Reality Check

by lani-haluki

Before Owen can escape PTP, Nobody separates Bethany into two halves. The only problem is, all Bethany's memories of book-jumping in the past years are gone. And Owen, still inside PTP, has no idea. Three years later, strange events unfold as Bethany starts reading PTP, where the main character knows her name, and a new student arrives at her school, claiming he's fictional.

68. The Trojan Horse

Young Folks (by Peter Bjorn and John)

"And we don't care about the young folk. Talkin' 'bout the young style. And we don't care about the old folks . . ."

---

Kiel had blindsided the Magister only a few times in his life.

When he thought of the times he'd actually needed to, he made a clear distinction. The time the Magister had almost killed him — trying to take over the nonfictional world in the process — and all the events after. Before that, though, the thought of even lying to the old man used to make Kiel feel uneasy. Even if he'd had to learn to lie at a young age, just for a way to get by when he lived on the streets, a familiar sensation gnawing at his stomach, which meant he'd either have to find scraps in the trash disposals, or he'd have to trick someone into giving him food.

Not that tricking people had ever made him feel good. In reality, it kind of made his stomach hurt. Just like science did, ironically.

The only other time, probably, was when he first became friends with Charm. The Magister had just needed some convincing that not all Quanterians were evil. So upon meeting her, Kiel did the thing that made the most sense to him. The thing that any little kid would do when making their hopefully-future-half-robotic-best-friend. Thinking she could use a friend — and some reassurance as well — he took her back to his tower to meet the person he admired most in the world.

Needless to say, the Magister hadn't been happy. Not the first time meeting Charm, and not the second or the third or the fourth, when Kiel had snuck her into his room through one of the tower's windows. Eventually, something had stuck, and the Magister had allowed them to stay friends . . . only because he'd mentioned things about quests and keys, and how Kiel being Kiel, would need some assistance to handle it all. He'd never been able to tell if the Magister had ever warmed up to Charm (he knew Charm hadn't), but it'd still worked out . . . until it hadn't.

Years ago, the mere thought of betraying the Magister would've left knots in Kiel's stomach. He couldn't do that, not to anyone he loved. But there was the difference here. Kiel didn't care about the Magister, not after all of the stunts he'd pulled, taking Kiel's magic from him and his trust in the process. But as much as he told himself he didn't care for the old man, he still couldn't help but feel somewhat guilty for what he was about to do.

In order for their plan to work, it was necessary that someone distract the Magister, at least long enough for them to grab the crystal ball and leave. And Kiel made the most sense for the job. He didn't deny that. Of all people, the Magister would be most likely to welcome Kiel the most. Certainly not Bethany or Owen, who he'd probably attack on sight. No, it had to be Kiel, but that didn't mean he was happy about it, no matter how good he was at being a distraction. All he could hope for was that the Magister wouldn't suspect anything, because if the time came, Kiel would have no magic to defend himself with.

So there he stood, on the doorstep of the upside-down tower, which hung off the bottom side of a cliff. He'd never entered from the outside before, as normally, he would've just used his teleportation button to get inside. He was lucky Moira had had some rope in her backpack, which she and the others had tied to a nearby tree root, allowing Kiel to shimmy down it to reach the tower's front door. While he was entering through the door, his friends were sneaking in, courtesy of Bethany's amazing powers.

It was better that way, given just how many magical booby traps awaited intruders that tried breaking into the tower. Conveniently, Bethany had an extra page in her pocket, which she'd decided they could use as a way to smuggle her, Owen, and Moira in without being detected. Owen had referred to it as a "Trojan horse", not that Kiel understood what that meant. He knew what horses were, obviously, but was a Trojan? And why did that have anything to do with smuggling his friends in? He let it go for now, deciding he could ask the other boy about it later.

Kiel reached down, making sure the page was still safely in his pants' pocket. He breathed a small sigh of relief when he saw that it was. If the page happened to fly out of his pocket now, it'd have a long fall, as the world below stretched endlessly, with no bottom in sight. Despite his love for all things danger, he had to admit that he was a smidge uneasy standing here. One wrong step, and he could be the one falling endlessly, assuming there really was no bottom. It'd be fun for a while, sure, but Kiel would rather not wait around to find out.

So, before he could back down, he rapped his knuckles against the door. Then a second time, when no one answered for a few seconds. Then, a third. Kiel tapped his feet while he waited, and even started humming a tune under his breath. For a powerful magician who could probably open the door without even touching it, the Magister sure was taking his time. It was then that a new thought occurred to him. What if . . . was it possible the Magister didn't live here anymore? And if so, where did he live? Would that mean—

Right then, the door swung open, and all thoughts of the Magister moving vanished from Kiel's head. His eyes widened at the sight of his former teacher, who looked no different since the day they'd first met. Everything was the same, from the colorful robes to the long, white beard. Kiel wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. Maybe since Kiel had been rewritten, he'd half-expected Nobody to have rewritten the Magister to look different, too.

But the only difference was that the Magister looked a little less old, some of the lines gone from his face. Maybe it was a new facial treatment or something. Either that, or he literally was younger. Probably even healthier than ever. Apparently, the worlds being rewritten had treated him well, and Kiel couldn't have been any less surprised. When you'd worked for Nobody and didn't disappoint him, Kiel guessed you got special treatment.

"My old apprentice? Is that really you?"

"Yeah, it's really me." Kiel tried for a broad smile, the one that he forced sometimes to act more confident than he felt. "Hey, Magi. Long time no see, huh?"

"Less long than you think, with my age," the Magister told him. "I was hoping to see you sometime and well— here you are!"

"Here I am," Kiel said, and not knowing what else to do, he waved his hands out in a ta-da! motion.

His former teacher's expression shifted to delight, his voice filled with emotion. "What a pleasant surprise! It warms my heart to see you, Kiel."

Was that true? He was really glad to see Kiel? The thought seemed laughable, given that the last time they'd actually interacted, the Magister had been trying to kill him. Okay, maybe not kill him, because killing was a strong word. But it'd sure come close to that. Facing him now, Kiel felt his confidence faltering, his insecurities coming out in waves. Even on his toughest days, he was good at feeling confident everywhere else, it seemed. But in front of the Magister, after what'd happened last time . . .

He swallowed hard and bottled every ounce of confidence into a smile.

"It's, uh, good to see you, too!"

The Magister looked him up and down. "Wow, you look — so grown up. And so tall for . . . what, fourteen?"

"Fifteen and a half, actually," Kiel corrected. Not that he knew when he'd turn sixteen, but the distinction was very important. Made him look more impressive and mature.

He stood up straighter, trying hard to remain indifferent, as if the Magister being nice all the sudden didn't have any effect on him. That, and he was trying not to feel offended that the Magister hadn't even known Kiel's exact age. Sure, he didn't have a birthday. He'd just always known how old he was, so at a certain point each year, he declared himself a year older. He would've thought the Magister would be aware of that, despite how long it'd been since they'd seen each other in person.

"Ah." The man's shoulders deflated slightly, like he hadn't expected to be wrong. "Would you like to come in?"

Kiel nodded, and the Magister stepped aside, allowing Kiel to pass through the doorway. It had been a long time since Kiel had been here. Of course, he'd been here during his fear sequence — not that that really counted. And he'd been here before that, too, for the one time he'd needed to steal his book of magic back. But back then, it wasn't like he'd stayed longer than five minutes. Kiel let his gaze travel around the tower, which was just as cozy as he remembered it. He'd missed it here, he realized, and instantly felt a little guilty for feeling that way.

But no, this place meant a lot to him. At least, it used to. And why wouldn't it? Kiel had practically grown up here, so coming back to it was like coming back to an old house, only to find that everything still looked the same. The only distinction was the actual person living inside it, who Kiel definitely hadn't missed. He could miss the old Magister all he wanted, the one who'd given him advice, who'd taught him magic, who'd been there for Kiel when he most needed it. And when Kiel looked at him, he could almost picture he was that same person again, the one he'd been before the Incident With Jonathan Porterhouse And All That, as Kiel had taken to calling it.

He had to remind himself that he wasn't.

"I've been expecting your return for some time now," the Magister said, closing the door behind them.

Kiel swallowed hard. That didn't sound good. "You have?"

"Yes. You see, Nobody promised me that when our world was rewritten—"

"That I wouldn't have magic?" he finished, and found himself checking the Magister's face for any sign of guilt. He'd wanted to continue talking, but knowing better, he held himself back. It wasn't just him who'd lost magic, too. Every person in Magisteria seemed to have more and more trouble casting it, like they were losing touch with it. For someone who seemed to care so much about his own people, the Magister sure had a funny way of showing it.

The Magister, however, looked away. "Ah, well, I'm sorry for that, but Nobody promised the possibility that you would be my apprentice again. It is your choice if you want to relearn magic, of course, but both he and I figured you wouldn't be able to part from it for too long. One way or another, you would've ended up here." He looked at Kiel hopefully. "That is why you're here, right? To become my apprentice again?"

Kiel just stared at him in disbelief. Of all the ways Kiel's life could've been rewritten, being so powerless that he had no choice but to go back to living with the Magister was the worst outcome of all. He'd rather be homeless than that. He'd rather do anything than that.

So this was the reason he hadn't been able to do magic anymore? Because the Magister not only wanted to remain the most powerful magician, but it was also in hopes that Kiel would seek him out again? Disgust flooded him. If he'd ever wanted to be the old man's apprentice again, this wasn't at all the way to do it. Even if the Magister apologized a couple dozen times, even if he still cared . . . Kiel still wouldn't feel the urge to be his apprentice again. Not when he'd tried to kill Kiel and his friends multiple times in the past.

He liked to think of himself as a person who'd never hold grudges. A person who forgave quickly and easily, because what was the point of conflict when it was only making you miserable? Kiel had always believed that, but that didn't mean he could just forget everything bad that'd happened and move on. The Magister just . . . wasn't family anymore. There were a few other people who'd become that for him, instead. Namely people who actually loved him, a friend group of nonfictionals and fictionals and (he could only guess) half-fictionals alike.

When it came to the Magister, he'd need a lot more convincing to prove that the wizard wasn't evil anymore, if the being-his-apprentice-again had ever been something Kiel would actually consider. For starters, he'd worked with Nobody, which was more telling than anything else. So as much as he hoped his former teacher had changed, hoped there had been some good left in him, he didn't see any of that here. No matter how much he wanted to.

For the sake of the distraction, though, Kiel quickly nodded. "Oh, uh, yes! Yes, I was considering learning magic again. But I think I might be too old to be an apprentice now, don't you think?"

The Magister shook his head. "Nonsense. I've had plenty of apprentices much older than you." He smiled faintly. "Some a few hundred years older than you, to say the least." He walked ahead of Kiel, waving a hand for him to follow. "Now come. Let's head over to my study."

