She snatched up the pile with such speed that, later, she could not remember the movement.

  Those four words were all that was written on the first sheet. The second, however, was more cluttered. She noted that it was written in the language she understood, not in the one the Illrum in this place spoke, and that the handwriting was the neatest thing she had ever seen.

  Dear Eluvie,

  This letter has gone through enough iterations that whatever I write now must stay. I think what I've learned from all these attempts is that I have very little to offer. I don't have explanations. I don't have promises. I don't have solutions. All I can say is that you know me, as I know you. You know that I made the choice I had to make. And that, no matter what, I have no regrets.

  I do have one thing to offer you, I suppose. It might feel like the world has ended, or that you have no way forward. It might seem like the path before you stretches up like a mountain - impossible to climb despite the fact that you must climb it.

  To that, I say, remember what you are. You have reached heights that no one in millennia dared to dream of, at speeds that no one in history dared to imagine. When you are not a sulky lump of dough, you are a force of nature. And if you didn't pass this trial, no person alive could have passed it.

  I don't think that this is the end of the path He made you for. And I hope that, after some grieving, you will see that too.

  In my own hand,

  Eluvie

  Eluvie turned the page over, but there was nothing on the other side. Those useless words were all she had by way of explanation.

  "There must be something in the air here," she said aloud. "Even my past self is infuriating."

  She let the note drop back onto the table - there was no point in keeping it - and inspected the rest of the room again.

  As she walked, she noticed her footsteps again and recalled how odd the situation was. There was a dust-free note on a table surrounded entirely by dust. That could only happen if the note had been recently placed. But there were no footprints other than hers.

  She pondered the situation while she searched the room. Nothing was hidden in the seats, but there were cabinets along one of the walls. The first cabinet held bedding and delicate-looking utensils. She found a small but sharp knife there. The next cabinet held books written in a foreign language stacked for storage. The last one held more eating utensils, two trays, and some food. She put a selection of fruit onto the tray and added a jug half-full of a pink, pulpy drink.

  Bearing the tray, she returned to the table and took a seat. Then, she selected one of the fruits - something with tough, red skin - and began to peel it.

  She crossed her legs at the ankles and addressed the invisible but present person.

  "We're going to play a game," she said. Her voice, so loud in the room, made it feel even emptier. "The game is called 'I ask a question and you answer it because I am insane and tired of being led around by the nose.' Have you heard of it?"

  As expected, there was no answer.

  Eluvie whistled a little as she peeled the rest of the fruit.

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

  "So, you haven't heard of it," she said. "Then, have you heard of Five Drinks, One Life?"

  There was no response to that either. Eluvie finished peeling the fruit and pushed the peels onto the floor to clear her tray.

  "It's a fascinating game. One year, I had some guards who loved to play it. How is it played? Excellent question. Two people face each other. They set ten cups on the table, five before each person, each person takes turns stealthily poisoning one of his five drinks, and then they swap seats."

  While speaking, she had cut the fruit into five identical pieces. The one seed in its middle left an indentation in each piece.

  "I heard that there's a traditional poison used, but I don't remember its name. And we don't need it, do we?"

  She laid the slices out in a line, picked up another fruit, and began peeling it as well.

  "Where was I? The poison. Right, so, the participants flip a coin to determine who goes first. Then, they take turns drinking from any one of the cups in front of them. The loser is the person who dies or resigns first. Barbaric, isn’t it? Most people don't play with real poison, but I've heard that there are places where you can be challenged to a game and refusing to play is the same as losing."

  She finished peeling the second fruit, cut it up, and laid out the slices. The remaining fruits were berries and needed no peeling.

  "Why did I tell you all that?" she asked. "Because we're going to play a version of it." She gestured to the tray in front of her. "Here we have some food that I have been assured will probably kill me. I don't know how much is necessary, but I presume that you do. I will ask a question. If you pretend that you cannot hear me, I will eat one slice. Then, we will keep going until one of us folds or one of us dies. And, in case you are uncertain, I won't fold."

  She picked a slice from the middle of the arrangement. "You must be wondering how certain I am of your presence? How could I do something so risky?" She barked a laugh. "Risky? I've lived in madness for as long as my memory serves. I actually find this entertaining. Let's begin. My first question."

  She waved the piece of fruit around as she pondered the question. "I should pick something simple. Introductions. That's right. What is your name?"

  She waited in silence. In the room, nothing moved.

  When enough time had passed, Eluvie shrugged, put the piece into her mouth, chewed for a suitable length of time, and swallowed. The taste was as intense as she had expected, so overpowering that she could not truly understand it. The intensity turned what might have been a delectable meal into a chore. When she finally swallowed it, it was with relief, not pleasure.

  Seconds after swallowing, she felt a shock, as if a mild bolt of lightning had run through her. It never truly faded, but it grew more pleasant, distracting. She felt so light that she had to look down to verify that she was not floating.

  "That is strange," she said. "Hmm. I wonder if the others do the same thing." She reached for an oblong-shaped berry but found nothing. She frowned. The fruit had not moved. She repeated the attempt and grabbed something, but not the fruit she had been aiming for.

  "Like being drunk," she muttered. "Hmm. This will do."

  She tried to run the new fruit through her fingers, but it slipped and fell to the floor. With a sigh, she managed to grab another berry. Idly, she wondered if she could even find her mouth.

  "So, the second question. Better answer quickly, I might not manage a third. The question is: are you an Illrum or one of those invisible voices? Like the ground back in Mirab's palace."

  Resolute silence followed. The thought occurred to her that she had miscalculated. Perhaps there was no one here. Or perhaps the thing or person could not respond. She dismissed the thought. She had nothing to bargain with. If she went along with the whims of those around her, she would end up back where she had come from. If she wanted to live, she needed boldness.

  She ate the new piece of fruit. There was a moment in which she expected to be stopped, but no one stopped her.

  The feeling was the same as the first - an undecipherable taste, a bolt of lightning, then light-headedness. Her vision lost focus. The objects in the room multiplied. Where there should have been one tray, there were four or five. She had no chance of picking the right fruit now, so she grabbed a handful, slurred out a question, and ate the handful without waiting for a response.

  What a group of liars. Pretending to care about me, pretending that torturing me is funny or beneficial or whatever insanity you want to claim.

  "I win," she said. "You've shown… you're just pretending. All of you. You don't care. This is just a game for you. Well, I won't play your game. It's my rules… or none at all."