Ian snapped awake; his head swimming in pain as he sat up. But his pain was mitigated by something exquisitely soft beneath him. He found himself lying in a bed so soft and pillowy it could have been mistaken for a cloud. His eyes flitted about the room while his mind began re-assembling how he’d gotten here even if he didn’t quite know where here was.

Vale…

The jagged memory of the fight and her death played out in his mind’s eye. There was a moment, a long moment, where the grief and pain threatened to consume him. But he would not allow it, he could not, she’d given everything to save him. He let out a long slow breath. He would have time to grieve, but not now. Now he needed to focus on finding a way to escape. He turned his attention to his prison. And he had no doubt that’s what it was a prison.

There was one exit, a door that was currently closed on the far side of the room. Off to one side was a crackling fire and overhead candles burned brightly in a chandelier that cast the room in a warm, inviting glow. Two high back wing chairs sat in front of the fire with a game board spread out on a table between them. It gave the impression of a five-star hotel room rather than a prison cell.

He’d been stripped down to his pants, but he considered it fortunate he still had that much. He got up slowly expecting there to be pain at every movement. But found there was none, only a stiffness as though he’d finished an intense workout. He swung his legs over the edge of the mattress and got up. If nothing hurts I’m either dead or am in serious trouble. He thought as he assessed his options.

“Not dead," Came a familiar voice from behind a chair.

On wobbly legs, Ian made his way across the room and fell into the adjacent seat. By the time he hit the cushion, the previously unoccupied chair was filled by a malignant presence. One that Ian couldn’t seem to be rid of.

“Hello Ivy,” Ian said with a cool detachment, a far cry from the seething rage he felt.

Between them sat a game board, similar to chess in appearance, but with a few more pieces.

“Do you play?” Ivy asked, gesturing toward the board.

“I play chess, but not whatever this is,” Ian said, “I don’t even know what half of those pieces are,” Ian said placing his hands on the table and leaned in annoyed with himself for even answering, “and who cares? What am I doing here? You obviously don’t want me dead, so you need me for something. Why send mountain-goon to kick my ass and kidnap me, only to turn around and heal me? Why...” His voice trailed off, the loss of Vale was too fresh, too raw for him to even speak of it.

Ivy’s response was to reach out and with his index finger, he directed the pieces on the board. The opposing side moved on its own as Ivy played a solo game and explained the rules. He ignored Ian’s questions while explaining the rules to Paragorian Strategy which it turned out was very similar to chess.

After the game was through Ian watched the pieces reset with a wave of Ivy’s hand. With no change in Ivy’s countenance, Ian decided that his best bet for getting answers was to play along.

“For all the rules, remember the goal is merely to force the king first into submission and finally defeat,” Ivy explained in a condescending tone. After the first moves, Ivy finally saw fit to answer one of Ian’s questions. “I told you when we first met that you were an anomaly to me. And by the very definition anomalies are rare which means that I find you interesting. I would likely never discover the reason for that if you were to die,” With a flick of Ivy’s wrist a piece slid to claim one of Ian’s,“Submission.”

Ian glanced at the board and leaned in to move, what he dubbed, a pawn piece. He also hoped to catch a glimpse of Ivy’s face. The firelight flickered and shifted teasing a reveal, but at the last moment, the light pulled back. Leaving Ian with no details other than Ivy’s pretentious, pearly white grin.

“So again, you attacked my friends and kidnapped me because you couldn’t see my future? And you wanted to what… study me?” Ian said.

“No, I did all of that because I need you,” Ivy said, his tone that of a teacher correcting a student, “Or more accurately I need someone from your world and such beings are difficult to come by,” he made another quick move, “Submission.”

“Okay, and that explains nothing," Ian said as he moved his king piece forward and out of the submission, “Why do you need someone from Earth? And why would you possibly think I’d even be willing to help you?”

Ivy said nothing but he continued playing the game until Ian’s king was cornered, “Defeat.” A casual wave of Ivy’s hand and the board reset.

“I never expected you to be willing, not unless it was worth your while. Which brings me to the offer. I know that you want to go back home. And I can have that arranged. It would be quite a simple thing for me to do. After all, I brought you here in the first place,” his head tilted upwards revealing a devilish grin, “That is what you’ve wanted this entire time, is it not? And believe me when I say that my methods are far more precise than the reckless plans your drunken friend has been devising,” Ivy said while the pieces slid around the board.

