“Keys? I’m assuming this is something else most people already know about.” Ben asked.

  “You’re brand new, boy.” Ironbelly declared. “That means your soul is primed for taking in power. And that’s something we can take advantage of. We gonna expose you to mana infused items. People like to use the word ‘enchanted’ but there ain’t no chanting involved, so it never made much sense to me. But what does, is that it’s possible to forge weapons, armor, clothes, hell, you can imbue mana into toilet paper, if you want. But that would be a pretty large waste of time. Literally.”

  “The point our captain is trying to make, Ben,” Thimble explained, “is that your soul wants to unlock more power, right now, and we can use items like these as a catalyst. Like a cheat. Otherwise, it would take a crucible or traumatic life experiences to unlock more gates. And since we don’t know what your soul will choose to unlock, we brought options.”

  Ben sat there. Freaked out but calm. This is so fucked up, he thought, but it isn’t like I have a choice in the matter.

  The first case Ben opened hissed like a pissed-off snake. He jerked his hand back, halfway expecting a spring-loaded blade or a curse to the groin, but it was just the chemical seal breaking. Inside he found a necklace with a matte black stone the size of a throat lozenge, a ring shaped like a closed eye, and a silver coin with a hole drilled through the center.

  Ben stared at them, waiting for a spark. Or a sign. Or a chorus of angels, frankly. He got nothing.

  “Is something supposed to happen?”

  Ironbelly grunted, “Just keep looking through everything. It’ll make sense soon.”

  His fingers hovered, then veered over to another case the size of a lunchbox and covered in warning stripes. He flipped the lid open and nearly gagged at the reek of hospital disinfectant. A small, glass potion bottle with something bright green inside, a pair of weird looking spectacles, and what looked suspiciously like a tooth. Gross.

  He snorted. “Not even a user manual?”

  Thimble didn’t look up from her holo-pad. “You’re the one with the weird core. Figure it out.”

  Ironbelly’s tail flicked behind his seat, drumming a nervous rhythm against the stone. Siva said nothing, though she watched Ben’s every move like a loan shark weighing collateral.

  Benjamin lifted the specs, expecting weight from the intricate black lines curling across the frames like frozen smoke. Dark crystal lenses, etched with unfamiliar runes. When he slid them onto his face, they settled against his skin with unexpected lightness, as if they'd belonged there all along. His gasp echoed in the chamber as the closed cases before him turned transparent, revealing their contents like wire-frame images. Beyond them, the stone walls faded to translucence, revealing ghostly, luminous shapes moving in the distance.

  Thimble snorted. "Those make you look like you should be shushing people over late library books."

  Ben took them off and ran his finger along the elegant ivy-patterned chain hanging from the spectacles. Something about the comparison felt strangely familiar, though he couldn't place why. Before he could dwell on it, he felt that feeling inside as a gate unlocked, opened, and the world lit up around him.

  Knowledge hit him again — perception once more.

  “Whoa. Perception again. Um, everything seems clearer, and I can sort of see through the wall, but it really hurts.” Ben said with a wince.

  “Yeah,” Thimble commented. “There are drawbacks to some abilities. You just have to train, or get something that counteracts it, or just don’t use it. Some people have gates they never open their entire lives. In your case, think of it as trying to read when you need corrective lenses.”

  Well, that’s helpful, Ben thought. And you’re being quiet, Thorn. Everything, okay?

  My input is unnecessary at this juncture, Thorn replied, in fact, it’s best if I refrain from unduly influencing you.

  He set the spectacles back down.

  "Huh," Ironbelly rumbled, picking them up and slipping them into a pocket. "These belonged to my old captain. Couldn't even test them until the poor bastard was cold in the ground. Let's you see mana, even through solid matter."

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  The next case was a black velvet ring box, its hinges tarnished with age, the fabric worn thin at the corners. Ben's thumb traced the delicate silver clasp before easing it open just a crack. Instantly, a cacophony of shrill wails erupted from within—not human screams but something ancient and otherworldly, like the death cries of a thousand insects amplified to unbearable levels. The sound vibrated through his chest and made the fine hairs on his forearms stand rigid. Ben snapped it shut and dropped it back to the table, his heart hammering against his ribs as he stumbled backward. When he looked up, Thimble's face had relaxed, her previously tense shoulders now slumped with visible relief. "Don't worry," she said, the corner of her mouth quirking upward, "that's the right reaction."

  Ben squinted his eyes at her but kept moving. Looking down, he was surprised to find his hand had already picked up a brown leather pouch. So much weird shit, he thought as he opened it and inside found a compass, battered and old, its face yellowed with age. The needle spun in lazy circles, never settling. When he picked it up it stopped moving and pointed in a random direction.

