Brandon sat slumped against the wall, mumbling something from some song. He couldn’t remember anymore. He just wanted to keep his mouth moving, but not too much. He stank. The room stank. Everything stank. Even with his acclimated olfactory senses, it was obnoxious.

Time hardly meant anything. He’d lost track of how many sessions they’d put him through. He could still see the objects coming at him. His body twitched occasionally, his dodging instincts still active. The objects never hurt, but when they looked solid like anything else, it was hard to convince the brain’s survival centers to not react. Sometimes the objects were transparent. It was during those times he felt less of a need to dodge.

If only he could muster up the brain power to figure out what game they were playing with him. Maybe he could find a way out. Maybe if he dodged successfully enough, they would let him go. Or kill him. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could go before he started preferring annihilation.

He just wanted to be free. Ever since that overwhelming experience, he craved freedom now more than ever. It had been so real, more real than his daily tortured existence. He wanted to go back there, into that boundless space, even if it was only in his head. He didn’t care if it wasn’t real, so long as it felt real. Besides, feeling reality was the only way to know it. Who knew what was actually real? Was there anything that was actually real? Perhaps a scientist in a dream could conduct experiments, gather data, and conclude he was in-fact experiencing objective reality. There was no way to know for certain. All experience was inherently subjective, including facts.

Gas hissed into the room. This time, there was a continuous stream of experience. The metal wall on which his head rested pulled him backward. The hissing grew louder and louder, until it was a roar in his ears.

The roar changed in pitch and depth, becoming deeper and echoing with a myriad of different noises. Voices spoke words of fleeting meaning. Various other noises from all parts of life surrounded him. He opened his eyes, and his stomach did a somersault. The sky was a contortion of blue and black, stars racing after the sun, all behind clouds flitting here and there.

He yanked his eyes away from the dizzying display, only to realize with horror that all his surroundings displayed the same chaotic behavior. Nothing was fixed. It was all a blur. His eyes couldn’t lock onto anything, not even the ground. He’d thought it was concrete, but the texture shifted every moment. Sometimes it was wood, others it was grass, tiles, or metal.

He held out his hands for balance, then couldn’t help but stare at them. They were his, but they weren’t. Were they young, or old? Smooth, or wrinkled? Masculine or effeminate? Panic grew in his chest. His mind could not come to any conclusion.

He stumbled forward, desperate for something, anything. He dared not speak, and he was relieved he didn’t have a mirror. He dreaded the idea of witnessing his face change.

And as soon as the idea appeared in his mind, the world in front of him seemed to split. Everything in front of him was now mirroring behind him, or was it the other way around? Before he knew what he was looking at, he’d already seen it. He was looking into a mirror, and nobody looked back.

The sight filled him with a sense of absolute dread. A scream erupted from his mouth, young and old, loud and soft. He leapt in the other direction. As soon as his feet left the ground, gravity shifted, pulling him into the mirror headfirst. It shattered, and suddenly there was coherence in the images, faces recognizable as human and voices speaking at an understandable pace.

His awareness drifted from one viewpoint to another. First, he saw a man unconscious in a chair. He was young and lean. And familiar.

Is that Jase? Brandon wondered. He called out to him. The eyes sprang open. Surprise jerked Brandon away from the scene.

He found himself observing a room from above. It was the living room in Hector’s house. A woman lay on the sofa, curled into a ball, hands clawing at her temples. Her mouth gaped in a continuous cry of agony, drool dripping onto the cushion. Her bloodshot eyes streamed tears. Others were in the room with her, but he couldn’t identify them. After a few moments, recognition dawned on him. Judy?

She sprang up from the couch and rushed at him. Her fist lashed out, and he was sent hurtling instantly into a face-full of sand. He brought his face up and sputtered. Grains ground uncomfortably in his teeth. He staggered onto his feet on the uneven sand. He stood on a beach overlooking a sunrise, and for a moment, he felt at peace.

“I’m sorry.”

He turned to see who had spoken.

Jase stood next to him in some form of light combat armor. His expression was somber, his features sagging. “I tried. I really did. I didn’t think things would end like this. I don’t think he’s brave enough.”

Brandon was about to ask who, when a rumble sounded off in the distance, from somewhere deep in the ocean. Within seconds, a towering wall of water emerged, casting the beach into darkness. The sun still made the water-wall transparent. Embedded within that approaching wall, countless figures waited. They emitted a presence he could only describe as demonic.

He turned to run, but found his feet had sunken into the sand. Fear surged through him, paralyzing his muscles. His eyes locked on his impending doom as the wall curled down to toward the beach. His mouth hung limp, his voice refusing to work.

A chilling, familiar clicking noise resounded from the crashing wave. Somehow, he understood it as communication, and his spine trembled under the weight of its meaning.

Nobody shall control me.

The leading edge of the wave descended upon him silently.

