So waiting didn’t get me anywhere. Surprise.

I was starting to lean towards the Idea that Madeline must be somewhere else entirely. I’d mapped out every area that I had access to, and left pretty clear indicators as to where to go. Not to mention which, I was pretty sure she was smarter than I was by far.

She was working towards her masters degree, if I remembered correctly. Meanwhile I’d been meandering my way through a bachelor's degree that it looked like wasn’t ever actually gonna get. Considering that I’d been set on an art degree, that probably didn’t matter all that much.

But that was enough procrastinating. It was time to go down the pit. I had Psy hold my flashlight, pointing the led powered beam ahead of me.

It proved woefully inadequate in the face of the overwhelming darkness. I creeped forward, one step at a time. After some time, I found that the flashlight refused to even illuminate the surface just beyond my feet.

There stood a fuzzy boundary that shifted and swirled like vapor. Occasionally some piece of black would split off of the dark mist, lingering for a moment before it faded into nothing.

So the reason the hall looked dark was because it was full of something, then. It didn’t seem like it was the same stuff that showed up whenever one of us healed, or used an ability, though.

It was less sandy, and more sticky. More like a fluid than a clump of fine particulates. My future sight didn’t really seem to care about it, one way or another. No purple flashing, like there had been with the necromancer's storm clouds.

I tossed a fluorescent yellow juggling pin into the churning swirl of dark matter. I lost sight of it of course, but I heard it plock against the ground after a reasonable pause.

I reached out to poke at it, whatever it was. I jerked my hand back the moment I felt something. I rubbed my forefinger and thumb together. Nothing unusual there. The fingers that had touched the dark matter didn’t appear injured in any way.

I reached my hand out again, making sure to use my left arm so that If I lost it I could still heal. I felt a slight tingling on my palm, and tried to scoop the dark matter away from the fog. It broke apart with a little prompting, the stuff drifting lazily through the air like soap bubbles before it vanished again.

It seemed harmless. The question was whether or not breathing it would kill me. I wanted to think not, considering how close I was to it. If it was sufficiently poisonous or toxic, then It should have by rights already choked the breath from my lungs.

I supposed it could be that it wouldn’t do anything to me until I got a full breath of it, then all it would have to do is crowd all the oxygen in my lungs out so that I suffocated.

I looked behind me. Still no Madeline. There was nowhere else to go. I stepped in, holding my breath.

***

The necromancer was in the heart of the factory.

This factory rested in a temporary space between worlds, a large bridge through which things could only travel one way. Bodies from other worlds were sent through the bridge, stopping temporarily in the factory for processing.

There, in the factory, the necromancer sorted through the many corpses with inhuman patience. This was only natural, as the necromancer wasn’t human to begin with. Nor had it ever been. It was simply created by forces beyond its knowledge to act as a cog in a larger engine of conquest.

The necromancer itself didn’t have any feelings on the subject. It didn’t have feelings at all, precisely. It was more artificially intelligent machine, than a living being. So it did its job without question, sorting corpses into their appropriate places based upon a number of factors known only to it and its makers.

***

“So here’s the thing, Madeline.” Micheal said, having now gotten the consent he needed. “I can’t do anything that a trained surgeon would do, because I don’t have the tools or the training.” He explained.

“Some professional-” she coughed accusatorialy - “you are.”

“Yeah well, doctorates are expensive. Anyway, close your eyes if you’ve got epilepsy.” He replied shortly, tapping once on the back of his stigmata. It shone brightly for a second, and emitted a large amount of dark sand that wafted through the air. The sand coalesced into a thunder cloud, like she’d seen Leo create on occasion.

After some mildly seizure-inducing strobing, the cloud dissipated, leaving something roughly in the shape of a human behind.

It reminded Madeline most of an Egyptian mummy. It was a thing of darkly colored bands wrapped around a mass of glowing daylight. The bands formed a mostly unbroken humanoid silhouette, having only the occasional gap here or there which you could see through. A couple of gaps formed in the head in particular, forming a mockery of a face reminiscent of a Jack-o'lantern.

“This,” Micheal gestured to the thing he’d just spawned, “is my friend. He’s gonna be in charge of holding you still while I pull that sword out of you.”

