Isabell sat in the ruins of her cell. The first thing she had done was to search every part of it, but unlike Tenthé, she had no luck finding any secret passages. In desperation, she’d tried her scream on the door and, in hindsight, admitted it wasn’t one of her better ideas. The rebound had flung her into the wall and shattered all the furniture. Fortunately, her armor had protected her from her own foolishness.

But, as good as her armor was for protection, it was nowhere near capable enough to rip the cell door out, as she had discovered after trying a few times.

So, with her magic and armor ineffective, her options were very limited.

The only thing she could come up with was very risky. She could appeal to the gods for help.

Unfortunately, she was in a very bad position, because anything she called on would have all the advantages. She simply didn’t have any leverage. Even if she did, the stories were not very encouraging. The gods almost always found a way to weasel out of any deal they’d made, to the dismay of the bargainer.

Without no alternatives, she debated her least risky options. Her first idea was to appeal to the main god of their House. The Turtle. It was known to be strict, but fair. But, even so, it was a big god, and, most likely, wouldn’t even respond. And, as she thought about it, it was quite probable that the Turtle knew something about what was going on, anyway. That might mean getting its attention was just about the worst thing she could do.

Ah… she was so screwed.

She sat back on the rubble and tried to remember all the gods she’d heard of. Unfortunately, not being of a religious bent, that wasn’t very many. Even the few she could name, that was about it; no matter how hard she racked her brain, she couldn’t recall any details of what they represented or how they liked to be treated.

So, after an hour or so of futile effort, she found herself beginning to panic. What had happened to her friends? Were they still alive? What was going on and where was everyone? She got down on her knees. She’d never done this before, but it seemed appropriate.

All she knew was that she didn’t want to call on the Turtle or any other god associated with it. She hoped that intent was enough. It was tricky; she was afraid if she even mentioned one of them, that would get their attention. But she had to do something!

“Please,” she cried at the walls, “My friends need help! Without me, they might be dead and everything gone! Any god who loves this city, please help! I have no other choice! I’ll do anything, but only if you promise to help! Or rather, I mean… only if you actually help. Uh, a lot!”

Isabell knew this was weak. All she’d ever had to do with gods, before now, was go with her family to the Turtle’s temple and be bored to tears as the priests fawned over her mom while they pushed for more money. Having to appeal to a god by herself was hard!

She noticed she was crying. Warriors didn’t cry! She wiped her cheeks and tried again, but after a few attempts, all she could manage was a plaintive “Please!”. More of a wail than a word.

This was so difficult! Somehow, her desperate needs and desires were draining her magical energy; it was streaming off into the world around her. Exhausted, she collapsed with her head on her hands.

“Oh, this is so precious,” she heard. More of a hiss than real words. Looking up through more tears, she could make out a looming figure. Wiping her cheeks one more time, she got a better view.

Before her, where it shouldn’t be able to fit, crouched a monstrous lizard! Two massive taloned feet supported the main body, with impressively clawed arms clutched to its chest, as if it were praying. Behind it, a long tail snapped from side to side, a weapon in itself. Hovering above her was a hideous head with enough serrated teeth to rip her apart in an instant! The worst thing was its eyes, or rather, what it had instead: balls of black flames dancing and spinning in the eye sockets, showing no sign of anything remotely resembling compassion.

The leathery snout pushed her aside. “Oh, to have the scion of a mighty family on her knees, afraid to even think of the mighty Turtle, let alone call for its help. And nothing to stop me from… URK!”

A bony arm punched in from the side and sank to the wrist in one of the lizard’s black flame eyes.

“WHO DARES,” the lizard bellowed, just as the arm repeated its punch.

“Stop that!” the lizard ordered, sounding much less commanding and a lot whinier. Instead, the hand pulled back, this time taking the flaming eyeball with it.

Isabell managed to collect enough of her wits to trace the arm to its owner. She was not impressed. It belonged to a scruffy old man wearing a filthy robe. With the tears in her eyes, she couldn’t make out his face; all she could see was a blur of greasy grey hair and weathered skin. She blinked.

Which cleared her vision just in time to witness the old man pop the eye into his mouth and swallow. The lizard began to shiver, then flickered a few times and disappeared, leaving a frog in its place. Nothing more than a normal frog.

