But then came the next problem.

Where do I go now?!

For a fleeting second, he had relished the feeling of not being confined anymore. No glass jar, no swirling magic to keep him in place.

But the moment was short-lived.

A sudden shiver ran down his very being. The girl had noticed.

Her head snapped toward him, her wide eyes locking onto his soul as it floated above the shattered glass. For the first time since this nightmare began, he felt truly exposed—no jar, no barrier to hide behind. Just him and the wide-eyed, devilish girl who had been cooking up her monstrous mochi.

Uh-oh… he barely had time to think as he floated upwards towards the ceiling.

"Lúvan!" she shouted in a language he couldn't understand, but the meaning was clear as day. She pointed, eyes flaring with excitement—and maybe a little irritation—as if she was daring him to escape.

However, he felt something was suddenly stirring in the air after she spoke. Not waiting to find out what she planned on doing, he bolted.

Or at least, he willed himself to bolt. His disembodied form shot across the room like a puff of smoke caught in a gust of wind, darting toward the nearest vent he could see. It wasn't much—a small, crooked grate in the far corner of the room near the ceiling—but it was away from her, and that was all that mattered.

"Elenai su valë enasár ilúven! He couldn't help but be enthralled by her melodic voice—broken only by a swoosh in the air, causing him to tumble in the air—the massive hammer that she had suddenly thrown hit the vent's entrance, exploding everything into bits and pieces. Yep, she's truly irritated...

After regaining his balance, he once again drifted upward, his misty, translucent form gliding straight toward the ceiling instead. Instinct told him that, as a disembodied soul, he should be able to pass through solid objects—ghost-like. That was how it was supposed to work, right?

He reached the ceiling, ready to glide straight through it, only to be met with resistance. His form pressed against the surface as if it were solid. Confused, he tried again, focusing all his will into slipping past the stone.

Nothing.

A faint pressure built up around him, growing stronger the more he pushed. It felt like being caught in an invisible net, tight and unyielding. He pulled back, frustration bubbling up in his mind. Come on, let me through! he muttered, shoving harder against the wall.

That was when he saw it—a flicker of light. Tiny runes, carved into the stone, flared to life, glowing with a faint, silvery hue. They hummed with energy, and before he could react, a sharp sting shot through him. It wasn't like the pain of having a physical body—it was deeper, like his very essence had been pricked by a hot needle.

He recoiled, his form flickering erratically as the runes pulsed once more. He floated back, panting—or at least, he thought he was, though he had no lungs to speak of.

What the hell was that?!

His gaze traced the runes, now fading back into the stone. They were everywhere, etched into the walls, the floor, and the ceiling—an intricate, almost invisible web of protection. Whoever had made this place had done so with the intent of trapping even things that should have been able to slip through barriers.

He grimaced, his frustration mounting as he realized there was no simple escape. I guess walls are off the table then.

With no other options left, he reluctantly floated toward the exploded vent. It was narrow, twisted, and far from ideal, but at least it wasn't covered in those cursed runes.

Glancing down for a moment, he felt as if he had been dunked into ice-cold water as he saw wings sprouting out of thin air behind her, wide, translucent feathers that reflected her fiery energy and vibe—her eyes narrowed in a mix of excitement and irritation as she suddenly surged forward like a bird of prey.

The air itself crackled with energy, and before he could even react, she had shot past him, her small hands swiping at the air, missing only by a mere inch. She crashed into the ceiling, making his weak little soul tremble in shock and fright. Has she never flown before?

He shot forwards, squeezing through a tiny opening in the broken wall's vent system he had noticed after the dust had settled from the explosion earlier. He didn't dare look back nor wait for her to recover from her initial blunder.

Go, go, go! he urged himself, darting through the dark, narrow tunnel of the ventilation system. The walls closed in on either side, making it feel as though he was navigating through some twisted maze. A maze that, for all intents and purposes, might've been designed by the same person who created this death trap of a kitchen.

At times he would peer into other rooms through the grates of the ventilation system, and he could swear that in one of them he saw a dozen colorful donuts having some sort of ritualistic dance as they surrounded a little statue made of sugar cubes that resembled the devilish girl that was on his tail.

He could still hear the girl. Her annoyed shouts and things exploding. That's when he suddenly caught a glimpse of her flaming hair and her wide translucent feathery wings as she flew after him from below, having finally caught up to him. She peered up into the vents with a mischievous glint in her eyes, as if her annoyed mood had passed and now she was enjoying the hunt.

His panic flared as he kept moving. I need to get out of here!

The vents twisted and turned, leading him through a labyrinth of metal shafts and air ducts. He didn't know where he was going—there were no signs, no indicators—but he could feel it: he was getting closer to freedom. The cool air that rushed through the vent system hinted at the outside, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he dared to hope.

