Mae leaned back against the tree trunk and looked up into the drizzling sky. “When I walked into the Pit, I found myself in… I don’t know if you’d call it a forest. A wooded area, certainly. I wandered a bit until I heard the sounds of laughter and music, and followed them to a big clearing were some people were having some kind of bonfire party.

“I say people, but they weren’t. They were… I guess wooden puppets is the best term? Or mannequins? Anyway, they were obviously fake, but they weren’t creepy, like you’d expect. It was more… cartoon fake? They weren’t real, but they were understandable, not uncanny. And they invited me to join the party. We ate, we drank alcohol, we gossiped, we danced. You know, normal stuff.”

“I’m sorry, you found a mysterious clearing full of celebrating nonhumans, and they offered you food, and you ate it? Have you ever read a fairy story in your life?”

Mae laughed. “Well, since it was all an illusion and I couldn’t really eat or drink anything…”

“That’s not the point!”

“I know, it sounds stupid, but at the time I knew it was safe. Like, there was going to be a test in there, I knew that, but… this wasn’t it. It’s hard to explain.

“Anyway, everyone was really excited because later in the night, we were going to burn an effigy. They couldn’t wait. It was always the most exciting part of the night, they told me; they’d put the effigy on the bonfire and everyone would cheer while it burned. I was really looking forward to it.” She took another drag on her cigarette. “So the night drags on. I’m having a fantastic time. And eventually, everyone gathers around the bonfire, and it’s a big party with a big bonfire. There are about fifty of us there. And one of the not-people, his name was Robert I think, announces that it’s time to burn the effigy. And he calls me forward, as the guest of honour, to, well, do the honours.

“Now, I know what you’re thinking. The same thought crossed my mind; of course it did. ‘Oh, Mae, these strange beings invited you to their party and talked about burning the effigy on the bonfire all night; did they try to burn you? Is that the big twist?’ But no, they didn’t. Robert handed me a hat full of little scraps of paper, and told me to pick one, to choose an effigy to burn. So I pull out a bit of paper, and it’s got the name ‘Chelsea’ on it, and I announce, ‘It says Chelsea’,” and nothing happens. They don’t react. Robert nudges me and says that I have to tell them directly, and use their name, so I clear my throat, and I can feel something dancing on the surface of my tongue while I announce, ‘Chelsea, be the effigy.’ And everyone cheers, and one of them runs out of the crowd and throws herself at my feet and thanks me over and over for choosing her before flinging herself, gleefully, into the flames.

“And the music starts up again, and alcohol is passed around again, and even though I can’t actually drink it the magic is making me feel tipsy anyway and I take someone aside and ask what happens next? Is the party winding down? And they say no, silly; there’s so much to do! Why, we have the burning of the effigy to look forward to! And a little while later, we gather at the fire, and there are a lot of us but one less than last time. And I pull a name out of the hat. And I say, ‘David, be the effigy,’ and he squeals in delight and runs straight into the middle of the bonfire, and everyone cheers.

“And this is kind of weird, admittedly. It’s a bit unsettling to have these guys so eager to include me in their weird suicide party, but I know, instinctively, that I’m not in danger, and they’re all happy, and they’re not real anyway, and I’m still waiting for the test, because nothing’s endangered me yet. It’s not until the sixth effigy that I really get the point.

“His name was Kyle. I read the name, and the spell has settled pretty comfortably into the skin of my tongue as I say, ‘Kyle, be the effigy,’ and his expression changes, not to one of delight or rapture or gratitude or honour, but one of dread and fear. He drags himself step by step towards the flames, and I regret everything but I know it’s too late to do anything. I used his name to give him an order, and now he’s going to obey it. And it’s not like I had a choice. It wasn’t my party, wasn’t my hat of names, wasn’t my bonfire. I just read out the name.

“He’s weeping miserably by the time he finally flops forward onto the burning wood. And then… everybody cheers, the same as always. The music starts up again, the dancing starts up again. I’m handed another beer. It’s like nobody except me even noticed what an awful, awful thing we’d just done. But of course they didn’t – they weren’t real. Nobody here except me was real. Kyle wasn’t real either. And that should make me feel better, but somehow, it doesn’t.

“Most of the people are happy to go. But every now and again, someone isn’t. I get in the habit of announcing the name first, and then doing the ordering, so I can see the victim’s expression in advance. This doesn’t help, because the name is still on the piece of paper, they still have to burn. About a third of the way through, Robert, who hands me the hat of names, is picked, but this doesn’t affect anything; he’s happy to burn, and the next round, someone else is handing me the hat.

