I followed his gaze to the door. It was an impressive piece of work, I had to give it that. Carved from a single slab of obsidian-veined granite, it filled the archway from floor to ceiling. The runes weren’t just etched into the surface; they were inlaid with a metal that pulsed with a soft, silvery light, shifting and swimming like liquid starlight. There was no handle, no lock, no hinges that I could see. It was less a door and more a statement. A very large, very heavy, very magical ‘do not disturb’ sign.“Right then,” Bartholomew said, leaping onto a nearby rock and preening. “Leave this to the expert.” He puffed out his chest, the picture of feline importance. “This particular warding sequence is of the Third Age, a classic example of High Eldorian defensive architecture. It requires a precise vocalization of the command words, attuned to the resonant frequency of the stone itself.”

  He cleared his throat with a sound like a tiny hairball. Kaelen and I waited, a study in contrasts. He stood with the patient stillness of a predator, hand resting on the pommel of his sword. I stood with the patient stillness of someone in line at the DMV, already bored and mentally calculating how long this was going to take.“Anar’kal’dorei, shol’azar, bel’ameth…” Bartholomew began, his voice a strange, melodic meow that vibrated in the air. The runes on the door flared, their light intensifying. He paused, looking pleased with himself. “And the final binding phrase is…” He trailed off. His whiskers twitched. He blinked his big green eyes. “The final binding phrase… hmm.”“You’ve forgotten, haven’t you?” I deadpanned.“Forgotten?” he scoffed, deeply offended. “Certainly not! A warden never forgets. The information has simply been… momentarily misplaced. It is a vast archive, my dear girl, one must occasionally rummage about.”

  Kaelen sighed, a sound of pure, unadulterated impatience. It was the Eldorian equivalent of a dad tapping his foot while you try to find your shoes. “We don’t have time for rummaging.”

  He strode forward, dismissing the cat’s arcane posturing. He placed a mailed hand on the door and pushed. Nothing. He braced himself, planting his feet wide, and put his entire weight into it. The muscles in his back and shoulders strained against his armor. The door didn’t so much as shudder. The runes, however, seemed to mock him with their gentle, twinkling light.“Perhaps a more… kinetic approach is required,” Kaelen grunted, stepping back.“Oh, I like the sound of that,” I said, perking up. “Kinetic means explosions, right?”“It means I am going to hit it,” he said, drawing his sword. The blade, forged with its own glimmering enchantments, sang as it left the scabbard.Bartholomew yelped. “Desist, you brute! You’ll disrupt the harmonic balance of the matrix!”

  Kaelen ignored him. He took two powerful steps and swung his sword in a brutal, shining arc. The moment the enchanted steel made contact with the runed stone, there was a deafening CRACK of energy. A dome of shimmering blue force erupted from the door, catching Kaelen square in the chest.

  I watched in wide-eyed horror as the stoic Knight of the Silver Gryphon was launched backward as if he’d been hit by a truck. He flew through the air, a mess of flailing limbs and clattering armor, and landed in a heap a dozen feet away and very near the soul-goo with a groan that sounded painful even through his helmet.“I attempted to forewarn you,” Bartholomew sniffed primly.

  I rushed over to Kaelen, my heart doing a frantic tap-dance against my ribs. “Are you okay? Can you feel your legs? How many fingers am I holding up?” I wiggled all of them in front of his faceplate.He pushed my hand away, sitting up slowly. “I am… unharmed,” he said, though his voice was tight. “The ward is formidable.”“No kidding. It just yeeted you across the room.” I said. He shot me a baffled look. “It threw you. Really hard.”

  He got to his feet, brushing himself off with a dignity that was frankly impressive for a man who had just achieved liftoff. He and Bartholomew immediately devolved into a low, intense argument. Kaelen was advocating for finding a structural weakness, while Bartholomew insisted the only way was to recall the ‘misplaced’ command word, which could take, in his estimation, “anywhere between a fleeting moment and a celestial age.”

  I tuned them out. This was my life now. Arguing with a medieval knight and a talking cat about how to open a magic door after walking across a faith-based void like god damned Indiana Jones. My experiences thus far had prepared me for a lot of things, but this was spectacularly off-curriculum.

