the black magician teleport to the another word book 1

Title 15: Whispers in the Archives

Rose navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the palace, memories of past escapades flickering in her mind. Once, these halls had been a playground for her nimble fingers, their secrets yielding trinkets and forgotten lore to a curious thief. Now, the weight of overheard plans and a cosmic threat pressed down on her.

The Queen had mentioned knowledge, a secret weapon against the encroaching darkness. Rose, ever the pragmatist, knew such knowledge wouldn't be readily available. It would be locked away, guarded by magic or formidable wards. The Royal

Archives, a place she'd never dared venture before, seemed the logical first stop.

Reaching the ornately carved oak doors that marked the entrance, Rose hesitated. The air crackled with a faint magical energy, a low thrumming that sent shivers down her spine. Brute force wouldn't work here; subtlety was required.

Years of pilfering had honed Rose's senses. She noticed a faint indentation near the handle, a subtle imperfection in the otherwise flawless door. With practiced ease, she slipped a lockpick into the crevice, manipulating the tumblers with practiced dexterity. A satisfying click announced her success.

Pushing the door open a sliver, Rose peered into the dimly lit chamber beyond.

Row upon row of ancient tomes lined the walls, their leather bindings whispering forgotten secrets. The air hung heavy with the scent of aged parchment and the cloying musk of forgotten spells.

Suddenly, a deep, resonant cough echoed through the room. Rose whipped around, hand instinctively darting for the dagger strapped to her thigh. A hunched figure shuffled into view from behind a towering bookcase, its form obscured by the shadows.

"Lost, are we?" The voice rasped, ancient and dry as fallen leaves. "The Archives are no place for casual visitors."

Rose sized up the figure. It was an old man, his beard like a tangled white cloud, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling intelligence. This wasn't a guard to be easily outsmarted.

"Just looking for a bit of light reading," Rose said, her voice dripping with mock innocence. "Perhaps a bedtime story about brave heroes and vanquished darkness?"

The old man chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Such stories are child's play for those who delve into the true history of this world." He shuffled closer, his gaze pinning Rose to the spot. "But intentions have a way of revealing themselves, young one.

Tell me, what darkness truly piques your curiosity?"

Rose's mind raced. Should she lie? Reveal her true purpose? A gamble either way. She took a deep breath, deciding honesty might be the best weapon in this unexpected encounter.

"The Queen spoke of a way to fight the coming shadows," Rose admitted. "Knowledge, she said, was the key."

The old man's eyes narrowed. "Knowledge comes at a price, child. Are you prepared to pay it?

The old man chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Such stories are child's play for those who delve into the true history of this world." He shuffled closer, his gaze pinning Rose to the spot. "But intentions have a way of revealing themselves, young one. Tell me, what darkness truly piques your curiosity?"

Rose's mind raced. Should she lie? Reveal her true purpose? A gamble either way. She took a deep breath, deciding honesty might be the best weapon in this unexpected encounter.

"The Queen spoke of a way to fight the coming shadows," Rose admitted. "Knowledge, she said, was the key."The old man's eyes narrowed. "Knowledge comes at a price, child. Are you prepared to pay it?"Rose swallowed hard. The truth was, she wasn't sure what the price might be.

But the thought of the Queen and Anya wielding this knowledge against her plans was far worse.

"What kind of price?" she asked, her voice steady despite the tremor of unease in her stomach.

The old man studied her for a long

moment, his gaze seeming to pierce through her carefully constructed facade. Finally, a hint of a smile played on his lips, a smile that spoke of ancient secrets and forgotten bargains.

"There are many paths to knowledge, child," he rasped. "Some lie within the dusty pages of these tomes, waiting to be deciphered. Others reside in whispered legends and forgotten rituals. But the truest knowledge often requires sacrifice."

Rose's brow furrowed. Sacrifice of what? A trinket? A memory? A piece of herself? The uncertainty gnawed at her, but the potential reward was too great to turn back now.

"What sacrifice do you require?" she pressed, her voice a touch firmer this time.

The old man chuckled again, a dry, crackling sound. "Patience, young one. Not all bargains are struck in the blink of an eye. Tell me, what is your name? Who are you truly fighting for?"

