“Non!” I angrily shriek into a nearly empty room full of uninterested parties.

  “This serves nothing,” the voice monotonously drones, leaning over and looking down on me. “Return to the pits.”

  “Non!” I scream back up into his deadpan face, venting all my pent up exasperation. “Non peet. Non gew. Non dat. Dep dep!”

  My words appear to puzzle him again, and he simply stares at me for a long time, saying nothing. Finally, he responds very matter of factly with a flat, warbling tone, as if stating something clearly obvious.

  “The pits are never far from you. You are both one and the same. Return is inevitable. What is the error? Return to the pits.”

  This time, I’m the one confused. What does that mean? The pits aren’t far? It’s true that I was born from the mud there, but how does that make us identical? Are we really still connected somehow?

  Before making any sense of the enigma, the door harshly rattles against my impromptu barricade. Reflexively, I cock my head and amplify my ears anxiously to listen.

  “Sir, stop! Stop! You said you wouldn’t enter!” a small, squeaky voice weakly chastises.

  “Yes, but as you can clearly see, my partner has brought with her the authority to act. Please step aside.”

  “We can’t allow anyone to enter the regional head’s office without her permission!”

  The arguing continues around in circles, and for a moment, I think that I’m still safe. However, another voice suddenly shows up to join the conversation, out of breath.

  “I’m sorry, Clarence. I gave my permission. That fugitive inside is the cause of all this commotion. The regional head herself may be in danger. After all, she hasn’t contacted us since he entered. We must allow them inside!”

  “Sarah, we don’t have the authority to do that. Only the regional head can approve such a breach!”

  The two guild staff outside continue arguing, buying me slightly more time. However, the writing’s definitely on the wall. If I’m to act, it must be now. But if I can’t sneak my tethers outside the room, then I can’t connect to anyt–

  My mind races at the sudden realization, caught in the raging storm of possibility.

  “Peet mud. Mud mud. Sam mud. Sam gob?” I cautiously check, looking up hopefully at the nearly lifeless figure still dangling over me.

  “Of course,” he says. “All mud is one by the Will.”

  If we are truly one and the same, then can I extend my arcane control all the way back to the pit that created me? I wouldn’t need any tethers then. It’s just a pile of my own flesh, after all. Or am I its? Either way, we are one. Therefore, the spacial summoning song is unnecessary, even if the pits are very far away.

  The door rattles again, and the untempered voices outside amplify. The argument’s getting heated and it sounds as if even more have joined. However, my pursuers may be growing restless waiting. That must be why they keep testing the door. How long until they overcome their stupid fear of the guild and force their way inside?

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  Turning my back to the threat, I return to my practiced concentration. It’s far too distracting out there. Focus on my task. Focus on making a new door.

  Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath in through my nose. If it could find that younger mud deep in the forest cave, then so too may it find my mud of origin. No clue if that’s actually true, but somehow it feels right. Natural? Rhythmically repeating each nasal breath, I blindly reach out with my senses.

  The scent of the room rapidly takes shape in my mind. Next, the murky, hazy cloud of the room’s single occupant. Then the big ones outside, having their energetic disagreement. One cluster of hazy clouds dramatically circle each other while the two sharp outlines of my pursuers hover up against the door. The packed atrium of the guild hall. The now empty streets outside. I’m amazed at the clarity this provides. The search for the cave mud is a stale memory, but it presented me with the same detail. Why did I forget? At the time, the flood of new songs distracted me like a new toy. Did I lean on them too much? Did I forget the unfathomable power of the mud?

  Regardless, this isn’t enough. I must search farther. Pushing my special sense to its limit, I feel it straining against the boundaries of this large dungeon. Beyond the walls, everything mixes together and gets confused. The crisp picture falls apart. This stupid town is so clean and sterile that it’s a simple map. Outside, the wilderness descends straight off a cliff into pure chaos.

  However, despite the chaos, I do feel a single, slight tug teasing me. A quiet whisper. It’s familiar and sweet. An always standing, unconditional invitation to return to its precious warm embrace. Following it, everything else around me silences and completely disappears. My consciousness is easily whisked down a slippery, well worn channel and out into the cold nothingness that surrounds this place. Shivering, I want to see where I’m going, but it’s so dark here. All I get are occasional playful outlines of scent crawling up and dancing around on the surface of something. After eagerly shifting myself up to the surface to peek out and join them, all I sense now is more vast nothingness in all directions.

  Is this the right place? All I can do is try. There’s no other option left. Lifting my right hand, I extend energy from core to hand and touch the nearby space. On the other side, I extend energy from core to cold, dark space, effortlessly forcing it through the far flung channel. Then I will the separated spaces to connect, and they become one and the same.

  It worked! It somehow worked. I don’t understand how, but why question genius and fate?

  “What are you doing?” the voice above me melodiously questions in fascination, but I ignore it.

  Next is the rip. This too is new, so I must keep a tight hold of my concentration. I’ve already read about all the techniques and rehearsed them in my mind over and over. All that’s left now is action.

  Pressing against the connected patch of space, I again extend energy from core to hand. It all starts with a simple twist. Beginning with a small point, I flood it with as much energy as it’ll take until it becomes incredibly tight. Then, morph it and stretch it, spreading the energy of the twist out before repeating the process from the start. Over and over again, twist the space to its limit, then stretch and spread to make room for more.

  Disappearing into the depths of my mind, the process takes a short eternity. They may break in soon, so I must hurry. However, somehow I also know that it’ll take as long as it takes. Forcing the unfamiliar arcane is a mistake. A huge mistake. The risks are far too dire.

  Finally, the constricted little patch of space gives in with a small pop, and the ragged edges of a hole flap freely in the unseen, everpresent arcane breeze.

  It’s beautiful. My first true step along this intimate journey. It’s always beckoned me so familiarly and affectionately. If I can do this, then soon enough it’ll be those gorgeous, artful tears. I could sneak in and out of anywhere! The entire world unlocked to my whim.

  However, an enormous problem stares back from my creation. This hole’s not even the size of my fist.