Chapter Fifteen

Ding!

Congratulations! You’ve reached level 14!

You have 5 attribute points available!

Moira lay slumped against the floor, her chest remained frozen. Air rushed into the room as the door opened, but her chest didn’t rise.

The dungeon stilled. Holding its breath for the girl who’d already managed the impossible. Toppling monsters double her level, beating puzzles and beasts meant for entire parties, yet the girl had managed it alone. She’d had help, of course—but not as much as she’d needed.

The dungeon alerted its master, asking a question that shouldn’t be asked.

Before it could answer, the girl’s chest rose.

Moira gasped for air. Sucking it down deep into her lungs and choking on it. Too much too soon. She shivered against the cold stone and just breathed.

She was alive.

She’d done it. Somehow, against all odds, she’d guessed correctly. She dragged her hand against her face and chuckled.

One, two, three?

A chuckle turned into body-shaking laughter that rumbled through her. She hiccupped and shook, unable to breathe; her ribs hurt, but she couldn’t stop laughing. It was just too much. A default password had almost killed her.

Maybe she’d disregarded the dream theory too quickly. She felt like Alice down in wonderland, thrown down a hole into some crazy, ridiculous place, filled with top hats and tea kettles. Or maybe she’d gone crazy, and this whole place was just some incredibly vivid hallucination.

Her laughter shifted to quivering sobs. As reality set in again. She’d almost died. If she’d moved seconds slower, she would be lying on the floor, dead. Her family would’ve never known what had happened to her.

She’d already lost so much here—this wonderland was more insidious than the story she remembered.

The wall quaked, emotions bubbling to the surface, threatening to overwhelm her as memories resurfaced.

Duke, his limp body in her arms.

The sound of her mom crying alone in the laundry room after her dad passed.

The thought of her mom crying over her in that same laundry room, never knowing what happened to her.

The faces of her future nieces and nephews—never meeting them.

Her breathing quickened; each thought a catalyst as the wall weakened. She was suffocating; something lodged in her throat. Her heart raced.

Stop. Breathe.

A whisper brought to the forefront.

It stopped her in her tracks, bringing the stone room and the door beyond back into focus.

Breathe.

The voice whispered again, so quiet that she thought she’d imagined it.

She was here. In Caelum. In the Dungeon. She had to focus. If she ever wanted to get back to her family, she had to focus. To get out. She couldn’t give up.

Moira stood, her feet shaking beneath her, and walked through the door.

Ding!

Objective: Escape the room.

Warning! Floor three remains in a temporal loop. Beware the reflection on each hours end.

She raised her hand to her eyes, the brightness of the room blinding her. The entire room was white, white walls, white floors, and a white ceiling. Completely void of any life or color.

It felt almost normal. Like the room could’ve been pulled straight out of her world. Moira looked around, noting that there were no obvious light fixtures. The ceiling glowed slightly, providing light to the room. More importantly—there was no door.

She turned back toward the way she’d entered. The door was gone. A blank wall stood behind her, not a door seam in sight.

“You've got to be fucking kidding.”

The notification was blunt. Escape the room. It wasn’t giving her much to go on. The warning gave her an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. What did it mean, there would be a temporal loop and what would happen in an hour? Whatever it meant, it looked like she’d find out soon.

For the third time in as many days, she found herself stuck, locked away in a place with no easy exits.

Her brow furrowed, she wouldn’t let this place beat her. There had to be some trick, she just had to find it. She approached the wall, searching for any seam that could indicate a hidden door. Nothing.

She tilted her head; the wall looked strange, almost fuzzy, like she was looking through a fogged-up window. Moira pressed her hand against the wall. It felt warm to the touch. She pulled back as she felt a vibration run through her hand. She reached toward it again, lightly placing her hand against the wall. There it was again, a slight vibration that flowed to the surface like it was made of some sort of energy. Moira pressed her ear against it, listening. She could hear a quiet buzzing noise, but nothing else.

She walked around the edge of the room, pressing her hand against the wall as she went. There was no hidden door, no mysterious button, but the whole room seemed to vibrate softly against her palm.

Moira sank to her knees. This could be a puzzle. If it was, her only clue was the vibrating walls. Solving puzzles or riddles, in general, had never been her strong suit. How long could she stay here, trying to solve it?

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

She pulled up her inventory, taking stock of her supplies. She had enough monster jerky and water to last a couple of weeks at most. Hopefully, she’d be far away from here by then.

Moira steeled herself, she had to think positive.

She would escape the room. She’d done it before. She could do it again.

Moira pulled out Destiny’s Song, feeling its weight in her hand, she approached the wall.

Raising her sword in the air, she slashed down, using her arms momentum to tear into the wall. A narrow gash penetrated the surface, blinding light shone through the slice in the wall.

“Maybe this won’t be so bad.”

For the next fifty minutes, she worked on cutting a hole in the wall. Sweat poured down her face, drenching her shirt. A crisscross pattern of narrow slashes marked the wall. Each one was more blinding than the last.

Moira placed her sword back in her Inventory and squatted on the floor, wiping the sweat from her face. She was so close, she could almost feel it. The wall quivered more intensely now, in pain or anticipation, she wasn’t sure. Moira pulled herself to her feet and pressed her hands on the marks. She pushed. The wall tensed beneath her palms and then slowly began to bend to her will, turning concave against her hands.

Pop!

