My morning begins the way they all do - in a dazed shock as my head smashes into the wall, followed by the slow ebbing of dread from whatever nightmare that prompted it.

Well, what time is it? Let me guess, actually. Last night I went to bed at... hang on, that's not right. When did I go back to sleep? My memories of what feel like moments ago feel crisp: Michaelo DuPont walking through the dingy threshold of the homeless shelter, then here I am.

I didn't teleport straight into bed. For one thing, I can't.  But I'd definitely remember trying. I shift my weight a little, and really appreciate the depth to which I have sunk in this immensely cosy bed. I don't remember the last time I have been in a bed this incredibly perfect. Heck, I'm willing to let all this weirdness slide if I can lie in a few more... no, that's not a good idea.

I catch myself the instant before I teleport. Wait! How will I know where I am if I leave now? I open my eyes, and across the room there's an alien sitting cross-legged on a bed, staring wide-eyed at me.

The shock is immediately replaced by an incredible tension within my chest. It knocks the wind out of me completely, and I collapse as I instinctively try to jump up out of the bed. I crash back down, my face in the pillow. What?

How... why am I still here? The pain in my chest is one thing, but why haven't I moved? How is it possible I can still be in this bed? The island, that's where I typically end up when I'm caught off guard. I've honed it to a reflex over the years.

I try again. And again a sharp pressure screams out in my chest, and I roar into the pillow as I feel something within me nearly snap.

A cold chill courses through my blood. Have I been sedated somehow? Did I draw to much attention to myself, bringing the government down on me? Slowly I recover from the dulling pain in my chest, and it takes my every thought to not try to teleport again. I don't know if I could survive another experience like that.

Wait, wasn't there an alien?

I turn my head, and there it is! More distracting than the disproportionately short limbs, more sickening than the pale-green skin: the eyes are pitch-black, except for an eerie golden iris. As they stare unflinchingly straight at me, I feel a pressure, as though those eyes might burrow right through me. Until they dart away for an instant, before looking back again, then looking away again. Aside from the eyes, it hasn't moved since when I looked up - it still sits cross-legged, in a navy sweater and dark black trousers. The most normal feature is the hair - there aren't many with black hair out there, but there are far more than those with green skin! It's holding something in its hands - a phone perhaps? It's sitting in a bed with the same duvet cover pattern as mine. These thoughts come slow and ploddingly, because, and I cannot stress enough, every other moment is being spent with me trying not to teleport hundreds of miles away.

Out of the corner of my eyes I barely make out the rest of the room - the walls are featureless - no windows, no door, no anything. Not even a fire alarm, how dangerous!.. Not now, Sy.

Okay, what can I do? I think... no, I'm certain. The alien is no threat to me. It's here, same as me. We've both been captured, I'm sure of it. And, the longer I look, the less and less uncomfortable I feel. I'm getting a reading from this person - the eyes are what's really giving it away. They're terrified! No, that's not right - is it he's (I assume it's a he) shy? Scared and shy - anxious?

Hang on, I think I get it now. Let's lay out the facts - I'm locked away by some governmental body, and kept sedated or something to make sure I can't get away. So, is it possible that this guy has been captured for a similar reason? Maybe he's not an alien at all, but this is some sort of ability?

Regardless, it's been at least a minute since I first tried getting up, and clearly he's not going to be the one to start a conversation. Gently I prop myself up, and turn my body to properly face him.

"Hi," I say, smiling with hesitant warmth. I can't lay it on too thick in this situation, else he'd be suspicious. "My name's Lisle Edborn. Who are you?"

"My name is Igelet Chemsolk," the green boy say immediately. There's an odd tone to his voice, as though he's speaking as he's reading from a script. I wait, but clearly he doesn't want to contribute much else.

"Hi, Igelet," I say as I push myself up into a sitting positon. At all times these burning golden irises indicate he's looking at me, until I look into his eyes and they dart away. Okay, I'm starting to get it now. "Do you know where we are?"

"Yes, we are on the Mage Island," he says before I even close my mouth from my previous question. "It is a planet for people with Characteristic magical abilities to hone their strength such that they can serve as protectors against threats to life."

Once again, there's an unnerving mechanical aspect to the way he speaks, but this time I picked up on something far more concerning. The eyes had distracted me from it previously, but something suddenly brought my attention to his mouth as he spoke. There was a complete and utter disconnect between what he said and what I just heard.