“That’s your plan?” Madeline asked.

“Yep.” he said.

“That’s a shit plan.” She stated.

“It’s the sort of thing that’d definitely get my license revoked.” He said, not exactly disagreeing.

“Can I at least take some painkillers first?”

“So long as they aren’t blood thinners like tylenol, ibuprofen, or aleve. Those’ll raise your chances of bleeding out on me.” He said.

“I got opioids.” Madeline said, twitching her thumb over her display to remove her pilfered prescription pain meds from her inventory. They slid out of the screen and tumbled into her lap.

Madeline fumbled briefly with a box, but ended up dropping it on the floor. She then tried to pick it up, and was subsequently reminded why moving in her current state wasn’t an option.

Micheal waited for her to get her breath back, and then picked up the box she dropped, examining it.

“So am I correct in assuming that these weren’t prescribed to you?” he asked, semi-rhetorically.

“I may or may not have looted them from a pharmacy.” She wheezed.

“You know, ordinarily I’d have some choice words for you, but given the situation, I’ll let it pass.” Micheal said, weariness winning over any previously held ethics.

“I appreciate your understanding.” Madeline slumped slightly. She was starting to feel quite light headed.

“How much do you weigh?” He asked.

“About two hundred pounds. Why?”

“I need to know how much of this to dose you with.” Micheal said, holding up the box of pills. “Of course that’s assuming you can even swallow them. If shit was less fucked I’d have you on an IV instead of trying to get you to down any tablets.”

“Yes, well. Shit is clearly very fucked. Can we get on with it? I’m starting to feel like I’m gonna pass out.” Madeline coughed, and spat something. It was viscous, black, and foul tasting. She couldn’t get enough air, and every breath hurt.

“Yep. Here.” Micheal brought two and a half tablets to her mouth, as well as some water. Madeline managed to swallow, and only then realized how thirsty she was. Micheal noticed, and tipped the plastic bottle a bit more so she could drink her fill.

“Thanks.” She said once she was done.

“Don’t mention it. We’ll wait a bit for those to kick in, then we’ll start the operation, such as it is.”

***

After I stepped through the amorphous barrier, I was completely blinded. I probably should have expected as much, but hindsight and all that.

I turned around pretty quick, not eager to suffocate in the darkness. Either space itself was conspiring against me again, or I’d gotten turned around, though. Simply attempting to rotate 180 degrees and retreat didn’t get me out of the dark fog.

I started to panic. I was still holding my breath, but I could feel my heart rate picking up and what oxygen I’d stored felt entirely insufficient.

I needed to calm down before I made everything worse.

I automatically leaned on my old standby.

Five senses.

What are five things I can see? Not much, nadda, jack shit, fuck all, and absolutely nothing. Next

What are four things I can hear? My pounding heart, my own treacherous diaphragm, my foot tapping against the floor, and the rustling of my clothes.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

What are three things I can feel? My blood encrusted shirt, the gun in my hand, and sweat on my palms.

What are two things I can smell? My body odor, and iron.

What’s one thing I can taste? My dry ass cottonmouth.

The process took valuable seconds, of course. But it was less time than flipping my lid would have taken.

I figured the best thing I could do was try and feel around for a wall. I didn’t even have to stumble around in the dark until I found one. I just pushed outwards with telekinesis. If I felt pushback, then there was a wall in that direction.

My first go at it didn’t get me any results. That meant that directly in front of me there was nothing. I reached one arm out ninety degrees to my side. I felt pushback. So I was faced either inwards into the pit, or out.

I really missed being able to breathe.

It was a coin flip as to which. Except I did have one more point of reference. The juggling pin. I just needed to-

And then my autonomic nervous system committed sabotage.

I breathed in.

***

Madeline got nice and high on prescription painkillers, and Micheal got ready to start doing something they were both probably going to regret.

Frankly, Micheal wasn’t feeling all that confident that he was going to be able to actually pull the sword from her chest without killing her, but even if she was half dead he could use a healing item on her and she’d be right as rain.

Worst case they’d use multiple, removing the blade in several stages.

Micheal’s summoned companion, a clone of sorts, would be responsible for holding Madeline still during the procedure.

Micheal gently grasped the hilt of the sword with one hand.

