Evalyn shoved herself through the revolving doors, exhibiting none of the grace afforded to the previous stream of ghosts.

The door was no longer spinning.

There was no one around to push it.

There was no one around.

Evalyn—her hand clasped tight around Iris’s wrist—stumbled into the empty lobby. Polished marble walls reflected a golden hue, eerily reminiscent of The Sparrow's interior.

Indulgent.

Opulent.

Decadent.

Evalyn started forward, looking for a way upward. An elevator, fire exit, or even an evil spiral staircase would do.

“Evalyn,” Iris muttered from behind her.

Evalyn turned to see Iris’s face only centimetres from a marble wall. A marble wall that did not exist moments prior. She turned back forward, and the lobby no longer existed.

Like it never existed.

A room. No. A plane of existence with marble floors and low, suffocating marble ceilings. Pillars lined themselves in a perfect repeating pattern that stretched for eternity. It was not even clear if the ceiling required their support at all.

Evalyn’s mind began to race as she swivelled from left to right, her eyes darting for something different. Something to focus on. There was nothing. She could feel it, sense it, but not the magic it should have created.

“It’s a Mind Palace. That’s the only way.”

Evalyn’s hand gripped tighter around Iris’s as the marking on her cheek began to glow. It went from a sparkle to a shine to a blinding light, casting shadows behind pillars, and making marble shimmer.

It did not work. She could not overpower it. She, of all people, could not.

‘It will not work that easily, Mrs Hardridge. Come find me at the top.’

“Fine then, you bastard,” Evalyn sneered, her markings glowing once more.

Intense heat. The sensation of opening an oven; that kind of heat radiated from her.

Golden armour crawled down her skin; growing, weaving, interlocking as it went. Sharp gauntlets with fingers like a jagged crown of autumn thorns. Leggings that restricted no movement yet protected every vulnerability. A chest plate which elevated every meaning of the word elegance.

A helmet that removed all imperfections of the human face. Adorned with mythical engravings and two vibrant eyes that seemed to pierce reality.

An aura of hypersensitivity turned her surroundings into extensions of her body. Not only could she feel Iris’s awe, but also the impending danger they faced if they did not move soon.

There was something else. The uncanniness of the rooms was not the sole danger.

From behind pillars moved sentient things. Their forms were unclear, only their nightmarish red colour. They made a mockery of the human body. Spirits that could apt be described as 'unhuman'. A morbid fit for a slave trader.

“The fucker is playing with us,” Evalyn whispered as she watched the beings approach. They grew in numbers and in proximity, helplessly drawn to the intense aura of magic. At first, they dragged their fleshy feet behind them. But soon that movement lost hesitation and broke into running; a squelching, painful running.

Evalyn raised her free hand, balling a fist like she was grabbing the ground and hauling it upwards. A series of golden battering rams protruded from the floor and crashed into the low ceiling, reducing it to cobble. She reached upwards, forming spindling limbs to haul her through the fresh opening.

But gravity flipped.

She did not so much climb through the hole as she fell through it headfirst.

The environment changed. It changed much too completely.

Up and down did not exist, for either direction was a cavernous deep given form by monstrous walls. Four superclusters of rooms, pathways, cabins, and staircases pressed together infinitesimally close. It was as if all aspects of civilization had been woven into a fine fabric. Without careful assessment, each wall looked like one continuous, undefined colour. There was no sense of night or day, up or down.

Such a Mind Palace could not exist.

Evalyn, clutching Iris by her waistband, fired off a flurry of golden grappling hooks at a wall. She did not care for what it latched onto, as long as it was something solid.

She felt her body whiplash as the lines caught, and she reeled herself in before she could fall any further.

She landed on a staircase going from god knows where to who knows what, nestled between a room and a miniature garden. The charming flowers brought her no ease as she looked upwards and from side to side. For as hospitable as it seemed, it appeared deserted. Light escaped some rooms from open windows, streetlamps from other walls twinkled like silkworms. It all suggested life, but Evalyn could not see it.

Even for a Mind Palace, the place was incomprehensible.

“Iris, are you alright?”