I've never been an avid watcher of TV. And the few times I do, I rarely go for anything that needs to be subtitled. And the reason for that is that I cannot get over the having the immersion of the show broken by hearing and seeing one thing but understanding another. Immersion-breaking: that's a good way to describe this experience. I know that he probably said something really important, but now I feel locked in the sort of feeling you have when you're on the cusp of peacefully waking up from a nap. Not that I've peacefully woken up from a nap in a long while.

"What was that? How did you do that with your mouth?" I ask, trying my best to sound dumbfounded (which isn't difficult). For an instant his expression shifts, but it's too subtle for me to explain.

"From what I understand, communication between sentient magical beings is a matter of the soul, so meaning is condensed regardless of the language spoken."

Okay, that time I was ready. I focussed on the sounds in the air: there were a lot more syllables, and a lot less vowels than what I expected. I think. And somehow, despite just having the meaning plopped into my head, I can still pick up on the wooden, I'm-a-rubbish-actor delivery of that line.

Don't teleport Sy, don't teleport.

Just as I'm about to ask for a bit of elaboration-

"Are you okay?"

The question escaped him jerkily, like he wasn't entirely sure on how to say it. I think he intended to sound compassionate at first, but got bored half-way?

But this is good! He's capable of caring, and based on what he said, we're in the same boat. It's a good thing the past minute has given me a little practice in repressing my natural responses, because I think I'm going to have to be honest here. Best lay on the discomfort, just in case.

"Oh yeah, I... well, actually, I'm not too good. It's my ability, I don't think it's working properly." As I speak I massage my chest, and although it started as an act it does actually bring some comfort.

I sit, and wait a little long for the obvious question.

"What is your ability?" he asks, and this time I detect a hint of genuine interest. Got him.

I massage myself a little more, and shift uneasily. I look around for good measure.

"Look, man, I hope you understand but... I'm not used to talking about it, you know? And I'm sorry, but how do I know we're on the same side here? For all I know, you're the one doing this to me."

His face shifts momentarily again, and I see what it is now. In an instant, it seemed like a dozen miniature features changed. I'd have called it a spasm, but there wasn't any shaking per-se.

"I promise you, I'm not the one doing this. The only reason I know so much is because of this," he holds up the phone, and from this distance I can't really make out the lines of text.

Okay, this is an odd one. Both him, and that response. Most people would have volunteered their ability at that accusation, but not this guy. Did he just not pick up on what I meant, or did he consider it and decide against showing his hand?

Regardless, this does simplify matters. I'm certain he's not against me. There's complete sincerity in his voice, regardless of how I understand the words he speaks. Perhaps he has some ability to make me trust him? I can't think like that forever, and I need an out.

I lock eyes with him, and nod resolutely. Those golden irises dart away again for an instant.

"Okay, I understand. Well, I assume this room is bugged in some way, but we wouldn't be here if they didn't know what we could do to some degree, right? I'll tell you." I shift again, bringing my legs over the edge of the bed so I'm sitting up. He's clearly hooked - a tautness in his eyes reveal a burning curiosity in there.

"I can teleport. Well," I catch myself as I bring a hand to my chest again, "I could. I tried a few times when I woke up, but it hurts now. I think they did something to me."

I pause, curious as to what his response would be. Without missing a beat, he continues in the bizarre cadence:

"Where were you trying to teleport to?"

"There's an island that I typically resort to. I default to trying to get there when I'm in a sticky situation."

His expression semi-spasms again. What could he be thinking?

"Could you try to teleport somewhere else in this room?"

This feels so strange. Language issues aside, the sheer flatness of this conversation is perplexing. Could it be that he's interrogating me? I can't imagine it, but I can't remove the possibility. He is an alien, after all. Maybe this is just the way his species is?

I turn to look at the far of the room, opposite where our beds are. If this had been under any other set of circumstances, I would have already been there. But the pain in my chest from my last attempt has not yet subsided, and I can feel fear's icy grip on my shoulder. At the very least, it will take me a while to recover if I tried to teleport again. I grit my teeth as I concentrate on not doing it. This is unbearable - it's like I've been told not to blink!

"Listen, whatever they've done to me - it really, really hurts. I don't think I can take it if I tried again. It's like a hook wrapped around my lungs and spine is tugged every time I try. It's going to kill me."

"Okay," he said emotionlessly, yet hurriedly as though I was wasting his time with my silly self-preservation reflex, "what is your typical range? That you can teleport?"

