of his earlier test failure still on his mind, he’d hoped to fall back on his general athleticism to get through the exam.

“Strictly speaking, no. The exam will take place in a virtual representation of your mind space. I suppose the program I’ve designed could conceivably conclude that traipsing through an abstract obstacle course would be useful for the assessment, but your actual body won’t be going anywhere.”

Sam hesitated, wary of subjecting himself to unknown Xarlogic technology. “Will this be like the tea?”

Tar shook his head. “You had a severe reaction, I admit. In fact, that is a promising sign, the explanation of which I don’t care to give at this moment. You’ll have to trust me for now that all will make sense in due time.”

Sam grunted. So, Tar knew already about his experience with the tea? “With all respect, I barely know you, let alone trust you.”

“That is a sensible perspective to take, but the evening draws near and your sister and friend are patiently waiting for me to initiate their exams in turn. I am all for reasonable discussion at the appropriate time.” Tar lightly tapped his foot. “Ready? Go ahead and place your hand flat against the top of the pedestal.”

Sam quelled his emotions and followed the instructions. Here goes nothing. The pedestal was cold to the touch, and there was a small stab into his thumb.

The room folded in on itself. Tar faded into the background, then disappeared altogether.

A strong vacuum sensation latched onto the back of his head. Sam’s active mind evaporated, disbursed into floating embers that drifted away from him. Every thought and every emotion vacated his head. There was only blankness.

This state continued, unbounded by time. Finally, a single thought wriggled free, barely escaping a rush of pressure that aimed to squash it. Sam’s mind reeled, and more thoughts grasped for air, growing in number. The pressure increased tenfold, becoming an invisible force. The thoughts melted, or dissolved, or simply ceased to be.

Eventually, the all-consuming force relented. Euphoric release poured through each brain cell. Thoughts returned, just a couple at first, but then an onslaught. Where am I? Am I still alive? Next, his emotions. Heavy doses of fear and adrenaline, mixed with relief. Sam shuddered and took the mental equivalent of several deep gulps of air, his figurative lungs burning as if he’d made it to the ocean’s surface. His mind sorted through the avalanche of stimuli.

An elegant-sounding electronic voice spoke into his ear. Forced meditation test complete. Subject passes. Current capacity assessed as medium. Potential assessed as superior. Next test commencing.

His physical body took shape again, and his eyes perceived the world around him. He stood within the examination room once more, but Tar was nowhere in sight.

The walls caught fire.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

Sam flinched but felt no fear, even as the fire burned intensely. He remained curiously distant, uninterested in the heat building across his clothes and skin. Soon, the warmth behind him lessened, and he managed to overcome his apathy long enough to turn around. A sheet of ice now lined the walls. Waves of cold rolled off the ice and poured into him. Sam shivered, though his backside remained toasty from the fire.

Then, the margins of the fire and ice merged throughout the room, layering on top of each other. This created a cacophony of noise as ice cracked and fire sizzled. A cloud of boiling steam began to form, attracting enough mass to envelop him. His nervous system lost control, and he could no longer make sense of his surroundings. At the same time, his whole body experienced a profound itch.

Sam’s sanity teetered.

A single discordant note chimed. The room restored itself to its previous untouched state. He took a few long breaths, regaining control. He waited for the voice to say something again, but it remained silent. His stomach clenched. How much of this do I have to endure?

A lucent orb answered him, first emerging from the ceiling and then floating down toward him. It began to pulsate brightly, creating patterns like fireworks that illuminated the sky. The effect gained speed, and an entranced Sam couldn’t tear his eyes away.

The orb intensified and compressed itself, becoming a bead of concentrated radiance, like the Sun at its birth. Attempting to shield his eyes, Sam experienced a strange thrill as waves of light flooded him, his body losing substance and turning transparent.

The orb grew dimmer for a second, then exploded, causing the waves of light to rush to every corner of the room, sweeping through and around Sam. He could see the outlines of ivory rods within him. Oh, those were his bones. Then the light cut off and the room began to quickly darken.

Soon enough, an inky blackness consumed his surroundings. He moved his hand to his face and saw nothing, felt nothing. The inner concept of his own identity hung in the balance as a feeling of nonexistence and inertness fought against his core being.

The itch returned. Then a slightly less discordant note sounded out.

The room restored to its original state. No object emerged or any other visible change occurred, but Sam sensed a shift. His arms lifted an inch without his prompting. He stood on the tips of his toes. His neck straightened. His weight lessened, and he kicked off the ground with a small push. Instead of returning to the ground, he started to float, weightless.