“The effigy after Robert is named Cyrilla, and she’s the first one to throw herself at my feet and beg for mercy. But there’s nothing I can do. I’ve already given her the order. So I tell her, ‘Cyrilla, be happy about your fate,’ and her miserable pleas turn to stammers of gratitude, and she smiles up at me, and throws herself, laughing, onto the flames, without a care or regret in the world. And they cheer, and the music starts up, and I watch her laughing as she burns away to ash and try to grapple with the horror of what I’d just done. I’d killed her, yes. But first, I’d taken away her own opinions, her own feelings. I can’t just… forcibly change someone like that. And I tell myself, again, that she’s not real, that none of this is real except for me and the spell burrowing its way into my tongue, and that I’m the only person there and it’s my moral duty to get through this test and survive the Pit.

“And for the first time, I’m scared of that rationalisation. Because yes, it’s true, here. But if I carry this spell out of the Pit with me, will it stay that way? How long before I start treating real people as if they aren’t?

“But that’s a stupid, paranoid thought; of course real people are real people. I take another beer and wait until it’s time to burn the effigy. I tried to leave, a few times, but walking out of the clearing just turned me back again. I couldn’t just walk out of the party. I couldn’t order anyone to show me the way out of the party, or to end the party; they tried their best to obey me, if I used their names, but it was beyond their capabilities. The way out of a party is to sit through it until it ends, and the party couldn’t end before we got to the event everyone was waiting for, and burned the effigy.

“Then came Tyrone. I read from the paper the name ‘Tyrone’, and a face blanches in pure horror. And I hesitate. Because I don’t want to burn him against his will, and I don’t want to do what I did to Cyrilla, and I have this massively powerful spell in my mouth and I can’t do anything with it.

“Everyone had heard me announce Tyrone’s name, but like hell was I condemning him when he looked like that. I turned my gaze to Jordan, who I knew was excited for the chance to burn, and said, ‘Jordan, be the effigy’. And they grinned at me in delight and jumped into the fire and absolutely nobody called me out on the fact that they all knew that Tyrone’s name had been on the paper. So now I had a strategy, to buy some time at least. I found out who wanted to burn and who didn’t, and I… enabled them. I was helping. I was doing a favour to some to protect the rest. But I knew deep in my heart that the party wouldn’t end until we’d run out of effigies, and that I was the only person who was going to walk out of that clearing alive. And I kept telling myself, over and over again, that I was the only one who was alive. That they were simulations, tools. That nobody was getting hurt. As the party grew more and more somber, as we ran low on those who wanted to die, as everyone started looking toward the burning of the effigy with horror and dread instead of excitement and joy, it was harder to be comforted by that.

“I think the worst part was that they never blamed me. Even though I ordered them into the flames. Sometimes, if they were particularly upset, I’d… cave, and do what I did to Cyrilla. Or while we were sitting there and drinking and pretending to want to dance or gossip, I’d tell people not to worry about the upcoming burning. Just to give them a few minutes of peace. I hated myself every time, but it did make things better, and I kept doing it.

“And then… there were fifteen of them left. Fifteen effigies, and I’d be free. I could walk out of here and put the whole thing behind me and begin my training as a mage. I was so close.

“One of them handed me the hat, their eyes hollow and hopeless. I looked at the small crowd waiting for me to read a name for an execution, and thought, ‘fuck it’. I had standards. I wasn’t going to keep doing this to them. So I tossed the hat full of names into the fire.

“Then one of them handed me the hat, their eyes hollow and hopeless. I tossed it into the fire, and one of them handed me the hat.

“I had so many excuses that I could use. That I had been using. So many ways out; to make them be happy, to remind myself it was an illusion, to just… read fifteen more names, and the spell would be mine, and I would be free… and… was that what I wanted? To be somebody who was capable of doing this sort of thing, out in the real world. Willing… I was pretty sure I’d never be willing to do this to real people. Pretty sure. But what if I was wrong? Was it a risk I wanted to take?

“So I threw the hat into the fire. And before one of them could hand me the hat, I followed it into the flames. I shoved burning coals into my mouth to burn the spell out of my tongue, and I embraced the destruction and purification while the partygoers watched, silent, waiting for me to read out the name of an effigy. The flames ate me alive, and I took them inside me.” She spread her hand and let it glow red-hot, raindrops steaming as they hit it. “And I took them out of the Pit with me.”

“And the spell in your tongue?”

“Not there. I failed its test. Trust me, I made Malas check six times. There’s noting in me but fire.”

“You’re not scared of the fire, though. I’ve watched you light them to make tea. You were burned alive and came out of it fine. I didn’t go through anything like that; there’s no reason to worry about me.”

“You’re right,” she said. “I have no fear of fire. But the Pit left its marks, just… not that one. It’s not always logical, what you’re going to remember, what’s going to haunt you. It leaves its marks on all of us, and it’s not weak or unusual to seek help in dealing with that. It’s sensible.”

“Mine was fine,” I said. “I don’t need help.”

“Whatever you say, Koala. You want to – ?”

“No. But… thanks.”