Rose hesitated. Revealing her true name felt like revealing a c***k in her armor. Yet, a sliver of trust, born of desperation, bloomed within her. Perhaps this wizened guardian of knowledge wasn't entirely against her. Perhaps there was a way to use his wisdom to her advantage, to twist the Queen's plans without revealing her own agenda.

Taking a deep breath, she met his gaze. "My name is Rose," she said, the weight of the name settling on her tongue. "And I fight for..." she faltered, the truth a bitter pill to swallow. "For myself," she finally

admitted, the lie tasting sour on her lips.

The old man's smile widened, a knowing glint in his eyes. "A worthy goal, child," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "But self-preservation is a fickle flame. True power often lies in the strength of a shared purpose."

His words hung heavy in the air, their meaning a cryptic puzzle Rose couldn't quite grasp. Yet, a seed of doubt had been planted. Was her ambition truly all that mattered? Could there be a way to turn this cosmic struggle to her own advantage,

while also aligning herself with something bigger?

Before Rose could delve deeper into this unsettling thought, the old man gestured towards the towering shelves. "The knowledge you seek may lie within these walls," he said. "But be warned, child. Knowledge is a double-edged sword. Choose wisely what path you tread."

With that, the old man shuffled back into the shadows, leaving Rose alone amidst the whispering secrets of the Archives. The

weight of the old man's words settled upon her, and for the first time, Rose wasn't entirely sure what her next move should be.A shiver danced down Rose's spine. The air in the Archives felt thick with the weight of untold stories, each book a potential key to unlocking the secrets of power. But the old man's cryptic warning echoed in her mind – knowledge could be a weapon, but what good was a weapon if it pointed in the wrong direction?

Steeling her resolve, Rose began to navigate the labyrinthine shelves. The air hung heavy with the scent of aged paper

and leather bindings. A faint, golden light filtered through high windows, casting long, dramatic shadows that danced on the dusty floor. Each touch of a worn spine sent a thrill of anticipation through her.

Suddenly, a book on the top shelf caught her eye. Its ornately tooled leather cover seemed to shimmer ever so slightly, beckoning her closer. The title was obscured by shadow, but a symbol – a swirling vortex of silver and gold – pulsed with an otherworldly glow. Curiosity

warring with caution, Rose grabbed a rickety wooden ladder and hoisted herself towards the coveted tome.

As her fingers brushed the cover, a jolt of energy surged through her. The room shimmered, and for a breathless moment, the shelves around her seemed to blur and distort. A voice, ancient and disembodied, whispered in her ear, "Are you ready to face the true test, child?"

With a gasp, Rose found herself back on

the ladder, the book clutched tightly in her hands. Her heart hammered in her chest. Had she just hallucinated? Before she could dwell on it, the whispering voice began again, this time emanating from the book itself. It spoke of ancient pacts, of harnessing power from forgotten sources,

and of the sacrifices that often accompanied such aspirations.

Rose's initial thrill gave way to a creeping unease. The voice spoke of immense power, but at what cost? The old man's

words about shared purpose echoed in her mind. Could true power lie in something more than just personal conquest?

With trembling hands, Rose carefully placed the book back on the shelf. This wasn't the power she craved anymore. This

was a path that could corrupt, isolate, and ultimately leave her empty. Perhaps, the old man was right. There must be another way, a way to find strength and influence that aligned with something greater than herself. But what was that path?

Her gaze swept back over the vast

collection of books. In that moment, Rose knew her journey was only just beginning. The Archives held answers, but she had to find the right questions to ask. The quest for power was far from over, but it had irrevocably changed. And Rose He thought what did he think so I should try to talk to Elias he went to Elias in his room number

77 he looked for number 77. As her fingers brushed the cover, a jolt of energy surged through her. The room shimmered, and for a breathless moment, the shelves around her seemed to blur and distort. A voice, ancient and disembodied, whispered in her ear, "Are you ready to face the true test, child?"

With a gasp, Rose found herself back on the ladder, the book clutched tightly in her hands. Her heart hammered in her chest. Had she just hallucinated? Before she could dwell on it, the whispering voice began again, this time emanating from the book itself. It spoke of ancient pacts, of harnessing power from forgotten sources,

and of the sacrifices that often accompanied such aspirations.

