You steady your grip, eyes locked on the chair. "You might want to cover your ears, Trida."
She hesitates, clearly unsure, but lifts her paws to her head anyway.
You squeeze the trigger.
The gun fires with a thunderous crack, the bullet slicing through the air at a speed that feels unreal. It slams into the chair, splintering the wood into jagged shards. A dark, clean dent marks the broken leg where the bullet struck. The sound ricochets off the stone walls, deafening you for a few seconds, leaving your ears ringing like struck bells.
Trida lowers her paws slowly, eyes wide with awe—and something else. Fear.
"That's amazing," she breathes.
You stare at the weapon in your hand. It's heavy, but not just physically. It holds weight. Power. You didn't want to kill anyone. That was never the plan. But the realization hits you like a second bullet: Bradley, Trida, even Therley—they're characters in a book. Fictional. You were reading The Big Book of Stories before all this began.
And now you're inside it.
The rules are different here. Maybe even bendable.
You could do anything.
You turn to Trida, still processing the strange blend of control and chaos swirling inside you. "How did I get into this room?"
"Oh, that's simple," she says, her voice returning to its usual calm. "There's a small dent on the wall. If you don't know what you're looking for, you'd miss it easily. Above that is a tiny lever. You just pull it, and part of the wall slides aside. There's a staircase that leads back up to the ground."
You blink. So there is a way out.
"But," she adds, her tone darkening, "if you really want to leave, be careful. He could be watching you at any time. Yet… from what I can tell, he doesn't exactly have full control over all this."
You nod slowly, absorbing every word.
Bradley's magic may be strong, but it's not perfect.
And now, you have a weapon, a secret exit, and a growing understanding of the story you've fallen into.
The question is no longer how you got here.
It's what you're going to do now that you are.