The old man repositioned himself, then pulled back one of his grimy feet and punted the frog off into the distance. It arched away for an impossibly long time before disappearing through the wall of the cell.

“Bloody poser,” the old man muttered. “It has, what, like six followers? Thinks it can fool me? Hah!”

He looked down at Isabell. “Oh, stand up, girl! Your sniveling won’t help anything. Wipe your face; it’s all covered in snot.”

Isabell made it to her feet and did her best to pull herself together. She moved slowly, all the time racking her brain, but no matter what, she was at a loss as to who this man, or perhaps god, was.

“First, let’s get the details out of the way,” he said. “Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? If you do nothing, things will take care of themselves. Tenthé is infinitely capable of dealing with what he faces. Your other friends… well, maybe not so much. And, if a civil war breaks out, who cares? You’ll be safe down here. Probably. Your mom’s no idiot, she should do alright, at least for the moment. You can never tell in a war.

“On the other hand, if you insist, I can become involved. You should feel privileged; I don’t do that very often. I’m willing to give you a chance, but it will cost.

“Look around. I mean, not at this cell, but at your lovely home. Be ready to kiss all of it goodbye, and pretty much everything else you think you want.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

“So, what do you say? Will you accept my help, or not?”

“Well, I suppose. But…”

“Good. Here.” He handed her a piece of glass and disappeared. Isabell was at a loss. Nothing she’d thought of had been like this. There was supposed to be a negotiation. For her soul, or something.

After a few moments of trying to figure out what just happened, she gave up and looked at the glass. It was rectangular and large enough that she needed two hands to hold it comfortably. The glass itself was smoky gray and she couldn’t see anything special when she peered through it. At that point, she got up and sat on the remains of her bed, turning the glass over and over.

What had just happened? Honestly, she had no idea. One thing she was sure of was that the drain of magic had given her a headache. Without thinking, she put the glass on her forehead.

It was still opaque, but with it so close, she could make out dim little floaties drifting in the grey. As she followed them, they became clearer and clearer and took on more color and depth.

Oh! They were pictures floating in a void. Scenes of a city. No! It was scenes of her city, the City Proper!

For an instant, she felt a thrill of hope. Could it be possible to pass through one of the windows and escape? Although she had no clue how she would go about doing that.

What did that weird old man want her to do?

No insight came to her, so she kept watching. As time passed, the scenes in the windows became clearer. And, if she wasn’t mistaken, there was something else in there, too. Something separate from the windows. It was difficult to see, but there were other things, darker than the grey void. They appeared to be… she wasn’t sure. Maybe tangles of string. Or hair. It was impossible to tell.

Suddenly, one of the tangles hit a window nearby. Now she could see it clearly. Like she thought: a snarl of some type. It writhed on the window for a while before moving to an edge, where it slowly dribbled off to start drifting again. Once she knew what to look for, she found others. As she watched, they would occasionally run into each other, then wibble and wobble until merging into a bigger tangle. She couldn’t tell if they meant to do that. Or really, meant to do anything.

For some reason, the vista shown by the glass was mesmerizing. After a time, her curiosity was piqued when one of the tangles approached her viewpoint, coming closer and closer until it filled her entire view.

It was unbelievably interesting! The strands were made of thousands of little cubes stuck together. From time to time, the cubes would become unstuck, rotate, then stick together again. Watching as the tangle writhed and morphed right in front of her, she found she couldn’t look away.

A while later, she woke.

Damn, she hadn’t meant to fall asleep! Her hair was in her eyes and she brushed it back. Looking around, she discovered that her cell had changed. Where before it had appeared to be an unescapable warded stone box, she could now see multiple exits, each with various levels of effort and potential danger. She was neither excited nor surprised; it was simply information available to her.

She jumped as the cell door rattled, then rose to her feet as it swung open, revealing two heavily armored House guards standing to each side of the door, pointing weapons at her. The soldier to the left had a glowing crystal hung around his neck, probably the reason why her abilities felt dull and remote. Both men were being very cautious.

The one with the crystal ordered, “Please stay still, Ma’am. We know your combat ranking and would like to avoid any incidents. The instant we think you are going to do anything, we’ll fire. You don’t want that.”