Kiel waited a moment, long enough to put some distance between him and his former teacher. After making sure the Magister wasn't looking, Kiel quickly slipped the paper out of his pocket, dropping it to the ground in what he hoped was a discreet way. Then, he kicked it down the nearest hallway, just far enough that if his friends jumped out, they'd have enough time to make sure the Magister didn't see them.

As if on cue, a person's head slowly pushed out of the page, revealing Bethany's freckled face. The sight of her gave him a little thrill— as well as some comfort, since just being around the Magister made Kiel feel like he was walking on eggshells. He wouldn't admit that to anyone, though. Across the room, their eyes locked, and he felt some of the tension fade from his shoulders. It was a good thing she'd poked her head out now, because if it'd been any earlier, the Magister would've noticed. Then, getting the crystal ball would've been lot tougher— and a lot more interesting.

"Are we clear?" Bethany whispered. Kiel shot her a thumbs up. She exhaled in relief, her face brightening, and his heart drummed faster in his chest. He didn't know why. Probably just because he was becoming nervous, being around the Magister and all (and feeling ashamed of being nervous, which was why he hadn't even bothered admitting it to his friends).

"Kiel?" the Magister called from down the hall. "Are you coming?"

Eyes widening, Kiel glanced at Bethany one last time before hurrying to catch up with the Magister. "Uh, yes! Just wanted to see if anything's changed since the last time I was here."

"Not much, in fact," the Magister said as they began climbing the stairs. A glimmer was in his eyes, and to Kiel's discomfort, he reached out and squeezed the boy's shoulder. "I'm very glad you've started to put our differences behind us. This is the purpose of the rewritten worlds. To start anew, and forgive each other for any wrongdoings in the past. I am a better person now that those nonfictional authors have no influence over us, I can promise you that. What I did, what I tried to do back in the other world . . . you know that wasn't the real me."

Kiel nodded slowly, not trusting himself to say the right thing. He didn't like the tone the Magister had said "nonfictional" in, as if it had the same meaning as garbage, or dirt, or a piece of gum beneath someone's shoe. As much as he'd wanted to, he didn't think he could forgive the Magister just like that, not when he'd completely betrayed Kiel's trust, trying to kill him over something that barely made a difference. But it was true that people could become better. Maybe the Magister was trying to change? That could be good, right?

Finally, he said, "I definitely support changing for the better, but you know that . . ." He hesitated, testing his luck. "You know that Jonathan Porterhouse—"

At the mention of the author's name, the Magister's face darkened. "Don't talk about him in front of me!"

Here we go. Kiel sighed. "I'm trying to say that just because Jon—you know who doesn't, ah, control you anymore, doesn't mean you couldn't have just become a better person even before the worlds were rewritten. Developing yourself takes a lot of work. Actual work! It's not as easy as just waking up one day as a whole new person."

"That's the difference, my boy. I know you and your friends have been . . . hesitant to embrace Nobody's ways. However, there is much he can teach us. He showed me how to change, to fix any lasting damage that author might have caused." He'd spat out the word 'author'. "All it took was rewriting myself, changing into the human being I'd always wished to be. Once you master rewriting yourself, you can be any type of person you want in an instant. You could snap your fingers and become any form you choose.

"I'd rather just be me," Kiel told him with a shrug, even more uncomfortable at the confirmation that the Magister had embraced Nobody's teachings. "But doesn't that kind of seem too easy, to be able to rewrite yourself as many times as you want? No one's ever been able to do that before— besides No-Face. Seems too simple, if you ask me!"

He noticed the Magister didn't comment on the other things he'd said about rewriting. He didn't like this at all— just being able to change yourself like that. It'd taken months for Kiel to change, to grow, to learn who he was as a person instead of just a heroic, talented, effortlessly-handsome kid who could do magic. Relearning magic had been part of that process, and it'd been slow, having the ability to become amazing at it again. If growth could just be done in an instant — by just rewriting yourself within a second — how could you ever feel proud of yourself?

Kiel mulled over what his old teacher had said. He hadn't lied— he didn't want to ever be anyone else other than himself. And maybe that was his natural confidence talking, or his ego, because he'd always loved being Kiel Gnomenfoot. He didn't care that some author had created him, and it was nice to know people read about him. Already, the worlds were suffering from being rewritten, by merging together, or whatever theory Owen had created.

But on top of that, if people really could rewrite themselves into absolutely anything, it seemed to him that they'd lose themselves entirely. Maybe they'd even forget who they were originally, because they'd changed themselves so often that their original story had no meaning to them anymore. But to him— his story had so much meaning. Nobody had changed that— twisted it around so Kiel was no longer important. As much as the Magister claimed they had free will now that the nonfictional world was officially separated from their's, they really didn't.

The stairs, by any means, hadn't been something Kiel had missed. Previously, he could've just teleported or used magic to reach the study at the top of the tower, but because he couldn't, he had to walk the entire way. They went up, up, up, moving further from Kiel's friends and closer to the top. It took far longer than Kiel realized, and for some reason, the Magister didn't offer to just magic them up there. Apparently he'd rather walk with Kiel, taking the scenic route.

Luckily, since Kiel was naturally impressive at any athletic activities, climbing up the stairs wasn't as tiring as it could've been. He'd started to count the number of floors out of habit, reaching around the number eleven before they finally reached the enormous wooden door at the very top of the tower. Although he knew from experience that the tower had even more floors than this, as there were about a dozen more floors leading down from where they'd started, before finally reaching the bottom where the dungeons were.

The same dungeons that Kiel might very well end up in, if his former teacher figured out what he was really here for. And as much as he wanted to say he could defend himself, he really couldn't, aside from his basic fighting skills that didn't involve magic, like punching and kicking, which wouldn't get him too far. Without magic, he felt exposed and vulnerable, two things that Kiel really disliked feeling. The Magister had the upper hand with his magic, and Kiel only hoped he could avoid a fight.

The more time Kiel spent here, the more he found himself wishing he hadn't agreed to the learning magic thing at all, had instead pulled a prank— one that kept the Magister distracted long enough for them to get the crystal ball. At least that way, he'd be having way more fun. All he wanted to do now was change the Magister's narrow opinion about the nonfictionals — after all, one of his very best friends was fully nonfictional, and the other was half, so he was already sick of hearing so much prejudice against them.

But since it was far too late to make up a prank on a whim, he settled for the plan he'd stuck to.

Kiel's knees wobbled slightly as they walked up to the closed door of the study, slightly worn out from all the climbing. The Magister, who'd just been hovering slightly in the air (probably to avoid physically climbing up the stairs) touched his feet gently down to the floor, where he walked the rest of the way to stand in front of the door. He lifted a hand, and Kiel expected him to reach out, turning the doorknob. Instead, the Magister waved his hand, and the door swung open by itself.

Then, they were standing side-by-side in front of the study, and Kiel stopped looking at the Magister completely.

It was exactly how he remembered it, as if all the magic in the world were bottled up into one place. Which now, seeing the state of how well magic was working here, it was. All over the room, objects seemed to move and shift as if they had a mind of their own. A broom swept across Kiel's bare feet, gathering up dust into piles, where a dustpan would quickly collect it. A pot of something bubbled over the fire in the fireplace, filling the tower with an aroma that made Kiel's stomach rumble. Whether it was a potion or soup, though, he really couldn't tell.

The comfy chairs and rugs were still in their usual spots, and Kiel could recall sitting there so many times, whether it was to study magic or more often— to take breaks. Every wall had bookcases, which overflowed with books of spells, potion recipes, and a million other things that Kiel had seen accumulate over the years. Not that he'd read all of them of course, because 1) for a while, he hadn't known how to read, and 2) who had time to read that many books when there were way better things to do, like going on dangerously exciting adventures?

As he stepped inside, his eyes fell on a dark shape on the ground. And then the shape moved, and Kiel gasped as a head lifted to face him. To his surprise, he even recognized it. The animal sitting in front of him could've passed for a regular cat, if not for the wings folded at his sides. Unless the Magister had somehow managed to find a new cat, this had to be Alphonse. The only difference was that the cat was bigger— much bigger— than the last time Kiel had seen him. Nearly as big as a baby dragon.

Apparently the Magister had taken the cat back when the worlds were rewritten, which was a little annoying, but Kiel didn't dwell too much on it. Before he even knew he was doing it, he brought his legs forward, crossing the space between him and Alphonse. Unlike with the Magister, Kiel only felt excitement upon seeing his cat. Once he got close enough, he bent down, prepared to pet him. Instead, the cat leapt to his feet with a sharp hiss, as if Kiel's presence had offended him somehow.

Uh. That was new, among other things.

Usually by now, the cat would've flown up to sit on Kiel's shoulder, licking the side of his face with a texture resembling sandpaper. Or at least, he would've accepted pets. Even ignoring him was more in character than however Alphonse was acting now, and that was saying something. Sure, the cat had hissed before— sometimes at the Magister or Charm, but never at Kiel, who was hands-down his favorite human in the world. And who could blame him? Kiel was amazing!

An expert by now at appearing unfazed (or so he liked to think), Kiel grinned uneasily. "Alphonse, buddy! I know stuff's been rewritten, but you remember me, don't you?"

Alphonse just stared at him, though the fact that he hadn't stopped hissing didn't make Kiel feel much better. He was probably only acting this way because the Magister was using him, making him act as a guard-dog. Or guard . . . cat-dragon? Kiel had never heard that iteration, but there was a first for everything. Seeing as his pet wasn't about to tackle him to the ground or keep him from moving, Kiel turned back around to face his former teacher. A hiss broke through the silence from just behind him, much louder than before. He tried to ignore it.

"Okay, I guess he doesn't," Kiel muttered to himself, hoping his friends would find the crystal ball soon, just so he wouldn't have to be around the Magister much longer. He wiped his clammy hands on his pants, not liking how stiff his movements felt— so unlike him. "So, should we get started?"

Then, a look of alarm crossed the Magister's face. But before Kiel could figure out why, his entire body burst into flames.

If recounting a situation like this, Kiel would've bragged to you how he'd handled it very calmly, easily taking out the flames without an ounce of fear in his body. Like it was something he did casually every day. Unfortunately, his first reaction was to scream in surprise, almost tripping over his own feet in the process. The flames licked at his clothes, and he could already smell something burning, which was coming suspiciously from the top of his head. In the midst of his panic, Kiel spotted Alphonse, who was shrinking away, an almost guilty look on his face.

"Why did he do that?!" Kiel shouted, barely able to think as he slapped his burning clothes, desperately trying to put out the flames.

He could feel the heat against his skin, uncomfortably close. What was going on? In spite of his terror, he couldn't help but feel more offended than anything else. Why had Alphonse done that? His own cat, who Kiel had loved and looked after for years. Of course, the cat had accidentally set small, harmless fires to objects in the tower before, but he'd never attacked Kiel!

And most importantly, since when had he been able to start fires that big? And why did he have to do that when Kiel didn't have magic?

