It was a prisoner tired of living who writhed in pain among arcane glyphs. Flashing in vivid purple and with the fury of the stars, inside that magic dome it was impossible to use his power. In the same way, he seemed to have accepted his condition and that there would never be anything to do, since a carelessness was enough to trap him. Located in the basement of a prison tower, the environment was claustrophobic and depressing. The prisoner was a weak and surrendered looking man, incapable of scheming any kind of exit route or intricate rebellion. A brick cellar with no bars; only inscriptions on the floor that joined at all points and surrounded the prisoner forming that suppressive layer.

  He was muttering something. His eyes were closed, and his head was bobbing, kneeling and hunched over, completely listless and on the verge of delirium and psychosis. Someone like him suffered from stillness and confinement. The monotony and the rule.

  But it wasn't until he heard the tremor coming from above that he tasted a drop of hope.

  A rumble, an explosion. The prisoner was startled out of his musings as he felt the earthquake coming. It was strange and unusual, and did not give him any fear, but rather amusement. The hypothetical case of something happening to warrant him a chance to get out. A raid, perhaps?

  More shattering, now gaining strength and frequency that gave the impression that chaos was approaching its container. A group of lights infiltrated between the cracks and through the opening drawn by the spiral staircase to one of the walls. This is where the guards would descend to provide food and drink.

  The entire tower structure was coming down. Bricks in the walls were coming loose, and layers of dust were falling. It was not an earthquake, for there were pauses when nothing was happening and rumbles that denoted a person's emotional fury. The work of someone, not something.

  Now, as the destruction continued to descend, cries of pain were added. From the prisoner's perspective, whatever creature was generating the ruckus would not rest until it reached his location. It was unmistakable, they were coming for him.

  Then a last luminous impact showed like fireworks from the opening of the staircase, and the noises were already as clear as if they were happening inside his head. He could hear the determined footsteps, different from what he imagined. They were soft, elegant and delicate, like heels on thin boots. They played slowly and in suspense, whether out of fear or caution.

  Then he saw the folds of a dark leather dress. As the skirt slid up, a slender leg peeked out, covered by a long boot that went above her knees. Only a little skin was exposed, and the prisoner's mouth watered at the fleeting thought of the first beautiful woman he had seen in years.

  That desire vanished when the rest of the body appeared. A cold look full of sadness came over the prisoner's face, knowing that this was not a visit for pleasure, but for something worse than business.

  The intrusive witch walked down the stairs with full confidence. The thickness of her dress consisted of revealing lace and her medium-length brown hair waved gracefully. Atop her head was a huge, pointed hat, and her face reflected youth and great beauty. Sharp, tenacious.

  The prisoner took in a great deal of air and stopped blinking. There was madness in his gaze, generated by a natural consequence.

  “If you take those who give me water,” said the man, “you might at least consider releasing me.”

  “Maybe you'll be lucky,” the young mage said in a suggestive voice. She slowly approached the energy dome and crouched down to the man's level. “I came for your secrets.”

  The prisoner took a few seconds before he began to laugh weakly. It was a tired and jaded sound. He shook his head in disbelief.

  “Your infamy precedes you,” said the man. “Though I never thought our paths would ever cross.”

  “I've come a long way to get here,” she replied in a relaxed voice. “I want it to be worth this slaughter I've just made for myself.”

  “What if I told you I'd rather die?” The prisoner looked her in the eyes, unbridled.

  “I would believe you. But not before sharing some of that power with me.”

  “Do you want a little... or do you want it all?”

  There was silence. The witch's expression froze, and she focused on the man with an analytical tone. She stood up and turned sideways, looking over her shoulder at the highly dangerous prisoner so close to her.

  “Whatever I need,” she answered. “Whatever it takes. I've never practiced teleportation, so you'll have to help me.”

  “Why would I help you?” the prisoner muttered with tinges of fury.

  “Because there is something for both of us in the place where I plan to go.”

  The man's attention had been caught. An expression of genuine interest had come over his countenance and he stirred on the spot, now rising to his feet. He took a false step forward, intending to approach the witch, but did not advance.

  “For me... too?”

  “If you behave yourself, I have no problem in letting you go free. You have killed many innocent people in your appearances, but I am not aware of the evil you can do, since you couldn't touch a hair on my head.”

  The prisoner exhaled with some enjoyment and made small restless movements.

  “And aren't you afraid that I might hurt you indirectly?”

  “Where I'm going there are far worse things than you. If anything, you and I could become allies.”

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  “Allies!” The man began to laugh violently, clapping his hands in disorientation. It took him a while to come to his senses, and the witch confronted him once more. “I'll spy on you while you bathe and I'll leave at once. You have nothing to offer me, Nila Dremodan. No one has anything to offer me.”

  “Your loneliness is a direct consequence of your own power. You didn't realize it, but you dug your own grave. Even if you leave here today and continue your life, you are completely crippled. You must take my proposal, or your fate will be even sadder.”

  “Since when did you become pious?” Now the prisoner was mumbling. “Those guards had families, lives of their own. You killed innocents too...”

  “That's the thing,” smiled the mage, “we're a lot alike. Misguided magic users and outcasts in our own way. I, on the other hand, am much more careful and that's why I didn't end up suppressed in an energy dome. Tell me, Periapt, this or nothing?”

  “Is it an ultimatum?”

  “The name you want to give it.”

  Periapt swallowed hard and thought carefully about his answer. He feigned a sideways smile, but it was soon blurred. He turned around and began to walk in circles around his prison. Then he stopped short and looked at Nila.

  “That ability of yours... is it real?”

  “You're afraid I might chase you if you try to escape, aren't you?”

  “You are also a mind reader... unbelievable.”

  “I don't read shit,” the magician denied. “You make it obvious because you're a moron. Stop with the sarcasm and let's get it over with.”

