Darkest Designs
another question, the communication was cut off.
    Â 
    Instead of feeling better, Eric paced, his mind full of more questions. Unfortunately, uninjured from the fall didn’t mean she was still unhurt or if she’d suffered emotional or mental trauma.
    Â 
    Paxton seemed to think both were inevitable under the circumstances. But to Eric, Paxton was once again underestimating Storey. She was tough mentally. Stronger and more adept than any other female in Eric’s acquaintance. But not even she could withstand atmospheric pressure issues like Paxton had described. If there was no atmosphere, she wouldn’t be able to breathe either. And that meant it was all over. The stylus might not even know that yet. Eric shook his head at the puzzle. Did the stylus know when its owner was unconscious? Dead? It must, because the bond between stylus and owner would break. That was how the stylus had come to be Storey’s in the first place – the bond between it and its previous owner had broken when the owner became ill. But if it was no longer bonded, could it still communicate with other styluses?
    Â 
    He shuddered. So many questions and no answers.
    Â 
    â€œOh dear.” Paxton murmured. “We need to be able to talk to her stylus.”
    Â 
    That definitely understated the problem. Eric glanced at the monitor in front of him. “Why can’t we access our archives here and see if there is anything helpful?”
    Â 
    â€œMy stylus is looking for answers.” Paxton rubbed his face. “We just have to be patient.”
    Â 
    â€œPatient? Storey could be dying right now.”
    Â 
    â€œActually,” Paxton took a deep breath, looked up at Eric, and in a low voice said, “It’s more likely that she’s already dead.”
    Â 

S torey fell into nothingness. Again. She twisted in panic as her body went into freefall.
    Â 
    The thing was…she wasn’t falling fast like a six story drop. More like she was on a slow descent – almost as if there was little to no gravity. And it appeared endless. What the hell? No wind whistled past her ears, but her hair floated gently upward from the force of changing altitude, not streaming her like she’d expect.
    Â 
    And she should have stopped by now.
    Â 
    Suddenly she did.
    Â 
    â€œOhhmph.” She groaned at the shock as much as the pain. Her face had smashed flat against a hard surface. An invisible surface.
    Â 
    â€œStylus what is going on?”
    Â 
    The humming in her head reassured her. That at least was normal. She paused, her thoughts hiccupping on the idea that speaking to a pencil was normal and having it answer back was normal too. ’Cause neither would have been something she’d have considered ‘normal’ any other time except this last week. Lord her life had changed!
    Â 
    â€œStylus, what am I lying on?”
    Â 
    Nothing.
    Â 
    â€œI can see that. How is this happening? It’s like the rules of normal reality don’t exist here.”
    Â 
    They don’t. You aren’t in the Louers’, Torans’ or your home world. In theory there might be no rules here. Or you might be able to create the rules you want.
    Â 
    That made her stop and think. The suggestion didn’t feel wrong. As she considered the strangeness of what had happened to her since she’d arrived, it started to make even more sense. “Like stopping?” she questioned. “I was wondering about why I hadn’t stopped falling, when all of a sudden, I stopped.”
    Â 
    Maybe.
    Â 
    She closed her eyes, took a breath and said, “I’m falling.”
    Â 
    Instantly her body dropped, leaving her stomach back where she’d been resting. Shit.
    Â 
    â€œStop!”
    Â 
    She stopped, coming to another jarring slam against nothing. She laughed. How freaky cool was that? She rolled over and sat up. On nothing. “Now that’s weird.”
    Â 
    It

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