Rose's initial thrill gave way to a creeping unease. The voice spoke of immense power, but at what cost? The old man's words about shared purpose echoed in her mind. Could true power lie in something more than just personal conquest?

With trembling hands, Rose carefully placed the book back on the shelf. This wasn't the power she craved anymore. This was a path that could corrupt, isolate, and ultimately leave her empty. Perhaps, the old

man was right. There must be another way, a way to find strength and influence that aligned with something greater than herself. But what was that path?

Her gaze swept back over the vast collection of books. In that moment, Rose knew her journey was only just beginning.

The Archives held answers, but she had to find the right questions to ask. The quest for power was far from over, but it had irrevocably changed. And Rose He thought what did he think so I should try to talk to number 77

Rose hurried down the labyrinthine corridors of the Archives, the worn stone floor echoing slightly under her determined steps. Room numbers blurred by in a dizzying array, each doorway a potential

portal to forgotten knowledge. Finally, she reached the designated section and spotted room number 77 tucked away at the end of a dimly lit hallway.

Taking a deep breath, Rose pushed open the heavy oak door. Inside, the room was surprisingly bright, filled with sunlight streaming through a high window. Elias sat perched on a tall stool, meticulously dusting a collection of ornately bound scrolls. He looked up, his kind eyes crinkling at the corners as he recognized Rose.

"Ah, Rose," he greeted warmly, his voice a gentle rumble, "come in, come in. What brings you to my humble abode?"

Rose stepped inside, the worn leather satchel slung across her shoulder feeling suddenly heavy. "Elias," she began, her voice hesitant, "I need your help. I..." She paused, unsure how to articulate the shift in her perspective.

Elias raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "The book spoke to you,

didn't it?" he asked gently.Rose's eyes widened in surprise. "You knew?"

Elias chuckled softly. "These walls hold countless whispers, child. Some louder than others." He beckoned her closer. "Tell me, Rose, what did you learn?"

Rose fidgeted with the strap of her satchel, her gaze drawn to the sunlight playing on the swirling patterns of the scrolls. Taking a deep breath, she blurted out, "It... it felt different. Not like any other book I've read. It was like the words were alive, like they resonated with something deep inside me."

Elias nodded, his smile turning thoughtful. "Indeed," he murmured, reaching down to pick up a particularly worn-looking scroll. Its leather cover was cracked with age, and the edges were frayed. "Books are more

than ink and paper, Rose. They are vessels of knowledge, of stories, of emotions. Sometimes, they choose their reader as much as the reader chooses them."

He unfurled the scroll carefully, revealing faded script and intricate illustrations that seemed to shimmer faintly in the sunlight. "This one," Elias explained, "is an old grimoire, a book of spells and forgotten lore. It doesn't reveal its secrets easily. But you, Rose, you felt its call."

Rose's heart pounded with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. "A grimoire?" she whispered. "But why me? I'm not a witch, or anything..."

Elias chuckled again, a warm, reassuring sound. "Witch is a word laden with prejudice," he said gently. "Those who can understand the language of the universe, who can tap into the flow of energy around them, were once called many things – wise

women, healers, seers. The labels are unimportant. What matters is the connection you felt with the book."

He gestured towards a plush armchair by the window. "Sit, Rose," he said. "Tell me everything you experienced while reading."

Taking his cue, Rose settled into the chair, the worn leather cool against her skin. She recounted the sensations that washed over her as she turned the pages – the tingling

on her fingertips, the rush of warmth that spread through her chest at certain passages, the vivid dreams she started having filled with swirling colors and whispered secrets.

Elias listened intently, his eyes reflecting a wisdom that belied his youthful appearance. As Rose spoke, the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the room,

painting a scene of quiet understanding. When she finished, a comfortable silence settled between them.

Finally, Elias broke the stillness. "The grimoire is responding to your curiosity, Rose," he said. "It recognizes your potential, your nascent ability to interact with the energies it speaks of. But this is an ancient power, one that requires caution and respect. Are you ready to embark on such a journey?"

Rose looked down at her hands, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within her. The idea of unlocking secrets hidden within the grimoire was thrilling, yet a flicker of doubt lingered. Was she truly capable of taking on this responsibility?

