I stood from the cold stone beneath me and looked up, disoriented. I was in a large room built of grey brick and with a mural carved into its domed ceiling. All around, tall, ceremonial torches burned, illuminating it with orange light. I was in the center of a circle filled with seemingly complex runes, some sort of ritual circle.

Ten robed humans stood on the circle’s perimeter, with their hands outstretched. I heard cries of triumph from one, and then they all broke into cheers and congratulations of sorts, all in another language.

I slowly rose from my position, splayed out on the floor, and heard their cheers turn into concerned questions. My arm was still broken and covered in ice, so I lightly held it with my other hand, worriedly looking about the room. As I gathered my bearings, I slowly shook my head.

For a moment, I suddenly felt nauseous, but once the dizzy spell was over, I could understand what they were saying as if a switch had flipped in my brain.

“It’s just a girl?” one asked.

“Presumably,” another said. He had much more intricate robes than the rest, decorated with gold-laced illustrations. “But you know what the Monster King is said to look like. We don’t know how the other world works. For all we know, she isn’t even a human.”

I rubbed my eyes, trying to get a grip on what was going on. This situation gave me a headache, which was just about as bad as the anxiety of being trapped in a new world.

“Quickly, use the collar.”

“Yes, sir.” I looked up to see the robed figure beside the leader holding a heavy-duty collar that looked like it was meant for prisoners.

I tried to blast him away with a torrent of wind, but my psychic power wasn’t available yet, probably because of what Green had mentioned.

He threw the collar in the air, then, like a magnet to metal, it flew towards my neck, sending me thrashing to the ground as it snapped on, bolting in place.

“Quickly, activate it!” the boss said, causing all the robed people to walk back to their positions, then hold their arms out again. A red substance expanded from between their hands and joined with each other’s substances, creating a circle of red surrounding me. Then, they coalesced into the boss’s hand and shot at the collar on my neck like a laser, making it briefly glow a dark red.

Unsure what I could do, I tore at the collar, quickly learning it wouldn’t budge an inch. I wasn’t exactly sure what the point of it was, but I also wasn’t dumb enough not to see how menacing a magical iron collar was.

“Stand.”

I stood up. For a moment, I thought that was a natural reaction, but when I blinked again, I realized what had happened.

They were controlling me.

I began trying to think my way out of the situation, to no avail. Without my psychic ability, I was pointless, like a pencil without the graphite.

“Well, what can she do?” the other robed person asked.

“Does it look like I know?” the boss said, somewhat indignant. “They said summoning a ‘super psychic’ would produce the same results as the ritual that summoned the monster king. Girl, show us your power!”

I walked up to him, then tried to slug him in the face with my functional arm. He easily ducked out of the way. I scowled at him. That was all the power I had.

“Nevermind, just walk back then.” I did as he said, unable to think properly.

“So...is this a bust?” the robed person beside him asked.

“Possibly. But any world where that monster resided is either filled with people just as strong or a desolate wasteland.”

I had the feeling I could talk if I needed to, but I kept my mouth shut. At this point, all I could do was hope I regained my powers soon. Green said it would only take a minute to get them up and running again, after all.

“Whatever, we can simply ask from the source. Girl, what is your name?” the leader asked.

I said nothing for a moment, then quickly said, “Psychi Purdue.”

“Good. Tell me about your world.”

Out of my control, I began to speak in their language about my world, starting with psychics.

When I finished my first tangent, he said, “Stop.”

I immediately stopped, then rolled my eyes at the thought of being forced to explain every little detail I knew about my world.

“Tell me, are you a super psychic?”

“Yes.”

“Why aren’t you using your power?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can you use your power?”

“No.”

“Beg the Yellow One! To think we went through all this trouble only to find a useless, overweight girl.”

I sneered at him, unable to contain my anger. Ok, buddy. I see how it is. You teleport me out of my damn world, then insult me to my face. Sounds fair.

He looked back at me, and I quickly regained a calm facade. “Do you know how you can regain your power?”

“No,” I said. I couldn’t tell if he’d realized, but the collar only worked on commands, not questions.

“Well, we will discuss this later. Daakyn, please take her to the room you made, and tell her the restrictions.”

The robed man beside the boss nodded, then circled around me and decided to take hold of me by my sweater hood. “Come here,” he said, lightly jerking on the hood. I was once more compelled to follow the command, walking out with him.

“I suppose we can all get going to the feast,” the leader continued as I was taken from the room, “It looks like she will need medical attention as well. Chara, please send Tzera to heal her when you see him?”

“Yeah, I can do that,” a girl in red robes said before walking out of the room behind us.