  I found a relatively clean patch of rock and sat down, resting my chin in my hands. I watched them bicker, their voices echoing in the great cavern. It was all so… complicated. Everything in Eldoria was. You couldn’t just go somewhere; you had to follow a prophesied path. You couldn’t just ask a question; you had to solve a riddle. You couldn’t just open a door; you had to recite ancient Elven poetry or let Sir Lancelot here try to headbutt it into submission.

  It reminded me of something. It was on the tip of my tongue. That feeling of overthinking a simple problem. My brow furrowed. Then, it hit me, a flash of glorious, twenty-first-century idiocy. A memory of a meme I’d seen a hundred times. A picture of a door with a big sign that says PUSH, and a person pulling on it for all they’re worth, looking confused. The caption was something like, “My life in one picture.”

  I stood up. “Hey. Guys.” They both stopped and looked at me, their debate momentarily forgotten.“I have an idea,” I said.

  Kaelen looked skeptical. Bartholomew looked dismissive. Standard.“Is it an idea that involves more kinetic applications?” Kaelen asked.“Does it involve a proper understanding of ancient thaumaturgy?” Bartholomew countered.“No, it involves a meme.”

  They stared at me blankly. Utter, uncomprehending silence.“A ‘meem’?” Kaelen pronounced the word carefully, as if it might bite him. “Is that a type of siege engine?”Bartholomew stroked his whiskers. “A ‘meem’… from her realm, it is likely some form of primitive, nonsensical curse. I would advise against it.”“Oh my God,” I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Look, it doesn’t matter what a meme is. The point is… has either of you tried just… you know.” I gestured vaguely. “Opening it?”Kaelen frowned. “I attempted to force it open.”“No, not force it. Just… open it. Like a door. At the mall.” I saw his blank look and tried again. “The door to a tavern? A barn? Did you check for, like, a handle?”“There is no handle,” Kaelen stated flatly.“Are you sure?” I pressed, walking towards the massive slab of rock. “Because these old-timey fantasy dudes loved overly complicated, artsy crap. Maybe it’s just hidden.”

  I reached the door, ignoring Bartholomew’s hiss to “Beware the feedback loop of the primary ward!” The runes pulsed warmly under my fingertips. I ran my hands over the cool, smooth stone, feeling for any imperfection. Kaelen had seen a barrier to be smashed. Bartholomew had seen a complex lock to be magically picked. I was just looking for a door.

  And I found one.

  Along the right edge, disguised as part of the intricate carved border, was a section of scrollwork that was not quite flush with the rest of the wall. It was a perfectly integrated, almost invisible handhold, shaped like a curling vine. My fingers closed around it. It was real.“No way,” I breathed.

  I planted my feet, took a firm grip, and pulled.

  For a second, nothing happened. Then, with a low, grinding groan that echoed through the cavern like a sleeping giant stirring, the massive stone door began to move. It didn’t swing outward. It slid sideways into the wall, silent as a ghost after that initial protest. The silvery light from the runes flickered and died, their purpose served. A dark, cool passageway was revealed, smelling of dust and centuries.

  I turned around, a triumphant, smug grin spreading across my face.

  Kaelen and Bartholomew were frozen, staring at the open doorway with identical expressions of stupefied shock. The knight’s jaw was slack, and the cat’s mouth was hanging open.

  I put my hands on my hips. “See? All you had to do was pull.”Bartholomew was the first to recover, shaking his fur and clearing his throat again. “Ah! Of course! The kinetic cipher required a transverse, rather than a direct, application of force! A rudimentary test of perception. I was, naturally, about to suggest it myself.”

  Kaelen just stared at me, his helmet tilted slightly. I couldn’t fully see his expression, but I could feel the sheer weight of his astonishment. He took a step forward, looked into the dark passage, then back at me and the ridiculously simple handle I was still holding.“You… pulled,” he said, his voice laced with a strange new note. It wasn’t just surprise. It was a sliver of something that sounded suspiciously like respect.“Yep,” I said, popping the ‘p’. “It’s all about user interface and intuitive design, you know? This door gets a D-minus. Awful UX.”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  He had no idea what I was talking about, but I didn’t care. For the first time since I’d landed in this crazy, magic-addled world, I felt like I wasn’t just the damsel being dragged along. I had solved the puzzle. Not with magic, not with strength, but with a basic skill my world had perfected: assuming things are probably dumber than they look.