Again, why do I feel like I'm the one stuck in an interrogation chair? I can't let the momentum continue in this direction. I need to be firm and direct - tasteful tact doesn't appear to flag on his radar.

"Look, can you tell me about your ability? I'd feel a lot more comfortable if I weren't the only one sharing."

For the first time, there's a pause between my words and his response. I'm certain I haven't offended him, and his eyes dart around again. His face seems to semi-spasm a few times in quick succession before he speaks again.

"My Characteristic is the ability to speed up my thinking. That is all."

Is that an element of bitterness I detect? I wait in vain for an elaboration.

"Oh, cool, that sounds pretty useful. So, you can do calculations and stuff in an instant." His face semi-spasms again, with emphasis on tension in the jaw.

"It is useful. It helps me to plan what to do and say. But I'm just sped up with respect to others, there are some maths problems that are too complicated to do in my head. And I cannot prove it, really."

Huh. I kind of feel bad for the guy. And a bit embarrassed. Not to blow my own horn, but in this room are two guys who rolled very differently in the superpower lottery. I can't let this opinion show. I raise an eyebrow.

"Sounds pretty useful to me, man. I wish I had more time to think. Hey, have you been using it much now?"

Instantly, he nods. Okay, perhaps this could explain some of his odd behaviour. But, unlike him, I don't have the time to riddle through all the consequences. I still need things from him.

"Anyway, thanks for telling me. It makes me a lot more comfortable." I give him a warm smile, and his eyes continue to dart around uncertainly. I notice the first bit of movement with his body - he's scratching the back of his right hand, which tightly grips the phone. Huh. I look away quickly, and splay my hands towards myself.

"First of all, I want to apologise. The name I gave you earlier was fake - please, call me Sy. I wasn't sure if we were on the same team, you know?" I search carefully for any hint of emotion, but come up short. "So, you wanted to know - you called it my 'range'? I've never had one, as far as I know. I've been able to go from one side of the world to the other the same as any other distance."

"So, you don't get tired?" he snapped back immediately. This time there's no mistaking the genuine interest in his voice. It's strange - for years and years I've been too wary to talk about this to anyone, but there's a strange satisfaction to telling a guy who's as interested as this.

"No, never. Well," I amend just as he opens his mouth, "if I do it loads of times in a row, I can feel a little tired I suppose? I mean, I get bored before I get properly exhausted, but technically I get tired I guess."

Igelet nods, and now there's an unrestrained grin across his face. It melts my heart a little the sheer elation on his face as he rocks back and forth a tad. I wonder what he's thinking.

"So, I think I might have an idea," he said, and for the very first time there's a natural flow to his words. There! That must mean he's not thinking about the specifics of what he's saying, right?

"Shoot, man," I say, and lean back onto the wall. The pain in my chest is mostly subsided now.

"Okay, okay. Could you do me a favour and try to teleport to the end of the room?" Before I can say anything, he suddenly snaps:  "And just to the end of the room!"

Instinctively I go to rub my chest to soothe the pain, but it's fine now. I reckon I could give it another go - I think the problem last times was that I tried it three times in a row. But.... I mean, God that hurt! I look up to argue the point, but the combined expression of obsession and anticipation on his face causes the words to fizzle before I say them. Instead, I find myself pushing up to my feet.

"Okay, I'll give it a try. But keep in mind it'll probably-"

And now I'm facing Igelet's wall from the other side of the room. A wild spark of ecstasy washes over me - it reminds me of the feeling of that first gulp of air after staying under water for way too long. Oh my God, it's back! Now all I need-

The pain rips through my chest - somewhere between my lungs and my spine, I think, and the next thing I know I'm crumpled on the floor. It's not as bad as last time, but just as bad as my first attempt. Fortunately, now I know better than to try again and again. But why?!? Why can't I?

"Did you just try to teleport home?" Igelet asks, his voice back to that robotic cadence. Oh yeah, don't help me up or anything! I writhe, scratching at my chest in pure pain and frustration, before I feel that my lungs contain enough air to talk.

"No!" I yell, though really I don't mean to. "I was aiming for a beach. I thought... you saw how it started working, right?"

"I think I understand the problem. Do you want to hear my thoughts now, or after you've gotten back to the bed?"

Slowly, slowly, the pain subsides.

"Okay, give me a second."

