Before long, a small, leafy tree stood incongruously in the middle of the bleak stone path. Alice, one hand on its trunk, watched hungrily as green buds formed on its branches, swelling rapidly into small, round fruit hanging from thick stems. It was a little odd, she reflected, to get fruit from what was after all an oak seed, but the power of the tree-sprite overrode any petty biological limitations. It was merely a matter of directing the life-force she’d packed into the acorn along the proper channels.

Two dozen of the fruits were ready, turning a bright orange-red as they ripened in seconds. Alice picked one and took a cautious bite. It was almost like an apple, but not exactly. It was sweet, though, and so juicy it practically exploded in her mouth. She rapidly munched it down to the stem and reached for another.

A few minutes later, satisfied, she picked the remaining fruit and stuffed them in her pockets. The tree’s leafy branches, relieved of this weight, rustled in the breeze. Alice felt a pang of sympathy for the plant—conjured by magic into the hostile environment, it wouldn’t survive for long—and shook her head as she sat down with her back to the trunk. Now is not the time to get sentimental.

She let her mental grip fall on the black thread at the back of her mind, winding beneath the others. The Dragon.

As soon as she touched it, she felt an odd tension thrilling through the dark strand. Somewhere, another mind was reaching out for it, and there was only one person that could be. Isaac! He’s alive. The knot of worry in her chest loosened slightly, and she had to remind herself that she was angry with him. Besides, we’re not out of danger by a long way.

She directed her thoughts toward the Dragon itself.

I know you think it was foolish of me to come here. You’re probably right. But I am here, and I need your help, or else I really am going to die. Please.

There was a long silence.

I am listening, the Dragon said. But I may not be as much help as you imagine.

There is no way you can you talk to Isaac?

No. As I said, he is . . . closed to me.

Alice frowned. Do you have any idea why Torment would bring me here?

This appears to be the front entrance to the keep. I would surmise that he is offering you an invitation.

But why? Why me and not any of the others?

I don’t know.

I think you’re lying. Alice clenched her jaw, waiting for a roar of rage, but it never came. Instead there was a pause, so long she worried that the Dragon had stopped speaking to her entirely.

Then, a hint of steel in its rumbling mental voice, it said, Why do you say that?