“Yeah, but I don’t like this.”

Evalyn did not either. Recres Wesper’s pocket world was not hostile for now, but she could not say with certainty that it was harmless.

He was playing with her. She was leagues stronger than him, and he knew he would only dominate in a world bent to his will. This was somewhere between a Mind Palace and reality, a fusion of the two.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

This, was Workar Tower.

The door to the room beside her opened, and a stream of orange light projected across the concrete path. A man exited, bleary-eyed and stumbling. He was barefoot, wearing chequered monotone pyjamas from collar to hem. Unremarkable, save for the stitched patch on his left breast. A simple name and serial code. ‘David: 552901’.

The man caught sight of Evalyn—more accurately, her armour—and began to quiver.

“Who are you?” he muttered.

“A bad dream. You can go to sleep.”

The man hesitated, his eyes still attempting to discern if Evalyn really was just a figment of his fleeting consciousness. The tower did have life, in the way an ant farm might.

Evalyn did not need more than a second to put two and two together.

This is where they were born. This is where they were bred. This is where they were trained. All to serve their life purpose before dying in the city all the same.

A distant crumble. The low thunder of freshly pummelled walls and falling debris echoed across all four walls. Both Evalyn and the man searched for the sound. Perhaps someone else had broken in as they had. Perhaps it was another magic user.

That answer revealed itself all too quickly when Evalyn’s senses were overwhelmed with a rush of Aether. A powerful surge all pulling towards a single point in the distance.

“Iris! Get behind me!” she shouted, and the man hurried to slam the door shut.

From a speck in blank space came a torrent of spiralling fire. Serpentine tongues of light, heat and destruction blossomed into a demonic inferno. The flames, rank with greed, devoured the air, creating an almost instantaneous gale to fuel it. The spirited mass grew to a size the space could barely contain. It rammed into the wall and began spreading outward. It flooded every gap and pathway in a hellish embrace, dwarfing anything and everything remotely mortal.

Hell. A piece of hell.

Evalyn steeled herself, feeling the wind behind her and the heat in front. She brought her arms above her head, forming a diagonal cross, each finger limp and mobile. A golden circle drew itself on the ground as the flames charged closer and closer. She twisted her arms, spiralling them clockwise, commanding the circle of light upwards. She brought her wrists together, sealing the barrier and creating an impenetrable dome.

The weightless flames hit the barrier with the energy of a continuous battering ram. It clawed at any conceivable crack, searching for a way to turn the dome into a deathly kiln.

But Evalyn was steadfast, watching over the little girl with eyes shut and ears covered.

“I need to teach you this technique next, don’t I?” she whispered.

The heat subsided as if a weight lifted off her shoulders, and Evalyn released the barrier.

The flames had moved past them and were now veering upwards, joining other snaking firebolts. The serpents coalesced into the black speck, now falling helplessly.

Evalyn tracked it as it fell, shooting another rope-like limb and lassoing it. She dragged it to the ground, letting it land safely beside her.

“Fuck me. Haven’t done that in a while,” Colte said as he heaved for air. He looked around, looking satisfied that although he had left the surroundings singed, nothing was still burning.

“Be more careful next time,” Evalyn said, “sometimes I wonder if you taught me that technique just so you didn’t have to worry about cooking me alive.”

“No, that was definitely the intention,” he said, taking in his surroundings. “I was being chased. Spirits, I think. The big fleshy carnivores, I forget their names. This place isn’t barren, it’s a fucking menagerie.”

“It’s not just that. This space is where they make their humans.”

“…in his Mind Palace?”

“That way, nothing can destroy it unless he's killed,” Evalyn surmised. “But I can’t overpower it.”

“Neither can I. I think it’s tethered to the building. It’s both real and not at the same time.”

‘That would be spot on.’

A voice thumped inside her ears, bouncing across every facet of the impossible geometry.

‘Welcome to Workar. You three are the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth guests we’ve had today.’

As Recres’s words invaded Evalyn’s senses, lights flickered on, and doors began to open. The streets flooded once more, this time with chequered bodies and concerned faces. Evalyn held Iris closer as the narrow pathways drowned, suffocating in the crowd. All attention, every eye line congregated upon them. A thousand pinpricks from every wall combined into one single, omnipotent eye.