One arm keeping pressure to my chest, I slowly get up, hobble over to the bed, and collapse sideways onto it. My previous thoughts of just having a lie-in return, but I need to do that later.

"Okay, shoot."

"So, here's what I know. You can teleport, and there's no distance limit to your ability to teleport. But if you teleport far enough, you do get a little bit tired. Is that correct?"

"Yeah," I breathe as I prop myself up on one arm. Part of me likes the summary aspect of this - it reminds me of the end of an old detective show.

"But, think of this. Walking around in a room is a bit similar, right? I can walk from any place to any other place inside the room, and I won't get tired. But if you asked me to walk around it a thousand times, I probably would, right? Like how you get tired if you teleport too much?"

There's a definite correlation between the emotion in his voice, and the rambling nature of his speech, I note.

"Sounds right, but I can teleport a lot further than that."

"That's beside the point," he mutters, and, believe it or not, he actually waved off the idea with his hands. In spite of myself, I feel myself begin to smile. Coming out of our shell are we, Igelet?

"Because, in what I said, walking is teleporting, and the room is your entire world, right? But then what if you asked me, after a lifetime of practicing walking around a room, to walk to the other side of the world? I wouldn't be able to, right? I wouldn't be strong enough. Like how pet birds can't fly properly?"

What? When did birds come into this? Whatever, he looks like he's gonna pass out from the excitement of it all, so carry on buddy.

"In the same way, you've been stuck in the room of 'the world' your entire life, and now you're trying to cross universes. For all I know, if there are boundaries to universes or something, it'd be the same as asking me to walk across water to get there, right? It would be exhausting, and painful, right?"

For the first time in his speech he looks up to me, wide eyed and full of life. Then, maybe he picks up on the situation, but his eyes widen in panicked embarrassment, and after mini spasm his bad returns to rigid formality.

His behaviour aside, I think I might be getting what he means here. To some small degree.

"So, what you mean is, I do have a limit, but it's just bigger than the world. My world."

Then, it hits me like a truck. He said it earlier, he said it again, and now I've just said it.

"WAIT. You keep talking about worlds and universes. That means - this isn't my planet? This isn't Earth?"

There's no hesitation before he shakes his head.

"No. This planet exists in a different universe to the one you are from, or the one that I am from. We're taken because of our Characteristic magical abilities, and are to be taught to..." the dull tones of his words fade out as I completely lose focus.

Another world? Another universe? What does that even mean? How can I have even done that? Who could have done that?

There have been plenty of times where I would lay back outside under the stars and wonder, for a brief moment, if I could jump out there. But when I first considered it, I happened to remember a movie I watched where someone exposed to the vacuum of space just died instantly. That hot-cognition fear prompted me to hold off trying until I researched more into it. I think that movie I barely remember may have saved my life, as I read about the temperatures on other planets and in space.

But now here I am, supposedly further than I've ever considered going. Two emotions are fighting for dominance. The first: awe. The second: frustration. On one hand, I feel... like I've completed something. I've gone further, found a new place to explore. An alien world, and it looks like I can teleport around here no problem. There will be so much! But on the other hand, how do I get back? If I was brought here, that means that this was done to me. And who dares?

My rage spikes for a moment. Who's to tell me where I can be? Who are they to snap their fingers to order me here? Screw them.

But the wonder glides over the building rage like a salve, and I don't feel like I'm losing control or anything. Good thing, because my island is out of service range, apparently.

Wait a minute. So... I can teleport, right? Anywhere I want, as long as it's this planet? Suddenly, the lack of doors doesn't worry me. I jump up out of bed, and Igelet recoils a bit.

"Okay, I'm going to scout it out," I say, turning to look around the room. Where would the exit be?

"How? Can you go to places you haven't seen before?"

"Hmm, I suppose in your walking analogy it would be like putting a blind fold on my when I jump. Or whatever."

"What if there's a wall, or something?"

I take a few seconds, but I can't glean any meaning from that.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if there is a wall or any other obstacle, what if you teleport into it? Would you be alright?"

Oh hang on, I get it. I remember realising this as a concern a few months into having this power.

"Oh yeah I'll be fine. It would be like the blind guy gently bumping into a wall. I'd just end up next to it."

"Okay. But what about-"

"Look. It'll be fine. I'll have a look around, and see if I can find a way to break you out. Maybe there's a secret door or something? We had to get in here somehow."

"Wait." There it is again, the expressive variation of tone coming from somebody speaking off the cuff. "I read the procedure while you were asleep. They'll let us out by themselves and give us an induction. Also, why wouldn't you just take me with you?"

