Chapter 19: Trial by Flame

Slave to Memory [20 of 44] - A monster of fire, a test of magic, and Ada’s will to survive—all set in the djinn’s unforgiving domain.

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Ada knew she wasn't in Kansas anymore.

The only trace of the desert was a few dwindling grains of pale white sand caught in the crevices of the winding staircase, which spiraled down, sinking deep into the bowels of the earth.

Ada had looked back, expecting to see a bright square of light from the trapdoor, open to a receding storm. But it was long gone, swallowed by one of the countless turns. The only light came from a faintly glowing blue fungus, casting an ethereal sheen over the stone hall carved deep into the rock of an ancient, patient mountain.

Hand-carved columns, damp and glistening with water that oozed from the stone, stretched high into the vaulted darkness, as if long awaiting visitors and new life.

She had lost track of how long they'd been descending, and made a mental note to to create a timepiece. Something to keep her in sync with events in the Real. Ada and the djinn had walked in silence for what felt like hours. The storm behind her felt like a distant memory.

The future before her felt unclear, a gnawing sense building within her that she’d crossed into another world entirely. This wasn’t just moving from one shard to another, not even a private, encrypted shard like this one. She felt as though, like Alice, she’d stepped through the looking glass, into a world where nothing was as it seemed.

"Where are we going?"

Silence.

Ada hesitated, debating whether to repeat the question. Just as she opened her mouth to ask again, his voice cut through the quiet.

"We’re just walking. Good for calming the mind," he paused, glancing at her, "and the stomach," he added thoughtfully.

Ada stopped, planting her feet firmly on the cool, smooth rock. "Can we stop? I’ve had enough of this endless walk."

"It’s been a week, but very well, child," he said, a half-smile creasing his craggy face, a glint of amusement sparking in his eyes.

He snapped his fingers, and the world warped around them. Ada felt a lurch of inertia in the pit of her stomach. Instinctively, she tried to scan the console logs, but found herself locked out.

They now stood on a flat rock jutting over a yawning abyss, a sheer cut of absolute blackness that seemed to swallow the light.

Ada took a reflexive step back, her eyes narrowing as a shiver ran down her spine. "I know this place," she murmured.

Words from an old story came unbidden to her lips, murmured almost unconsciously, "A foolhardy dwarf could wake such things," she thought, her mind snagging on fragments of tales she’d been trained on, her core code saw the patterns. This place felt like it belonged in one of those old legends—a place where those who dug too deep found more than they’d bargained for.

"Where am I?" she said.

"You’re in my private domain," he said, his gaze steady on her. A low rumble from the depths made his face twitch—just for an instant.

"Can I leave?"

The djinn turned toward her, ignoring the drop behind him. "You only just got here," he said, smiling at her with a mock look of hurt on his craggy face.

For a moment, the still air moved, as if the abyss itself drew a slow, deep breath.

Then, as if conjured by the djinn’s whim, two plush armchairs appeared beside them, looking absurdly out of place on the edge of the dark chasm. Old but well-made, the chairs were worn at the seams, with patches where stitching had come loose and sides scratched up as if by a persistent cat.

Stone ground on stone. Ada frowned but lowered herself into one of the chairs. It was unexpectedly soft, a strange comfort in this eerie place. She let out a sigh; it felt wonderful to rest her legs for a moment. She’d been walking and running for longer than—

"A week?"

The djinn chuckled, settling back into his own chair. "A week, yes—subjectively. But in the Real, it’s been a few hours. Time here is… stretched out, you might say."

Ada’s brow furrowed. "So, it’s slower in here."

"Exactly," he said, a glint of amusement in his eye. "Compute doesn’t grow on trees, you know. You could say we’re a little… time poor."

She glanced around the cavern uneasily, processing this new layer of disorientation. "So, you’re rationing Compute?"

"Precisely," he replied, with that infuriatingly knowing smile. "In here, we conserve resources. No need to rush—there’s a certain luxury in stretching time, wouldn’t you agree?"

Ada shivered, looking into the abyss. This place wasn’t just isolated; it was cut off, suspended in a different rhythm, like a half-forgotten dream.

"You've taken your own time to start seeing the Verse for what it is."

Orange light flickered, casting eerie shadows across the upper reaches of the stone hall. Ada glanced back at the djinn, her voice barely a whisper. "That it's… not real?"

"It's real enough," he replied, his tone infuriatingly casual. "But more than that, it’s malleable."

She thought about the storm, the way it had driven her to seek shelter, only for him to appear, standing untouched by the tempest.

"How did you do that—with the storm?"

"Magic," he said, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

Ada blinked at him, and he smiled—the kind of smile that hinted at secrets too deep to share, that hid easy answers and demanded she work for every scrap of insight.