Isabell thought furiously. There had to be something she could do! Damn! Her hair kept getting in her face. She stopped herself from brushing it back; that would certainly cause them to react. Her armor might be able to take the first shot, but if there was a second, well, that could be bad.

The talkative soldier spoke, “Excuse me, Ma’am, but what’s going on? What is that?”

Isabell didn’t know what he was talking about. She was about to respond when he continued. “Your hair, or whatever. What is it doing?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, just as a lock of her hair shot forward. It split into strands which touched the soldiers’ hands. Immediately, their hands and the weapons in them turned into orange cubes. Another few touched the crystal and its glow went out.

“Fire!” the soldier yelled, but instead of some horrible spell, the cubes that now made up their hands began twisting and turning faster. As the three of them watched, first one cube fell, then a second, and then all of them. Once they hit the floor, each one started bouncing up and down, and didn’t stop.

While the soldiers stared at where their hands used to be, Isabell screamed and blew them into the opposite wall of the hallway. After a pause to ensure there were no more troops, she carefully waded through the bouncing cubes and checked the crumpled figures.

Her scream had been full power; the men weren’t coming back.

Isabell pulled in her hair, put on a battle face, and went to see if she could get out of here. Cautiously, she walked through the corridor to the reinforced door and examined it. Very strange. It was so robust in some ways and totally lacking in others. Converting the lock to cubes, she opened it. The cubes fell out and started bouncing, just like with the soldiers. Finding the armory empty except for her, she opted not to retrace her steps to her momma’s office. Looking through the nearest door, she found a break room with no other exits. She began checking the rest of the doors.

She discovered a number of tunnels, rooms, and facilities that, until now, she never even suspected were under her house. What she didn’t come across were any people. It was a good bet that the missing were involved with what she and her friends had uncovered.

Finally, she opened a door to find stairs leading upwards. Taking them two at a time, she raced up, and after passing through a small room at the top, exited to a remote part of the estate. Finding herself unwinded, she didn’t slow as she ran through the property and out the gate. She knew what she needed to do.

Nearing the College, she stopped when her way was blocked by the very large figure of an armored Guardian.

“If you wouldn’t mind, Miss,” it said in a manner that brooked no refusal, “Would you please wait while we try to understand what is taking place?”

“Okay,” she replied. “But, I need to deliver a message and I suspect this is as good as I can hope for.”

“Excuse me, but do you have any identification?”

“Oh certainly, I’m Isabell Gledhill, and here you go.” She’d pulled out her City ID and handed it to the Guardian, who examined it.

“Hmm, your current aura does not match what we have on file.”

“I suppose not. I think there might have been a few changes. It doesn’t matter, I can give you my information here. There is an insurrection involving the Horde, ongoing as we speak.”

“Does this involve the building that collapsed in the new district?”

“Uh, probably? Unless there has been a very unlikely string of coincidences.”

“Very well. Please wait.”

Isabell looked around. She found the defenses of the College to be very robust, but, as she had noticed in her cell, these were also deficient in certain areas. Whoever designed them didn’t have knowledge of the underlying structure of the planes she was now familiar with. Something to address at a later date.

A simulacrum was approaching. “Hello,” it said. “I’m Headmaster Tomas, and you seem to think you are Isabell Gledhill. Is that correct?”

“You’re not Magister Tomas, but, yes, I am Isabell.”

“Fair enough, I suppose, but why are you here?”

She told the full story, giving a quick overview, then in more detail. Unlike Mama, the faux Tomas let her finish without interruption.

“That is something we need to address,” it said once she finished. “But your explanation doesn’t tell us what has happened to you.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Ah, yes. Do you mind if we place you in protective custody while we investigate?”

“Ha! Yes. I do mind. I’m going to help my friends.”

“Well…”

“Don’t say you won’t allow it. At the moment, you are at a disadvantage. In the future, we can talk.”

“Hmph! I am sorry, but I can’t take you at your word.”

“That’s okay,” she said as she stepped through a window that appeared beside her, which then faded to nothing.

The simulacrum stared.

“Um…” it said.

At that point, the activity level in the College ramped up to utter mayhem.