  I savored the moment, letting the sweet, sweet taste of victory wash over me. It was a feeling I hadn’t experienced since I’d correctly guessed the final puzzle on Wheel of Fortune from a single letter. I swaggered over the threshold, my worn leather boots making a satisfying scuffing sound on the ancient stone.“Right then,” I announced to the still-recovering duo behind me. “What’s next? A jar that needs opening? A particularly stubborn bit of shoelace?”

  Kaelen followed, the click-clank of his armored boots echoing in the sudden, vast space we’d entered. Bartholomew trotted after him, tail held high as if to project an aura of unruffled dignity that his previous bafflement had thoroughly compromised.

  As we stepped fully inside, the world ignited. Six massive iron bowls, perched on stone pedestals around the perimeter of the square room, burst into roaring flames. The sudden light threw our shadows long and dancing against the walls. They were impressive, but my modern brain immediately categorized them. Motion sensors. Fancy.

  The room was otherwise empty. No demonic statues, no treasure chests, no skeletal guardians leaping from alcoves. Just us, the six outer braziers, and a seventh, larger one resting in a shallow circular depression in the very center of the floor. This central brazier remained dark and cold.

  The floor itself was the main event. A breathtaking, intricate mosaic of polished stones—obsidian black, limestone white, and jasper red—formed a complex web of geometric shapes. Circles of varying sizes were connected by a network of straight and curving lines, with sharp-edged triangles nested at their junctions. It was beautiful, ancient, and screamed ‘puzzle’ so loudly it might as well have had flashing neon signs.“A thaumaturgic lattice,” Bartholomew declared, his voice regaining its usual insufferable authority. He began pacing the edge of the mosaic, peering at it with intense concentration. “A conduit for channeling raw magical energy. The outer pyres represent the six schools of elemental influence. The central font is the Nexus. We must discern the correct sequence of incantations to bridge the arcane gap.”

  Kaelen, ever the practical one, drew his sword. The firelight glinted off the polished steel.“Or it could be a trap. The patterns may dictate safe passage. One wrong step could trigger…” He trailed off, nudging a loose pebble with the tip of his boot. It skittered onto one of the black lines, and nothing happened. He grunted, a sound of minor relief.

  They were both so predictable. They saw magic and danger. They saw ancient runes and forgotten lore. I saw something else entirely. I saw a mess. It looked less like a mystical diagram and more like a poorly designed infographic from a corporate presentation trying to explain workflow synergy. It was cluttered, the lines of connection were confusing, and there was no clear visual hierarchy. Another D-minus for Eldorian design.“It’s not a magic circuit,” I said, walking along the edge of the pattern, my eyes tracing the pathways. “And it’s not a minefield. It’s a flowchart.”

  Kaelen turned his helmeted head towards me. “A… flow chart?”“A diagram of a process,” I clarified, pointing with my finger. “You start here, you follow the line, you get to a decision point—that’s a triangle—and then you move to the next circle, the next step. The goal,” I gestured to the unlit brazier, “is to get to the end of the process. Project completion.”

  Bartholomew sniffed, a sound of pure, concentrated disdain. “Do not impose your simplistic, mechanical worldview upon the sublime complexities of the arcane, child. This is a manifestation of cosmic alignment, not a set of… instructions for assembling flat-packed furniture.”“Oh, I don’t know,” I retorted, crouching down to get a better look. “I’ve seen IKEA instructions that were way more complicated than this. The key is finding the starting point.”

  My eyes scanned the whole floor, ignoring the individual symbols and focusing on the connections, the flow of it all. Most of the circles had lines coming in and lines going out. But there, near the entrance where we stood, was one circle made of red jasper. It had three lines branching out from it, but none leading in.“There,” I said, standing up and pointing. “That’s the start. It’s the only one with only outgoing lines. It’s the ‘Begin Project’ bubble.”“Preposterous,” Bartholomew huffed. “The vermillion sigil clearly denotes a ward of pyromantic negation! To step upon it would be to invite elemental backlash of the most severe—”“Oh, for crying out loud,” I muttered, and before Kaelen could stop me, I stepped firmly onto the red circle.

  For a heart-stopping second, nothing happened. Then, a low hum vibrated up through the soles of my boots. The red stones of the circle began to glow with a soft, internal light, and the three lines leading away from it pulsed with faint, fiery energy.