Meeting Elias's gaze, she found a gentle encouragement, a silent promise of guidance. Taking a deep breath, Rose straightened her shoulders. "I am," she declared, her voice stronger than she expected. "I want to learn."A slow smile spread across Elias's face. "Good," he replied. "Then the true adventure begins. Elias Before I teach you what's in the book, queen Aurora said we need to train, let's go tomorrow to the training ground belo

Someone will teach us someone can teach us how to be strong the general named astro to us near library number 88, Anya and Lona and Elias will wait for you and canvas"And they arrived at room number 88, Elisa and Joan and anya and amara and they went inside and saw general Astro

Argos said Welcome here to the training grams today is our first training you compete against me three of you give your best you beat me Elias Magic gun activate and Out came the light saber and M16 and

AK47 and two SMG And Elias and M16 were given to Lona and Elias and AK47 were given to Rose and Elias and The light saber was handed to anya her Elias used two SMGAnya, her grip tightening around the lightsaber's hilt, watched in awe as Elias effortlessly wielded two SMGs. The hum of the activated blade thrummed in her hand, a counterpoint to the excited chatter filling the room. Argos, a imposing

figure in his military fatigues, boomed with laughter."Looks like we have some eager recruits! Alright, listen up. Today's a basic test of your reflexes and combat awareness. You, Elias with the fancy lightstick and the two of you," he pointed at Lona and Rose, "with the rifles. You'll take me on, one at a time. Remember, this is training, so hold back on the death blows."

Anya's heart hammered against her ribs. A lightsaber, a weapon out of legends, was now in her hands. But facing a seasoned general like Argos filled her with a mix of trepidation and exhilaration. She

exchanged glances with Lona and Rose, a silent vow of support passing between them.One by one, Lona and Rose stepped forward, their movements measured as they engaged Argos in mock combat. The general, though clearly holding back, expertly maneuvered around their attacks, his movements a blur of experience. Each exchange ended with a disarming disarm or a well-placed tap on a pressure point.

Finally, it was Anya's turn. She took a deep breath, the hum of the lightsaber a

comforting thrum in her hand. Stepping forward, she met Argos' gaze, her determination mirroring his amusement."Ready, kiddo?" Argos boomed, a playful glint in his eyes.Anya nodded, raising the lightsaber in a defensive stance. "As ready as I'll ever be."

The training hall echoed with the hum of the lightsaber as Anya charged towards

Argos. Her movements were hesitant at first, the blade a blur compared to the practiced swings of Elias. But Anya was athletic, and she grasped the basics of swordplay quickly.

Argos met her attack with a single hand, easily deflecting the lightsaber's blow. He circled Anya, his movements a cat toying with a mouse. Anya gritted her teeth,

frustration warring with the thrill of wielding the lightsaber. She wasn't landing a single hit.

"Not bad, kiddo," Argos chuckled, his voice filled with encouragement. "But you need to anticipate your opponent's moves. Watch!"

In a flash, Argos lunged forward. Anya barely had time to react before the general disarmed her with a swift maneuver, the

lightsaber clattering harmlessly to the ground.

Anya stared at the deactivated lightsaber in disappointment. Her dream of wielding a legendary weapon felt shattered.

"Don't get discouraged," Argos said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Everyone starts somewhere. Remember, it's not just about

strength, but about using your mind as well as your body."He extended a hand to help Anya up. Anya took it, a newfound determination burning in her eyes."Again," she said, her voice firm.

Argos retrieved the lightsaber and tossed it back to Anya. It felt lighter in her hand this time, a sense of familiarity blooming. She ignited the blade, the blue glow filling the training hall.

Taking a deep breath, Anya focused on what Argos had said. She watched his stance, his eyes, trying to predict his movements. Argos raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his gaze.

"Come on then, show me what you learned," he goaded.

Anya charged, this time with less hesitation. Her attack was still predictable,

but she followed through with more confidence. Argos deflected the blow easily, but Anya didn't stop. She used the momentum to spin, bringing the lightsaber in a wide arc towards his side.

Argos' smile faltered for a split second. He sidestepped the blow just in time, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. Anya's heart pounded with a mixture of excitement and disbelief.

"Good!" Argos boomed, clapping his hands once. "See? You're getting the hang of it. Now, try to anticipate my counterattacks."