  “Be careful, please,” Thimble’s voice was sharp. “That’s like, really old.”

  He frowned, turning the compass over in his palm. The needle quivered before settling on a direction that had nothing to do with magnetic north. "What's it pointing at exactly?"

  "Active portal signatures," Thimble answered. "Sounds great until you realize it can't tell you what kind of portal, where it leads, or whether you can even use it. Nine times out of ten, you'll hike for days just to find some dimensional tear you can't access."

  Ben kept his eyes fixed on the compass face. The longer he stared, the more the world around its edges began to warp and fade. Sounds dulled as if he'd plunged underwater. A subtle pressure built inside. And he felt a pull toward the captain.

  “That’s weird, I feel a tug in my chest. I want to go in that direction… What’s a karma gate mean?”

  “Nice!” Thimble exclaimed. “That’s what everyone calls luck. It’s not rare, but not real common for a human. Best part is that you can leave the gate cracked indefinitely. It’s passive and pretty harmless. Don’t count on it though. It does what it wants.”

  “Are you done?” Siva asked, her patience starting to leak through her voice.

  “No idea,” Ben replied. He wanted to pick up one of the wicked looking swords but felt uneasy any time he got close. Yet there was something else in the case that he sensed.

  There, tucked in the corner, he saw it.

  It was just a scrap of cloth—faded brown, fraying at the edges, and greasy at the touch. The kind of thing someone might have used to polish furniture. Ben lifted it between two fingers, expecting nothing, but the moment his skin made contact, frost seemed to crystallize along his vertebrae. The room tilted sideways. He grabbed the table edge, knuckles white. His sinuses filled with the piercing scent of lemon oil, so vivid he could almost taste it. A cleaning rag. Just a goddamn cleaning rag. But why did touching it feel like grabbing a live wire?

  Without thinking, Ben dragged the rag across one of the daggers. The weapon flashed like a dying lightbulb, and the blood-red crystal embedded in its hilt faded to the color of dirty ice.

  The mana in the weapon simply… died.

  Ben blinked, suddenly aware of a new emptiness coiled deep in his soul — Null.

  The word arrived with unsettling certainty. Whatever this gate was, it didn’t control mana.

  It erased it.

  "Oh shit, I didn’t mean to do that," he said, staring at the now-powerless blade.

  Thimble's head snapped up, eyes narrowing. "What did you do?"

  A bark of laughter escaped him. "It's a magic eraser." The joke tickled something in his memory, though he couldn't place why.

  Ironbelly's whiskers twitched as he stared at the rag with wide-eyed disbelief. “Which gate?”

  Ben answered slowly, “Null… Is that bad?”

  "By the void," the captain murmured, "that shouldn't exist."

  Thimble's fingers flew as she stared intently at her holo, small pink tongue poking from the corner of her mouth. "A Null Gate? That's not in any codex I've studied. And this cloth is completely off manifest." She reached into a pack and flicked a small metal tin his way. "Contain that thing before you accidentally wipe our transport systems. And keep it on you till we get back to the ship and properly dispose of it."

  “Keep the compass till we’re out of the labyrinth, too.” Ironbelly ordered.

  Obviously, no one wanted to touch it. Ben sealed the rag inside the weird tin and tucked the container deep into his pocket. He passed his hand over the remaining items, feeling nothing.

  "That's it. Nothing else calls to me."

  After cases were closed and stowed away, Ironbelly paused, his massive paw passed Ben a sturdy looking holster. “Take this, standard mana pistol.” Inside nestled a weapon, the shine was long gone, but still serviceable. The pantheran's whiskers drooped slightly. "Shame about your gates. No offensive capabilities. Nothing against physical threats."

  Ben secured the holster to his hip, trying and failing to balance the weight against the pathetic knife on the opposite side, and slipped a couple extra mags into his jacket pockets. When he drew the weapon, his fingers found a recessed button without conscious thought. A glowing magazine slid free and he caught it with his other hand.

  “Look at that!” Thimble's eyes widened. “Not your first time handling a weapon. That's always a plus.”

  Ben verified the chamber was empty, slammed the magazine home, and rocked the slide forward. The familiar weight in his palm sparked something within him. Adding his newfound gates, Ben almost felt prepared. For the first time since awakening in this nightmare, he sensed a glimmer of possibility—a fighting chance.

  Siva gave him a respectful nod and Ironbelly started barking out orders, “Alright, time to pack up and head out. Grab your gear, make it snappy, and if anyone's lost their mind, now's the time to find it."