A Fortress of Pebbles

The vine pet on Cassandra’s shoulders nuzzled Aissaba’s cheek in the silence that followed. The hum of the refrigerator, the gurgling of old pipes, and the crack of the glock – each gave their monologues while everyone else fell into thoughtful silence.

Tassadu tried a few times to probe about the end of the world, but the twins were in a mood of one word answers and shrugs. Gradually, the hallucination around them began to fade, revealing a vast cave of pulsating graymatter walls, a blank canvas studded with mind pebbles and eyes. The pebbles glowed, and the eyes glittered in their light.

The blob chairs and bulbous table they were sitting at began to degenerate, forcing them to their feet and, thankfully, breaking the silence.

“Woah,” said Orion, looking at the ceiling. “It’s like stars, but with eyes.”

Yes, and any or all of them might be the Master of Mind keeping watch over them, thought Aissaba. It was pretty conspicuous that both the Masters of Maps and Life had happened upon them, but the Master of Mind was nowhere to be found – especially considering that the tour was running behind schedule by multiple unscheduled pit stops and interrogations.

“The Room of Dreams should be reserved for the Master of Mind’s class right about now,” said Aissaba. “We should probably continue the tour.”

Cassandra untangled herself from Aissaba’s arm but kept hold of her sleeve. “Aissaba,” she said, eyes wet, “You said we could go home at the end of the tour. Is that really true?”

It would have been heartwrenching if Orion hadn’t chimed in with, “The Hall of Language sounds lame. Can we skip to the part where we choose to stay or not?”

Aissaba looked upward – at the faraway ceiling of false stars and glittering eyes, beyond which lay the Hall of Language, a place that was indeed “lame” by the standards of most twelve year olds. No tour in recent memory had ever reached it. If the wonders of the first three Halls hadn’t captured their heart, the subtleties of language magic were unlikely to do so.

The Fortress did suck sometimes. It was true.

“Sure,” said Aissaba, defeated. “Let me ask, though, is there literally anything that might make you think about staying?”

Cassandra and Orion looked at each other, and Aissaba could practically hear them both thinking The Fortress is a Prison, the Fortress is a Prison, the Fortress is a Prison…

“You’re both really nice,” said Cassandra. “But we really should be getting back. How does it work… you undo the bus crash with magic?”

Aissaba sighed and was about to explain that the Fortress was situated outside normal time and space, that the bus hadn’t technically finished crashing yet. But, as if on cue, the Master of Mind entered the Room of Dreams, wearing her favorite avatar.

Orion and Cassandra’s mouths dropped, which was typical when people first saw her. To say that she was “beautiful” or “perfect” was physically impossible, because the moment you saw that face for the first time, your brain just stopped. And by the time your eyes had looped over her eyes, her nose, her lips, her eyes, her nose, her lips more times than you could count, you came to the inevitable conclusion that language was stupid. From the first time Aissaba had laid eyes upon these perfect proportions, an avatar centuries in the making, several divine truths had revealed themselves to her: that the mathematical formula for a perfect face had been discovered, and that the whole project of ever-evolving human biodiversity was complete. It had all been in search of this.

But these days, Aissaba was over it. All you had to do was avert your eyes, and you could think again. “Master,” she said with a curt nod, “may I introduce you to Cassandra and Orion Johnson from Montana. Sadly, I don’t think they’ll be joining us.”

“So I’ve gathered,” said the Master of Mind. All of the glittering eyes encrusting the walls and ceiling blinked at once, causing the entire skydome to flash darkly.

Aissaba and Tassadu’s eyes met. Out of nowhere, the moment of truth had arrived. Whether they would still have their jobs a few minutes from now, and how the little apocalypse risks from Montana would be dealt with – it would all be sorted out now. Aissaba wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or terrified. She could see herself reflected in Tassadu’s turquoise orbs.

“If they wish to leave the way they came,” said the Master of Mind, toying with the Mind Stone on a chain at her neck, “who are we to stop them? We aren’t running a prison, after all!” She motioned for everyone to follow her.

End of Chapter 1