  I looked back at my companions. Kaelen had one hand outstretched as if to grab me. Bartholomew’s whiskers were twitching so hard his whole face was vibrating. I gave them another one of my smug, triumphant grins. “See? User journey initiated.”

  Kaelen slowly lowered his hand, a soft, metallic sigh escaping the joins of his armor. “By the Ancients, Paige…”“Don’t thank me yet, we’ve still got to navigate the system. Now, which path do we take?” I looked at the three glowing lines. They led to three different circles. One was a simple white limestone circle. Another was black obsidian. The third led to a triangle, a junction point.“The path of virtue is often the most direct,” Kaelen offered, pointing towards the white circle. “Purity and light.”“A tempting fallacy,” Bartholomew countered, having quickly pivoted from ‘it’s a trap’ to ‘I know how this trap works’. “The shadows often hold the truest path. The obsidian glyph is the logical choice.”“You’re both wrong,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re thinking like you. Think like the doofus who designed this. It’s a test. They wouldn’t make the first choice a fifty-fifty guess between good and evil. That’s bad level design. The triangle—that’s the key.”

  I pointed to the glowing triangle. “That’s not a destination, it’s a modifier. A switch. Look, the line goes to the triangle, and then two lines split off from it.”

  I took a careful step off my red circle and onto the glowing line, walking it like a tightrope until I reached the triangle. I put my foot on it. The triangle flared with bright white light, and one of the two paths leading away from it—the one to the obsidian circle—winked out, leaving only one illuminated path forward.“It’s a logic gate,” I breathed, a genuine thrill running through me. I was on a roll. “It’s an if-then statement. If you step on the switch, then the correct path is revealed.”

  Bartholomew was utterly silent. I could feel his feline intellect trying to reframe this in a way that made him sound like he knew it all along.“Alright, Kaelen,” I said, turning to the knight. “Your turn. You’re the tank. Get over here and follow the pretty lights.”

  He hesitated for only a moment before striding forward, his heavy boots carefully finding their place on the glowing stones I had activated. He stepped onto the next circle in the sequence, which in turn lit up, illuminating the next line in the chain.

  We continued like that, a strange dance across the ancient floor. It became a team effort. I’d identify the next junction, predicting the logic—sometimes we had to backtrack to a previous circle to deactivate a switch, sometimes Kaelen had to stand on a pressure plate-like circle while I moved to another. Bartholomew, having accepted his role as commentator, offered unhelpful advice from the sidelines like, “A prudent choice, though I would have opted for the more spiritually resonant conduit to the left,” especially after we’d already proven a path correct.

  Finally, we stood before the last glowing circle, a direct line of pure white light connecting it to the depression in the center of the room. A single path to the goal.“This is it,” Kaelen said, his voice low and steady.“Go on,” I urged, my heart thumping. “Press the big red button.”

  He took the final step. The moment his boot touched the stone, the entire mosaic flared, every line and circle burning with brilliant light. A wave of energy, visible as a shimmer in the air, surged from the pattern on the floor, flowing along that final path. It poured into the central brazier like a silent, fiery waterfall.

  With a deep, resonant WHOOMPH, the central font erupted in a column of twisting, multi-colored flame. It didn’t give off heat, but a palpable sense of pure, undiluted power. As the magical fire danced, a section of the far wall groaned, stone grinding against stone, and a new, dark doorway slid open, revealing a descending spiral staircase.

  I let out a long breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. I’d done it. Again.

  Kaelen turned to me. Through the open visor of his helmet, I could see his eyes. The astonishment was still there, but it was now overlaid with a thick, undeniable layer of respect. He didn’t say anything. He just gave me a slow, deliberate nod. A nod that said, I was wrong about you.“A-hem,” Bartholomew cleared his throat, strolling forward with a placid expression. “An excellent diagnostic run. You have successfully navigated the preliminary calibration sequence. I was confident you would grasp the rudimentary principles eventually.”

  I just rolled my eyes, a wide, genuine smile spreading across my face. I looked from the pompous cat to the silent, respectful knight, and then to the new passage promising more danger and more ridiculously designed puzzles. For the first time, I felt like I belonged here. I wasn’t Paige Hawking, I was the puzzle master.