They each had different colored robes, with the leader being the only one with green robes and ‘Daakyn having greyish-black ones.

We walked through the only exit, then navigated through old stone brick tunnels. The facility was evidently a sprawling ruin, as it had numerous intersections that led to halls filled with doors. Most doors were rotting, revealing dark, desolate rooms behind them that were clearly not in use, but others were newly made and open, showing renovated rooms, like an armory of medieval weapons, janitorial closet, a room filled with new wood, some partway through being carved, and a storeroom of food. Evidently, I wasn’t in a world with the most sophisticated of technology.

It kind of came par for the course when ‘magic’ was involved, but I had been holding on to hope that it would be modern. Psychic powers used to also be called magic, but it was later discovered to be associated with brainwaves, and ‘psychic’ became the proper word. Calling something ‘magic’ wouldn’t fly in a world with competent science. Not long, at least.

Despite the poor technology, the halls and rooms in use were dimly lit by glowing runes etched into the ceiling or objects, meaning we didn’t need torches or candles to navigate. We stopped at a closed door at the end of a hall. Daakyn opened it with a key, then led me in. Behind us, Chara turned left into an intercepting tunnel.

Despite that I seemed to basically be a slave, Daakyn had made sure the room I stayed in wasn’t uncomfortable, at least for what I assumed would be a medieval quality of life. It had a queen-sized bed with a bedroll tucked beneath it, a simple wooden dresser, and two doors on two sides of the room. It was lit by a cone of wood atop the dresser, embellished with light runes.

“This is going to be your room, Mrs.Purdue,” Daakyn said, his voice surprisingly high-pitched and nice now that we were alone. “There’s going to be a feast to celebrate your successful summoning. Do you need anything before we meet with everyone else in the mess hall?”

I shrugged as I quickly thought up a witty remark, figuring it would be harmless to test his patience. “Freedom?” I said with a challengingly raised eyebrow.

“Uhh...” he began, a little awkward. “If you ever regain your powers, you will be a valuable asset for us. So...while we can’t let you go, it’s only fair we give you accommodations fitting for your...power.” He said ‘power’ strangely.

If I hadn’t been so close to dying by Green’s slinky, I might have been more aggressive or in denial, but I was calm enough to put on an act of pacifism, even with my arm numb in pain. “If you just asked me nicely, I could have helped you all do whatever.”

“I...well, if that weren’t the case...” he said uncertainly, averting his eyes guiltily.

With no binding to control me, I may well have been capable of slaughtering all the robed men in an instant. At least, that was probably the way they saw it. The collar was admittedly a logical enough precaution, regardless of how it made me feel.

“Anyway, I’ll get you your water.” He pointed to the two doors in the corner. “Your closet is over there, and your restroom is in the other door. I’ll be back in a jiffy. Don’t do anything stupid, ok?”

Once he shut the door, I immediately ran to the bed and kicked it, only holding back because it would be stupid to break my new sleeping quarters.

I kicked it over and over again, pouring all my fear, rage, and anxiety into the strikes. I fell atop the cushion after about six repetitions, out of breath. It was difficult to accept that this was anything but a dream, but I wasn’t dumb enough to think it was one. Daakyn’s politeness was a pleasant surprise, if a little strange, but it was most certainly not enough to calm either my rage or nerves.

I shook myself to action, then began looking through the dresser, closet, and beneath the bed’s cushion, closing the door and drawers with angry shoves. Inside the drawers were some simple clothes I could imagine being made in the renaissance era, while the closet had a dustpan and duster, a jacket, and some cloth presumably meant for cleaning up water and such. I, unfortunately, found nothing beneath the bed’s cushions or comforter besides the bedroll, not that I was expecting anything. After that, I took a look in the restroom. A wooden, square seat with a hole atop it seemed to lead directly to a sewer.

Thank the gods I now know exist for decent plumbing. It was primitive but alright.

“Try not to keep that door open. The stench might get out into your room if you do,” Daakyn said from behind me, arriving with the water.

“Why not just give it a lid then?” I asked like he was an idiot.

“I didn’t really...have the time. Besides, a door suffices.” He handed me a canteen of water.

I took a swig of it, then fiddled around with the cap, trying to screw it on, before realizing it was magnetically attached. What an unnecessary gimmick. “In that case, get me a plank of wood to place on it. Also, can I have a ball? Even better, how about an ink and pen? Actually, if you do that, I’ll also need a desk.”

“W-wait...” he said, clearly a little slow. He repeated what I needed back to me. “You need all of that?”

“I want to draw, so I’ll need a lot of paper.”