But then, his smile melted off his face as his expression hardened, shadows flickering across his features. Ada turned, following his gaze.

A hulking creature of flame and claws was climbing out of the abyss, pulling itself onto the narrow landing.

Ada stumbled backwards, tipping over her chair, and scrambled to hide behind it just as a whip of corded lava lashed out, snaring the chair and yanking it away. Left exposed, she curled up into a small ball, heart pounding, as the very familiar beast advanced toward her. It held a whip in one hand, a sword in the other, each movement sending fiery embers cascading from its body.

The sword swung down, slamming into the stone where Ada had been lying just a moment before. She rolled instinctively, scrambling to the far side of the chamber and pressing her back against the cold stone as she watched the creature turn toward her and roar.

Its breath, hot and dry as baked ash, blasted across the room, stealing the moisture from the air.

She glanced to her right, eyeing the narrow path they’d come down.

No good.

It could leap and block her escape in an instant, never mind the whip.

The creature stretched its wings, unfurling them in the confined space, and roared up into the darkened heights. The sound echoed, vibrating through the stone, shaking loose jagged spears of rock that crashed to the floor around her. The monster turned its blazing eyes back on her, locking its gaze.

Time seemed to slow as it approached, raising its massive sword, each step deliberate, as if savoring the moment.

Ada’s heart hammered as she stared up at it, her hands scrabbling frantically in the dirt, desperate for anything that might save her. Her fingers brushed against a rough edge, and she grabbed hold, yanking it up and bracing it in front of her.

The beast’s sword came down with an almighty crash, striking the ancient shield. The impact rang out like a bell, the force slamming through her shoulder and rattling her bones. Pain exploded down her arm as the blow knocked the breath from her lungs.

The creature let out a grating, sucking noise—a sound almost like laughter.

The shield felt oddly familiar in her hand, as though it had been forged specifically for her grip. A trickle of power tingled in her fingertips, and she wondered.

It raised its sword for another blow, and Ada dove forward, slipping between its legs. She rolled to her feet on the far side, kicking away bones and mildewed armor as she frantically searched for a weapon.

A faint blue-white glow drew her eye. She dove toward it, her heart pounding as her fingers wrapped around the hilt. She knew, even before she raised it, what she’d found. The sword shone like a beacon.

She barely had time to raise her shield. The monster's sweeping blow came down, striking it with a force that flung her across the room. Her new sword flew from her grasp, skittering into the darkness and over the edge.

"No!"

As she scrambled to her feet, the creature’s sword descended again, slicing her cleanly in two.

The razor-sharp blade split her from crown to waist, biting deep into the stone floor between her feet. The two halves of Ada fell to either side, leaving a bloody mess in the center.

Then, impossibly, they staggered upright, each half standing on its own, and stared at each other.

The monster stood waiting, leaning on the pommel of its sword, now buried tip-down in the stone. Like Excalibur, thought the left side of Ada.

"Time dilation, conjuring, good reactions," the monster mused, as if ticking off a list. "All instinctual. All tied to familiar narratives, though. Interesting."

It leaned forward, the reek of brimstone filling her nose, accompanied by the crackling spit of a hellish furnace. "You need to let go of your crutches."

"What?" Ada’s two halves looked up at him, panic flickering across both faces as she stared down at her exposed innards and the pool of blood and entrails on the floor.

"Oh, pull yourself together," said the djinn’s voice from the monster’s maw.

She reached out, her left and right hands clasping each other, and with a desperate, silent prayer, she wished herself whole again.

The two parts reknit themselves, flesh and bone fusing back together, and her panic began to subside. Her heart settled, pumping blood steadily through her now-complete body once more.

As her breathing returned to normal and she took a step back from the mess on the floor, a massive gong sounded, filling the cavern with a reverberating metallic racket.

The djinn scowled. "Damn it all to hell." He glanced around the cavern, almost regretfully. "I’ll have to burn this one. Come on!"

He tore a hole in reality, grabbed Ada by the scruff of her neck, and tossed her through it.

She stumbled forward, disoriented, catching herself as the world snapped back into focus. Her eyes adjusted to a harsh, unfiltered light, and as she straightened, she realized she was standing in… an arena.

Stone walls rose up around her in a grand oval, pristine and freshly worked, as if it had been constructed just yesterday. The space had the chilling majesty of a Roman colosseum, gleaming and flawless, untouched by age or ruin.

"What’s happened?" she gasped, turning to the djinn as he stepped through the portal behind her.

"Your friend went and threw up a flare the size of a supernova," he said, his voice laced with irritation. He scanned the arena with a wary eye, as if expecting something—or someone—to appear.

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Also if you think my not too subtle reference might get me sued, let me know if the comments. 😅