He squirmed out of the seat and collapsed onto the floor, soaked in sweat. His breathing was labored as he picked himself up. He blinked several times, dizzy with the instant knowledge that the previous experience was just a dream. Despite that, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been more than just a dream.

He spotted the tray of food and water on the floor next to the wall. Meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Again.

He ate with fervor, eager for anything to distract him from the ruminations pulling at his mind, but it didn’t work. The scenes kept returning, again and again.

Almost as if they were memories.

***

The first thing Jase noticed was the weight. Everything felt heavy. He wanted to fall back to sleep, but something was pulling him out of it. Then he remembered. This wasn’t a natural sleep.

A voice called to him from a distance. “Jase?”

His eyes snapped open, but the rest of his body still tingled with paralysis. He was slumped to the side in a chair. The room was small and featureless, with a single overhead light and a door. His head twitched as he attempted to look around. All he could do was move his eyes.

Sensations returned to his body over the passing minutes, and with that, motor control. He stretched his neck in all directions. It had become stiff from resting in that position for who knew how long. He was still in his close, but the reactive shield pads had been removed. He found his arms and legs bound to a metal chair with armrests. The bindings were mechanical, designed for this purpose. His hands were too big to fit through the wrist bindings, and he didn’t have enough room to pull back his elbows. The backrest was in the way. His legs were in a similar predicament. The only way out was for someone to trigger the release.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The door slid open after almost half an hour. A bald woman walked through. Like the others, she wore a black suit with no rank identifiers, though he could tell by her condescending gaze and her confident stride she was high-ranking. Her flat ears and long face framed her sharp nose and thin lips curling into a snarky smile. Green eyes peered out from under her prominent eyebrows, accented by the shadow cast from the light above. He almost wondered if she’d installed artificial irises for that effect.

Even more noticeable was her energy. Dense, black like a thundercloud, though it was less chaotic than the others he’d met in the facility. It was more focused, honed like a blade sharpened with years of training. He’d never met anyone like this before. He wondered how his own energy compared, then found himself tensing at the prospect of making her his opponent.

Her contralto voice rang within the room, making her that much more punchable. “I have to thank you for your clever little excursion. You’ve exposed several security flaws that are now in the process of upgrade.”

Jase tried to talk, but had to clear his throat before his voice worked. “Glad I could help. Now, if you could tell me everything about this place and why it exists, I might consider working for you. Because…” He shrugged. “You know, who doesn’t like ruling the world?”

Her head tilted back in a silent laugh, giving him an unimpressed smirk. “You need to work on your humor.”

“Eh, different audiences have different tastes,” he said, trying his best to behave in a relaxed manner against his rising nerves.

She strolled to the side and began to circle him. Her hands were kept behind her back. He suspected she was holding something.

“But you know what is funny?” she said. “The fact that you think we don’t know anything about you, how you got here, or what you were doing before you got here.”

“Well, I would be surprised if you didn’t have facial imaging software and an internet connection.”

“You won’t be getting anything from us, I assure you. You think that’s just a chair you’re bound to? You’ve already seen too much. Leaving you alive is too much of a risk. It’s only out of—”

“I’m flattered,” he cut in, “that you feel threatened by—”

A stream of hot plasma poured through his forearms. It lasted only for a fraction of a second, but it was enough to elicit an involuntary yelp and instant perspiration. Jase’s heart raced as he tried to comprehend what just happened. It was similar to the feeling of channeling Aetheric energy, but an order of magnitude more intense. He looked at his arms in shock, surprised they weren’t smoking. All the muscles in his body were tense, and it took considerable effort to relax them.

“Interrupt me again, and you will feel twice that pain,” she said nonchalantly, as though observing the weather outside. “Galya?”

At least she has class, he thought, recognizing the Sylgan word. He looked at her timidly and nodded. “Galya.”

Understood.

“It is only out of curiosity we keep you alive,” she continued. “I know what you think of us, that we are up to no good. I’m not stupid. Nothing I say will change your mind. You’re too good of a soul to believe anything I say. That’s what you think of yourself. The righteous warrior, defending all that is good in the world, making selfless sacrifice after selfless sacrifice in the name of justice. Even willing to sacrifice your own image and even your own life. How noble.”

“That is such a lovely description,” he said, beaming. “I truly appreciate it.”

He did his best to mean it, to shine some positivity her way, but he only felt his energy contract. It wasn’t a sincere statement. It was only meant for self-defense.

“I could go on,” she said, stopping before him to give him a sideways look. “But you’re a smart man. You get the point. We know everything we need to know about you. Except… that’s a lie. There is one question we keep asking ourselves, and only one who can give us any useful answers, is you.” She faced him, hands still kept behind her back. He hadn’t managed to see what she concealed, though he had ideas. None of them made him feel any safer.

“What is it, then?” he asked, glaring defiantly.

“You and your friend, Mr. Domrik Lazen, stole a valuable artifact from the Ancient Traspian Museum. It was an item labeled the Sacred Bow. What we want to know is, why?”

