All it takes is a single step on the stairwell. All I’m permitted is one stair upwards, and then the light shunts me right back out. Space twists, and I feel a sense of irreality crawling over my skin like ants. Then that same sensation comes one more time as reality snaps back into place around me.

  I made it. The first floor.

  It’s… unlike anything I expected, yet blatantly simple. Behind me, there is a glowing arch, hissing against the fabric of reality. It must be the anchor for our specific ascendancy well, and could probably be used to get back down.

  [Congratulations!]

  [You have made it to the first floor! For your performance in the ascendancy well, you have acquired 1 minor request.]

  Before asking, I take a moment to look around me. The first floor is… dark. That’s the first real thing I notice. I’m underground, in a cavern, with very little light. For once, it feels like I shouldn’t just spend this favour on another training tool.

  Granted, at this point, with my job as an enchanter, any magical item was a training tool, since I could take it apart when I was done with it. That sounded fun. What items did I wanna be able to make?

  I wanted a soft, lovely hoodie. But that would probably have to wait… for this place, I’d need to focus on my immediate survival needs, first. “I would like a bottle of water that fills itself, distilling it from the air, or purifying any water placed inside it.”

  For a moment, there is a delay, as if a hesitation, but then a new notification rings out, granting me my wish.

  [Reward: Phial of Refilling.]

  The tiny device pops into existence in my hand, weaving itself from magic so delicate it’s impossible to tell what happened. Did the space around me warp, placing it there? Did it get made from pure mana? I trace my fingers across its surface, and feel [Inscription] resonate. There are runes on there, I can tell.

  Slowly, a smile spreads on my face. What does it do? How do I use it? I cannot wait to find out. I sit down on the floor, waiting for the others to appear.

  - - -

  The second to make it out is Amelie. She looks at me with a frown, creasing her eyebrows, then huffs. “As expected, I suppose,” she mumbles to herself.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “Hmpf!” she huffs again, looking away. Her puppet turns her wheelchair to face the opposite way from me. “At least this tower has thought out its ascendancy mechanism. I was presented with a ramp.”

  “That’s good,” I say.

  “My challenge was one of brute strength,” she chatters on. “My puppets had to crush their equals, a mirror image of my summoning, setting a test to my conductive skills. Not that there was any doubt I would succeed.”

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  “Of course.”

  “Would you rather I remain quiet?” she asks. This one isn’t as loud or boisterous as before, and I turn to face her.

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t mind either way.”

  Somehow, that makes her deflate even more for a moment, before she squeezes the armrests of her wheelchair, and then turns to face me. “Fine,” she says. “Fine. Then I shall keep talking at you.”

  I nod, tracing the runes, splitting my attention. “Okay.”

  In this case, I don’t mind. The enchanting is a tactile and visual experience, leaving me free to listen to her. My fingers slowly trace the runes while the princess-like girl talks to me. Or, at me, as she so eloquently put it.

  “It seems that we will need some items to survive this place,” she notes. “A light source, and something to generate consistent water and food. Do you believe there will be critters in this place? Spiders, centipedes? I’m almost sure there will be. Frankly, I find the idea of comparing my threads to those of spiders rather amusing. I am sure I could learn much from the critters. Do you think having eight hands would suit me, Snow?”

  “Sure,” I say.

  “Have you considered growing more hands? You could probably carve more enchantments. Well, perhaps you do not yet know where the future leads, and that is fine, too. But I shall wear nothing but the softest silks. I shall have Sylves fashion me a dress-”

  “Soft silk?” My ears perk up. “You can make soft stuff?”

  “Oh,” she hums, happily. Teasingly. “Did that catch your attention?”

  I turn to face her, briefly putting down the vial. I nod, entirely honestly. “Yes. Clothes make me want to tear my skin off, but I hate being naked. It feels disgusting. I like pretty stuff, though I prefer plain colours. Greys and blacks, mostly because I can wear them for a while and no one minds.”

  She blinks, surprised at the blatant honesty of my answer, then clears her throat. “Right,” she says. “That… seems in character for you. A peasant like yourself-”

  “Don’t talk down to me,” I tell her.

  “A person like yourself wouldn’t seem to value embroidery too much. I aim to wear the most wonderful garments,” she says. “I love dresses. Especially white, bridal ones. They are so lovely, you know? I always wanted to have them.”

  I nod. “Right,” I say, focusing back on the phial.

  With a little bit of surprise, Amelie pauses, then laughs a little. “Well. I wouldn’t want to marry, of course. I have no real interest in other people. Romantic or sexual.”

  Ever so slightly, I incline my head. Half at curiosity at the rune, half at her. “I see. Aroace?” I ask.

  She nods. “So it would seem. And yet, the bridal dresses always seemed alluring. Imagining the way they fall, the sounds they’d make if I walked in them- ah.” She pauses. “I could never walk in them, of course. But it is a dream for that very reason, isn’t it? Because it’s unattainable.”

  “I always wanted to learn magic,” I say.

  “Doesn’t everyone?” Amelie asks with a slight laugh. “I also always imagined myself learning magic. Slinging fireballs, or raising necromantic armies. Amusing thoughts, nothing else. And yet, here we find ourselves, do we not?”

  Another pause in the conversation. Amelie looks at me for a long moment. “You’re surprisingly easy to talk to,” she notes.

  “Sure,” I nod. It didn’t feel like I particularly contributed to that conversation, but I don’t mind if she got joy out of it. Her interest in soft cloth only stands to benefit me. I smile a little at the thought. I need to learn how to make self repairing enchantments as soon as possible. The softest shirt awaits me.

  “Thank you for your company, Snow,” Amelie says.

  I give her a look. Pulling myself away from the item. I look at the girl in her wheelchair. Maybe this is one of those times where I should try to be kind? Probably. I can tolerate her, I suppose. “Sure. Wanna talk about your favourite dresses a bit more?” I ask.

  She smiles, happily. “Gladly.” For a little while longer, she proceeds to talk, thoroughly enjoying herself.

  And then, after some time, the arch behind us lights up again.