by Jakob Tanner
“But you’re right in what you say,” said Sabriel, watching the fight admiringly. “He’s not there yet, but this kid and his abilities—he has the potential to completely upend the tower and its hierarchies. For better or for worse.”
Hermia watched the boy swing and smash the lightning flail and couldn’t help but wonder:
Are we watching history being made as we speak?
Max swung the lightning staff forward, hurling the spiked lightning ball in the direction of Mother according to his mana sense.
Sweat formed on his forehead and he panted for breath as he kept throwing out more attacks.
There was no doubt he could keep going for the foreseeable future, but he couldn’t keep going forever.
He was amazed he’d lasted this long with his eyes closed, but he had to really start thinking about how he could end this.
He knew just what to do.
He swung the lightning flail once more and the mercenary woman swerved.
Max then triggered shadow blink.
He reappeared behind Mother and swung his lightning flail once more.
This time he knew he was going to land the hit.
“Arghhh!” screamed Mother.
Gotcha, Max thought to himself.
Not only did keeping his eyes closed protect him from Mother’s illusion trait, it also worked as a red herring; it made Max appear more handicapped than normal. With his eyes closed, Mother had been lulled into a false sense of security. She believed she would always be able to follow which direction Max was coming from, better than even he could, given the state of his tightly shut eyes.
But keeping his eyes closed didn’t disrupt his maneuverability at all, it just convinced someone that it might.
Max swung the lightning flail once more. He’d have to strike Mother over and over until she was fully down for the count.
She was too powerful for him to hesitate or show an inch of mercy.
But just as he was swinging the flail, he heard a voice in the distance.
“MAX! HELP ME!”
It was Casey.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Max opened his eyes and looked to his friend.
So long as he didn’t look Mother in the eye he should be fine, right?
But, he had a sinking feeling as soon as he opened his eyes.
Casey was just standing there watching the match beside Sarah.
There was no one attacking her.
She had no reason to call for help.
What the heck was going on?
Don’t tell me, Max thought. I haven’t been tricked, have I? I’d been so careful!
He shut his eyes tightly once more, hoping it would protect him, even though a terrible feeling told him it was too late.
A loud snickering laughter echoed all around him.
“You think my illusion trait only works visually, fool!”
67
It all happened so fast, it took Casey a moment to figure out what was even going on.
One second Max looked to be approaching victory with a devastating direct hit with his lightning flail and then he just...stopped.
“What’s he doing, Casey?” asked Sarah with concern.
Casey didn’t even want to say it out loud.
She eventually gulped and articulated her worst fears, “I think he’s been captured by Mother’s illusion magic.”
Max’s eyes had completely lost their luster as if he was staring into the complete unknown. Locked in a mental dreamscape of the evil mercenary women’s own making.
“But he kept his eyes closed,” said Sarah. “I thought that was enough.”
Casey stared at Max with concern.
“Clearly, it wasn’t,” she said. “I think we’ve underestimated that woman’s powers.”
The mercenary woman picked herself up out of the rubble of the ring and brushed off the dirt on her dress and gently fixed her hair.
Her mouth widened in a vicious smile.
Casey was horrified by the look.
Please Max, she thought. Escape her trick!
“Well, that’s the match,” said Regulus.
Hermia bristled at her colleague’s words.
She wanted to argue with him, but she was at a loss for words.
She couldn’t see how Max would be able to escape Mother’s illusion magic now that he’d been ensnared.
Even a climber on equal ranking to her ability would struggle against its oppressive power.
“I can’t see a way out, can you?” said Regulus. “The boy is now trapped. That’s it, the round is over. There’s no way he’s breaking out. He’s now merely a fly caught in the A-rankers web.”
Hermia sighed.
C’mon Max, she thought to herself. I believe in you.
Max blinked and he was suddenly no longer in the arena, surrounded by the roaring audience of spectators.
He was now standing in a world of purple shadowy fog.
“Where am I?” he said, aloud.
His words echoed in the distance in a way he wasn’t expecting and it gave him a brief shock.
He cautiously stretched out his hand.
He grasped at the air with his fingers.
Is this really all an illusion?
It all felt so real.
Max shook his head.
No, it’s not real.
He had to keep reminding himself of that. If even he started to think this place was real, then Mother had as good as won the match.
How do I get out of here though?
He ran forward, but it didn’t seem like he made any headway within this purple shadowy mindscape.
He punched, kicked, clawed, and yelled.
“Let me out of here!” he screamed.
He placed his hands on his knees as he panted and caught his breath.
What am I doing?
He didn’t need to kick or fight his way out of here.
He had prepared for this.
Tiberius had given him the one weapon necessary to beat this move.