The Magister clapped his hands, and all of the sudden, a cluster of dark clouds appeared right over Kiel's head, instantly releasing buckets of rain and dousing the flames. As soon as the fire was out, the clouds disappeared, leaving Kiel standing there, his clothes completely soaked through. Shivering from the sudden change in his body's temperature, he patted himself down just in case, making sure all the flames were out. Luckily, they were. He let out a relieved breath, still not able to believe the turn of events. What had just happened?

The Magister was staring at him with an unreadable expression. When he spoke, his voice was far too calm. "Sorry that happened, my boy."

"Oh, it's okay," Kiel replied through chattering teeth, really wishing he had his magic now, at least just to dry himself off. "I'm sure he meant that in the nicest way possible!"

Not likely, but it didn't hurt to try seeing the good in this, if there even was some good.

"As much as I want to fuel your optimism, I'll have to disagree. You see, I asked him to do that, in case you weren't being truthful to me," his former teacher said quietly, causing Kiel's eyes to snap to him in shock.

And worse, Kiel's first reaction was to laugh. Only for it to slowly trail off as he noticed the Magister's dead-serious expression. "Oh, you're serious . . ."

"Yes, I am serious. So you don't need to keep up this act anymore."

His whole body went cold, and this time, not just from the rain. "But I—"

The Magister held up a hand, cutting Kiel off. "It may have been a few years since we last saw eye to eye, but I can still tell when you're lying." He stepped closer to Kiel, his face clouding over with irritation. "I raised you, remember? Or have you forgotten?"

"I — I haven't forgotten."

"It seems you have! I turned you into a hero, I turned you into everything you are. I'm the reason you're even standing here today— without me, you'd likely be in an orphanage!"

"But I'm not a real orphan—" Kiel started to say, thinking he should correct the man, but the Magister interrupted him.

"The point still stands, my boy. You had no home, no real parents, so I provided for you. I've done so much for you, and yet . . . it seems you think you can trick me." His mouth quivered. "Do you know how hurtful that is? To have you come here and lie to me?"

This was all becoming too much. Kiel closed his eyes, conflicted emotions building up inside him. He took a deep breath and let it out, his eyes fluttering back open. "I didn't come here to hurt your feelings. And I'm not lying to you, I really am here to learn magic."

"I know you are not really here to learn magic." The Magister sighed, his expression softening the slightest bit. "But you know you can tell me anything. I'm sorry to think you find it necessary to lie to me. But you don't need to. Just remember, I am very proud of you. I will always want what's best for you— I'm not going to judge you, no matter what the truth is. So tell me, what is the real meaning of this visit?"

For a brief moment, Kiel found himself falling into the trap, not even realizing it was a trap at all. The Magister's words were so reassuring, so kind, and he realized he'd been craving that, almost, after suddenly not having a father figure in his life anymore. He wanted to talk to him again, like old times, to open up and trust him, because it sounded like he was trying. But it also occurred to him— with a sinking feeling— that the Magister wanted information from him. Information that he could certainly not know.

Unless there was a way Kiel could ask about the crystal ball casually? But he was afraid to, afraid that if he did, he might reveal that his friends were searching for it downstairs. And that wasn't the plan. He wouldn't tell on them, not even if the Magister seemed so understanding and different, like his old self. But he wasn't his old self, and maybe . . . maybe he still cared about Kiel, but he certainly wouldn't care for Kiel's friends. He couldn't let them get hurt. He'd die before letting anyone hurt them.

And maybe the Magister was only saying those things because he wanted Kiel to tell him the truth. Not because he meant it.

So Kiel wasn't falling for it, just in case it was all a setup. He wouldn't.

"I'm not repeating myself," he said firmly. "I didn't lie. I'm here to learn magic."

---

After poking her head out of the page for a few seconds, Bethany ducked back in, turning to face Owen and Moira. "The hallway's empty. Let's go!"

"Tell me again how you're able to do this?" Moira said, as she and Owen slipped their hands in Bethany's.

"I'm half-fictional, so I can jump into any book," Bethany explained with a shrug. "It's a family thing."

Her hand trembled ever so slightly in Owen's— though he couldn't tell if it was just a combination of his hand shaking, too. The closer they'd gotten to the Magister's tower, the more nervous Owen felt. What if the Magister knew they were sneaking in, somehow? He could sense that with his magic, couldn't he? Maybe, maybe not! At least with the Magister being distracted, there was less of a chance of that happening.

While Kiel kept the Magister busy, the rest of them would find the crystal ball, jump back in the page, and the Magister would've never suspected a thing. The plan was good, Owen was just afraid that somehow, he'd find a way to mess things up. Because it was rare that he didn't, and there probably was a bank holiday in celebration of that. Owen Conners Makes An Error In His Plans Day, it'd be called. On a good note, kids wouldn't have to go to school that day, and any escape from school was a cause for celebration.

As Owen began marveling over having his own holiday, it suddenly occurred to him that his friends had still been talking, and he'd zoned out accidentally.

"And you can jump into anything?" Moira was saying, and her eyes widened. "If you turn a book about gold upside down, will all the gold fall out?"

"No. It doesn't work that way."

"Well, it should."

The redheaded girl chuckled. "It definitely shouldn't."

"Video games are fictional." Moira's eyes widened. "Can you jump into those, too?"

"Hey!" With a gasp, Owen leaned around Bethany to look at Moira. "That's what I asked!"

Bethany glared at them. "Don't even think about that, either of you. Now, are we ready?"

"Ready," they echoed.

Moira eyed the ceiling with excitement, as if she could see the pages from above their heads. But it didn't work that way, with the ceiling just being a plain white, as was everything else inside the blank sheet of paper. The only objects in here had been some of the supplies Bethany had brought to fight Nobody earlier, but most of what was left wasn't very helpful. Owen remembered her pulling out a lot from her page during their fight, he just hadn't realized they'd barely had anything left.

Of course, there were the flash-bangs, a pair of completely normal goggles, and gloves that were supposed to shoot lasers from the tips. But testing them out, they'd found that the lasers only went so far, only reaching about five feet maximum. A pretty lame gadget if you asked Owen, who marveled over the idea of having any gadgets. But still, since some of it might be helpful, Bethany and Owen had each taken one of the gloves and flash-bangs, giving the remaining flash-bang to Moira (which, the more Owen thought about it, was probably not the safest thing to put in her hands).

Not that they had a choice. If they wanted their plan to work, that is.

Once all their gadgets were secure, Bethany leapt up, sending them sailing through the page and landing back on the solid floor of the Magister's tower. Dropping Bethany's hand, Owen took a moment to look around. They'd emerged in the middle of a hallway, which led to the tower's front entrance one way, while the other way seemed to meander. It probably led to the stairs that winded up and down, which in turn, led to other various hallways and rooms, hidden mysteries awaiting inside each one.

If it was anywhere, Owen assumed the Magister would keep the crystal ball in his study, where he kept all his other magical collections. But on the other hand, that might seem too obvious, especially if he wanted to keep something like that hidden. So really, it could be anywhere in the tower. And that meant they'd have to split up to look for it, which didn't sit right with Owen. Not when every time he'd split up with his friends, something bad happened . . . literally every time.

"Kiel went that way," Bethany whispered, pointing in the direction of the stairs. "They're going up to his study."

Whew. So far, so good.

"Okay, so we should go the opposite way," Owen said quietly, earning a confused look from his best friend. He quickly explained, "'Cause if we go the way Kiel went, we'll just end up back at the Magister's study, and he'll see us."

She glanced back at him, nervousness painted all across her face. "Someone should still go by the study. What if it's up there?"

"No, remember the plan? Going too close to the Magister just isn't a good idea. We'll look everywhere else first, and if it's in the Magister's study, Kiel will see it. Then he'll get it somehow! I know he will."

Having read his series, Owen had always had a high belief in Kiel's abilities, because he always succeeded. And it wasn't just from reading about him, it was being his friend, getting to see him in action. Really, what couldn't he do? Nothing seemed to ever be impossible for him. Even if he was in a bad situation — which happened often — things always worked out for Kiel, because he had a knack for turning the worst situations into the best ones. So if he saw the crystal ball, he'd find a way to get it. Just like he did for everything else that came his way.

Bethany gave him a disbelieving look. "Really? With the Magister watching him the whole time? He doesn't even have magic to . . ."

She trailed off as snippets of conversation cut through the silence from somewhere above them, and Owen could make out the echoing voices of Kiel and the Magister, almost sounding like they were . . . shouting? A small ounce of panic flared up within Owen, but a moment later, the shouting died down, probably speaking in normal tones again. He let out a breath and wondered if Bethany was right, if maybe someone should go close to the study, at least to check and see how their friend was doing. Hang in there, Kiel.

"We should hurry," Owen whispered. The others nodded.

"Okay guys, these kind of things are always locked in a safe," Moira told them, lifting her hands to adjust her beanie. "Or a display case, with bulletproof glass. Breaking into those is fun."

"We won't need to do that," Owen said quickly. "There aren't bulletproof cases here— or even bullets!"

"Doesn't Quanterium have them?" Bethany asked.

"Oh yeah, they have lasers," Owen corrected. "Charm said so herself, regular guns are just toys to them! And so is, um, everything else we have in our world." Heat rose to his cheeks at the memory, of how unimpressed Charm had been towards the real world. He brushed off the memory, focusing on Moira. "Then, okay, maybe laserproof glass." He paused. "Is that a word? Laserproof?"

"Anything can be a word!" Moira encouraged. "So yes, it's a word now."

"Owen's right, though," Bethany said. "It probably won't be in a case. Knowing the Magister, he probably stuck it somewhere out in the open just to taunt us." She scowled.

The other girl tilted her head. "Wouldn't that make stealing it even easier, then?"

Bethany's eyes widened slightly. "Yeah, it looks that way. And then when we go to grab it, he'll attack us or trap us somewhere." The idea seemed to annoy her more than it seemed to worry her. Although, Owen figured, he knew his best friend, and she was already plenty worried about getting caught.

At her words, his stomach dropped. "At least we can take the attacking part out— Kiel will be too good at distracting him to let him get away."

Bethany shrugged. "My money's still on the attacking route."

Moira's eyes gleamed. "And my money's waiting for us back at that cave, so let's get to work. No more standing around, my fellow comrades!"

She moved silently towards the stairs, and Owen's gaze found Bethany's, who seemed unable to stop herself from sighing. He flashed her an apologetic look back. After all, it was his fault he'd promised Moira all that gold, and she must've mentioned it countless times since then. Enough to rub it in Bethany's face that he'd broken one of her rules just by doing it, but then again, her rules didn't seem to hold so much importance anymore, anyway. Not when Bethany had broken basically all of them.