He blinked at her. “Why else?”

“That’s not an answer. Two more tries.”

“Do you know what bows are?”

Her smile was disciplining. “One last chance.”

He shook his head. She knew that he knew the threat. Sure, he had higher pain tolerance than most, but everyone had a limit, and he wasn’t sure the chair’s Aetheric current conductors would break before he did. The last thing he needed was for them to cause physical damage and witness his healing abilities.

“Because it’s a weapon,” he snapped.

She raised a dark eyebrow. “Don’t insult my intelligence.”

“Then don’t ask obvious questions.”

The Aetheric current surged through his arms again, this time for almost a second, but it felt like half a minute. His body convulsed involuntarily, another wave of sweat surfacing on his skin. He found his breathing labored, then decided to breathe consciously. His eyes closed. In through the nose, out through the mouth. His system regulated relatively quickly.

“Let me ask a less obvious question,” she said, her words dripping with ridicule. “How is it a weapon?”

He answered with his eyes still closed. “Why would you think I know?”

“Hm. I was wondering when you would change tack.”

Agony surged through his arms for a third time. His jaw ached from clenching so hard. He blinked sweat from his eyes and continued his breathing practice. Shapes played behind his eyelids. Then he got the clue. He looked up. She stood there in front of him, but something faint shone beside her. His eyes flicked there for a moment, but he didn’t want to give away that he saw anything. Was someone else in the room with them?

More breathing, he affirmed to himself.

“Out with it,” she demanded.

“I don’t know how it works,” he admitted. “Not even Domrik knows. No tack needed here. Just the truth. Accept it or don’t.”

She raised her chin. “And if I don’t?”

He sighed. “Then we both suffer.”

With that sigh, he relaxed just enough to pierce the illusion further. The image needed no interpretation. She was beside herself, literally, except the hidden version aimed a gun to his head at point blank.

Panic jumped through his system. His shoulders and head twitched, but he willed himself to conceal any further reaction. Now was the true death-test. How attached was he to this world? He had contemplated death on many occasions, but no answer was clear. He was afraid enough to avoid imagining himself dying, that was for sure. His face went hot with embarrassment. He was a helpless child, staring the void in the face with nobody to hold. He wanted his mother so badly. The less-phased part of his mind hoped she was okay.

She hesitated for several seconds. “I’m feeling generous today. I’ll give you one final chance. Answer truthfully, or your arms catch fire.”

A scowl contorted his face. “Alright, look, before I die, I’d love to know why you have stealth ships, a confined college professor, and a mythical ocean creature in storage.”

He internally braced himself for the torrent of pain, and the mindfully-trained part of his mind noted that resistance would magnify the suffering. It was easy to imagine tolerating intense pain, until one finally faced it. The silver lining was that if he managed to survive, his pain threshold would be higher still.

Heartbeat after heartbeat shook his chest. The anticipation itself was torturous, but the pain never came. His gaze was daringly locked with hers all the while.

The illusion dropped. She bent her arm and rested the muzzle of the gun against the soldier. “You’re a brave kid. It’s truly a shame your personality profile doesn’t fit our needs. We’re always looking for soldiers.” She appraised him with a swift glance. “No, you’ll serve a different purpose.”

The four corners of the room hissed as she left. Jase spent the remaining few seconds wondering what she meant before darkness took him.

***

Kyreeda made her way to Communications, replaying the interrogation in her mind. It had been easier than expected, and that worried her. All indicators told her he was aware of her readiness to kill, yet he still challenged her. She didn’t have the resources to threaten his family, not on this short of a notice. Operations like that took weeks to plan if they didn’t want to get caught. He still had secrets, and she didn’t want to waste any more Aetheric charge trying to extract them, especially after she knew he could pierce illusions. Now he was an asset to be protected.

Raymi would be pleased with the additional test subject. She had been making slow but steady progress on the illusion detectors, now she might be able to create illusion detector-detectors. After they came up with a better term for them.

Makalai sat in the usual spot, surrounded by several projections. Each of the red rectangles displayed some sort of report or news broadcast. He swiveled toward her when she entered. He kneaded his hands together. “Exciting times, are they not?”

“Exciting isn’t the word I would use, not after a serious security breach. This cannot happen again.”

He opened a hand to her. “But you yourself disagree! He exposed our weak points, and now he has become ours to use as we wish. We have lost nothing.”

She walked to get a view of the morning news broadcasts. All the major news stations reported on the museum theft, yet none of them knew the culprit. This put her in a difficult position. She’d deduced Domrik as the thief as soon as they captured Jase, but she couldn’t just blurt out the answer to the public, not even to the authorities. They could not afford to draw attention to themselves. She needed to mobilize her agents in the field. Only a handful were deployed in the police department, but it had to be enough. The challenge was they needed to act like they came across the information organically.

Exposing Domrik would take time and careful planning, but it had to be done.