“I’ll pull on the count of three.” He said. She gave a fragile, shaky thumbs up.

“Alright, 3… 2…” Micheal yanked with as much force as he could muster before he reached one.

Madaline stiffened, her eyes rolling back, then relaxed. She’d passed out on the spot.

Probably for the best, he thought. Overall, the sword came out with surprising ease.

Micheal took a fraction of a second to examine the open wound. There was something like a carbon mesh adhered to the interior of Madeline’s exposed chest cavity. It looked like it was also serving to halt her bleeding. Only a slight dribble of red came from a hole that should have been absolutely gushing.

It was medically bizarre, to say the least. But not unwelcome, given that she’d normally be spewing blood like a fountain. Micheal grabbed her right hand, and opened his display to use a healing item.

The icon for his healing items looked like a needle and thread, like the kind you’d use for mending clothes, not wounds, and he only had three of them. Then he tapped on the icon, and was left with only two.

Madeline gurgled, coughed, and groaned. Her breath hissed in and out, the pain of healing intense as ever.

In this specific instance, the sensation was like someone had packed her wound with salt, poured in a can of kerosene, and lit a match.

It seemed to go on forever, pain spiking and ebbing in random patterns.

Eventually it finished, and she leaned over the side of her chair to spit out a wad of blackened flem from deep within her throat.

“That sucked. . . so much ass.” She moaned.

“Yeah those things hurt like a bitch. The painkillers didn’t help at all?”

“Not even in the slightest.” Madeline complained. In truth, they’d been pretty effective at numbing her during the initial procedure, but after that they seemed to evaporate from her system instantaneously.

Apparently healing items could sober you right up.

“Do you, uh, want the sword back?”

“Yeah, it technically belongs to a friend.” She said.

“Did your friend stab you!?” Micheal asked, aghast.

“God no! He just lent it to me, and then I managed to get myself impaled on it like an idiot.” Madeline waved a hand dismissively.

“Well alright then.”

There was an awkward pause that stretched for longer either of them would have liked. On the one hand, Micheal wouldn’t mind sticking with Madeline if their interests aligned, but on the other, he could tell she was wary of him.

Madeline for her part was internally struggling with the Idea that it might behoove her to further impose upon this stranger. Just going their separate ways hardly seemed appropriate, but she didn’t feel she had the right to ask for further assistance.

Quite a conundrum.

What would Leo do? Madeline wondered. After all, he’d always been pretty good at making friends with anyone he came across. Usually he opened with an edible bribe of some sort. An effective tactic, she knew, as it had worked quite well on her when they had first met.

“So I don’t know about you, but I’m actually kinda hungry. Do you want some chips?” Madeline offered.

“Oh god yes. I’m starving.”

***

Breathing in the smog did not instantly kill me. Or even cause any noticeable discomfort, so far as I could tell. I’d spent a whole bunch of time struggling and stressing out over something that proved to be ultimately harmless.

A perfectly normal Friday, then.

Was it friday? I couldn’t remember. Regardless, I was fine, and that was all that mattered. I stood a little straighter, and continued on my way.

I navigated my way out of the sensory deprivation fog slowly after that. After a while I stumbled across the juggling pin I’d tossed into the smog earlier. I turned around, using that as the last landmark I needed to get back to the entrance.

My attempt found me looping back around to the same spot even though I’d never made any turns. Space was still fucked, then. Best to assume that the fog wall had been one way.

The one upside to the whole experience was that I’d figured out how to spread a thin wave of force out from my entire body.

It had been difficult at first, because emitting any substantial amount of force without using my hands was impossible. But then I realized that I didn’t need to push hard, I just needed to push enough that I could feel it on my skin.

So now I could feel the entirety of my surroundings via telekinetic radar. A nifty trick, though it took more concentration than was probably sustainable during combat. Still, it gave me something to do while I walked, and would serve to prevent surprise attacks while I was otherwise blinded.

I couldn’t see more than a half a foot in front of my face, after all. And my visibility was just getting worse with time, not better.

I walked for enough time so as to get bored, the only real change being the further diminishing of vision. It got to the point that I found myself in complete blackness, unable to see my own hand no matter how close I brought it to my face.