In the end, none of them followed where Kiel had vanished to, instead deciding to go down the stairs and split up to different floors from there. They planned to search everywhere, of course, so at some point one of them would end up near the Magister's study. For now, as much as Owen wanted to check on Kiel, he felt better putting some distance between him and the Magister. The only thing that didn't make him feel good was wandering around the old magician's tower alone, Bethany and Moira having disappeared several minutes ago onto one of the other floors.

Even now, while trying to sneak around, Owen couldn't help but marvel how cool the inside of the tower looked. He'd been here only a couple times since his first visit, and back then, he and Bethany hadn't stayed very long, only staying in the Magister's study, where the spell book was. The other times had been when Owen was pretending to be Kiel, but even then, he hadn't actually had time to explore the tower very much. Since then, he hadn't been back. Mainly because Kiel's former teacher was very evil, and neither Owen nor his friends wanted to face him again if it wasn't necessary.

His knowledge from the Kiel Gnomenfoot books helped, at least to give him an idea of where each room was and what to expect. Each room he passed (there were hundreds), he stopped to look for the crystal ball. Most rooms were filled with magical experiments or weird time changes where everything happened backward, and maybe the worst of all was the room of ten thousand smells, which Owen hoped he wouldn't have to explore.

While he had a pretty good idea of what might await him within the rooms, some he hadn't been expecting, like the room full of a dozen floating mirrors, or the room that strangely resembled an art museum— only, all of the paintings were of the original magicians of Magisteria, along with plaques that mentioned Atlantis being destroyed. Like that made any sense. Atlantis was from Owen's world— it couldn't have ever been a real place here!

Just from seeing that, Owen had been tempted to stay, wanting to read more about Magisteria's history and why Atlantis had been mentioned underneath the magicians' plaques. But after looking around, he didn't see any other information on it, so he left the room to keep looking for the crystal ball. He wracked his brain, trying to remember if he'd heard of the museum room before from reading the series, but he hadn't. It hadn't even been mentioned. And if that hadn't been mentioned, there were probably a ton more secret rooms that he'd never heard about.

And that meant his knowledge would only get him so far, because at this point, it was better to expect the unexpected when it came to exploring each room.

After searching the floor and finding no signs of the crystal ball, Owen gave up, heading back to the stairs to search on another floor. His friends were probably still looking on the two floors below Owen, so he went three floors down, his hand sliding along the railing as he flew down the spiral staircase. He stepped out into an empty hallway, which had the illusion of stretching on forever, dozens upon dozens of closed doors on each side of the wall. Luckily, the actual amount of rooms in the hallway was way less than it seemed.

Picking the first room to the left, he turned the knob, tentatively poking his head inside in case something dangerous awaited him on the other side. But he barely got time to look, because all of the sudden, a hand clamped down on his shoulder. "Hey—"

"GAH!" Startled, Owen lost his footing, his body colliding with the half-open door as he tripped. His heart felt like it'd jumped out of his chest, and he'd already been on-edge from sneaking around in the tower. Still wedged in the doorway, Owen whirled around unsteadily, turning to the source of his almost-heart attack.

Oh, he should've known. Moira was standing there, not even seeming to care that she'd scared Owen half to death. "Jeez, no reason to freak out, SP."

"MoiraWhatAreYouDoingHere?!" Owen asked the question so fast that the words ran together. His heart was still going a mile a minute. "We're supposed to be looking for the crystal ball!"

"Uh-huh, that is what I'm doing! I didn't think you were on this floor, so I started to search it. We didn't actually assign each other to floors, you know?"

Huh. He hadn't realized that. Owen shifted awkwardly, catching his breath. "I . . . I guess so."

"Hmm. Now that I'm here, it might be better if we both search this floor. Like, you take one side, I'll take the other. We'll move quicker that way."

Owen closed his eyes, and for a moment, he let himself imagine it was Kara Dox standing next to him instead of Moira. She's not wrong, Kara said in his imagination. You should both tackle this hallway. Or, of course, you could use your time powers and freeze time to look for it. Then you'd move really quick. Faster than the speed of sound quick.

Uh, not really! Owen thought back. My time powers were great, but even after using them for like, ten minutes, they would tire me out.

Eh, who cares? What's the harm in a little exhaustion? She paused, her blue eyes gleaming. Well, the only other harm would be getting arrested by the time police for freezing time, but prison's not so bad, either!

You can get thrown into prison for freezing time?

Not just prison, the Kara in his imagination said. They'd throw you to the dinosaurs, too. For breakfast. Unfortunately, you have to respect the rules of the food chain. It's the most important meal of the day for dinosaurs too, not just us.

Wait, seriously? They'd really do that to me for freezing time? (Not that he hadn't almost gotten eaten by dinosaurs enough time, but that hadn't actually been because the TSA ordered them to.) I guess it's good I didn't use my time powers the second time I visited your world, or—

Kara's grin gave her away, and she shoved her shoulder into his, just like she usually did. I'm just messing with you, Owen Conners. Even if that was a thing, I would never let anyone eat you for breakfast. You're too good for them.

Oh, um, thanks. Blushing, he gave her a wide smile. Hey, while you're in my imagination and all, I'm sorry this happened to you. I'm just trying to fix things and I don't really know if I'm doing anything right—"

Hey, don't beat yourself up, Owen. You'll get there. As a wise, dorky boy my age once told me: with great power comes great responsibility.

Owen felt a strange calmness wash over him. He found himself smiling. You remembered.

From the Spider-Man comics! they said together.

"I miss you," Owen whispered out-loud, watching her fade out.

Not that she'd ever been there to begin with, but just imagining her being there had brought him a huge feeling of comfort. Next time he talked to her, there was so much he wanted to say. He'd imagined what he might say a great deal, but he knew, maybe better than anyone, that imagining conversations was so different than how they actually happened. Nine times out of ten, his real-life conversations came out sounding much more uncertain and awkward than they did in his head.

"Aww, Sad Panda!" Moira exclaimed, though she sounded understandably confused. "You do?"

Owen's eyes flew open again. Feeling heat rise to his cheeks, he quickly stammered, "Sorry, I was, um, thinking of someone else." He pointed a thumb at the closed door behind him, the one that he'd tried to get into, before Moira had rudely jumpscared him. "I'll start here. To search."

"Okay, meet me back at the stairs over there. And no lingering around, Sad Panda!" She snapped her fingers at him. "We have to move fast, like ninjas." With that, she disappeared into the room across the hall, leaving Owen no choice but to turn around and enter the room behind him, walking in with more caution than she had. His face was still burning.

The room he'd walked into didn't seem like a room at all, at first, because there was nothing inside. Absolutely nothing. Looking up, he realized the ceiling must've been enchanted, because it seemed to stretch on forever, never ending. Both the walls and the floor had the same effect, as there seemed to be nothing solid holding them up, except for the clouds at the bottom of Owen's feet— which when he touched them, he felt nothing, like they weren't even there to begin with.

The familiarity of the room caused a lump to rise in Owen's throat. Although Nobody's prison hadn't had any fake clouds for a floor, this place still reminded him a lot of it. The only other difference was that there was still an exit and— wait, there was still an exit, right? A wave of panic rushed through Owen, and he spun on his heels, feeling almost nauseous as he looked for the door. Sure enough, the door was still right behind him, seemingly standing up all by itself. He let out a sigh of relief. Thank god.

Apparently, all of the times being trapped in seemingly endless white voids had gotten to Owen. At least if he wanted to, though, he could just leave. His panic slowly dissipating, he focused on something else. What was the purpose of this room, aside from there just being . . . nothing? Sure, there were a lot of rooms he'd passed by already that didn't seem to actually serve a purpose, other than having some magical experiments that the Magister must've wanted to keep locked away.

But this room didn't seem to have anything special to it, aside from seemingly going on forever.

He hesitated for a moment, and then shouted, "Hello?"

A wake of "hello's" echoed across the void, growing quieter with each passing second. No one responded, so that at least meant he was probably alone in here. Even so, he half-expected someone to tap him on the shoulder, and he'd whirl around to see Nobody as his usual faceless self. Every time Owen had been anywhere like this, it'd usually been because of Nobody. Thankfully, he was very much back in the real world right now, locked up in jail and unable to rewrite himself.

Owen glanced around the room, wondering how he'd even begin searching in here. It suddenly made sense just to turn back around and go to the next room, since there didn't seem to be much of anything in this one. Unless . . . unless that part was an illusion. Like a trick to fool people into thinking there wasn't anything at all in here, when really, there was. Maybe the room only appeared empty. Maybe there was a spell or something that cast all objects invisible— if there were any objects at all. And if there were, wouldn't a place like this seem like the best hiding spot for a crystal ball?

That'd be nice if it just appeared right in front of me, Owen thought. Barely a second had passed before something did appear right in front of him, something he nearly tripped over. He gasped. The space in front of him was no longer blank. Right at Owen's feet sat a crystal ball, not a moment too soon. His surprise turned into disbelief, and then to joy. It was here? This whole time, it was here, and all Owen had to do was wish it was right in front of him?

A grin exploded on his face. Now that he had it, he needed to grab it and run. It wouldn't be long before the Magister found out it was missing, so Owen would have to quickly find Bethany and Moira so they could get out of here. Once they'd gotten safely back in the page, Bethany said she would dog-ear it, to give Kiel a signal that he should leave, since they couldn't actually go up and tell him. It was the only time where Owen would accept dog-earring— and it was just a sheet of blank paper, so it wasn't as bad. But if it was a book she was dog-earring? He shuddered at the thought.

As he looked down at the crystal ball, Owen felt pride swelling up inside him. He couldn't wait to see the look on his friends faces, because he had found the crystal ball first. He'd done it.

"That was easy!" Owen said to himself, then reached down to grab it . . . only to watch in dismay as his hands passed right through, as if the crystal ball was a hologram. "Huh?"

He tried again. And again. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't pick it up. Couldn't even touch it. His hands just kept going through the crystal ball, passing through it like it was made up of air. After a while, Owen stepped back, giving up. Okay, so there were one of two options. Either Owen had somehow become a ghost, or the crystal ball wasn't actually physically here. Well, he could take out the first option, which just couldn't be possible. He was pretty sure he'd remember if he'd become a ghost. Right?

Another idea formed in Owen's brain. Maybe the crystal ball wasn't even real— it could just be a figment of Owen's imagination, coming to life as he thought about it. Maybe. He needed to be sure, even though he really hoped that was the real thing sitting before him. But with it just appearing there, and not even being able to touch it . . . it seemed too easy. The only way to test it out, Owen decided, was to imagine other objects there in the room with him, and then see if those appeared just as the crystal ball had. Then, he guessed, he'd have his answer.

"Okay," Owen whispered to himself. "Here goes nothing."

He closed his eyes.

I wish for a talking Spike to appear.

"Hello, Owen!" a voice greeted, and Owen opened his eyes to see none other than Spike — his Spike — staring up at him. Talking. His mouth fell open, his eyes bugging out of his head. But it wasn't only because of that. The cat's face was almost cartoon-like, and he was a much smaller version of himself, so small that he could've barely been larger than Owen's thumb. He fell to his knees, leaning over to peer at the fake Spike. At this size, he was ten times more adorable than he'd ever been.