At first, he stayed in place, a few inches off the ground. Gradually though, he started to rise into the air. Then he sped up, except the ceiling still hung above him. On instinct, he reached out a hand to brace himself, but his gesture made the ceiling shear away, revealing a dense bank of dark clouds.

Now rising above into the sky, Sam did not feel disoriented. He couldn’t see but his consciousness spread out in all different directions. The deep cold from before, the intense light, the force rapidly pulling him up—they all exerted their influence on him. At the same time, he detected a deep foundational imbalance that saturated the clouds, and he discerned that he had the means to correct it. He gathered the ambient chaotic energy around him, pointed into the mists below him, and then released it all at once.

Giant bolts of lightning escaped from his body and arced in every direction before rebounding back and sweeping over him. His vision went white.

#

The electronic voice breathed into his ear. Energy aptitude test complete. Affinity determined. Results will be shared during orientation. Next test commencing.

He now stood on gray rocky dirt in the midst of heavy fog. Beams of sunlight shone through, piercing the haze and revealing a circular wall with tall, steep sides. Above the wall, rows upon rows of wooden seats extended skyward. Indistinct, ghostly human-shaped bodies occupied each one, frozen in place.

The figures loosened themselves from their stupor, and the drone of conversation filled the air. A palpable sense of anticipation developed. It was a coliseum. Sam took it in, more curious than scared just yet.

The clarion call of a trumpet rang out, and a carpet rolled out of the thinning fog. The end bumped up against Sam, and he took a step back. A rotund ghostly shape, bulky with what Sam presumed to be invisible layers of padded clothing, strode out, chest puffed and stomach protruding. It moved like a pompous noble, the world bending to its will. An escort of tall ghosts, their posture stiff and holding wispy-looking spears, flanked it. The figure haughtily strutted up to him.

Sam examined the ghost with interest. It exuded a palpable sense of presence, as if lent substance by an unseen force. Sam guessed he was about to be tested in strange and unexpected ways.

It coughed. A member of the escort stepped forward and gestured to Sam, pointing to the ground. When Sam didn’t react, it made a bowing motion. Not willing to offend the ghosts, Sam dipped his chest forward.

The rotund would-be noble made a sound of contentment and then, looking to the crowd, issued a series of loud screeching noises. Sam tried not to wince.

Translation provided, the voice said.

The screeches morphed into intelligible words. “Dear citizens of my esteemed heavenly prefecture, thank you for joining us in observing today’s trial by combat. Before us, a pathetic, untrained, sad excuse of a challenger. A human. Foolishly, he has chosen to exercise in a quixotic attempt to prove himself in front of all of you, when surely all we will bear witness to is his prompt demise.”

The audience tittered with laughter. Sam’s jaw clenched, his good humor gone in an instant. He’d faced down bullies before. If the ghost wished to demoralize him, he’d be in for a rude awakening.

“Nonetheless, we still must respect a man who faces his end in combat, no matter how vain his pursuit might be. With that said, let us welcome his opponent, our esteemed champion, he who upholds the highest standards of courage and pugnaciousness, the gladiator we gladly know as Auroch.” His voice began to pitch even louder. “Auroch belongs to us all. The prizefighter, the one who has never lost a fight. Auroch will surely administer this trial in such a way that affirms our great respect and admiration for the ways of battle. Hear, hear! Let us raise our voices as we engage in the joyous occasion of watching our champion beat the living daylights out of another pretender!”

With that, he raised his hands in exhortation, and the crowd erupted into an enormous cheer.

Crap. Sam’s earlier conviction waned as realization sank in. This would be actual combat. Sam had gotten into his fair share of scrapes and even tried out for the wrestling team once in between basketball seasons, but he didn’t have the first idea how to beat a trained fighter. Tar—or his program—had either not accounted for that, or didn’t care.

Nevertheless, his resolve tightened. You got this. The insults still bristled, but none of this was real, right? He’d happily go down swinging if it meant showing these rude spirits that his blood wasn’t so easily purchased.

The pompous lord marched back out of the amphitheater, escort in tow. He took his place among the stands, inhabiting a throne-like chair and peering down below. The crowd hushed, and he raised his arm. Once all eyes were on him, he swung his arm down in a violent chopping motion. Another raucous round of cheers erupted.

