Sir Edwin cautiously sits on the same chair that just moments before had been slowly consuming him. Torcha, in human form once again tends to the fire by adding another log to the flames. The portly dungeon warden creeps in the shadowy corner staring at her as if awaiting instruction.

  “When will I get to see my friends?” Edwin asks. Torcha prods the embers with the fire poker, urging the new piece of wood to inflame. Once satisfied she slowly turns toward the warden and stares at him.

  “Well? Are you going to tell him, or do I have to do everything around here?” she asks. The man in the corner quickly runs over to where Torcha is standing and stops almost too late, narrowly avoiding a collision.

  “I can tell him! I want to tell him!” the man exclaims. Edwin gawks at the man and Torcha rubs her temples with her fingers in agitation.

  “Must you always be so loud?” she asks the man.

  “Sorry Torcha, but you told me before to speak up. Arnold wants to please Torcha,” he replies. She extends her arm and pushes the man away from her and then looks at Edwin.

  “This specimen is Arnold. Our master found him begging for food in the gutter—how long ago was it, Arnold?” Arnold beams with excitement and begins to answer.

  “It was twent…”

  “No one cares, Arnold. You’re here only to do as you’re told,” she interrupts. Sir Edwin tries to stand up from his chair, testing to see if he is bound to this was as he was to the one in the dungeon. He is pleased and surprised when his body reacts to his mental commands and he stands upright. Remembering Torcha’s comments from before, he turns to her and asks, “May I walk around the room?” She looks at him and grins.

  “Why of course, Edwin. Tell me, would you like anything to eat or drink? You must be starving.” Edwin realizes he cannot remember the last time he had anything to eat or drink but also notices that he isn’t suffering from hunger or thirst.

  “No, thank you. I am fine.” Torcha closes one of here hands into a fist and mutters something under her breath. He looks at Edwin’s stomach.

  “Are you sure? Nothing at all?” Edwin, suddenly overtaken by the tremendous feeling of hunger, falls to a knee. His mouth becomes as dry as sand and he struggles to get the words forming in his head to become spoken words. He looks up at Torcha and is not surprised when he sees her flashing the same devilish grin from earlier.

  “I guess I will take you up on your offer,” he struggles to say.

  “Arnold, help the poor man back into his chair and go get him something from the kitchen. And do be quick for we have so much to do.” Arnold jumps at the order and quickly turns and heads out of the room.

  “I do love when he obeys without responding,” Torcha says.

  Edwin, once again sitting in the lounge chair, begins to survey his surroundings. The chair is definitely the same one from the dungeon. He quickly glances down at his chest to make sure that it is intact. Once satisfied, he returns his gaze to the outer walls and scans the room clockwise. The chair sits in the middle of the room. To his left are old bookshelves filled with dusty tomes and glass containers of various sizes. Some are empty and some are filled with what appear to be all manner of flora and fauna. He can make out jars with leaves and flowers in them and one with dead mice but others enclose materials foreign to his knowledge.

  What are all those for?” he asks as he points at the jars. Torcha turns and looks at the bookshelves in question. She walks over to one and picks up a book on the top shelf. As she removes it, bits of dirt and dust fall to the floor. She slowly runs her fingers over the leather cover, allowing them to trace the outline of the words etched into the binding.

  “These allow us to practice our skills and understand where our powers come from. They are, oh what would you call them? Manuals?” Edwin, still weary from the sudden onset of starvation and dehydration, does not bother to question what she is telling him and allows himself to play along with her.

  “Manuals? Powers? So those tricks from before, you have to study these books in order to do them?” Torcha flips the book over in her hands and reads the inscription silently to herself. She pauses when she gets to the bottom of the cover, looks at Edwin, and then turns to book back over.

  “In so many words, yes. But, not all of us are born with the innate skills to comprehend their lessons or even attempt them in the first place. Many have died just by opening them out of curiosity,” she replies. Sir Edwin takes her bait.

  “Died? For opening a book? What do they contain? Evil magical spells?” he quips. Torcha walks over to where he is sitting and places the book in his lap. She takes a few steps back and takes a deep breath, sighing as she exhales.

  “Not magic! Don’t even say the word you blithering fool. No one alive for centuries has been able to perform magic. The magicians are dead. The few wizards left even capable of comprehending the world that once was dare not speak about it out of fear of being tortured for their knowledge,” she scolds him.