Owen stared. "Whoa!" He awkwardly waved, a smile lighting up his face. "Um, hi, Spike!"

"Whoa! Um, hi, Spike!" the cat echoed, repeating everything Owen had been saying and doing— even waving his paw after he said whoa.

Owen had always dreamed of what it'd be like if his pets could talk, but he had to say, this was getting a little weird. Owen reached out and pinched himself as hard as he could, then winced as pain spread up his arm. So this was real. He carefully reached over, and, using his fingertip, tried to pet the miniature cat. Just like with the crystal ball, he couldn't touch it— his fingertip passed right through, like Spike had never been there at all.

"Why are you so tiny?" Owen wondered out-loud.

"Why are you so tiny?"

He sighed, the excitement starting to wear off. "Okay, stop. That's getting kind of annoying."

"Okay, stop. That's getting kind of annoying."

Owen frowned, and he could've sworn he saw the cat frown right back. So everything he said, Spike was going to repeat. So much for animals being able to talk— it wasnt nearly as cool when he just repeated everything Owen was saying. But there was another weird thing about it, something he couldn't shake. Why was Spike so tiny and cartoony? He'd just asked to see a talking Spike. It wasn't like he'd asked to see a miniature, cartoonish version of Spike.

Maybe it'd work better if he imagined the regular Spike in his head? Yeah, Owen decided, that sounded good. He closed his eyes again, wishing for another talking Spike to appear. But this time, he pictured Spike in his mind. The Spike he was used to, with completely black fur, other than some white at the front. The Spike that was fictional, that used to be Fowen's cat, but hadn't known the difference between either of the boys when Owen had taken him instead.

Except he couldn't. Nothing was coming to him. The image of Spike he might usually be able to see in his mind was gone. So he tried thinking of memories. He imagined Spike curled up on Owen's chest, as he often did while he was sleeping. He imagined scratching the cat behind the ears, and the purring noise Spike always made, because that was his favorite place to be scratched. But he could only think of it just as they were— memories. For some reason, he couldn't picture any of it in his head. It was like his brain wasn't working, but that was impossible, right?

Owen made a frustrated noise. What was wrong with him? Why was it so difficult to imagine something simple? He remembered exactly what Spike looked like, and how he acted, and the memories they'd shared together. He remembered how it felt to pet Spike's fur, and the way his fur sometimes got all over Owen's clothes, making him sneeze. Imagining Spike should be easy. It should be. So why couldn't he do it? Had he really been gone from home so long that he was unable to imagine his own cat?

He had been able to imagine an entire conversation with Kara pretty easily, but then again, he'd seen her sooner than he'd seen Spike. He tried picturing her in his mind again, like he had before, and it was somehow much harder than it had been earlier. He should be able to imagine her face, the sound of her voice, her pink hair . . . and as soon as he got a grasp of it, an image of her, it faded away. Owen only felt more confused, so he went back to imagining Spike, which was working just as badly as before.

He let his eyes flutter open again, just to check if a new Spike had appeared. To check if maybe, he was overreacting, because of course he'd been able to conjure up a realistic-looking Spike. But it was the same tiny, cartoon version of Spike from before, staring up at him silently. Owen groaned. This wasn't working. Maybe he should imagine something else in the room with him? Something easier? He wasn't sure what could be easier than Spike, but maybe he needed to try with something inanimate.

So he chose the simplest object he could think of. A wooden chair, with colorful cushions attached to the back and bottom. The same type that clustered around tables at his library, so he had no trouble imagining it, because he'd seen it a million times. He'd even sat in them a million times. If there was anything he'd have the least trouble imagining, it was his library. He could just imagine his entire library instead of one chair, but he had to admit— that was probably pushing it.

I wish for a chair like the one at my mom's library, Owen thought. Instantly, a chair appeared, but nothing like what he'd been hoping for. It looked more like a lazy sketch of a chair, like something a kid might doodle. And a sticky note was pasted to it, displaying the word 'library'. He let out a sigh. "Seriously?"

Crossing his fingers, he closed his eyes again and imagined the exact chair he wanted, repeating the wish in his mind. He'd been able to catch glimpses of images before, but here, there was nothing at all. He couldn't imagine the color, or the design of the wood, or even the shape. And he felt his questions and worries slipping somewhere else, in the back of his mind, as more logical, factual thoughts came to mind. Right before it did, a horrifying realization dawned on him.

That maybe this was all on purpose. Maybe whatever had been happening to him within the past two days meant something. At random points in the day, his questions and fears would just slip away, and he wouldn't wonder about anything. He'd look at life like it was one giant puzzle, meant to be solved with facts and things that were physical, things that made sense.

During those times, he hadn't formed any new ideas or daydreamed or thought about cool concepts, like he often did. He hadn't even worried about his friends, and it was the one and only time they hadn't been on his mind since they'd disappeared. He'd just thought of himself and nothing else, like he'd lost all his empathy or something. And finally, Owen knew what was happening to him. Something had changed, and there was no undoing it now.

He hadn't known what Nobody meant when he said nonfictionals would pay. It'd already taken the form of a physical threat, like the fictional monsters invading their town or Nobody starting to capture authors. But this, this would be permanent. It'd slowly been happening ever since the pure possibility had finished rewriting the worlds, and Owen had brushed it off as some type of mood swing, like his brain trying to cope with all the dangers in a different way.

But the truth was, all this time, it was his imagination. It wasn't just fading in and out. It was disappearing.

---

Despite Owen stressing they shouldn't get too close to the Magister's study, Bethany had started exploring the floors above where her friends were looking, just because they'd have to search all of them eventually. All of them aside from the very top, of course, where the Magister's study was. It wasn't like she was going to even go on that floor. No, she wasn't going to take the risk of getting that close— the Magister would surely sense she was there, and their whole plan would be ruined.

There was another reason she kept wanting to go up, though, and not only because the crystal ball could be on any of the floors above. Because the closer she got to the top, the more she could at least hear Kiel, to hear his voice, to know he was okay. He'd already been up there for a long time. Maybe thirty minutes, and to Bethany, that seemed an excruciatingly long time to be in the same room as one of the worst people in the world.

How could Kiel even stay that long without getting angry at the Magister?

She wandered the floors as fast as she could, doing a speed-search in every room. Never lingering too long, because a part of her just wanted to go up there and check in on her best frie— on her acquaintance. He was amazing at handling tough situations, she knew, and Owen was right. He'd be great at distracting the Magister, because he'd always had a talent for distracting villains, usually because he was so good at being relentlessly annoying.

But it wasn't that. She just knew how uncomfortable coming here must be making him, because confronting his former father figure who'd tried to kill him couldn't be easy. And maybe, well, if he was in danger, or sounded like he needed help, Bethany could take the steps she needed to defend him. Only if it was necessary. Only if it was clear she had no other choice, because the last thing she wanted was to get caught before they found the crystal ball.

Whether or not he'd purposely erased his memories of her just didn't seem to matter anymore. Not if the Magister found out what they were doing, and decided to attack Kiel— who, by the way, would have no magic to fight back with. It was like an instinct had kicked in, and if anything went wrong, Bethany would be there for him. Just like he'd started to be for her again.

So if she even heard the Magister turn all crazy like he had back in the nonfictional world, Bethany would run to protect Kiel, despite really having no weapons to defend herself with, let alone her shapeshifting powers. Turning into inanimate objects hadn't always been useful, but she still would've been able to turn into an armored tank or sleeping gas or a giant, magic-blocking shield.

She glanced down, analyzing her other possible weapons. She had a single flash-bang, but that wasn't much help except for momentarily blinding someone. She remembered how they'd effected the shadows on Jupiter City, how they'd been so bright that when they crashed, it seemed as though a star had fallen from the sky. If she used it, it'd have to be at the perfect moment— and hopefully without blinding herself in the process. And then there was the glove on her hand, which shot lasers from the fingertips— though only if the target was within five feet. Not super helpful.

Unfortunately, since Kiel was magicless, the Magister attacking them (and winning) seemed very probable. But that's what they were avoiding. It wouldn't happen, Bethany told herself. So far in the time she'd been here, she hadn't heard any destructive spells being cast or shouting from above, which had to be a good sign. That meant their plan was working. It was just that leaving anyone alone with the Magister didn't sit right with her, even if Kiel was the least likely to be attacked by him.

But what was she talking about? Kiel would be fine! He'd faced way worse than the Magister, and often walked out of the most dangerous situations cracking jokes. The Magister wouldn't suspect Kiel to ever steal from him— that was clear. If anything, it was Bethany and her friends who'd be in worse shape, if the Magister caught them. If. And under the circumstances that the Magister happened to be suspicious, Kiel would just make something else up.

Before coming here, they'd made up plans, along with more plans if those plans didn't go as hoped. Backup scenarios where if the Magister asked, Kiel would be able to give a false story of why he'd come to see him. The current one they'd be sticking with was the most obvious— Kiel had come to relearn magic, which Bethany hoped should mean he might actually learn a spell or two, maybe even one that could find the crystal ball for them.

Or one that could turn the Magister into the most boring math book of all time, never to disturb anyone ever again. Bethany smiled at the thought.

It had taken ages just to get closer to the top of the tower, given just how many floors there were. By the time she reached the floor that sat right underneath the Magister's study, Bethany froze, straining to listen through the ceiling for any signs of an attack. Being this close, she thought she would've. But she heard nothing— not even voices. Which either meant they were talking quietly, or the walls were soundproof. Probably the former, because Bethany could've sworn she heard them shouting earlier, all the way from ten floors down.

She let out a small sigh of relief. From what she heard, it seemed like Kiel was fine. Their distraction was definitely working, so at least that part was good. There was only one more floor for Bethany to search, and then she'd probably head back down to Owen and Moira, helping them search the lower floors from there. As she walked into the hallway, Bethany pushed open one of the doors as quietly as she could. And she stepped inside.

Most of the rooms were fairly easy to search, because there wasn't much in them to begin with. They were all filled with some kind of weird magic that Jonathan Porterhouse had created (most of them, Bethany had to admit, could really use improvement. How was any of that supposed to seem realistic?), but aside from that, there usually weren't many physical objects in the room. Because of this, it made looking for the crystal ball even easier.

The inside of the room was dark and eerie, offering very little light aside from what poured out from the hallway. A ticking noise filled up the space around Bethany, sounding a lot like the old grandfather clock that stood in her house— only, it was much louder, loud enough to be obnoxious (and add to her anxiety, if she was being honest). Then, as she glanced around, her heart jumped as she realized something: there were clocks. Clocks everywhere.

