“You’ve returned.”
“Try not to sound so disappointed,” Alex said. Though, given his monotone, she struggled to pick up any kind of emotion from his voice, disappointment or otherwise.
“Follow me,” he said, ignoring her statement. A door opened in front of him and he immediately stepped through.
Alex followed right on his heels and found herself entering a nondescript room. Four walls, a ceiling and a floor, the only noteworthy thing about it was the colour: from top to bottom, it was near-blindingly white.
“Sit.”
Alex blinked at the man’s abrupt command. “Sorry?”
“Sit,” he repeated. “Or you will fall. And if you fall, you will fail.”
Forehead crinkling, Alex looked around the room again. The floor was solid; there wasn’t even any furniture she would be at risk of tripping over. Unless she was suddenly debilitated with a dizzy spell, she couldn’t imagine falling—or, indeed, where she would fall to.
“Last chance, Alexandra.”
Looking at the unidentifiable, cloaked figure in bafflement, Alex decided to humour him and sat cross-legged on the ground. The instant her backside hit the floor, everything about the room changed.
All of a sudden, she was in the middle of the night’s sky—as in, so-close-she-could-almost-touch-the-stars night’s sky—and sitting on a metre-wide, circular platform hovering in the air.
Adrenaline shot through Alex’s system like a bolt of lightning and she scrambled as far into the centre of her limited space as possible, curling tightly around herself.
“What the hell?” she shrieked, heart pounding. Then she shrieked again when the cloaked man appeared before her, standing on nothing but air, his outline bathed in the moonlight.
“Your task is to reach the doorway without falling,” he said.
Alex’s voice was shrill when she asked, “What doorway?”
As soon as the words left her, an open door materialised. It was close enough that she could see it led straight back into the underground cavern, but it was far enough away that there was no chance she could reach it without sprouting wings.
“Fall, and you fail,” the man repeated.
Alex knew—or at least, presumed—she was still in the Library, and having had a similar extreme height experience after falling from Darrius’s personal office above the clouds, she at least was able to calm herself with the knowledge that if she did fall, the Library wouldn’t allow her to get hurt.
Or so she hoped.
But…
“What will it mean if I fail?”
“Aside from the obvious?” the man said, gesturing a gloved hand to the empty space beneath them. “You will no longer be my student.”
Alex closed her eyes tightly and when she reopened them, he was gone.
“I’m guessing I can’t ‘phone a friend’ on this one,” she muttered, taking deep, steadying breaths to calm her rapid pulse.
Soon enough, Alex realised that this had to be some kind of illusion. She’d never left the white room—she’d literally been sitting on the floor when her scenery had changed.
Certain she was right and her task was a somewhat simple—if extreme—test of faith, Alex leaned forward and dropped her hand over the edge of her platform.
Nothing. There was nothing there but empty space.
Frowning, Alex stretched her hand out further, knowing there had to be a solid surface somewhere that she could walk over to the door on. But no matter how far she reached, all she encountered was air.
Once she got her shakes under control and focused her attention onto the problem itself, she trusted in the strength of her own body and, very carefully, hung over the side of the platform. Swinging her hands underneath it, she was confident she would find an explanation for what held it in the air—and the means for her own escape—but after dangling almost completely over the edge from four different sides of the circle, she found no evidence of anything supporting it. It was just… there. Floating in space.
Easing back into the centre again, Alex rubbed her forehead.
“Think, think, think,” she chanted to herself, staring at the open door.
But no matter how hard she considered, nothing came to mind. She had nothing on her person that would help—other than her Shadow Ring, but she presumed that would be considered cheating and it might not even work inside the Library. A’enara was of no use in this situation, and she wasn’t wearing nearly enough of her wardrobe to fashion a rope of required length.
She was, to her mind, entirely without the means to reach the door.
After attempting a last-ditch effort to will a new doorway open in front of her which, unsurprisingly, yielded no results, Alex took a stab in the dark and called out, “Hey, Library, any chance you want to lend me a hand?”
Silence. And then—
“What kind of hand would you like, Alexandra?”
Surprised but pleased that the Library had answered, she said, “How about a hint?” Or, you know, a bridge might be nice, too, she mentally added.
“You have within you all that you need to complete your task,” the Library said.
Alex shook her head. “I don’t. And I’m not just saying that. Unless I can figure out how to magically warp distance and space, there’s no way for me to reach the doorway.”
A pause. “I did not say anything about a doorway.”
Confused, Alex asked for clarification, but the Library didn’t respond. She had asked for advice and it had answered, but now she was more baffled than ever.
All Alex knew was that she couldn’t fail. She had to remain Mr. Mystery Man’s student, just as she had to trust that this ridiculous task was somehow going to help strengthen her gift—at least in the long run.
Rising carefully to her feet, Alex weighed her options. When that took her all of two seconds, she weighed them again.
Still nothing.
Sighing, she sat back down and waited for inspiration to hit.
Minutes turned to hours while she sat there, trying to come up with a plan. When she estimated it would have been after midnight had time in the outside world not been paused, she couldn’t resist the pull of sleep any longer. So, curling up carefully on her platform, she cushioned her head in her arms and closed her eyes, hoping that when she woke, she would be back in her dorm and this impossible task nothing but a strange dream.
Twelve
A drop of liquid hit Alex’s cheek. Another hit her eyelid. A rumble of sound followed another sprinkle, enough to draw her awake, only to discover her situation hadn’t improved—it had worsened.
It was still night. She was still in the middle of the sky. But thunderous rain clouds now obscured the stars, with flashes of lightning illuminating the otherwise dark emptiness surrounding Alex.
“Aw, come on!” she cried, not sure if she was aiming her ire at the Library or Mr. Mystery Man.