A section of the ground in front of Sam dropped away. The sound of gears drowned out the crowd, and a platform rose from the depths. My opponent. Sam’s expectations were met when the fog parted to reveal a giant ghost, easily twice the size of the others. It wore a helmet with pronged horns affixed on top and shaggy, if still translucent, armor. A glistening, dual-headed ax rested on its back. Once the platform became level with the arena floor, the fighter vigorously swung the ax around itself, earning applause.

“I am Auroch. The earth shakes when I move. My enemies flee before me!” The giant thundered. Not one for subtlety. It turned its attention to Sam and loudly scoffed, echoed by similar noises from the stands. Similar to its compatriots, the warrior spirit had no facial features, except for two beady dark globules standing in for eyes. They fixated on Sam, and Sam stared back, aiming for as much poise as possible.

The floor shifted beside Sam, and a small platform rose up, surrounded by faint fluorescents. On top sat three transparent weapons, one clearly angular like a sword, another in the arc shape of a bow, and finally a long, thin cylinder, like a staff. Sam reasoned he should go with the easiest one to use and reached to pick up the staff.

As his hand drew closer, the outline of the staff buckled and drew inward, as if pulling away from him. Puzzled, Sam tried to grab it again. The staff emitted a surge of energy and blasted away across the ground, as if stung by Sam’s touch.

Auroch flashed a jubilant grin. “His mastery of aether is so low he can’t even grasp an energy weapon. How shameful!”

The crowd rewarded him with a bout of rapacious glee. Sam’s heart sank in embarrassment. I don’t stand a chance if I can’t even pick up the damn weapon. Losing a fairly fought fight was one thing, being squashed like a bug another. He pictured a look of disbelief on Tar’s face, so astonished he was by Sam’s utter failure.

The shame alone meant Sam didn’t want to give up so easily. He tepidly moved over to the staff. The object vibrated, as if sensing his presence. Auroch had identified it as an energy weapon. It reminded him of the experience of drinking the tea and gaining access to an entirely new dimension. What if the staff belonged to that world? He’d need to access it again to have any hope of fending off the giant looming behind him.

That line of thought resonated in him. Yes. That was the purpose of this test. Figuring out how to use the staff was crucial to his chances of passing.

He closed his eyes, bringing forward the memory of the strange energy fields. As he did so, catcalls rained down on him from the stands, but Sam had practice shutting out hostile crowds and tuned them out. The trick was not to try to erase his anxiety, which was virtually impossible, but to fixate his mind on a single task.

He’d seen energy fields with his eyes, but more so, he’d felt the urge to touch them. It wasn’t a huge leap to use his hands as a conduit for interacting with the strange energy. He raised his right hand parallel to his body. He wiggled his fingers, willing something to happen. Auroch grunted impatiently and the crowd kept growing louder, but he willed his attention on his hand.

It stayed empty. Or was it? In truth, it was incomplete. Missing something, that if added would make Sam whole. Or at least start that process. What should he pick up? What could he add?

There. Just outside his index finger, he detected the arrival of a single mote of energy. The mote didn’t want to move, but it also didn’t want to stay. It was curious. Sam extended an invitation. Come join me. It obliged and moved toward him. Sam opened his fist, exposing his palm, and waited. The mote sank into his skin, creating a slight tickle.

Lodged in his hand, the mote’s influence spread. Streams of energy traveled up Sam’s arm and into his chest, head, and legs. Sam staggered forward, feeling like he’d been dipped into an ice bath. His teeth chattered, and the air smelled of rust.

Sam shook himself, and the world around him settled into place. Like when he drank the tea, lines bounded in all different directions, though the earth beneath him remained inert and no heat beat down on him. Unlike before, he didn’t lose his bearings. He’d gained access again to the new sense, but this time his brain could better process it.

He wanted to take it all in, but time was of the essence. The mote lent him a foundation of how to use the lines of energy. He pictured plucking the line closest to him, and it sprang into his hand. Energy flowed out of him, and the line shifted, pointing in the direction of the staff. The mote pulsed, making his hand burn, and the staff rose from the ground and glided toward him. Once he grasped it, the drop of energy stretched out, partially exiting his palm, and then elongated and enveloped the weapon.

Amazed, he gave it a twirl. He moved fluidly, and the staff acted like a natural extension of his arm. There was no noticeable heaviness, nor did it seem too light. The weight of the staff matched his strength perfectly. Sam kept spinning the staff, quicker and quicker, before slamming it to the ground.

Purpose flowed through him, like a part of his core being had emerged into view.

The buzz of the crowd quieted by a fraction. “Good,” the heavy voice rumbled behind him. “It’s no fun picking on the weak.”