“Where are the others?” Colte spoke, aware that there was no need to raise his voice. The ears were just as all-knowing as the eyes.

‘Of course, I was just uncertain if you were ready to join the party just yet.’

The fabric of the four walls began to recede. The fabric retreated into darkness, taking its many residents with it, their eyes forever remained on the intruders.

They were left in darkness. No floor, no ceiling, no walls. Null and void. Evalyn’s senses grappled in the nothing for something to perceive, to discern an environment. But, if it were not for the shine of Evalyn’s armour, there would have barely been a difference between eyes open and shut.

She felt Iris next to her; that she could feel. She could smell the smoke from Colte’s ashy clothes; that she could still smell.

A sound.

Clinking chains.

Clinking chains travelled to their ears and echoed off nothing.

In front of her, a lineup of twelve chains appeared as if a spotlight watched them. The chains moved upwards, each dragging something weighty behind them.

Hands. Twelve pairs of hands tied together by chain. The metal tore against their wrists, rendering them raw. She followed the hands as the chains kept on rising, revealing arms. Some were still, others still spasmed; all were soaked in blood. The chains stopped with a low, mocking clunk.

Twelve heads.

Twelve lacerated faces, some more deformed than others. Missing eyes, disfigured mouths and blood-soaked skin. Evalyn forced Iris’s face into her side, keeping her from the grotesque display of what the human body could be reduced to.

Cracked skulls.

Snapped necks.

Open cheeks.

Sliced Jugulars.

“They’re all magic users,” Colte whispered in disbelief.

‘I considered that the little one may have found the rest of their bodies too disturbing.’

“Why?” Evalyn asked.

‘It is only natural I punish intruders.’

“Then why are we still alive?” Evalyn seethed, her eyes unrelenting from the macabre spotlight.

‘You hold value, Hardridge. Why do you think I suggested that Fadaak send Colte after you?’

The void extinguished the light, engulfing them once again in unknowing darkness.

‘Even if it failed, I’ve learnt some valuable things about you, your alliance with Colte being one of them. It truly was a miracle when Jamie’s rumoured red-haired mercenary appeared outside my tower. Yet then again, I thought you might, one way or another.’

She could not have guessed he was watching the moment she stepped into the tower's vicinity. She had been playing on the enemy’s home turf for too long, and now she was paying the price.

‘I hear very little from my contacts in Geverde. But, from what I understand, you are a strong believer that the ends justify the means. I like to think myself similar, although my goodwill extends further than yours does.’

“Goodwill? What have you done for this world that counts as goodwill?”

‘I would never dream of it. Bringing goodwill to such a farce existence would waste my time. This world is full of means, Evalyn. A means to an end.’

“And that end is…”

‘Correct. It’s right there on my business card.’

The darkness opened up, revealing to them a room. Bright, natural light flooded Evalyn’s senses and overwhelmed her eyes. A vision, perhaps more accurately a window into a boardroom opened. The edges blurred, fighting off the void. A misty sheen marred their view, like trying to peer into the bottom of a river.

There were six Spirits of different make, five of which all wore heavily tailored military uniforms. The sixth wore a suit, suffocating its fleshy, overflowing body; the City Duke. Wesper led the meeting himself, sunglasses covering his fleshy eyes. Unlike the light, the sound transmitted with crystal clarity.

“Gentlemen, once again, let me reiterate my deepest apologies for the incorrect intelligence. However, I can make it up to you—all of you—when I present you with my latest findings.”

The members of the congregation leaned in as if Wesper had trained them to lap up every word that came out of his mouth.

“My spies have finally gotten back to me. I can confirm we have the coordinates to the F.S.A. base, yet I would refrain from-”

Wesper was cut off. An uproar of excitement from each member drowned out his voice. Spiteful hatred and selfish relief quickly turned into calls to action.

‘They do not seem to care an awful lot about your hostages, Evalyn. Let us see how far your tolerance for this horrid world and its inhabitants goes.’