"No passengers on the Sy Train," I say, and instantly I cringe under the crushing blow to my pride that was that sentence. It sounded so much cooler in my head. "I mean, I can't take people with me. And second, like hell I'm going to trust those guys to induct us into anything. I'll literally take a look and report back, don't worry."

Igelet raises his hand to pause me again, but I resolve not to listen. Indecision like his is deadly - if we don't do something, there's no telling-

Was that door always there? Surely not - it's completely metallic, with a massive handle and a set-in doorframe and everything. I couldn't have possibly missed it.

And at the exact moment I see it, a sound fills my head.

"Thank you so much for your patience. Will you please pass through the door and approach the woman on the bench."

I've broken into a lot of good amusement parks. And a lot of bad amusement parks. And so it is with the greatest of confidence I can confirm that the woman on the intercom feels that she isn't paid nearly enough for this job.

This simplifies things, in a sense. I can't leave Igelet alone to whatever's out there, so I'll go with him. And, apparently our only threat is 'woman on the bench'. Assuming there aren't mounted turrets, an army of soldiers, and a tactical nuke honed in on our position.

I turn to Igelet, and am surprised to see he's risen to full height without me hearing a thing. It feels odd having to look up slightly to meet his eyes, and I notice again that they're darting about the place. And he's gone back to scratching his hand, whilst uncomfortably shifting his weight. Okay.

"Alright, we'll go together, okay? Through the door." Subconsciously I slip my hand into my hoodie pocket. Huh, looks like we didn't get searched or anything. "Take this, okay? Keep it hidden, to keep you safe, just in case," I say and I fish out and pass my beat-up, blue-handle switchblade. He reaches for it with a bizarre blend of certainty and hesitance, and pockets it in his trousers. He nods.

"Okay, so you hang back, and I'll tell you if it's safe," I say as I place my hand on the door handle. Shockingly, despite the heavy-set frame and metallic sheen, the barest pressure of my hands push the handle down, and the door swings open.

...

Woah.

It's easily midday, and I'm standing before a vast field of vibrant wild flowers. Except there's none of the static background of greenery, the earth exists as a kaleidoscope of stems, petals and leaves of all conceivable shades of every imaginable colour. Gentle breezes cause the flowers to bow in turn in rippling rows, with the occasional leaf or petal bobbing off lazily into the sky. There's nothing to obscure the midday sun, as it shines brilliantly upon the field and kisses my exposed skin with soft warmth. I don't throw the word 'beautiful' around much, but...

But, there's more. As I follow a yellow petal's gradual ascent, I catch something behind it. Could it be a plane? For a moment that's all I could imagine it being, until I realise all the other anomalies coating the 'sky' before me. Why did I even think it was a sky? Because it must be, of course. The big blue thing that's 'up': the sky. But despite the gentle sky-blue hue, there's nothing really 'sky' about it. It's more like a superimposed map of the world was suspended high for all to see, with frequent obscuring patches of cloud.

How did it get there? It seems too vast. I look down, starting at the flower garden, when higher. In the distance, a chaotic outcrop of trees and confusing vegetation. Then, at the horizon... there is no horizon. No, the longer I search for that far-off line, the further up I find myself searching. And as I look I notice less the tree trunks, and more the tree tops, and then what are surely snow-capped mountains but... as seen from an angle, from above?

Something here isn't adding up. How...?

The monochromatic world of snow explodes into existence as I will myself there, and for a moment I stagger. I'm up. As in, standing straight up. At the top of the mountain. Even though, just a moment ago, this peak had been so obviously slanted towards the direction where I had been? I whirl around, looking down for the garden. But it's not there, just a base of that bizarre assortment of plants I can only term a 'forest'. But... as my gaze rises, I see it! A miniscule brilliant mess of vibrant colour, crowning the flat top of a gentle hill... which is blatantly pointing towards me! As though the world was folding up towards me...

Slowly I turn, and I finally understand. Desserts, forests, tundra, oceans, terrains for which I have no name, all sweep endlessly upwards, and the higher I look the more and more they face me more and more. My eyes barely distinguish the edges of clouds, for which in this bizarre frame of reference I have no sense of their scale. I keep looking higher as I turn, and the random patches of colour very quickly decrease in clarity as my gaze rises to meet the sun.