Suddenly, the vent forked ahead, splitting into two narrow passages. One path seemed to lead deeper into wherever this was, where the dark, ominous energy of the place grew thicker. Or perhaps that was just his imagination. The other path led toward where he felt the cool breeze from—his only hope of escape.

He didn't hesitate. He went down the path with the breeze, praying that it was the way out. Eventually, he saw it, the exit! Faster! Fly to freedom!

With renewed determination, he shot toward the dim light at the end of the vent. His soul burst free from the vent system, tumbling into a massive open space. A rather dim, misty, and horrorful space… He didn't find clear skies and fresh air as he'd hoped. No, what lay ahead of him was more like a nightmare version of some demented game stage—a strange, colorful landscape littered with floating platforms, rotating spikes, and pit traps that yawned open, daring him to fall.

Bright, cheerful colors painted everything in hues far too vibrant for their deadly nature. A giant suction tube sat just ahead, gleefully inhaling the air with loud, whooshing breaths, while rainbow-colored hammers swung back and forth with suspiciously happy faces painted on them. Above, spinning platforms levitated midair, their surfaces slick with oil as they rotated unpredictably.

"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered, staring in disbelief. It looked like someone had taken an arcade game from his childhood and cranked up the absurdity to an entirely new level.

Suddenly, he noticed that it had turned suspiciously silent for a while. No more yelling or explosions. There was a pause, followed by a soft, hesitant murmur. He peeked back—just a glance—and saw her standing at the base of a grand entrance that led into what seemed to be a grand tower. A gargantuan tower—because as he looked left and right—he couldn't see the ends of it. And as he looked up, he couldn't see past a few meters due to the thick mist. He then focused on the girl who was simply staring at him.

She looked… Unsure. She just hovered there, her hand resting on the doorframe, her wings fluttering nervously and her fiery hair flickering like a torch as she stood on the threshold. Her mischievous grin was gone, replaced by a frown as she hesitated. It was as if something was holding her back.

She doesn't want to leave the tower? Or couldn't? Perhaps she's a shut-in?

He couldn't help but feel a surge of relief. Whatever her deal was, it seemed like she had been in the tower for a long, long time, and stepping outside wasn't something she was keen on doing.

He didn't have time to ponder it. Her hesitation was his chance.

He wasn't in the tower anymore. He had made it outside.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Turning his attention back to the bizarre minefield. He didn't have much time. If he wanted to escape, he had to move now, and fast. But he really didn't want to go through there.

He floated cautiously forward, his ethereal, nearly weightless form hovering just above the ground. The tug of gravity here wasn't normal. Something about this place—its bizarre, magical nature—made even his ghostly form subject to the laws of physics. He could feel an invisible force pulling him down, forcing him to stay grounded. He couldn't float freely through walls or drift upward like he'd imagined a disembodied soul could.

He could almost hear the classic pixelated theme music playing in his head as his gaze wandered from one death trap to the next. Giant swinging hammers made of rainbow-colored stone swung back and forth with a whoosh that sounded far too cheerful for something trying to flatten him into a pancake. Above, spinning platforms levitated midair, their surfaces slick and spinning like they were greased with butter, and even higher were floating cubes that disappeared and reappeared randomly.

A giant suction tube sat just ahead, ominously sucking in air with a gleeful "whoooosh," as if daring him to step closer. Colorful buttons littered the path like landmines. Everything about it screamed "We're fun! Challenge us for rewards!" Except for the very real threat of sudden and humiliating death.

This… Can't be real. The minefield looked like it had been ripped straight from one of those old platformers he used to play on his childhood console. The kind where everything was designed to be "fun," but was secretly engineered to drive you insane. Colorful, sure, but also lethal.

Why did I think things would be easy?

Still, he had no choice. There was no floating above this madness—he'd already tried earlier and the dense mist hanging overhead had pulled him back down like an invisible hand. Underground wasn't an option either. The minute he had attempted to sink beneath the earth, something down there—something hungry—had growled at him. That left only one option: through the minefield of colorful deathtraps.

He steeled himself. Just like when you were a kid, he thought, trying to hype himself up. You've got this, man. It's just like playing that one game you could never beat… except now it'll actually kill you.

"Alright," he said, taking a deep breath. "Let's do this."

With his floating soul-like body poised like a professional sprinter at the starting line, he dashed forward… only to immediately leap back as a giant hammer came crashing down, barely missing him by inches. The hammer's face had a smiling sun on it, which only added insult to injury.

"Okay. Off to a great start," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "This is fine. Just a little—OH, COME ON!"

Before he could even finish his sarcastic quip, the ground beneath him began to shake. He looked down to see a giant button lighting up beneath his feet, and just as he realized his mistake, the suction tube to his right roared to life.