“Paper is difficult to procure, and so is ink...” he shyly said. I glanced past him at a roguish man with daggers and a shortsword as he walked through the hallway, along with a few of the robed people, taking in the make of his possessions. “I can get you some, though. I’ll move a desk in when I get the chance, but we need to stop by the lads during the feast. I’ve been holding out on eating for this occasion!”

Wow, this guy was giving me a lot of important things for escape. Wood, a desk, possibly one with legs I could turn into a club, and a canteen of water, the universal solvent. All I needed to avoid was being told, ‘don’t try to escape’, and I could do just that. Then again, escaping this would be easy if I ever got my powers back...any moment now, actually.

Not that I placed much faith in Green. Faith, ha.

“Uhh, can you give me your canteen for a moment?” he asked. I handed it to him, and he took the lid off before holding a hand over it. “Aqua Creation,” he said. A small sphere of water appeared when he did, then fell into the canteen, filling it in a small splash.

I gazed at it in surprise, not sure what to think. I’d known magic existed, but it was still strange to see it being used so casually.

He handed it back to me. “Do you not have magic in your world?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Magic is just fairy tales and fiction in my world.”

“Strange to think about,” he said boredly.

I didn’t reciprocate the thought when it came to psychics. It was clear as day to anyone well familiar with science that psychic powers weren’t normal by any stretch of the imagination. The sudden introduction of super psychics in the 16th century, which led to the settling of the Americas, and globalization of culture, was too suspicious for anyone to see as anything but a supernatural occurrence or act of god. Though, some people divisively disagreed.

“Sorry, but can you tell me how you cast magic?” I asked.

“Easy, you just cast the spell by saying the words you need to with purpose. It’s pretty intuitive, all things considered. You need to have 30th percentile elementia affinity or higher to cast Aqua Create. Anyone in the 5th percentile or higher can cast Air Bolt, so try that.”

Well, that sounded simple enough. I pointed my good finger at him in a gun motion then fired, saying, “Air Bolt” at the same time.

Nothing happened.

He chuckled sheepishly. “Ok, well, maybe you have a really low elementia stat. How about Blood Point? That spell only needs a 3d percentile vita to cast.”

I did the same motion, then said, “Blood Point.”

Nothing happened.

“You...can’t cast that? Uhh...what about Sign Point? That only needs a 5th percentile in unnatura.”

I pointed again, then said, “Sign Point.”

Nothing happened.

He shrugged like he was about to burst out laughing. “Sorry, I guess you’re mundane. You aren’t going to cast any spells with whatever unfortunate percentiles you have. Maybe the monster king was just a fluke, and people from your world just can’t cast magic.”

I nodded my head. “Fair enough.” I had nothing more than circumstantial evidence, but I quickly concluded Green to be the culprit who made me useless.

“There is one other magic you can try. If your percentiles are just that low, you can try your signature magic.”

Guessing it was a type of magic unique to me, I asked, “How do I use that?”

“Well, you call out to The Lady in Red ‘Tell me my signature magic!’ and she’ll tell you.”

I spit out a breath of air, then yelled, “Tell me my signature magic!”

...After a second, an indignant, familiar voice spoke in my mind.

[Your signature magic is that you can identify the percentiles of other people by poking their heads. It also allows you to make confetti by clapping. Also, why in The All’s name do you have a .1 in every percentile? Did that damn percentile editing magic get used on some poor soul again?]

[Sorry, but it’s a little more complicated than whatever you just said.] I thought while tapping my head. A flat menu screen popped up, showing my percentiles on green, blue, and black graphs, respectively.

Percentiles: Vita: .1% Elementia: .1% Unnatura: .1%

[Oh, so this is like one of those gamelit thingies, isn’t it?]

[...Who...who told you I read that stuff?] she asked angrily.

[Uhh, what?]

[Wait...are you from Earth? Who let you in here? Did Green let another Earth person into the dimension?’

[Well, you found me out, I guess.]

[Sigh* Well, at least he fixed the 100th percentile bug. If you see Green again, tell him I’m happy he succeeded in a minimum level of competency. I wonder why he didn’t normalize the ratios, though...And yes, I modeled some signature abilities off video games I play. Any good artist needs inspiration, and there aren’t many better universes to find it in.]

[I’ll make sure to tell him you’re happy when he gets me out of slavery.]

[Eek, that’s rough, kid. Good luck without magic or psychic powers if you have those. We turned that shit off once that damned ‘kid’ started playing god.]

I clapped my hands, and in a pop, confetti burst from between my palms and slowly fell to the ground. [Great ability you gave me.]

[Well, at least you can use your new unlimited supply of confetti as fire tender. I’ll be seeing you, chump.]

“An 0.1 in every percentile, she said.”