The training resumed. Anya attacked, each time aiming for a different angle, incorporating the spin she'd discovered.

Argos effortlessly parried each blow, but Anya saw a change in his movements. He wasn't toying with her anymore. He was taking her seriously.

Frustration bubbled up again, but Anya quelled it. Every deflected attack was a lesson, every near miss a flicker of progress. She focused on the Rose navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the palace, memories of past escapades flickering in her mind. Once, these halls had been a playground for her nimble fingers, their secrets yielding trinkets and forgotten lore to a curious thief. Now, the weight of overheard plans and a cosmic threat pressed down on her.

The Queen had mentioned knowledge, a secret weapon against the encroaching darkness. Rose, ever the pragmatist, knew such knowledge wouldn't be readily available. It would be locked away, guarded by magic or formidable wards. The Royal

Archives, a place she'd never dared venture before, seemed the logical first stop.

Reaching the ornately carved oak doors that marked the entrance, Rose hesitated. The air crackled with a faint magical energy, a low thrumming that sent shivers down her spine. Brute force wouldn't work here; subtlety was required.

Years of pilfering had honed Rose's senses. She noticed a faint indentation near the handle, a subtle imperfection in the otherwise flawless door. With practiced ease, she slipped a lockpick into the crevice, manipulating the tumblers with practiced dexterity. A satisfying click announced her success.

Pushing the door open a sliver, Rose peered into the dimly lit chamber beyond.

Row upon row of ancient tomes lined the walls, their leather bindings whispering forgotten secrets. The air hung heavy with the scent of aged parchment and the cloying musk of forgotten spells.

Suddenly, a deep, resonant cough echoed through the room. Rose whipped around, hand instinctively darting for the dagger strapped to her thigh. A hunched figure shuffled into view from behind a towering bookcase, its form obscured by the shadows.

"Lost, are we?" The voice rasped, ancient and dry as fallen leaves. "The Archives are no place for casual visitors."

Rose sized up the figure. It was an old man, his beard like a tangled white cloud, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling intelligence. This wasn't a guard to be easily outsmarted.

"Just looking for a bit of light reading," Rose said, her voice dripping with mock innocence. "Perhaps a bedtime story about brave heroes and vanquished darkness?"

The old man chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Such stories are child's play for those who delve into the true history of this world." He shuffled closer, his gaze pinning Rose to the spot. "But intentions have a way of revealing themselves, young one.

Tell me, what darkness truly piques your curiosity?"

Rose's mind raced. Should she lie? Reveal her true purpose? A gamble either way. She took a deep breath, deciding honesty might be the best weapon in this unexpected encounter.

"The Queen spoke of a way to fight the coming shadows," Rose admitted. "Knowledge, she said, was the key."

The old man's eyes narrowed. "Knowledge comes at a price, child. Are you prepared to pay it?

The old man chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Such stories are child's play for those who delve into the true history of this world." He shuffled closer, his gaze pinning Rose to the spot. "But intentions have a way of revealing themselves, young one. Tell me, what darkness truly piques your curiosity?"

Rose's mind raced. Should she lie? Reveal her true purpose? A gamble either way. She took a deep breath, deciding honesty might be the best weapon in this unexpected encounter.

"The Queen spoke of a way to fight the coming shadows," Rose admitted. "Knowledge, she said, was the key."The old man's eyes narrowed. "Knowledge comes at a price, child. Are you prepared to pay it?"Rose swallowed hard. The truth was, she wasn't sure what the price might be.

But the thought of the Queen and Anya wielding this knowledge against her plans was far worse.

"What kind of price?" she asked, her voice steady despite the tremor of unease in her stomach.

The old man studied her for a long

moment, his gaze seeming to pierce through her carefully constructed facade. Finally, a hint of a smile played on his lips, a smile that spoke of ancient secrets and forgotten bargains.

"There are many paths to knowledge, child," he rasped. "Some lie within the dusty pages of these tomes, waiting to be deciphered. Others reside in whispered legends and forgotten rituals. But the truest knowledge often requires sacrifice."

Rose's brow furrowed. Sacrifice of what? A trinket? A memory? A piece of herself? The uncertainty gnawed at her, but the potential reward was too great to turn back now.

"What sacrifice do you require?" she pressed, her voice a touch firmer this time.