Wooooosh!

He was yanked off the ground, his vulnerable soul flailing as the tube pulled him toward its wide, cartoonish mouth. He flailed in panic, his thoughts racing. "Not like this! I refuse to die in a giant vacuum cleaner!"

With a desperate burst of strength, he managed to send himself swiveling towards a nearby platform, pulling himself out of the tube's reach. The vacuum let out a disappointed brrrrr as it missed its prize, but he was too busy panting in relief to care.

"This is impossible!" he cried, his entire "body" deflating in frustration. "Who designed this madness!?"

Gritting his teeth, he pushed onward, hopping from one brightly colored tile to the next. He tried to ignore the fact that each step made a delightful "boing" noise like he was bouncing on a child's trampoline. Behind him, the suction trap shut off with a defeated puff, but the path ahead wasn't any better.

Just a few meters away, a series of floating platforms stretched out like a twisted version of hopscotch. The catch? They blinked in and out of existence at random intervals, the timing seemingly designed to send him plummeting into the abyss below. He eyed them warily.

"Alright… maybe if I time it right—"

BAM!

A hammer slammed down mere inches from where he had been standing, its force sending a gust of wind that knocked him sideways. He skidded across the ground, stopping just short of one of the suspiciously shiny buttons.

He glared at the hammer as it reset itself with a cheerful bounce. "Really? Really?!"

He stood up, dusting off the non-existent dust on his astral form. "You're not going to beat me, stupid traps," he muttered defiantly. "I'm going to get through this if it's the last thing I—"

Click.

The button beneath him had activated.

"Oh no…"

Without warning, the ground under his feet started moving. The colorful tiles slid sideways like a conveyor belt, sending him sliding uncontrollably toward a new set of spinning platforms. He flailed, trying to grab onto something—anything—but it was no use. He was on a one-way trip to platform town, with the welcome sign having a skull drawn on it.

"Okay, okay! Stay calm!" He shouted to himself as he flew toward the first platform. "Just land, hop, and—"

The platform spun him around like a merry-go-round at high-speed, sending him flying into the air. He let out a scream as he soared through the air, seeing his life—or what was left of it—flash before his eyes.

But by some miracle, he landed on the next platform with a soft plop.

He blinked. "Did I… did I just survive that?"

He didn't have time to celebrate. The next platform was already blinking out of existence. He scrambled to jump, barely catching the edge of the one after it. "Why… does this… have to be… so hard?!" he wheezed, pulling himself up.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of dodging, jumping, and narrowly avoiding his doom, he found himself on solid ground again. He collapsed onto the platform, panting heavily.

"I swear," he muttered, lying flat on his back, "if I make it out of this alive, I'm never playing video games again…"

But of course, just as he said that, a shadow fell over him. He opened one eye, only to see another set of colorful, grinning hammers gearing up for a second round.

"Oh come on!!"

A line of floating blocks stretched ahead of him, each one glowing faintly. He knew from experience that stepping on those kinds of blocks in games usually triggered something—either they collapsed under you, or they launched you into the air like some sadistic spring.

He floated cautiously over the first block, keeping his distance. It wobbled slightly, but didn't react. Encouraged, he hovered over the next block, watching as it lit up and then suddenly dropped into the abyss below.

Yep. Just like I thought. Death traps.

He weaved through the traps, keeping as much distance as possible from the ones that looked particularly dangerous. Every step—or float—was a test of his reflexes, his mind racing as he tried to recall every game level he had ever played where traps like these existed. It was almost like someone had taken all the worst parts of those games and crammed them into one nightmarish level.

He barely dodged a spinning blade that came whirring out of nowhere, and narrowly avoided falling into a pit filled with spikes. One section of the ground even had a rotating fireball that spun around like it was guarding something valuable, though he wasn't about to stick around and find out what.

After what felt like an eternity of dodging traps and avoiding pitfalls, he finally reached the edge of the minefield. Beyond the last set of floating blocks, he could see open space—misty, but open. Freedom.

With one final push, he floated past the last obstacle and tumbled into the mist beyond.

For a moment, everything was quiet. The traps were behind him, the girl still safely inside the tower, and him… He was free.

He floated there, taking in the sight of the thick mist that surrounded him. It stretched out in every direction, obscuring the view of whatever lay beyond. The tower itself was barely visible now, just a faint silhouette in the distance, its dark spires looming ominously.

What is this place? He wondered, his mind reeling from everything that had just happened. The mist seemed… Unnatural, almost alive…

It didn't matter. All he knew was that he had escaped. He was now truly and finally free.

However, little did he know that there were things out there that were not even whispered about in taverns and inns, lest they attract their attention.