The robed man shrugged. “I guess you’re not casting magic any time soon. Unless we’re counting confetti.”

“Yeah...” I said, underwhelmed at not getting any cool powers(as if I needed more). “Well, anyway, can you take me to someone who can heal my arm?”

“Tzera should be picking you up any moment. What happened to it, anyway?”

I looked down at the melting cast surrounding my limp arm. “Someone hit me really hard.”

“That- I could tell.”

Suddenly, some burly man with a fluffy mohawk wearing a puffy coat tumbled into the hall behind the doorway, yelling, “Did someone say my name?”

“They did, hun,” a girl said annoyedly as she walked in front of him and waved. She was wearing a giant scarf that wrapped around both her arms and somehow retained its shape, defying gravity and tension as it moved with her hand as she waved.

Tzera, the man, walked past her and into the doorway, too big to see past. “You needed me to heal that arm, right?”

“Yes?” I said, leaning back from the volume of his presence.

“Well, no need to be in pain any longer. I’ll get you patched up. Kalief, let’s take her to the infirmary.”

“Ok, hun,” she responded dispassionately before waiting outside the door for her boyfriend or husband or whatever to move. They seemed old enough to be married and perhaps a little older than Daakyn. When he started walking down the hall, she walked in and motioned for me to follow her.

As I walked out, Daakyn said, “Follow them and let him heal your arm. Those two are really nice people.”

I immediately began powerwalking away, not of my own volition, so I didn’t respond or look at him. I heard him walk to the left, where the feast was presumably starting.

“So,” Tzera said, “They put the ol’ collar on you?”

I rolled my eyes just thinking about it. “Yes.”

“They were saying something about taking you from another world, but I don’t get it. Did they mean a different planet, like Uliz up in the sky?”

“No, a different universe,” I said.

“There are multiple universes?” he asked, befuddled.

“Apparently,” Kalief said, soft-spoken but not very expressive in her tone. “She should come from the same place as the Monster King.”

“Seriously? That guy’s from another universe?” he asked, jumping in surprise. He then put a hand to his chin. “Actually, that kinda makes sense. It isn’t like he’d care about people from some other universe, so I guess he just started shitting on us for fun.”

“Sometimes, I wonder if you’re hapless or genius.”

“If you really want to know, he was just as bad in our world as well,” I said. “He killed about seven million people.” Mostly through hapless destruction, but I’d heard stories about what he did.

It wasn’t pretty.

“Seven million!?” Tzera asked, jumping in surprise again. “That’s, like one in fifty people alive. Better than we’re doing...but still a lot.”

“You all only have...” I began, before calculating, “Thirty-five hundred million people in your world?”

“Roughly,” Kalief said, turning into a room and walking further in to give Tzera space. “Only The Woman of Purple can say the exact number, and it’s changed since the last time the info was public. Either way, in our world, The Monster King and his armies have killed a lot of people. All of us in The Marionettes have lost friends and family in the conflict.”

“Damn...” I whispered, putting that new name in the back of my mind. It was even worse for them in this world.

Not that seven million people from third-world countries had affected Canadians that much. It certainly changed culture as I knew it, though. Psychics became the topic of debate after it.

“Anyway,” Tzera began, “Let’s get you healed before anymore chit-chat.”

He began by cracking my cast by saying. “Shatter”, which was a spell that did exactly what I expected it to do, shattering the ice. Then, he laid me on some makeshift cushions and began bandaging my arm, assuring me that what he was about to do would hurt a lot.

He bandaged my arm really tightly with Kalief’s scarf, making me squirm in pain the whole process. Evidently, the collar couldn’t command me to do anything I had no mental control over. The scarf seemed to autonomously help him wrap, so it was over quickly.

When it was fully bandaged, the pain suddenly disappeared, for the most part.

“Ok, you can take it off her, now,” he said to Kalief, who silently made the scarf unwind from my hand in a blur. It wrapped around her body once more, and she tenderly rubbed it against her face, whispering sweet somethings to the inanimate object for...some reason.

“So, does it feel better?” Tzera asked.

I sat up, then began curiously testing my arm, swinging it around. It still hurt a little, but overall, I was fine. “T-thanks. How did you do that?”

He tried to grab his girl’s scarf for demonstration, but she defensively smacked his hand away in brutal fashion. He got a dejected look, staring at his hurt hand. “W-well, anyhow, my signature magic is to heal people by bandaging their wounds. Kalief helps me out by using her scarf signature magic, but I still need to personally do most of the bandaging to make it activate.”

I clapped in congratulations on my healing, causing confetti to pop out, spooking them. “Thanks for healing me, anyway. So, are we going to the feast, then?”