Page 13

Time has frozen for me while the world continues without me. The thought carries a weight I rarely allow myself to acknowledge. How many people I know have aged? Have died? How much has the world beyond the tower changed?

Her eyes move over my face, studying me with new interest, looking for signs of aging she won’t find. I hold still under her scrutiny, allowing this unexpected intimacy.

“You’ve been trapped in one room for twenty-seven years?” The horror in her voice is genuine.

“Yes.” I keep the word simple, free of any sign that hints toward what such isolation does to a mind, to a soul.

She doesn’t move, her expression moving through emotions too complex to name. I’m certain she's trying to process what such a lengthy confinement would be like. Twenty-seven years alone with no one to speak to. No one to touch. No change except what occurred within my own thoughts .

Twenty-seven years alone would break most minds. The fact that mine didn’t is something I prefer not to examine too closely.

She opens her mouth to speak, then shakes her head, and sets off up the stairs again.

When we reach the room at the top, I hesitate before stepping through the doorway.

She waits until I’m beside my desk before releasing my arm.

The binding reasserts itself immediately, not restricting my movements inside the chamber, but I can feel the vibration of it returning to my skin.

She drops onto the chair beside the table. “This isn’t going to be easy, is it? Finding a way out.”

“No, but we’ve already made progress. Before your arrival, I had no hope of ever leaving this chamber. Now, at the very least, I can cross the threshold with your assistance.”

“It’s a start, I guess.” She doesn’t sound confident. “Do you think if we can weaken it enough, the tower door will respond?”

“Maybe. Magic often follows patterns. One change may lead to others.”

I sit down, pick up my pen, and begin recording the day’s results. She watches me.

“Do you think there’s a reason I ended up here? In this tower, with you? Or do you think it was just a coincidence?”

The question is more insightful than she realizes. “What makes you ask that?”

“I don’t know. Of all the places I could have appeared in this world, I end up in a tower with a prisoner who’s been waiting for someone to help him escape. That feels … deliberate, somehow.”

“Maybe. ”

“Why me? Why now ?”

I consider what I should reveal. Too much could make her decide not to help me, too little will fail to satisfy her growing curiosity.

“I’ve been here for a long time, and no one has ever found a way inside. I don’t believe your arrival here is a coincidence.”

Twice more, she insists on testing whether she still has an effect on the spell containing me inside the chamber.

I comply with her demands to walk down to the lower chamber, indulge her need to check the walls and floor, and even the stairs themselves, until the light starts to shift and I feel the pull of the binding strengthen.

“We need to go back. The binding grows stronger as night falls. It’s already pulling me back.”

“Why does it get stronger at night?”

“Those who created this prison designed it to be most restrictive when I otherwise would be most capable.”

“That’s … cruel.”

I don’t respond to that. Her sympathy, genuine or not, serves no practical purpose.

As evening deepens, I show her how the binding changes, moving to the edges whenever it shrinks my boundary, until I’m sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

I nod. “By midnight, I’ll be unable to leave my bed.”

She walks over to me, and extends her hand. “Can we test it again?”

I reach out, even though the movement is difficult. When our fingers touch, it relaxes, though not as completely as it did earlier. I can move my hand, but it takes effort, as though I’m pushing through viscous liquid rather than air.

“Interesting. Your effect is not as strong at night, but still present.”

She sighs. “This is more complicated than I thought.”

“Magic usually is.” I lay down, the pressure forcing me onto my back. “But we’ve learned valuable information today. Tomorrow, we’ll continue.”

She returns to her blankets, her expression thoughtful, while she processes everything she’s learned.

I watch her from across the room, considering my next step.

This first day of testing has exceeded my expectations in ways I couldn’t have predicted.

She’s more powerful than I anticipated, her effect on the binding more profound than seems possible for someone not of this world.

And she’s proving cooperative, not out of naivety, but driven by her own desire to understand and escape. There’s an intelligence in her eyes I find myself respecting despite my best interests being to keep my distance.

Each day with her could bring me closer to freedom.

Each experiment will reveal more about her capabilities, her connection to this tower’s magic, and her potential usefulness to my greater purpose.

Yet something unexpected remains from today’s tests.

The memory of her hand in mine, the first human touch I’ve experienced in years.

The way her presence makes the perpetual silence of this tower less oppressive.

Dangerous thoughts. Distractions I cannot afford.

She believes she’s choosing to help me. She doesn’t realize that she is the key. The impossible, unexpected key that will finally unlock my chains.

What will happen after I’m free is something I choose not to share.