Moira’s eyes widened. She’d moved. She stood back where she’d entered the room. Her back leaned against the wall that’d once held the door. In front of her, the wall where she’d spent so much time breaking through was unmarred.

A red, flashing ten-minute timer appeared on the wall in front of her.

“What?”

She’d been so close. She could feel the wall breaking beneath her fingers.

“You didn’t think it’d really be that easy, did you?” a familiar voice asked from directly behind her.

She turned and stared, mouth open, at herself.

The other Moira stared back, an unnaturally large grin stretched across her face.

“You. How?”

“Oh poor little Moira, still as dumb as ever—didn’t you read the warning?”

The warning. She’d gotten so engrossed in breaking down the wall she’d forgotten. Beware the reflection on each hours end. Her reflection.

“You’re me. My reflection.”

The other Moira clapped, “You’ve finally got it now.” She strode forward.

Moira backed up, pulling out her sword.

“Hmm, not bad,” said the other Moira.

She narrowed her gaze. “Not what you expected?”

“No. I thought this would’ve been harder.” A matching sword suddenly appeared in her hand. The reflection sliced upward, aiming for her throat.

Moira leaned back, the sword just barely missing her neck.

The reflection’s grin grew impossibly bigger. “Much easier than I’d thought.”

Moira’s lip raised as she snarled, charging toward the reflection, at the same time forgetting everything Cyrus had taught her about sword fighting.

“Never let anger control your blade. That was my mistake with the lizard. I let anger take control.”

“Alright,” she replied, rolling her eyes.

“I’m serious. Fighting angry against the wrong opponent can kill you. It fogs your mind, leaves you open.”

“Okay, I get it.”

The reflection spun away, laughing maniacally. “You’ll never win. I’m better than you in every way. You might as well just give up now.” She darted forward, slicing into Moira’s arm.

Blood dripped slowly onto the pristine white floor. Moira didn’t have time to consider her wound before the reflection was on her again.

This time it sliced open her leg and the pool of blood on the floor grew.

“You’re nothing. Just a sad little girl whose daddy died. That’s all you’ll ever be.”

Moira shrunk back from the reflection as she narrowly missed her cheek. Red hot fury bubbled up, burning brighter than before. She rushed toward the reflection, swinging furiously. The reflection darted back easily from each swing. Her laughter grew louder, bellowing in the small room.

Another slice made impact, this time a deep gash on her stomach. Moira hunched over, pressing her hand against the wound as warm blood seeped out. She couldn’t win like this. The reflection movements were precise and well-paced, dancing around her with skill she couldn’t match.

She glanced up at the timer on the wall. There were two minutes left. She could only hope that in two minutes, the reflection would disappear. She could last two minutes. She just needed to keep it talking.

“What makes you think you’re so much better than me? You are me.”

The reflection stopped laughing, a stretched-out grin still spread across its face. “I’m everything you’re not. Stronger, faster, and not weighed down by those pesky emotions. I am superior. Calling me, you is laughable.”

Moira leaned against the back wall, grimacing as she held in her stomach. “You look like me. You sound like me. I’m sure you’ve inherited some of my weaknesses.”

“Never,” the reflection hissed.

The timer had thirty seconds left.

“You’re stuck in this room, aren’t you?”

The reflection’s smile thinned.

“And even if you kill me—what do you get? My guess is nothing.”

Ten seconds.

It glared at her and slowly strode toward her, ready to finish her off.

The timer ended.

Pop!

The reflection disappeared.

Moira collapsed on the ground, blood pooling from her wounds.

#

She only had an hour until it came back. She needed to find a way out before then. But first, she needed to deal with her wounds, otherwise, she would bleed out before ever having to face the reflection again.

Moira searched through her Inventory; she was out of health potions, again she kicked herself for dismissing the minor heal spell. Moira had received some wound ointment and some bandages from one of the various bunnies she’d slaughtered in the Silivea forest.

She gingerly lifted her shirt, gagging as she saw the wound to her stomach. The gash was six inches long and looked fairly deep. Blood seeped out of it. Moira opened the container of ointment and scooped a handful out, haphazardly smashing it into the wound. The potent scent of menthol emanated from the ointment. She hissed as it slid onto the wound; it stung like a bitch.

Carefully, she wrapped the bandage around her abdomen, gasping as she knotted it tightly. Hopefully, the bandage would hold. Next, she treated the wound on her arm and leg. Both were shallower than the slice to her stomach. The reflection had been playing with her, slowly bleeding her out with narrow slices.

Moira groaned as she pulled herself to her feet. She clutched her stomach as she considered what to do next. The sword was not an option anymore. There was no way she could use enough force to slice her way out while injured. She could try Mana Blast, but the last time she’d used it in an enclosed room, it had bounced back at her. The only other spell she could use was Creeping Vines, but she suspected she’d get another error message.

She braced herself and focused on the spell.

ERROR! Creeping Vines cannot grow through Pure Magic. Skill Fails.

She read the notification, her shoulders slumping. The end of it made her pause. Pure magic? Did that mean that the whole room was made of magic?

The white wall hummed in front of her. Moira raised her hands and pressed them flat against the wall. The vibration tingled through her fingers like a static shock. Just like the trees that hummed in the forest.

It was magic. The humming, the vibration beneath her hand, it was the sound of magic. But what did that mean? It was a clue. A hint at a way out of here.

Moira slid back to the ground. She didn’t have much time until her reflection was back.

“What breaks through Magic?”