Ian considered this in silence as they played another round of Paragorian Strategy. It should’ve been an easy decision, after all, he’d been fighting to get home since the moment he learned he wasn’t in D.C. anymore. But he knew it had to be a trap. Getting home couldn’t be as easy as accepting Ivy’s offer. Anger and longing welled up inside him as he moved his pieces about the board.

“If you brought me here because you needed someone from my world,” Ian said, “then what do you get out of sending me home? You don’t strike me as a man who goes around helping people out of the kindness of your heart. And besides that, if you can do it so easily, why didn’t you offer to send me home when we first met in the cafe?”

“Does it matter the reason?” Ivy enquired, then shrugged and pointed his next piece on its way, “You would be home and far from my grasp. You could put all of this behind you.”

Ian contemplated his options while focusing on the board in front of him. It wasn’t the game that mattered but the information he could glean about his opponent by his actions. Realizing he hadn’t yet checked for his belongings, he patted the pouch on his belt. Surprisingly his phone, badge, and wallet were all still inside. Judging from the rigidness of the wallet they hadn’t even taken his survival card out.

“You’ll find everything still there. I am many things but I am not a petty thief. I did not take your weapon either if you were wondering. It was not among your things when you arrived,” Ivy said, letting out a disappointed sigh before his next move. “Defeat, again. Pity, I was hoping you would have been more of a challenge.” He flicked his wrist at the appropriate piece to strike the killing blow to Ian’s king standing to walk away before it was over in his apparent boredom.

But Ivy’s piece didn’t make it to Ian’s king. One square away from the winning position it faltered and came to a halt.

“Interesting,” Ivy whispered. “But, no matter. I’ll give you some time to think about my offer. In the meantime relax and regain your strength.” Then without any warning Ivy vanished leaving Ian alone once more.

Ian studied the board trying to figure out what had happened. Ivy’s magic had failed, and it had left his king completely exposed when his last move had faltered. Using one of his pawns Ian slapped the king off the board and into the fireplace.

“Defeat, jackass.”

He sat back in the chair in a funk there were too many unknowns with the offer. Besides the obvious issue that Ivy and his cronies were completely untrustworthy, he still had no idea what their motivations were. And no idea what would happen here in Paragore if he did agree to go back. He got up and started pacing the room. He pulled out his survival card and his mind flashed back to Vale and the burns on her fingertips from touching it for only an instant. In an outburst of rage, he flipped over the table sending the game pieces scattering.

He stormed over to the door, and twisted the knob giving the door a hard yank. But it proved to be locked and very unyielding. He used the steel card and slid it along the frame as he had done in the Partners’ office. Sure enough, there was a soft pop and the door swung open. Ian peeked his head out to find that there were no guards posted in the hallway in keeping with Ivy’s pompous demeanor. Magical crystals hovered in sconces that cast the long corridor in a muted white light. The floor was covered in a luxurious red carpet that would have been more suited for a Hollywood movie premiere. Against the walls were intricately carved tables topped with unlit candelabras made of glittering green metal. Hundreds of paintings hung everywhere on the ivory white walls depicting starkly morbid scenes. In contrast to their subject matter, the paintings were all disquietingly bright. Vibrant pastel colors filled the canvas’, making the gory material almost cartoonish.

As far as Ian could see in either direction the red carpet stretched on disappearing in the distance around the curved hallway. There were also dozens of doors the entire hall length, exactly like the one he’d just stepped through. He tried opening several of them but each door led right back to his lavish cell. He walked back in and noted that all was as he’d left it the table still flipped, another table piled high with food. He dug his card back out and used it to gouge an angry Z into the door front.

He stepped back out into the hallway and held the bladed edge of the card against the inside wall dragging it along as he walked. Curls of paint fell to the ground as he gouged a line to mark his path. Petty though it might be causing a bit of damage to Ivy’s property made him feel slightly better.

It didn’t take him long to realize that he was stuck in a loop. After he’d connected the long cut in the wall back to where he’d started, he put the card away and sighed. With no other options, he started a new lap, searching for anything that stood out.

There must be a hidden passage or a torch to pull… some way to get out. At least that’s what he kept telling himself.