They called her the sorceress. Yet it wasn’t because Nadia laboured over a cauldron, concocting potions to ambush her enemies, but merely because she could do just about anything she wished. Yesterday, I went to her hollow on the fringes of the forest near my home at Castle Frindere. My father was occupied with Sir Cajer’s visit, and since I’m fortunately not yet a knight, I wasn’t obliged to attend the ceremony. I thought it would be better to leave the castle; my sisters tell me that I’m pathetic with a sword, and would offend the high knight.
Little did I know that my life was about to be quickly ripped apart then precariously stitched back together in a shocking design.
When I reached Nadia’s hollow, she immediately beckoned me to come in. I was slightly nervous, but bit my lip and entered, hoping she would be kind enough to grant me with an exciting gift.
“Young prince, have you ever wondered why our world is so dull and fake?” the youthful sorceress cooed.
Her blazing amber eyes bespoke of no such monotony, yet her starlight robe seemed like a reflection, and I had a terrifying feeling that I should believe her. Yet I was still confused, so the ginger-haired woman pointed out into the forest.
“You and I are as real as ever, but we live in a virtual world,” she insisted. I compared Nadia’s solid face to the transient nature outside, and noticed that the trees were somewhat faded and birds dreary.
“We have been placed in a fabricated world, and our minds and abilities have been altered. But our creators made one terrible flaw,” Nadia started with a smug grin. “They gave me the power to do anything I want. I wanted to discover the secret of the world, and that’s what I have done. And now I want to go to our creators in the real world!”
Before I could appreciate the significance of Nadia’s words, she grabbed my arm and her hollow squished into brown putty, and the forest faded into a pallet of green paint. I only managed to pull away from her after the world had been obliterated.
I now sat in a quite uncomfortable chair in a harshly lit room. Nadia sat a few chairs down from me, and motioned for me to be silent. Between us more people sat in a comatose state, and strange wires like tiny white vines were attached their heads to a flashing device on the wall. The room was filled with dozens of people, yet Nadia and I were conscious alone. In horror, I realized that my head was also secured with wires.
“This is the real world,” Nadia whispered. Like the others, Nadia and I wore white outfits stitched in a mystically seamless fashion.
“What do you mean?” I demanded, afraid to stand and analyse my surroundings with the wires attached to my head.
Before Nadia could answer, a sharp, clean-shaven man entered in a flurry. He was lanky and wore a white cloak that reached his mid-calf and he held a mysterious beeping device.
“You two are going back, and you won’t be programmed to do whatever you like, Miss Nadia,” the man said, frantically punching a code into the device. “We can’t afford to make any more like you!”
I gasped as a sickly feeling of deceit assaulted me. But I was gone after a few more punches into the man’s device, and Nadia and I sat bewildered in her hollow.
Needless to say, Nadia was no longer a sorceress.