  Edwin looks down at the book on his lap and slants his head inquisitively. It’s a normal enough book from the outward appearance, but all of the words are in a language he has never seen before. He reaches down and grabs it by both hands. It feels like a book but he is surprised how light it is in his hands based on how thick it appears to be. He turns it over and is disappointed when staring back at him is nothing but brown leather and a few red spots. He brings the book up to his nose and inhales. The smell of old parchment is strongest. He smells the red spots and does not pick up a scent. He touches one of them and is startled when it transfers from the book onto his fingertip. He rubs it between his fingers and his thumb and gasps when it turns into a blood smear.

  “Another one of your tricks then?” Torcha looks at Edwin’s now bloody fingers and replies, “That? No, it’s is real. If you don’t believe me then open the book and see for yourself.”

  He grabs the covers with each of his hands and opens the book. Immediately the room around him begins to darken as the fire is snuffed out. The windows behind him burst open and black, smoky tendrils begin to swirl around the pages. He tries to drop the book but he cannot let it go. He looks at Torcha with a look of apprehensive fear. The rush of wind blasting through the room becomes deafening.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “This? This is a trick, right?” he shouts. Torcha does not move. She does not respond to him in anyway. His fingers are fused to the book. There is no pain but no matter how hard he tries he cannot loosen his grasp on the tome. Then, he begins to move the book towards his face. The tendrils being to envelope his arms and they force his movements. Edwin closes his eyes to escape whatever twisted reality Torcha has implanted in it again.

  However, when he does so he is met with the vision of the room his is occupying, but from above as if he were on the ceiling. Torcha is standing next to him at the chair. He sees himself holding the book and flipping through its pages. The fire is still burning, the windows are closed and there are no otherworldly happenings to be seen. He notices Torcha take a few steps closer to him but stop next to the side table by the chair. She leans down and turns her ear toward the book sitting on its surface. She then straightens and crosses her arms. She reaches out and touches him on the shoulder. At that instant he is transported back into his body and his eyes open. The room before him is the same as it was before he opened the book. He looks down and notices a few drops of blood on the now closed cover. Torcha reaches into her cloak and pulls out a small torn bit of cloth.

  “Here, for your nose.” Edwin reaches up to his nose with one hand and grabs the cloth with the other. He dabs at his face with it and lowers it in front of him to see it better. It is soaked with blood.

  “What did I just see?” Torcha extends her hand with her palm facing upward. Edwin sees the gesture and places the cloth in her hand. He does not seem surprised when the blood disappears once it touches her skin. She places it back inside of her cloak and waves her other hand across his face. His nose stops bleeding and the blood on his face washes away.

  “I cannot tell you that. Everyone sees something different, but the outcome is usually the same.” She looks him over and eventually grabs his head. She pulls it forward to examine the back and then gently pushes it back against the chair. “Actually, you fared better than most. You didn’t pass out like your friends,” she continues. The mention of his friends energizes Edwin and he jumps out of the chair and the book falls onto the floor.

  “You did this to my friends, too? Where are they? You told me you would take me to them!” Torcha reaches down and grabs the book. She walks it over to the bookshelf and returns it to the top shelf.

  “I did and I will. I am curious though, what did you see?”

  “What does it matter if it was all a trick?” he hastily replies. Torcha frowns.

  “I thought we came to an agreement downstairs, Edwin. Remember what I told you? It wasn’t a passing remark intended to frighten you. Tricks can manifest themselves in many ways. Some materialize and affect the physical world and some affect your mind. Even more, some can alter things you don’t even know exist,” she calmly replies.

  Edwin walks around the room. He takes notice of the canvas maps hung up on one of the walls by the door Arnold left through. He slows his pace and tries to discern where he might be but like the words on the book, so too are the writings on the map and as such he cannot read them. He continues his lap around the room and stops at the fireplace. He realizes he feels no heat from the flames but assumes it to be yet another one of Torcha’s tricks.

  “So, where am I?” he asks. Torcha walks to the chair in the center of the room and sits down. She crosses one leg over the other and slowly moves her head from side to side.

  “It appears you are in some sort of study,” she replies as she smirks.