  “Hm...”

  The prisoner tensed his body and lifted his chin, inhaling sharply, gripped by anxiety. He lowered his head and looked first at Nila and then at the seals around him.

  “Considering that you could learn to travel between dimensions just by watching me do it, escaping would be fulfilling your goal and also gaining me an enemy. To come to an agreement, show me that you are not just words. Go ahead, Nila, start with those seals.”

  “Very pleased.”

  The witch took a few steps away and held up two outstretched fingers with wind speed. It was an ancient sign belonging to a lost order. She waved her arms, first to the right and then to the left, and performed circles, similar to a tribal dance. The air thickened and the very consistency of the surroundings began to change. More bricks from the walls peeled away and seemed to be floating in the cosmos. Periapt watched in awe and anticipation, eager for what was about to happen.

  As if firing a blast of invisible energy, Nila aimed her hands at each of the seals and exploded them, weakening the integrity of the arcane prison. Cracks and gaps where the magic disintegrated resembled the image of a spider's web being forcibly unraveled.

  When the last of the seals was about to shatter, a burst of stardust covered the subsoil where they were and opened the way for the prisoner's unrestricted movement. Almost in disbelief, he looked in all directions for a flaw or deception.

  “This is... Holy God, the wicked tongues weren't lying. Hahahahahaha!”

  Periapt was muttering unintelligible things with insane happiness as he rubbed his face and stretched his eyelids. Nila looked at him with boredom, knowing that she was dealing with a poor man who had succumbed to almost complete insanity.

  “Now...” she cut him off, “keep your end of the bargain.”

  The free man's celebrations were cut short. He looked back in great confusion and paled with a frozen pace. It seemed to be dawning on him many things he had not considered for a long time. Intrusive thoughts and extraneous voices. But he regained his composure and forced a jovial attitude.

  “Before that,” he began, “I want to know why you want a power like mine. If the great Nila Dremodan has already absorbed hundreds of techniques and developed her own, what's the use of traveling between dimensions?”

  “Isn't it obvious? I am looking forward to expanding my repertoire. Although I have mastered an extensive array of spells and techniques, they are all generally limited and bound by what little of the world I have traveled in that I know. Dear Periapt... I seek to visit the Atrium and gain the power of God.”

  “Of God?!” Periapt was shocked and looked at the witch, “How can you think of that! Your ambition is obscene, and even I am offended. And how do you think you can have an audience with him? Even if you did, the energies of the Atrium are beyond comprehension. You are overestimating yourself, chameleon witch.”

  “I have heard that heroes from all corners of existence gather at the Atrium. That there are powers there that surpass any parameters you and I know of. Upon entering, I will be an ant among dinosaurs. It will be my chance to grow to match the powers of the Creator.”

  “How very foolish of you to tell me so brazenly. Now I have no desire to go anywhere! There's no way I'm going to be a collaborator for such a vile purpose. You're out of your mind!”

  “Please, Periapt,” Nila spoke calmly, “consider that I see you as an equal, and that I would not reveal my intentions to just anyone. I know how you play, because you play the same way I do. You had a plan for me from the moment you saw me arrive, and the best ending for both of us is this one scenario I pose to you now. You can come with me to the Atrium, and we will be sidekicks. On this plane you will be haunted until the end of time, and you will not be able to fall asleep for more than an hour. In the Atrium, no one cares about you, and you are insignificant. We will accomplish things together that could not be done otherwise. Go ahead, after you...”

  “You talk as if you knew it... as if I knew it! I've never set foot in God's courtyards and had no interest in doing so. I'll be cannon fodder there or here. What would it change if I went with you? Come on, convince me.”

  “It would change that it would be like your only home. Even if you are mean and enjoy making your fellow man suffer, it is not something that the Creator Himself has not once done. Your very energies, the ones that flow through your veins, come from that dimension. Your faculties are unique in this world because they come from another. That is where you belong... Come with me, Periapt, I know I can turn my back on you, I trust you even taking into account your reputation.”

  “Something tells me that you have admired the legends of the Atrium since you were a little girl. You are not misinformed on the subject. Do you feel that this place... is a prison?”

  “You know it well, don't you? I have studied your magic. It only appears in stories and fiction because it defies the logic we know here. The only explanation is that you are an anomaly, and that your homelands call you. Even if you have never set foot in the Atrium, just by thinking about its concept, you will end up there. Trust me, Periapt, take your free will and do with it what you will. But go, now. And I'll come after you, wherever you take me.”

  “You are a very strange woman, Nila.”

  Periapt swallowed saliva again and lost himself in a corner of the ceiling, meditative. He clenched his muscles and showed decision at last. Then a change in the weather underground took place. The consistency of the flesh and the whole body of the dimension trotter began to change. A sudden agitation that made him seem to vibrate also rendered him intangible and translucent. The man focused on Nila's eyes with a face that reflected true peace, and even gratitude. He raised a hand in a gesture of greeting, and the transmission was complete.

  “See you later.”

  And a gust of wind pushed the witch away as the freed prisoner was no longer in the room. Nila stood up and a sharp spasm shot violently through her. The witch put a hand to her heart and began to writhe in pain. Then a glow of changing colors burst from the core of her body and made her skin glow. From her neck appeared veiny runes that were not visible a few moments ago, and more of them on the other visible parts of her skin. Then her eyes also glowed, and a burst of light blew up what was left of the tower and altered the flow of the clouds and their color.

  Now, in the open air, the glyphs she had deactivated floated around her and spun with increasing speed. A whitish light tinged them, different from the purple before, and with a fleeting flash she was swallowed by a portal to another dimension.

  Nila's screams, unable to control her power gained from a different world, faded amidst the phase change. Now, everything would change.