He just had to retrieve it from his climber’s pouch.
He dropped his arms to waist level and went through the actions of materializing an item from his pouch.
It was crazy to think he’d gotten so used to this magical device that he took it for granted.
But he was suddenly no longer ungrateful.
Nothing materialized in his hands.
Huh?
He looked down to his waist and belt where he kept his climber’s pouch at his side at all times.
Except now there was no climber’s pouch on his waist.
Max looked around with horror.
Uh oh.
68
Max’s heart began to thump quicker and quicker against his chest.
He felt a massive throbbing headache come on.
A tightness formed within his body like he was having a heart attack.
He gasped, suddenly struggling to breathe.
What is happening to me?
Max fell to his knees.
Is this an illusion? Or is this really happening to me?
Am I having a heart attack?
No, he said to himself, clenching his fists, trying to get his bearings.
Teenagers don’t normally have heart attacks, Max reassured himself. If anything, this is a panic attack.
And Max certainly had a lot to be panicked about.
He patted his waist again right where his climber’s pouch was supposed to be and was now just empty air.
Without his climber’s pouch, he couldn’t get the item Tiberius had given him and, without that, he had no means of escaping this horrible realm of illusions.
Stop freaking out, he told himself.
Max took a breath.
Inhale, exhale. Repeat.
He felt his body beginning to calm down.
He was now trapped within this realm of Mother’s own making.
Which meant she was the key to escaping now.
He stood up and confro
nted the oppressive shadowy purple clouds that formed the sky of this realm.
“So you’ve trapped me, then?” Max shouted. “Why don’t you show yourself!?”
A sound emerged around him.
At first he thought it was someone crying, but then he realized it was someone giggling.
A sickening demonic giggle.
It then turned into a full on cackling laugh.
A horrible pit formed in Max’s stomach as he realized sometimes you don’t end up liking what you wish for.
And it got worse.
The laughter began to get louder until it was piercing his ears with pain.
POP!
His ears burst and he felt something cool running down his cheeks.
He touched his left ear and found blood on his fingers.
The noise was so loud it had made his ears bleed.
The pain and grating sound of vicious laughter made Max tremble.
He tried to stand strong as he wobbled at the reverberating all-encompassing attack.
“Screw you, lady!” Max screamed. “Let me out of here!”
The laughter didn’t stop but it began to lessen in its intensity.
“What’s this?” said a voice that overpowered and drowned out the endless painful laughing.
It was Mother.
She was speaking directly to him now.
“Most people die by this point in my illusions,” said Mother. “You’re proving to be more fun than I expected.”
“Just let me go you awful woman!” Max shouted into the air.
“Your wish is my command,” said the haunting woman’s voice.
SNAP!
Max blinked and he was no longer in the horrible purple realm.
He was in front of a sink, full of dirty dishes.
But he wasn’t standing, he was sitting on a stool that placed him high enough to let him do the dishes at the sink.
His wheelchair was right nearby.
Before he could ask himself where he was or how he had ended up there, a horrible slithering voice came from behind him.
It was a voice he thought he would never have to hear again.
“Useless,” spat the voice. “You’re not done yet?”
Max looked over his shoulder to see his former guardian, the manager of his group home, Mr. Grimes.
The ghastly man strode over to him and shoved him to the floor.
The manager rolled up his sleeves and got to work.
“You’ve seriously outdone yourself, Useless,” said Mr. Grimes. “Pathetic. Do you really not know how to do the dishes quickly?”
Max squirmed on the ground in pain.
He slid himself towards his wheelchair.
“I guess it’s cause you’re good for nothing, Useless,” said Mr. Grimes. “You’re like these dirty dishes, that’s why you can’t clean them. Isn’t that right, Useless?”
Mr. Grimes put his hand in the dirty brown sink of dishwater and then flicked his fingers towards Max so that the murky gross water splashed all over his face.
Max moved towards his wheelchair, preparing to get himself up, but after enough splashes of the dirty dish water, the floor itself had grown slippery and Max lost his grip and fell flat on his face and stomach.
“Useless, you are pathetic,” said Mr. Grimes, shaking his head. “I’d called you Pathetic if you didn’t already have such an apt name.”
Anger bubbled within Max.
“I know that you’re dead you stinking pile of human garbage!” he said, through gritted teeth.
“What’s that?” said Mr. Grimes, bending down and violently grabbing Max by the hair. “Did Useless say something? I couldn’t hear you.”
“You heard me!” Max shouted and nudged his elbow upward into Mr. Grimes’ face, sending him hurling backwards.
Max trembled on the ground.
This isn’t real.
This isn’t even a memory.
