Mary's room turned out to be a small ten by fifteen feet hollowing in the ever-present sandstone, with a wooden door. It didn't have any amenities like a toilet or running water, but she had a feeling she wouldn't need those anytime soon. Not living sure had its perks. Still, she was missing breathing, talking like a human, having a working heart...

After she closed the door, the only light source was a tiny opening on the door's bottom where it didn't fit tightly enough - Mossie didn't bother turning on its reflectors after settling on a nearby empty shelf. It could have been working as intended or just due to a simple mistake. But now that she thought about it, Mary realised something - she could still see pretty well. Way too well, given the lighting conditions.

She looked around her room - actually, she felt rather than saw the shadows covering everything. Good to know.

Mary walked to the 'bed', which of course was a block of hard sandstone without any sort of mattress, and lay down without bothering to switch clothes or anything. Only then did she realise the problem.

She wasn't sleepy. Not a single bit.

She closed her eyes, which changed absolutely nothing.

What now?

Mary thought about her predicament. She liked sleeping. Always had, now that she thought of it. Even back then, in the orphanage, wake-up calls weren't exactly exciting. Neither was almost anything else, but let's not get too much off-topic.

A thought struck her. Would she be able to talk to Veritas now?

Did she want to, anyway?

He did contact her when she was awake, once... didn't he? Mary's memory wasn't exactly top-shape at the moment... it probably had something to do with way too many things happening at once for way too long. She really needed a good, long night of sleep to let her brain sort things out... oh, wait, that wasn't an option.

Great.

So, Mary did the only thing she could think of - she started thinking. About everything she lived through so far. Everyone she'd met, those she'd already kinda forgotten, those that were her 'friends' now. Those that she'd left in another world...

A rattling on the door brought her out of the depths of her misery.

“Who's there?” Mary asked, readying herself to start throwing fireballs. It took her a few seconds until she realised that this was probably not a safe distance to be trying that.

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“How many different visitors do you get at night?” a scratchy male voice called from behind the door. The voice was something new, but...

Mary's eyes widened, which was probably pointless since whatever she was seeing with likely had little to do with photons at the moment. She jumped from the stone and flung open the door.

There stood a bear-like man with a large axe girded on light-blue pyjamas with a ship pattern. The one word that popped into Mary's head was 'Viking', but it felt wrong in the middle of a desert. His eyes were half-closed, and his look was unfocused.

“Hello, Mary. Nice to see you... so to speak.”

Mary took a step back. “Veritas? Is that you?”

“In a way,” the man said as he invited himself into her room. “Since you hadn't visited my place recently, I've had to find a way into yours.”

“Couldn't you just... you know, talk to me directly?”

“Not... really, no. It is a costly trick and all the more costly when you have your defences up. Borrowing some unused body is way more efficient, and it's not like the owner minds being sent to a pleasant dream for a change.” The man shrugged. “We need to talk.”

“You don't say.”

“I mean it. I'm fairly sure you haven't realised what you've started just now.”

“Well, I'm so glad you're here to explain it to me objectively, as someone with completely no agenda of your own.” Mary hoped that she controlled the tone well enough for the sarcasm to be clear.

“How open do you want to play it? I know you're not the subtlest party involved in our little mess of the day, but swinging the truth with a grace of a sledgehammer can be dangerous if you don't even know which end ends with a spike.”

“How about you and everyone else finally stop treating me like a child or some freaking pawn in your games?”

“Hm... have you tried not acting like one?” The man grinned, showing a few golden teeth and apparently a few wooden, too. “Yeah, let's try it this time. You've shaken things around here. The ingredient you brought yesterday? Getting it was the main part of this adventure. All the other stuff can be organised within a day or two. Arthur knows it, and he's probably scared like a little girl of what will come of it. Personally, I think it may be a good thing - but we'll have to wait and see.”

“Seriously? But-”

“Let me finish.” The Viking raised his enormous hand. “The rebels will sort things out, one way or another - if my guess is right, you've walked into something more ancient than the Academy itself, and Arthur isn't foolish enough to challenge that. He's not one to miss signs that subtle, and when you bring the old world order down, he'll want to be on your side. The question at hand is, what will you do about us.”

Mary blinked. “Us?”

“We're designated enemies. Whatever we'll do, we'll probably end up being played against each other, and a temporary alliance through the rebellion is way too little to stop it.” The man spread his hands. “Frankly, I would rather avoid it. But the alternative requires trust - a lot of trust. Would you trust me with your life... well, unlife, and then some?”

“I-”

“Don't answer now. Think about it. Unfortunately, due to your little stunt, you only have a day to think instead of a month. Give me your answer tomorrow.”

There was a feeling, like a silent sound melting into a real silence.

“Wait! What-”

The man placed a thumb in his mouth, then blinked repeatedly. He looked around, then focused roughly on Mary.

“Where am I?”