The old man chuckled again, a dry, crackling sound. "Patience, young one. Not all bargains are struck in the blink of an eye. Tell me, what is your name? Who are you truly fighting for?"

Rose hesitated. Revealing her true name felt like revealing a c***k in her armor. Yet, a sliver of trust, born of desperation, bloomed within her. Perhaps this wizened guardian of knowledge wasn't entirely against her. Perhaps there was a way to use his wisdom to her advantage, to twist the Queen's plans without revealing her own agenda.

Taking a deep breath, she met his gaze. "My name is Rose," she said, the weight of the name settling on her tongue. "And I fight for..." she faltered, the truth a bitter pill to swallow. "For myself," she finally

admitted, the lie tasting sour on her lips.

The old man's smile widened, a knowing glint in his eyes. "A worthy goal, child," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "But self-preservation is a fickle flame. True power often lies in the strength of a shared purpose."

His words hung heavy in the air, their meaning a cryptic puzzle Rose couldn't quite grasp. Yet, a seed of doubt had been planted. Was her ambition truly all that mattered? Could there be a way to turn this cosmic struggle to her own advantage,

while also aligning herself with something bigger?

Before Rose could delve deeper into this unsettling thought, the old man gestured towards the towering shelves. "The knowledge you seek may lie within these walls," he said. "But be warned, child. Knowledge is a double-edged sword. Choose wisely what path you tread."

With that, the old man shuffled back into the shadows, leaving Rose alone amidst the whispering secrets of the Archives. The

weight of the old man's words settled upon her, and for the first time, Rose wasn't entirely sure what her next move should be.A shiver danced down Rose's spine. The air in the Archives felt thick with the weight of untold stories, each book a potential key to unlocking the secrets of power. But the old man's cryptic warning echoed in her mind – knowledge could be a weapon, but what good was a weapon if it pointed in the wrong direction?

Steeling her resolve, Rose began to navigate the labyrinthine shelves. The air hung heavy with the scent of aged paper

and leather bindings. A faint, golden light filtered through high windows, casting long, dramatic shadows that danced on the dusty floor. Each touch of a worn spine sent a thrill of anticipation through her.

Suddenly, a book on the top shelf caught her eye. Its ornately tooled leather cover seemed to shimmer ever so slightly, beckoning her closer. The title was obscured by shadow, but a symbol – a swirling vortex of silver and gold – pulsed with an otherworldly glow. Curiosity

warring with caution, Rose grabbed a rickety wooden ladder and hoisted herself towards the coveted tome.

As her fingers brushed the cover, a jolt of energy surged through her. The room shimmered, and for a breathless moment, the shelves around her seemed to blur and distort. A voice, ancient and disembodied, whispered in her ear, "Are you ready to face the true test, child?"

With a gasp, Rose found herself back on

the ladder, the book clutched tightly in her hands. Her heart hammered in her chest. Had she just hallucinated? Before she could dwell on it, the whispering voice began again, this time emanating from the book itself. It spoke of ancient pacts, of harnessing power from forgotten sources,

and of the sacrifices that often accompanied such aspirations.

Rose's initial thrill gave way to a creeping unease. The voice spoke of immense power, but at what cost? The old man's

words about shared purpose echoed in her mind. Could true power lie in something more than just personal conquest?

With trembling hands, Rose carefully placed the book back on the shelf. This wasn't the power she craved anymore. This

was a path that could corrupt, isolate, and ultimately leave her empty. Perhaps, the old man was right. There must be another way, a way to find strength and influence that aligned with something greater than herself. But what was that path?

Her gaze swept back over the vast

collection of books. In that moment, Rose knew her journey was only just beginning. The Archives held answers, but she had to find the right questions to ask. The quest for power was far from over, but it had irrevocably changed. And Rose He thought what did he think so I should try to talk to Elias he went to Elias in his room number

77 he looked for number 77. As her fingers brushed the cover, a jolt of energy surged through her. The room shimmered, and for a breathless moment, the shelves around her seemed to blur and distort. A voice, ancient and disembodied, whispered in her ear, "Are you ready to face the true test, child?"

With a gasp, Rose found herself back on the ladder, the book clutched tightly in her hands. Her heart hammered in her chest. Had she just hallucinated? Before she could