It’s a concoction of illusion and memory.
I don’t need to follow its rules.
Max seethed with rage as he stretched his fingers on the ground and pushed himself up.
He was suddenly standing in a memory where he didn’t have the ability to stand.
“Is that the best you got, you horrible witch?” shouted Max towards the ceiling. “I know you can hear me!”
The piercing cackle of laughter reappeared around him with such painful force, it pushed Max back down to his knees on the ground.
“You are proving to me a meddlesome fly, darling,” said Mother’s voice. “But that’s okay because there is so much in your mind to play with. The most exciting things too are the things you don’t even remember. Things that have been neatly hidden away from you all this time...”
“What are you talking about?” Max shouted with rage. “Let me go!”
“Certainly,” snickered Mother.
SNAP!
Max blinked and found himself in a brand new environment.
Where am I now?
He felt an all-encompassing heat surround him.
Ash floated everywhere. Tires and pipes burned nearby.
Why is this all so familiar, he thought to himself.
Oh no.
A horrible realization dawned on him.
Mother had taken him to the one memory he never wanted to relive ever again.
The one he tried to forget as much as he possibly could.
The one that kept him up at night and haunted his dreams even when he did manage to fall asleep.
He was in the back of a car and right in front of him were his parents, dead in the front seat.
69
A tight pain throbbed within Max.
This was worse than the panic attack he had earlier.
Worse than the piercingly powerful and violent laughter that had literally made his ears burst with blood.
Worse than reliving the memory with Mr. Grimes.
He was a little kid again in the back seat of a car on the night that changed his life forever.
He shook his head violently, tears forming in his eyes.
I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here.
But there was no snapping sound, no cackling laughter, no word from Mother orchestrating this horrible illusion.
He was trapped in the worst memory of his entire life and he couldn’t escape.
“Brother...” said a voice.
Max turned and saw his sister, so young, looking at him for help.
A line of blood was dripping down her forehead from her head smashing into the front seat of the car.
He remembered it all.
The car speeding through the night. His father swerving, but he wasn’t fast enough.
What happened next Max could never be sure, he just returned to consciousness in the fiery wreck of their family car.
“Brother...”
His sister was bleeding and injured.
Odd noises of bursting gears and pipes along with burning ash surrounded them.
He needed to get out of the car.
He needed to get his sister out of the car.
The problem was the roof of the car had caved in and smashed and it was impossible to grab his sister from where he was.
He needed to get out and go around and get her out before the car burst into flames.
The thing was: Max knew exactly how this memory ended and even still he had the urge to try again.
He unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door.
He went to walk, but slipped and collapsed on the ground.
His legs weren’t working?
He didn’t dwell on that fact like he had in the original memory.
He started to crawl around the car to his sister’s side.
Max knew this was an illusion, but the same thought kept running through his mind, as he dragged himself around the burning vehicle.
Maybe this time, I can save her.
That was the only thought propellin
g him forward as he dragged himself through broken glass and the fiery wreckage.
Maybe this time I can save her.
He made it around to his sister’s side and tried to pull open the doors.
Crap.
Child lock.
He banged on the window.
“Elle,” he shouted. “You need to open up the door. Pull up the latch near the window.”
The car made more popping sounds. Every pipe and fuse bursting was a clock ticking down to their deaths.
CLICK!
“Brother,” Elle said, “I opened the—”
KABOOM!
The car exploded, hurling Max backwards, destroying his family.
SNAP!
Max blinked and to his horror, he found himself in the backseat of his car again.
No, he thought. Don’t make me live through this again.
Now he understood Mother’s goal. Just like the piercing laughter, she wanted to psychologically destroy him.
So, she picked this memory for him to be trapped in, but for how long?
Hours?
Days?
Weeks?
Months?
Years?
The truth was even seconds was too much for Max to bear.
Max clenched his fists and screamed, “Let me out of here! Take me to any memory! Back to Mr. Grimes! I don’t care! Anywhere but here!”
The cackling laughter returned, echoing around him.
“Oh, I can make it stop alright,” said Mother’s disembodied voice. “Because this memory of yours—this one that keeps you up at night and causes you pain—it never happened.”
Max blinked and gulped.
What is she going on about now?
What did that mean?
Is this part of her insane mind games?
Then two fingers snapped, creating the sound that triggered an illusion change and Max dreaded whatever he was about to see next.
Max found himself lying on a wooden floor.
An oppressive heat surrounded him.
Ash crackled nearby.
He looked up and saw that he was in a house and it was on fire.
He was in a living room with couches and shelves and framed photos on the wall.
And across the room from him were his parents, dead on the floor, blood leaking from their heads.
Mom! Dad!