I stand looking from the top of the mountain, but the bottom of the world, for what feels like an eternity. It's as though my brain can't handle all the contradictions. There's no explaining it, but this world, this everything... is on the inside of a ball. An inside-out planet.

This. Is. So. Cool.

I feel a laugh rise up from the core of my being as I whirl around, soaking in all the sights. Far below me near the mountain base, a wide orange dessert. And beyond-above that, a frozen white wasteland. And then just above, some green splodge that I can't make out. And then the colours and patches meld as a sheen of sky-blue washes over everything. It's all so vast, I can't even tell the distances. The desert: is it a dozen, or a hundred kilometres across? There, above my eye-line: is that a small island, or an entire continent? There's nothing else for me to compare it all with... heck, this mountain, how tall is it even?

There's so much. So, so much. And it's all before me. Yeah, I know I've always been able to go where I've wanted, but now I can see the exact point I might want to go. No more kilometre-skip jumps when I'm not entirely sure. With it all laid out before me, I can be... there!

And now I'm standing atop a thick tree branch - craning my neck, I can make out the mountain peak, relatively close but visibly slanted by the distance. The forest I stand atop is just like that flower meadow: no two plants here are alike - even adjacent trees vary wildly in colour and shape. Speaking of the colour, it's almost like a child ran through this world, randomly throwing crayons around. I recognise it ought to hurt to look at, but there's a strange 'natural' feeling to it all. There's no hint of interference, a human didn't actually sort this to look random, it simply is. And there's a strange beauty in that - it's like comparing a field of wild flowers to a carefully curated bouquet. I can just tell that there has been no design here.

Beneath me I notice a small clearing: a small patch of red grass-like plants devoid of an overarching canopy. And now I'm there, and from this angle the scale of the forest really hits me. The trees, varying on the scale of miniscule to immense, completely obscure anything beyond a hundred feet of me. The canopy discretely shifts from blues to greens to purples and oranges, and as I look down the thick and thin and straight and twisted tree trunks weave in and out of bushes, vines and other woodland things I can't properly describe. As my eyes slowly settle on the orange bush before me, I realise: I could spend my life doing this. Just looking.

Slowly I walk over the bush, feeling an unfamiliar springiness to the plants below me. The leaves of this bush are incredibly thin, almost needles, yet their sheer number along each of those purple stems gives the illusion of a thick block of orange. And as I walk, the scope of my sight allows me to see along new paths, revealing another million types of plants in a million possible directions. And I can sense that in any way I go, I'd only find more possibilities, new wonders, new life. And all the while, I'd be content just to be looking.

I wonder if Igelet would-   hold on, is that a face?

Suddenly, something shoots out of the bush directly towards me. I flinch, blinking as my hand shoots to my pocket for the knife so I can this freaking -

I bump backwards, into a wall. My hand fails to find anything, but the sudden spike in rage quickly dissipates as I realise I'm back in the accommodation room, Igelet standing tentatively at the door frame, looking at me with a face that betrays no emotion.

Still, what the hell was that? Memories of teeth, a beak, orange frills... but no proper form, it had all happened far too quickly.

I realise I'm still searching for that knife - silly me, I literally just gave that away, didn't I?

"Yeah, it seems safe around here," I say as casually as possible, dipping my other hand into a pocket. Igelet nods, and walks out the door.

Be still, my raging heart. Whatever it was, it probably doesn't deserve my wrath. It was just an animal, right? And now it's miles and miles away. And even that wouldn't even register as a fraction of all I saw! But... why am I like this? My fists are clenched, my breathing ragged. I'm clearly pissed off, but why to this degree? Calm down Sy, come on. But as I think of that face, more, that beak... ouch! I whip my hand from my pocket, checking to see how much blood was coming from the nail marks in my palm. Whatever the reason for this feeling, it'll have to wait. I need to think of what to do, fast.

Yes, I should stay with Igelet. He's a friend at this point. But if his theory regarding my ability is correct, then I should try to practice my teleporting a fair bit. And if I'm doing that, I may as well explore... but on the other hand, I clearly don't know enough about those things in the forest.

Wait, hang on, didn't Igelet say the aim of this place was for training for something? Yeah, screw that. He seems happy enough to be going along with this, I think, so I can just come back every now and then to check up on him. If things go south, I can help break him out.

Yeah, it's fine, I can leave. There's really nothing keeping me-

"Help! This girl needs help!" a girl shouts desperately outside.

Well, bugger.