  “You have told me multiple times that all I have to do is ask and you will tell me what I want or let me do what I want to do.”

  “Now, Edwin. I told you a great many things. I also told you that this is a game. So, I make the rules. You have to ask the right questions.” She rests her hand on the table next to the chair. Edwin sees the book from his vision.

  “If you must know what I saw, it was this room. I was floating above where we are now and saw myself in that very chair.” Torcha grabs the book and rests it in her lap.

  “Interesting. Anything else?” Edwin notices her genuine curiosity and decides that continuing to be upfront with her might be in his best interest.

  “Before that, when I opened the book, the room went dark. The windows crashed open and the force of the wind gushing into the room made it impossible to hear anything else. I yelled out to you but you didn’t respond.” Torcha leans forward in the chair and lifts the book from her lap and rests it on one of the armrests.

  “Very interesting. Go on.” Edwin looks at the book on the armrest. Torcha sees him glance at it and smiles.

  “Maybe he is worthy,” she thinks.

  “These strange tentacle like shapes appeared in the air from nowhere. They grabbed my arms and wouldn’t let me drop the book. They forced the book up to my face. That’s when I closed my eyes and had my vision. You were standing next to me and the room was how it was before I touched the book. You walked over to the table and leaned over like you were listening to that book,” he says. Torcha points at the book with her finger, mocking Edwin.

  “This book?” she replies.

  “Yes, that book in your hands right now. You seemed disappointed and then put your hand on my shoulder. Then my eyes opened and everything was back to normal.”

  Torcha again glances down at the book. It is a square of twelve inches and has perfect right angles on each corner. The cover is an emerald green and the light reflects off of it as though it was made of metal. As she looks into the center of the book, Edwin notices that it is moving slightly.

  “Is that alive?” he asks. Torcha turns her gaze back toward Edwin with a look of surprise.

  “Now that is the most intelligent thing you have asked me since you’ve been here,” she replies. She places the book upright on the armrest so the cover faces Edwin.

  “Come over and have a closer look,” she commands. Edwin obliges and steps towards the book. As he approaches it he can tell for certain that the book is indeed slowly moving. It expands and contracts as though it was breathing.

  “Another trick? But what’s the point of this one? The book talks to you and instead of you having to read it?”

  “Not quite that simple, although that is actually a phenomenal idea. Maybe he was right, after all” Torcha answers. Edwin takes a step closer to the book and sees a fragmented reflection of his face in the cover.

  “Who is he? Your master? When do I get to meet him? And where are my friends?” he asks frustratingly. Torcha stands up from the chair and pushes it back against the wall with the bookshelves. The book remains floating in midair.

  “Your friends are on their way, they will return with Arnold shortly. As for my master, you are meeting him right now,” she replies. Edwin looks around the room to see if he somehow he has missed someone else that might be in the room with them. He finds no one. He returns his gaze to the floating book.

  “You master is a talking book?” Torcha laughs at the thought of Edwin’s question.

  “A book? My master a book? Don’t be so daft. No, my master is inside the book!” she exclaims.

  Edwin takes a step back as the ground beneath his feet begins to shake. The dust and cobwebs from the rafters above falls all around him. Torcha gleefully looks on as the book begins to expand in size. It grows until it fills the space previously occupied by the chair. The book begins to spin and the emerald green cover turns into a blinding white light. It opens up so the covers lie flat, parallel to the ground below. The white light subsides and a portal begins to form and expand above the pages. Through it steps a figure covered in a flowing grey robe. His head lifts up and Edwin sees the face of an old man covered in a long grey beard. The glasses on his face frame golden colored eyes. The rest of his body exits the portal and he rests his feet onto the ground. The portal closes behind him and the book closes and falls to the floor. The shaking subsides.

  “Sir Edwin! So good of you to come!” the old man exclaims. Edwin opens his mouth to answer the man but is interrupted by the opening of the door on the side of the room. Arnold carries plates full of food and is followed by Olara and Dascar who are both carrying pitchers and cups.

  “Edwin!” they both shout in unison. Edwin turns from the man and is overjoyed to see his friends both alive and in good spirits. He turns back to where the robed man was standing but discovers both him and Torcha have vanished. Arnold sees Edwin’s confusion and beings to laugh.

  “Ha! Good trick, good trick!” he shouts.