The instant Benjamin cracked the door a white-hot blast slammed into his eyes. He staggered back, heart hammering in his chest. This new chamber wasn’t dazzling, only stark contrast to the gloomy void he’d just left. Fluorescent tubes buzzed overhead, scratched mirrored walls doubled the glare, brass handrails dull and dented, and a threadbare red carpet under his feet. He squinted at his reflection. He finally got a decent look at his body: average height, neither gangly nor squat, neither muscular nor soft—an anonymous drone. I am the most boring looking person ever.

  He patted the walls for buttons and found none. The hatch behind him yawned shut with a grinding thud, sealing him in. Panic fluttered behind his ribs. The compartment vibrated—he was dropping. Or falling. He choked back a scream as surrendering to confusion was the only thing keeping his pulse from detonating his skull.

  Seconds stretched into an eternity. Then the silence shattered as the mirrored wall ahead split apart, sliding aside. He forced himself forward and onto raw earth. He was in a circular pit as wide as a football field, its floor hard-packed dirt under his toes. I remember football. How helpful. Above him, torches burned against an abyss of black. A stone wall towered at least thirty feet high. The air was dank. No wind whispered. No distant drip. Just a suffocating hush—and an itch of dread that he was not alone.

  Then the walls themselves split. Vertical slits carved open, disgorging silhouettes—hundreds of them—like prisoners waking from a nightmare. Ben squinted, heart lurching, and took a step. He slammed into an invisible barrier: iridescent-blue walls materializing around him, isolating him in a coffin of light. His jaw went slack. His tongue refused to form words. No matter how he willed it, his voice died in broken rasp. Typical. Now someone in a black robe is gonna show up, parchment in hand, to explain everything.

  But instead, the center of the pit birthed a single, pinprick of brilliance. It swelled, an orb of white light inflating to the size of a small house. Thick tendrils of pure luminescence spilled out, each one alive with rainbow veins that pulsed like electric serpents. It was mesmerizing. Right up until those phosphorescent arms began creeping toward him. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t look away. He was certain this was the end.

  This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

  The tendrils multiplied, forking into dozens, then hundreds of spindly filaments. Sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down his temples. One drop fell with a hiss, sizzling in the oppressive heat radiating from those glowing probes. Before he could flinch, they stabbed into flesh—points of fire, of ice, of every agony he thought possible magnified tenfold. He thought he could remember pain at least. He was wrong.

  Pain erupted behind his eyes and in his bones, a torment beyond reason. It felt like molten iron being poured through his veins, like acid churning in his stomach, like a million needles exploding under his skin. His world narrowed to where only the pain existed. He tasted scorched blood and smelled something burning.

  Just when he thought his soul would tear itself free, the pain flared three times hotter—each wave a convulsion of “Just kill me already.” Then, abruptly, silence.

  He collapsed, chest heaving, tears carving channels through the soot on his cheeks. When he dared to look up, half the glowing walls had vanished. The rest flickered like dying stars.

  Shaking, he hauled himself upright. The misery had burned through everything—including his clothes. He stood naked, limbs trembling, every fiber of his being aflame with raw potential.

  Something inside him opened.

  A pressure valve in his soul twisted loose, and suddenly the air felt alive. Alive with something he couldn’t sense before.

  He knew—without knowing how—that he could draw it in. His mind filled with structured understanding.

  Knowledge flooded into him.

  Arcane Gate.

  Perception Gate.

  The meanings arrived fully formed, like instincts he'd forgotten he possessed.

  Holy shit. This is magic. Magic is real.

  He flexed fingers that felt brand-new, chest pulsing with energy. Though he couldn’t recall his exact age, he knew his kids were grown and suddenly all this new body talk seemed plausible.

  All around him, a mechanical voice boomed from nowhere:THE CRUCIBLE OF THE BODY IS NOW FINISHED. PLEASE EXIT IMMEDIATELY.

  The remaining walls parted and he walked back in the lift. The platform beneath him began to rise. Benjamin cracked a grin despite himself.

  “Well then,” he muttered, “let’s see where this rabbit hole leads. Whatever that means.”