My only method for orienting myself was with my newly acquired haptic radar, but that only told me where the walls were relative to myself, not if I was being teleported around.

I couldn’t rely on mapping my surroundings with permanent marker either, because I couldn’t see.

The solution I came to was super-gluing shit to the floor. Sure, I could have just dropped things on the ground normally, but I didn’t want anyone fucking with my trail of breadcrumbs.

Any mechanism or being intent on disorienting me completely would have to pry my garbage off the ground with a paint scraper.

Just the thought made me giggle.

I kept doing that until I was sore from all the bending over and kneeling, and finally came across a landmark not of my own creation.

Amongst the deep blackness stood a single bookshelf. It was lit evenly, and no part of it cast a shadow upon any other part of it. It was like someone had pointed a large array of stage lights at it, so as to illuminate every facet with a maximum saturation of white light. But there were no visible light sources around me.

I still couldn’t see my own hands or body.

I started to feel dizzy, like my field of view was dilating. I stumbled, and attempted to catch myself with my arms, but failed, as I still couldn’t see the floor.

I landed painfully on the side of my face.

I gently stood myself back up, only to jump backwards startled. Though the bookshelf had been some distance away initially, it had suddenly appeared directly in front of me without my noticing.

It was bigger than I thought, the top shelves towered far above my head.

I kept my eyes on it, worried it would move again if I looked away. I carefully pinged my psychic radar, and felt that there was absolutely nothing around me aside from the extra-ordinary mahogany bookrack.

Which was odd. There should have been a wall to my left and right, as well as a ceiling above. Instead only the invisible floor remained, stretching out farther than I could sense.

I must have been teleported somewhere, along with the bookshelf. Or maybe it was a different, visually identical bookshelf. I had no way of knowing either way. My altered sight had a lot to say about the bookshelf itself, though.

Glimmering purple auras and angrily vibrating halos highlighted just about every book on the shelf. Going by previous experience, the more vibrant and active the lights were, the less I wanted anything to do with them.

And the fact that the bookshelf looked like it was strung with high wattage christmas lights did not speak well of it.

I turned around, only to find the bookshelf in front of me again. It was casually sitting there, like it had always been just behind me.

A second attempt, turning to my right instead of my rear, brought me the same result.

I kept my eyes on it and backed away at yet another angle. Before long, I bumped into something that I hadn’t detected with my radar. I reflexively turned to see what it was, and sure enough, it was the same gods-damned bookshelf.

I gave up. It seemed my choices were to either interact with it, or starve to death.

I examined it from top to bottom once again, trying to find the least-dangerous book among the many options on the shelf.

Anything that vibrated, flashed, or had an ominously shifting silhouette superimposed upon it was strictly to be avoided.

That left a couple well worn tomes that only glowed very dimly on the far right of the shelf, as well a single pristine volume at the very top, far outside of my grasp.

The more conveniently placed works of literature seemed like they were bound to be a trap. So that meant I needed to somehow get access to that one slim hardback above me.

Psy was still with me of course, and he could fly. I asked him politely if he’d be willing to grab it for me. I felt his assent through our link, and he hovered silently upwards. He had trouble grabbing the slender volume I desired with his tiny hands, but he got it eventually.

He floated the book down to me, and I gently caught it with a slight pull of my own telekinesis. I gave my thanks to my silent friend, who responded with the slightest of nods.

I held the possibly cursed publication in my right hand, steeling myself to open it., then thought better of it. Given this labyrinth’s predilections toward teleportation, it was entirely possible that the tome would see me transported elsewhere as soon as I opened it.

Best to spend a moment in preparation before that happened.

I checked my gun as best as I could, flicking the safety above the trigger on and off a couple of times just to be sure it worked, and re-examined my inventory. I still had a good couple of healing items, two rations, and a single barrier. I also had a point of ATP on standby.

I was as ready as I could be, so all that was left would be to leave a note for Madeline.

I scribbled on the blank cover of the book in my hands, and wrote alongside the spine of it as well.

I also wrote on the book shelf as well, drawing arrows to the empty spot on the shelf that the book had been in, and put a post-it note in its place explaining how I thought the books were a means of transport.

That would have to do.

I stopped putting it off any longer, and cracked open the book in my hands.