One moment Isabel had been seated in her favorite chair beside the fire enjoying a book, the next she stood in the center of the room with her gaze focused on a crude map. After a moment, she realized it was her own hand holding the map. She dropped it and stumbled backward, looking about the room for some sort of explanation.

The book she had been reading lay face down on the rug, dropped carelessly with pages creased underneath. Her cup of tea still sat in its saucer where she had left it. Steam wafted off the surface of the liquid, the scent of mint and black tea filling the air.

The illusionary fire in her hearth continued to flicker without heat, crackling and popping as it was designed to do. The aether driven clock showed that it had been ten minutes since she had last looked at i...

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