The light encapsulated Soloman, a tunnel of brilliance pulling at his very atoms until he was finally planted atop a vista that defied every law of physics he had ever mastered.

  His feet were buried in golden clouds that rolled toward the horizon like an endless sea of amber. Above, the sky was an ink-black void, but it was far from empty; a galaxy’s worth of stars moved in slow, visible orbits, tracing the celestial gears of a universe he didn't recognize. Even a man of cold logic and hard science couldn't help but stop. The splendor was painted with a brush that simply didn't exist in his world.

  “Extraordinary,” Soloman finally spoke after tens of minutes, his voice sounding thin in the vast silence. “Paintings from famous artists... even A.I.-generated images... they fail to reach this level of beauty.” He turned in a slow circle, eyes scanning the iridescent gold. “But where are the books?”

  A sound broke the stillness—a distant laughter, light and airy, echoing from above like a child at play. Soloman squinted, his heart hammering a rhythmic beat against his ribs. High above, an ominous void began to cut through the stars. It moved with a predator’s grace, a diamond-shaped abyss that seemed to swallow the very light around it.

  It bobbed listlessly in the air above him, a black hole in the shape of a gem. Thin, systematic lines of neon color pulsated along its contours. It was hypnotic, disorienting, and utterly alien.

  “Hahahaha! I’ve never met someone so slack-jawed at some clouds and twinkling stars!”

  The colorful lines flared. In a burst of light, a figure formed. It wasn't a ghostly projection, but a little girl who looked as real as any person he had ever met. Clad in pale blue and black, her long hair was adorned with baubles that clinked as she floated. Her skin was warm-toned and healthy, her eyes bright with a spark of life as she covered her mouth, snickering at the wide-eyed intruder.

  “Greetings, dear disciple, to the ‘Prevailing Sky Library.’ I am its guardian tool spirit. I will assist you fledglings through the mysteries to the hidden truths of my books.” She puffed out her chest, planting her hands on her hips in a pose of rehearsed grandeur.

  Soloman’s awe vanished, replaced instantly by his clinical baseline. “Perfect, an A.I. interface. That would make this easier than manual reading. Download all available contents to my ‘spectrum memory cortex.’ How long will the transfer take?”

  The prospect of using this unsupervised time to go over his notes from the bandit camp was too enticing to miss. Between the students and Elders like Sharis or Brutus constantly seeking him out, he hadn’t had a moment of true solitude since returning from the mission.

  The girl froze. She grabbed her long hair, pulling it over her face to peer at him with one wide, disbelieving eye. “No problem… WAIT! Why aren’t you shocked to see a spirit?! Most disciples fall on their butts! They prostrate themselves! They beg!”

  “I’ve seen and made many artificial intelligences before,” Soloman replied dryly, waving her theatrics off with annoyance. “Hologram projections have been around for sixty years. What’s the ETA on the download? And do you have references regarding body cultivators?”

  “Liar!” She stamped the air, her face twisting in a pout. “Tool spirits are legendary! Super-duper rare! You must be so shocked you turned dumb!”

  She floated inches from his nose, puffing her cheeks out. Soloman let out a long, weary sigh. “You are cuter than most I've seen. How about that download?”

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  As he spoke, he reached out and poked her squishy cheek. He expected his finger to pass through light and air. Instead, he felt the elastic resistance of flesh. He felt the warmth of her skin and the tiny puff of air as his touch forced a breath from her mouth.

  Soloman’s composure cracked. The sensation shook him to his core. This wasn’t a light show. This was biology—a supernatural biology he couldn’t explain.

  “Pervert! Lolicon! Child abuser!” She shrieked, darting away to hide behind the black diamond. Her head poked over the edge, tongue stuck out in a gesture of pure defiance.

  “Who are you calling a lolicon?!” Soloman roared back, his face flushing with an uncharacteristic flash of heat.

  “You! Philanderer!”

  The shouting echoed and faded, leaving a thick, awkward silence. Soloman took a breath, calming his racing mind. He looked at her again, but the eyes of the scientist were gone. He looked at her as a person—a living, breathing thing trapped in a gold-leafed cage.

  “This world never ceases to amaze me,” he said softly. “Do you have a designation... no, a name. Do you have a name?”

  The spirit widened her eyes, her posture losing its haughty edge. She dipped her head lower, her hair veiling her face. “I-I don't have one.”

  “Should we make one then? A unique spirit like you needs a name, right?” He smiled in a warm, welcoming manner and reached out his arm, palm up.

  After a moment of hesitation, she drifted forward and tentatively placed her small hand on his, her actions reminiscent of a nervous kitten.

  “Mmk,” she whispered.

  “The library is your body, correct?”

  “Yes. It houses me. It gives me energy. But my mind is separate.”

  Soloman’s gaze drifted to the stars. “There is an old character from a beloved game series... she was locked away from the world inside a picturesque scene. She was incredibly kind, and very innocent. How about the name Priscilla?”

  “Priscilla?” She whispered the word as if tasting it. “I like it! Priscilla! From today on, my name will be Priscilla!”

  She became a bundle of energy, dancing through the air and chanting her name like a mantra. It was the expression of someone who had just been given the most precious gift in existence.

  “You know the contents of this library?” Soloman asked as she zoomed back toward him.

  “Of course!” She zipped through the air, nearly passing through his torso in her excitement. Her ability to turn from solid mass to energy left Soloman starstruck.

  Soloman’s expression turned somber. “If your mind is separate, can you live elsewhere? You must be lonely, staying here in the dark.”

  Priscilla’s joy flickered. “I-I am. But without energy from the body, I fade into nothingness. Permanently. The energy from the ‘dragonvein’ here supports this place, but like rivers, it is starting to move away. I will soon fade… alone… quietly.”

  Flecks of tears formed as she clenched the hem of her dress. Soloman checked the runes on his wrist; the light was dimming.

  “Will any kind of energy do?”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice small and filled with fear. “But it’s dwindling.”

  Soloman’s jaw set. “I have a device in my head that can store two exabytes of information. Would you be able to place yourself inside?” He pulled his shirt down, exposing the gleaming surgical nodule at the nape of his neck.

  “Exabyte? Don’t use weird words.”

  “It can store five hundred sect libraries and have room for a thousand more. I am from a world where we perfectly store knowledge, Priscilla. We don't let it fade.”

  “Another one?” she breathed, her eyes wide. “No wonder you’re so different.”

  Unaware of her deeper meaning, Soloman’s mind ran a thousand simulations a second. He began frantically checking his pockets, pulling out the jury-rigged gizmos he had salvaged from the crater—the only anchors he had left from his world.

  He pulled a warped communicator from his suit's helmet, looking sullen. The voices he might never hear again echoed in his mind. His fingers lingered on the serial number for a fraction of a second before he began harvesting the copper filaments and the micro-battery.

  “I can try,” she continued, her voice trembling. “But I won’t have a physical form without additional support. Without energy.”

  Finally, a look of grim triumph crossed his face. He began calculating the power draw of his suit versus the consumption rate of a sentient spirit.

  “An hour... I can make a wireless energy module in that amount of time. This place is supplying energy to your body right now, right?”

  “Yes. But if you fail... my mind will disappear.”

  Soloman grabbed her shoulders, his grip firm. “Priscilla. We are tight on time, but trust me. Freedom is only an hour away. We aren't going to fail.”

  “…Okay.”