Hundreds of clocks covered the room, all of them ticking at different times. Every spare part of the wall was covered in clocks, not even a single bit of room to hang anything else. There were even more clocks that weren't on the wall, too — the tall, standing kind— scattered across the room like someone had shoved them all in here and left, not even bothering to organize the place. She carefully navigated her way around them, her heart pounding in sync with the tik-toks that rhythmically swept across the room.

A dozen questions poured through her head. Why were there so many clocks? And what could they be used for? It seemed kind of stupid to have so many unnecessary clocks if the only real need for it was to tell time. Maybe the Magister was a clock-collector. Maybe Bethany had stumbled upon his clock collection that'd been growing since . . . however many years it'd been since he was born. Thousands? Millions? She almost wanted to laugh at how weird it all was. And creepy, because nearly all of them were covered in dust and cobwebs.

After wandering around for a few minutes, Bethany's curiosity got the better of her. She tentatively approached one of the old grandfather clocks, looking it up and down. There was nothing about it that seemed evil or anything, but there was no telling since it was the Magister's property. Looking closely at it now, she realized it told a lot more than just the time. There were also labels for the months and even years swirling around the clock, although she could only assume they were months, because they were written in an entirely different language.

She watched the hands on the clock move, and then she reached out, adjusting one that was pointed to the years, just to see what might happen. Because the years were the same in Magisteria as they were in the nonfictional world, it wasn't hard to figure that out at least. She jumped back as soon as she'd moved it, expecting something to happen, but nothing did. But even as she thought that, she had the strangest feeling, like she'd grown . . . taller or something.

. . . Huh. Bethany frowned, trying to figure out what had just happened. Had anything just happened? Was she imagining things? She peered back at the clock, which had a reflective surface from the glass that covered the outside. And then her gaze focused on herself, and she gasped. Because standing before her was an older version of Bethany— not by much, but at least by a few years. She glanced back at the year she'd adjusting it to, and sure enough, she'd changed it to seven years in the future.

Wait, could this clock . . . change someone's age? Just by a person adjusting the hands on the clock?

There was only one way to know. Only one way to be sure. But first, well, she had to make sure she could turn fifteen again, or else she'd be stuck as a twenty-two year old forever. Bethany shuddered at the thought. Being more careful now, she slowly turned the hands back seven years, letting it glide to a stop at the correct date. And just like that, she shrunk the tiniest bit, feeling a little less squashed in her jeans, which had become slightly shorter during the time she'd been twenty-two.

Now that she knew she could turn back to normal anytime she wanted, Bethany felt excitement growing inside her. She reached for the hands on the clock again, turning it backwards exactly five years. Just like that, she shrunk closer to the ground, her clothes suddenly much baggier and longer— so long that her cuffed jeans were now stretched all the way down to her feet. Bethany had to grin. This was really cool. Of course, it'd be nice if her clothes just adjusted so they fit her no matter what age she was, but it was still cool. Owen would love this!

It didn't occur to her until she tried adjusting the clock again that now that she was ten, she had to practically jump to reach it. Even when standing on her toes, she still could barely reach it. Bethany grew more and more frustrated every time she missed, until finally, she was able to use a ledge at the bottom of the clock as a stepping stool, giving her the height she needed to turn the clock back to the right year.

Once she was back to her normal self, Bethany let her hands hover over the clock, wondering which year she should make it next. Obviously she shouldn't make herself too old (she wasn't sure she could look at a ninety year old version of herself without getting creeped out), so she settled for turning herself middle-aged, around the same age her parents were, just to see what she looked like. And who knew— would she actually look like her mom at her age? The only downside of all this was that she didn't have Owen or Kiel to share in the fun— they'd enjoy this just as much as she was.

Wait . . . her friends! What was she doing? Bethany stepped away from the clock, guilt crashing down on her. What was wrong with her? Had she really gotten so distracted by the clock that she'd forgotten what she was supposed to be doing? She shouldn't even be messing around in the first place! This was what happened when she got too fictional. She lost sight of what was important, and nothing was more important than finding the crystal ball, turning the worlds back to normal, and having her father and friends with her again.

She was just about to walk back to the exit when a weird smell entered her nose. Was that . . . smoke? Bethany inhaled deeply, only to immediately cough as smoke wafted through her mouth and nose. Where was it coming from? She didn't even see any . . . her eyes fell on something behind her, and she almost choked. Thick smoke was drafting to drift through the air directly behind her. She quickly backed away, but the smoke followed her, as if Bethany was holding a firecracker in her hands.

It was only getting worse. Even as she ran quickly out the door and into the hallway, thinking the smoke was just coming from the room, it only continued to grow. It was as if Bethany was on fire, and the smoke was coming from her. But that was ridiculous, why would smoke be radiating off of her? Bethany glanced down at herself, and horror washed over her like a tidal wave. She was right. The smoke was coming from her cape, vest, and pants, all of which she'd gotten from the Magisterian clothing shop yesterday.

Parts of the clothing had caught on fire, and the fire was spreading. Bethany tore her clothes off faster than she ever had in her life. She ripped the cape off first, since that was closest to her hair and she didn't want her hair catching on fire. And then she quickly unbuttoned the vest, throwing it down next to the cape. By this point, the fire had grown even more across her pants, spreading just enough that it was even more difficult to take that off. Avoiding the fire the best she could, Bethany wrestled the pants off, leaving her standing there in her nonfictional shirt and jeans.

Her heart slammed in her ribcage as she stared down at the burning clothes, feeling just as confused as she was terrified. How had her clothes caught on fire? It wasn't like there were matches anywhere nearby, and she definitely hadn't accidentally run into any fires in the time she was here. She lifted her gaze, staring past the smoke into the room with the clocks. A connection formed in her head.

Wait, the clothing was set to explode three weeks from now. The first date she'd adjusted the clock to had been past three weeks, so was it possible her clothes had moved through time too? Bethany shook her head in confusion. But her clothes had felt shorter when she'd been older, and her shirt had practically turned into a dress when she turned herself into a ten-year-old! Then again . . . she only remembered her jeans and t-shirt actually feeling like they'd shrunk and expanded. Maybe . . . maybe the clock had only aged the fictional clothes she'd been wearing.

And if that was the case, it meant . . . Bethany's eyes widened in horror. She was the reason her clothes had started smoking, and now, they were going to explode.

No, no, no. Bethany lunged forward, grabbing an unscorched end of the cape. She waved it, trying to make the fire go out, only for the fire to grow even larger, forcing her to drop the clothing to avoid getting burned. The smoke had grown even thicker, and she found that she couldn't stop coughing. She blinked hard, her eyes stinging with tears. This couldn't be happening. She couldn't let it explode! If it did, everyone would hear, and—

And then, it did. Bethany screamed as the loudest noise she'd ever heard soared through her ears. She leapt away, the impact of the explosion causing her to fall to the ground. Bethany stayed like that, covering her head with her hands, not even able to breathe. It seemed like forever before the sound subsided, and Bethany slowly lifted her head from the floor, turning back to see the damage. The entirely hallway was filled with smoke. Other than that, she couldn't even tell if the clothes had survived. Probably not.

I should've told Kiel to set the deadline for thirty years in the future, Bethany thought angrily to herself. But it wasn't his fault. It was her's. And she couldn't help but blame herself. Recently, it was like she didn't think sometimes, like she was becoming less and less nonfictional the more she was here. It'd cost her before, but this was a whole new level. She'd been so careless and reckless and—

A horrifying realization hit her.

Uh-oh. There was no way the Magister hadn't heard that.

He was definitely going to come down to see what the noise was, so she had to go. But where? Hiding in any of the rooms seemed like a good idea, since those were the closest hiding spots she could think of. But then again, that was the most likely place the Magister would look for her. Anywhere in this hallway wasn't safe, not with the explosion that'd happened in the room behind her. If she didn't want the Magister to catch her, she'd need to ditch this hallway completely.

Gasping for air, Bethany slapped her hands on the floor, trying to make herself stand. The earth seemed to spin as she forced her legs underneath her, almost falling several times as she stumbled to her feet. Her feet were unsteady at first, but she managed to pick up speed, running as fast as she could to the stairs, leaving the smoke behind her. She was halfway to the next floor when an all-too-familiar voice rang out from behind her, sending a chill down her spine.

"Look who it is. And I almost believed Kiel's lies when he said he came alone."

She froze. Cursing under her breath, Bethany slowly turned around, tilting her head up to see the Magister standing at the top of the stairs, Kiel hurrying to catch up, only to stop short just behind him. It came as a surprise when Bethany saw his expression, which— as soon as they locked eyes— shifted to downright horrified. Usually, he seemed so relaxed and self-assured, brimming with confidence, as if the emotion of fear wasn't even a possibility for him. She knew him better than that, though.

Kiel mouthed words at her, silently urging her to run. And she almost listened. She should run, like she had been doing, up until the Magister discovered she was here. Bethany found herself shaking her head slightly at him. It was too late. She'd already been caught. And the only place to go was down, where Owen and Moira were. She didn't want to drag them into getting caught, too.

"He did," Bethany growled, a sudden wave of anger hitting her at the sight of the old man. As subtly as she could, she readied her glove, prepared to shoot lasers at him if she had to. "I just came in separately."

The Magister's mouth drew into a tight line, his tone cold and threatening. "Then I hope you don't mind coming in my study to discuss what's going on here?"

"Leave her out of this," Kiel said, a warning in his voice.

The Magister glanced back at him. "No, I think I would like to know why this girl is here. And since you have not given me the truth, Kiel, I must get it from her."

Before she could react, he aimed his wands at Bethany and murmured a spell. Suddenly, a glow hit her head-on, and she was floating up the stairs, towards where the Magister was standing. Her heart hammering, Bethany desperately fought to break free, but nothing worked. It was like she'd lost all control over her body, similar to the times he'd cast paralyzation spells on her. But then, Bethany hadn't moved at all. This time, her body sailed right into the study, joining the Magister and a distressed-looking Kiel.

"Hey, let her go!" Kiel shouted.

The Magister did. With a wave of his hand, Bethany was free. As the spell lost its hold on her, she fell from where she was floating a few feet above the ground, almost dropping to her knees as she hit the floor. The former boy magician reached for her arm, quickly steadying her, and she flashed a grateful look at him. Breathing hard, Bethany turned to glare at the old man. "Was that really necessary? You could've just asked me to follow you!"

"But from past experience, I don't think you would've," the Magister said, his eyes narrowing.

"True."

Probably seeing the expression on her face, his frown deepened. "I do not wish to be your enemy, Bethany."

Bethany scoffed. "Really? Because I remember you trying to kidnap me not too long ago!"

"That was only because Nobody asked me to. Because I owed him a favor, for rescuing me from that book of mathematical equations."

"Oh, so that makes it okay?"

Anger flashed behind his eyes. "It was not personal." Then, he paused before correcting himself. "Well . . . not completely personal. It was only for the sake of stopping the nonfictional authors from influencing us. Now that the worlds have been rewritten, and have been separated from nonfictional influence, there is nothing else for me to worry about."

Her mouth fell open. "Seriously?"

The old man's expression changed to one of confusion. "Yes, of course I am being serious. That doesn't mean I like you, but I hold nothing against you anymore, seeing as everything's as it should be. I've started to rewrite myself, you see. All it took was learning how, and ever since, I've felt no hostility toward anyone." He eyed Bethany. "Except for those who wish to break into my tower announced, of course."

She muttered something rude as the Magister walked back out into the hallway, saying something about listening for any other intruders. Before the other two could follow him, the huge wooden door swung closed by itself, locking in place. Bethany silently prayed that her friends were being quiet, or else he might hear something and go down to investigate.

Kiel winced, leaning in close to her. "Can you maybe not say that?"

She glanced at him, realizing he was referring to her insult.

"Why not?" She rose her eyebrows. "It's true."

"Okay, maybe, but he kind of does seem like he's trying to be better. I'll give him that."

Bethany's voice turned into a hiss. "Why are you sticking up for him? He's a piece of garbage!"

"I'm not sticking up for him!" he whispered, ignoring the garbage comment, which she wished he would've agreed with. "I'm just trying to avoid us getting turned into toads or something! I don't have magic, remember? And you don't have those powers that Owen said you lost."

"Shape-shifting powers," Bethany informed him. "And . . ." She showed him her gloved hand, pointing with the other at the flash-bang hanging from the loop in her jeans. "I do have these. For emergencies."

He looked at her eagerly. "Does that glove cause any explosions?"

That almost made her grin, despite the situation. She shook her head. "Nope. Just shoots lasers."

"Ah." Disappointment crossed his face. "Lasers, the Magister can easily deflect with his magic." He bounced on his heels. "So, what now? The distraction didn't work. He didn't believe me when I said I wanted to be his apprentice again, so I can't keep up with that story. Especially now that he's found you."

It was time for plan B. Well, the plan that involved them getting caught, which really hadn't been in any of their plans. But now that she was, and the Magister was only going to wonder why they'd snuck into his tower, questioning him seemed like the best option. That had been Kiel's initial plan, anyway. To simply ask the Magister to give the crystal ball back, which seemed way worse of a plan to Bethany. Why do that when they could just sneak through his tower and steal it back, all without having to interrogate the man himself?

But now, since the Magister wasn't attacking her straight away, interrogation sounded like their best option.

"Let's tell him what we're here for," Bethany whispered, nodding back at the door, which the Magister was on the other side of. Her body shook from nerves and fear, knowing just how much worse this could get. Whatever mistakes she'd made earlier, it'd already become even worse now that she'd been caught. And with her terrible luck, it'd keep going that way.

Kiel just stared at her. "I thought we weren't going to do that. That was my first plan— the one none of you liked!"

"I know, and now that we don't have a choice, maybe asking him would be our best option. It's a good idea."

Knowing well enough how he reacted to compliments, that might've been the wrong thing to say. A smug look came across his face. Realization crept up on her, and she started shaking her head, groaning. Before he could say anything, she said, "No. Oh no. Stop."

"Stop what? I haven't even said anything!"

"I already know what you're going to say. It's about you telling me how good your idea is and I'm going to say it wasn't a good idea earlier because we were trying to be sneaky, and we literally don't have a choice now. And then you're going to brag about it anyway because that's what you do."

"What? Me, bragging about an idea that definitely wasn't mine? Never! Who do you think made that plan?" A grin slid to his face. ". . . A genius?"

Bethany dropped her head in her hands. "You are impossible."

"Wow, impossible and a genius?"

She started to smile, unable to help it. He was being annoying, sure, but she was thankful that Kiel had this gift of taking things that upset her and making them better. Things may have not been anywhere close to normal between them, though it was feeling more and more like it was getting there. Like the wall that'd been between them was finally starting to come down. What she didn't know was that he was feeling the exact same way.

"It's a good idea now, genius," she corrected, pouring sarcasm into the last word. "Not before, but now."

Clearly, her attempts to bring his ego down only made it worse, because he asked, "Better than your idea to explode something downstairs?"

Bethany rolled her eyes. "That even wasn't part of the plan and you know it!"

His expression turned to one of curiosity. "What did you explode, anyway?"

Her face reddened; she hoped he hadn't noticed her disguise missing. ". . . None of your business."

"Okay, now I'm starting to think you did that on purpose."

"What? Why would I explode something on purpose?"

"Why not? Who wouldn't pass up the opportunity to explode something?"

"Oh, forgot who I was talking to," she said, making him chuckle.

"I'm just betting you wanted to go along with my plan the whole time, that's why you got the Magister to notice you were here with that explosion. It's okay to admit it! I won't judge."

She crossed her arms, smirking. "Admit what? How wrong you are?"

A twinkle was in his eyes. "No, how right I am. You just didn't want to see it, but I've been saying all along that we should just come here and ask him if he has the crystal ball. Maybe he would've said yes and given it to us by now."

"Yeah, but at least if I hadn't gotten caught, we might've found it without needing to talk to him." She flung an arm back at the door. "Now, he might just get upset and try to kill us!" She paused, her eyes wide with worry. "No, he will get upset and try to kill us."

"Like he's not upset already?"

". . . Okay, true."

He looked back at the door, absently tapping his knuckles against his pants "He won't try to kill us, okay? I'm not letting that happen. I'll do anything to keep that from happening, even if it has to mean . . ." He trailed off, but she knew what he was going to say. Fighting him.

"No," Bethany whispered. "Without your magic, you could get hurt! I'm not gonna let that happen."

He smiled softly. "And I'm not letting you get hurt, either, Miss I-can-take-care-of-myself. Just so you know, I got you."

A warm feeling flooded her chest at his words. "Got you back," she replied, smiling a bit, suddenly feeling a little less panicked by what he'd said. She sighed. "We just need to interrogate him. See what he knows. Then, if he admits to having it . . ."

"It's a win-win," he finished, and gave her a brief, rewarding smile, this one without any of the arrogance from before. "We'll know where it is, and if he doesn't agree to giving it to us, we'll find a way to get it anyway. Like one of us distracts him while the other grabs it— yadda-yadda. That kind of thing."

Bethany nodded, feeling a little more optimistic about this. "Got it."

"But try not to get him too angry. We still need to make him give it to us, if he has it—"

"Which he does."

"And," Kiel added, now glaring at her. "We should try to avoid insulting him— at least while we're trying to get him to admit to things."

Her stomach flipped with annoyance. "You're not serious."

"Aren't I though? I'm sorry, but with that attitude and eye-rolling you're doing, I can already tell you're going to."

"I don't roll my eyes!" But she rolled her eyes as she said it, and her shoulders sagged in defeat at the look on his face. "Fine. Maybe I do. So?"

"Trust me, Bethany— just try not to insult him. You know how he is. Insulting him will only make him not want to give it to us even more."

He had a point. She just didn't know how she could go more than few seconds without wanting to insult the Magister. Who could? She doubted the old man would be able to last long without insulting her, either, which wouldn't help him admit things any better. If she got the Magister angry first though, and it led to him turning them into ducks or something, Kiel would never shut up about it. On the upside, ducks couldn't even speak, so she wouldn't have to hear him say "I told you so" over and over, as he most likely would. Or worse, it'd just be an endless cycle of quaking.

"Okay, deal," Bethany relented. Then, as he started to move away, she elbowed him in the ribs. "By the way, why are you wet?"

Now that she thought about it, he wasn't only soaked. It seemed like there were scorch marks on his clothes that she hadn't noticed before, looking as if it'd been set on fire at some point— not that that would make sense. Kiel shuddered a bit, but managed to give her a friendly smile, anyway. "Fell into a lake on the way here. Had to fight a giant magical fish."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and I won."

Given how the page had been completely dry when she, Owen, and Moira had jumped out, Bethany knew for a fact he hadn't fallen into a lake at all. Her lips curved upwards. "Okay, fish fighter. Does that also explain why your clothes look kind of . . . scorched?"

"Huh?" He looked down at himself, running his hands over the parts that'd been burned. "Oh, I was just set on fire."

"What?"

Did the Magister do that? Bethany thought fleetingly, and the urge to insult him (or better yet, toss a Twilight throwing star at him) grew even stronger. If he had, she'd feel extremely guilty she hadn't been here to protect Kiel, even if she hadn't been anywhere close to the top floor when it'd happened. But she knew he probably wouldn't admit it, if it was true. And she was right, because he made up the most ridiculous story instead.

"I guess it's because Alphonse set me on fire," he explained, running a hand over his messy black hair. "Which has, by the way, never happened. One second I was standing here— right over there, actually— and the next thing I know, Alphonse was hissing at me, like I'd done something wrong, and then he set me on fire!"

"Was this before or after you fell in the lake and fought that fish?"

"After, obviously!"

"Oh, yeah, obviously," she echoed. "Can you at least try to make up something more believable next time?"

Kiel knitted his brows. "What? But that's really what—"

At that moment, the Magister came back through the door empty-handed, the expression of his face passing for disappointment. Her shoulders tensed at his arrival, and she stood there, half-expecting Owen and Moira to be following. She heard nothing, though. No voices, no noises at all from downstairs. She breathed a sigh of relief. Bethany could only feel immensely glad the Magister hadn't heard her friends. She didn't really think he would anyway, because it wasn't like either of them would be causing accidental explosions.

She watched apprehensively as he walked further into the cozy, bookshelf-filled study, where he sat behind his immaculately tidy desk from across the room. Then, he looked at them expectedly. "Well? Will one of you explain the real reason you're here?"

Kiel and Bethany gave each other nervous glances. Taking a deep breath, he went to stand in front of the Magister's desk, leaving Bethany with no choice but to grudgingly follow. "We're not here for any kind of fight," Kiel began calmly. "We're here to . . . to ask you some very hypothetical and innocent questions, Magi."

"Then why was she sneaking around in my tower?" the Magister asked, his tone anything but friendly.

Bethany clenched her fists at her sides, almost surprised to find the palms of her hands sweaty. She took a deep breath, trying to channel Kiel's words in her head that she shouldn't anger the old man. "I-I was looking for something. That's why Kiel was distracting you, so I could find something."

And Owen and Moira are still downstairs looking for it. But she left that part out.

She searched the Magister's face for any sign of recognition, anything that revealed he knew what she was talking about. His face, though, remained hard and stony. "What on Magisteria could you have needed to search my tower for?"

"Hey, we are asking the questions here, not you. And I'm getting to that in a second!"

Almost from a distance, she saw the Magister abruptly stand from his chair, strange energies beginning to swirl around him. "You dare try to control me? I have every right to ask questions, you arrogant, worthless, nonfictional little—"

In an instant, Kiel was standing between them, waving his hands. "Whoa, hey, don't you talk to her like that!" He looked offended, as if the Magister insulting Bethany had insulted him, too. "We aren't trying to start throwing insults here! I know you have questions too, but she's right. We were about to answer that."

The old man turned his gaze to his former apprentice, the rage in his expression softening. If Kiel hadn't been in the room, though, Bethany had a feeling he would've tried attacking her right then and there. "I believe you. You may go on."

"So—" Bethany began, while Kiel continued, "Okay—"

They glanced at each other in surprise, and Bethany waved him on, urging him to continue. But Kiel, probably trying to be polite, was already gesturing for her to talk. "You go."

"No no, you go."

He shook his head. "I insist."

They continued doing this for another few seconds until the Magister's patience seemed to have been worn thin, and he snapped, "Alright, it seems neither of you can decide, so I will for you. Kiel, continue."

Despite wanting Kiel to go, Bethany couldn't help feeling a little annoyed the Magister had chosen Kiel to explain things. It felt a lot like picking favorites. Scratch that, it was picking favorites. Not that she hadn't wanted Kiel to ask the question first, seeing as the Magister would probably be more willing to admit the truth if Kiel explained things. It was easier for him to get on the Magister's good side, anyway. Like a good cop, bad cop scenario in a way, although Bethany had never considered herself a bad cop up until this moment.

Well, except for some of the times she'd interrogated criminals as Twilight Girl. She wasn't the ultimate good cop, but she was better than Orion, who seemed like he'd been born to play the bad cop role. Out of the two of them, when Doc Twilight wasn't around to do the interrogating, Bethany always chose to do good cop. Orion would be terrible at it, anyways. For him, trying to be nice was like trying to walk on the sun. If you got too close, you'd probably explode.

Kiel's head swiveled back to his former teacher, his brows furrowing. "We're hoping you might've come across a magical item. We were just using it, but it seems to have, how do I put this . . . hypothetically speaking it seems to have—"

"Been stolen by an evil wizard," Bethany finished, and the former boy magician glared at her. She flashed him a look that said What? She was getting straight to the point! There was nothing wrong with that. They didn't have all day to tiptoe around the Magister's feelings, or however Kiel had phrased it.

"What kind of magical item are we talking about?" the Magister asked casually, as if he didn't know the answer.

"I think you know."

"It's a crystal ball," Kiel quickly informed him, ignoring Bethany. "The crystal ball, the same one we've seen at the Magisterian carnival a few years ago. A friend of our's stole it before we could get our question answered."

The Magister nodded in realization, a faint smile coming to his face. "Ah, so you already know who it is. Would you like me to track this friend down for you, my boy?"

"Actually, no. Because another person stole it from our friend, and um, their description fit your's. So we kind of thought you might've stolen it." And then he flushed and added, "Hypothetically."

A beat passed where no one spoke.

Then, the wizard's smile fell away, replaced by a threatening look that Bethany was more familiar with. The air was heavy and metallic, like a thunderstorm was about to erupt a moment later. When he spoke, his voice was low and dangerous. "You're accusing me? You believed that I would do such a thing?"

"Yes," Bethany muttered.

"Well, I wouldn't say accusing," Kiel said, giving her another look. "But now that you put it like that, then yes, accusing sounds good!" He automatically smiled, only for it to slowly fade. "I'm sorry, Magi. I've been hoping we were wrong. I just had to know." He glanced at Bethany, shrugging, his hands falling into his pockets. "We had to know."

For a while, the Magister didn't respond. He stared off into the distance, seemingly lost in thought. And then, just as Bethany was about to repeat Kiel's question, thinking that maybe the Magister hadn't heard, he spoke again. "I was collecting it, because the girl who had taken it had no place stealing such an important artifact."

By now, he'd walked over to a rectangle-shaped tapestry on the wall, which had colorful depictions of wizards and magic weaved into the material. He pushed the thick fabric aside, and to Bethany's surprise, revealed a secret opening in the stone wall behind it. The opening looked no bigger than the size of the students' desks at school— that is, if a desk were held sideways and pushed through the wall. Reaching in with both hands, he pulled a round, glass object out. The crystal ball. Bethany and Kiel gasped in unison.

"I prevented her theft, and now I keep it here," the Magister continued. "Where it's safe."

Patting the side of the crystal ball, he carefully placed it back inside the hole in the wall, letting the tapestry fall back into place. Bethany gritted her teeth. It took all of her willpower not to run there and grab it. And she would've, if not for the little voice in her head, the one that sounded an awful lot like her nonfictional self, urging her to stay put, to make a plan before she did something she'd regret first. Because if she charged right in there, the Magister could easily stop her.

Not if you shoot some lasers at him first, another voice said, the one that pushed Bethany to be reckless, to be more fictional, to take action instead of overthink, like she was so prone to doing. But he could dodge the lasers, or even cast a spell to block them. Better yet, he probably had a protection spell on him right now, if Bethany could guess. She scowled. Coward.

All of Kiel's advice for her to not anger the Magister flew from her head. Bethany glared at him, and didn't even bother trying to hide it. "We need that! Why do you have it?"

"I already told you the answer," he said coldly. "I'm keeping it, to prevent others like that thief from taking things they shouldn't."

"Well, we kind of do need it, Magi," Kiel said. "Urgently. Since you have it, would you mind letting us borrow it?"

The old man gave him an almost sad look, one that Bethany was positive he was faking. "I'm sorry, my boy, but I'm afraid no one will be using it for the time being. Whatever question you have, I'm sure relearning magic will solve it. I know you were only saying that to distract me, Kiel, but you can still learn magic again. As long as you make sure that one—" He pointed at Bethany. "Never steps into my tower again."

Was he kidding? He really thought she'd just turn around and leave? Or more accurately, jump out of the book? Bethany stepped forward, shaking her head angrily. "No. Are you kidding? No! You're just going to hide the crystal ball somewhere and never use it, so if you care at all about the worlds, give it back, old man."

"I can't do that."

Bethany's mind broke away from all its restraints as she felt a hot, seething anger course through her veins. The Magister had doused gasoline on her rage, and if he wanted to see Bethany burn, so be it. Kiel watched with horror as she reached for the nearest object — an expensive-looking vase — and (hearing Kiel's rushed "Bethany, no—") she threw it, screaming in rage. It landed directly on the wall behind the Magister, smashing instantly into hundreds of pieces.

"GIVE IT BACK!"

She started to move towards him, driven by anger, but Kiel latched onto her elbow. "Stop! Please, calm down!"

"Thank you, Kiel," the Magister said darkly. "At least you have some sense. Other than your friend here."

Friend had been over-exaggerated. There was a hidden meaning behind that word, one that Bethany picked up on, based on their last conversation, where some things had been revealed under a truth spell. Things she really, really wished the old magician didn't know. If only she could make him forget they'd ever had that conversation. Luckily, Kiel didn't seem to notice the implications, as he hadn't been there for the conversation.

The Magister looked back at her, his eyes narrowed. "You should really learn to control your temper, Ms. Sanderson."

"I should learn to control my temper?" Bethany said incredulously.

It was true that she maybe . . . wasn't the best at keeping herself from getting angry. Usually because when she was angry, she bottled it up, only for it to explode a short time later. Or from acting on it, most times without thinking. But the Magister, of all people, was telling her to control it? When he'd been the one who'd gotten so angry he'd tried to take over the nonfictional world, just because he found out he was fictional? Because that made sense.

Bethany pushed a strand of hair out of her face, meeting his eyes head on. Her heart pounded in her throat. "Not until you give us the crystal ball. I'm not leaving here without it! Do you understand me?"

Then he did something that Bethany really should have seen coming. The Magister rounded the table, his twin wands rising into the air behind him, where they swirled ominously. His feet left the floor, his voice raising to a shout as he towered above them. "Then maybe I'll have to make you leave!"

Kiel stepped closer to Bethany, so close that their shoulders bumped. He had his arms out in front of him. "Okay, we can just talk about this!"

But the Magister was already waving his wands, and a red spark came hurtling straight for them. Before Bethany could even move, Kiel had already reached for her shoulders, shoving them both to the side to avoid getting hit. There was a shattering noise behind them, and Bethany glanced back to see it'd exploded into a huge window behind them, causing huge chunks of glass to break off into pieces, some falling to the wooden floor, while other shards went hurtling off the cliff outside.

Bethany shakily pushed herself to her feet, glancing up at the Magister. The sight should've scared her, but she was too angry, too determined to even focus on her fear. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kiel shifting closer to the tapestry— closer to the crystal ball, and she realized what he was trying to do. If the Magister was distracted enough trying to blast her with magic, that'd give Kiel just enough time to reach in and grab it.

On the other hand, the Magister looked ready to kill her, so she really hoped Kiel would hurry.

Bethany backed away, casting nervous glances at Kiel when the Magister wasn't looking. She had to keep the Magister talking. Luckily, the Magister was already doing that for her. "I'm not going to ask you again, Bethany. Go home. That is the only chance you'll have to save yourself."

"Save myself from what? You're the one who's trying to attack me!"

His eyes flashed. "I am only trying to get you to leave. I've asked you several times, but unfortunately, you refuse to heed my advice. And you should listen to me, really. You do not need that crystal ball."

"Why not?" Bethany shot back. "I would say you don't need it— and I bet you know why we need it, don't you? You're trying to stop us— just admit it!"

The Magister just stared at her, seething. "Oh, please. I am not trying to stop anyone, Bethany. I am only doing what is right for Magisteria. For my people. Do you honesty expect me to apologize for taking the crystal ball?"

She shook her head. "Actually, no. I wouldn't expect anything that humble from you."

At her words, the energy surrounding the Magister grew more intense, so she lifted her glove, preparing to use it if she had to. That was when Bethany saw Kiel heading to the tapestry much faster, now, so close that he could almost reach out and touch it. Yes! Excitement burst through her, but being so distracted trying to see if he was getting the crystal ball, she'd forgotten about something very important: the Magister. It'd only occurred for her to dodge a second too late, because by the time she looked over, the spell had already slammed into her.

Whatever it was smacked her hard enough to send her reeling, and suddenly she was screaming as her foot tripped over a ledge. Everything was happening too fast. The realization hit her that she was falling, and the ground was no longer beneath her feet. Fully panicking, Bethany wildly grabbed for something— a piece of the tower, and her fall halted. She grabbed on with both hands, her head spinning. She'd never felt so heavy in her life, like gravity had purposely intensified just to make holding on even harder.

And just like that, she was hanging off the edge of the smashed window, right over whatever laid at the bottom of the cliffs below. And the fact that she couldn't see the bottom only proved just how long it would be before she hit the bottom, if she fell. Bethany almost choked, her horror threatening to overwhelm her. Her legs swung below her, kicking at air, and she was overwhelmed by how scary it was to have no floor beneath her feet. Nothing to catch her fall. Her whole body jolted, and that was when another realization struck her, this one even worse than the last.

Four of her fingers had slipped from the ledge.

---

"It doesn't matter what we do, where we are going to. We can stick around and see this night through . . ."