“Well, that's enough talk about that silly old girl,” the Illusionist continued in her soothing, silky voice. “But please, you've been so modest. Tell me more about yourself. What a wonderful life you must live, being a Chosen Thread, traveling in and out of dimensions as you do.”

Once again, Nathan looked into her understanding eyes. Somewhere deep inside, he felt a stirring — that same rush of excitement that came every time he manipulated a situation to his advantage. It was a wonderful mixture of victory and self-importance. And the best thing was that he didn't even have to work to earn that feeling. Not here. It just came naturally. All he had to do was listen to her compliments and look into those eyes.

Bobok rolled back and forth as if growing nervous. “Dear lady, we would love to talk, but there is much to be done.”

Ignoring him, the Illusionist looked directly at Nathan. “Oh, please stay,” she begged. “Your visit has given me such courage and strength — just to be in the presence of someone like yourself. Please, don't leave-not yet.”

What could Nathan do? That little rush of excitement he'd felt growing inside was now a raging current. How could he say no to someone who admired him so much? How could he refuse to allow her to adore and worship him? Without taking his eyes from hers, he spoke to Bobok, “We can stay a couple more minutes, can't we?”

“I think not, Chosen Thread. There is much to give you in my kingdom, and it will take much time for you to acquire all of its possessions.”

“But,” the Illusionist protested, “if he stays here with me, he will be loved and admired for his greatness.”

“Admiration is important, dear lady. But what of taking? Acquiring possessions is of great importance to a thread of this stature. Am I not mistaken, Chosen One?”

Nathan faltered a moment. It was true. The little blue guy had a point. Being admired was one thing. But having whatever he wanted whenever he wanted it, well now, that was quite another. Still, why couldn't he have both? Again he spoke to Bobok, “But if I'm so great and everything, then why can't I be, you know, adored and have all the things?”

“Precisely,” the Illusionist agreed. “In my kingdom, you would not only have our worship and adoration, which you so richly deserve, but you would share in all our possessions as well.”

“Share?” Bobok's voice sharpened. “Such a thread doesn't share!”

“A poor choice of words.” The Illusionist quickly backtracked. “I did not mean share, I, too, meant possess. He would possess all that I have.”

Bobok broke out laughing. “And what a lucky creature he would be. Imagine, possessing all of this sand, all of these insects. To think, Chosen Thread, someday this could all be yours.”

For a moment, the spell had broken. Nathan was able to turn from the Illusionist's eyes and look at the grinning Bobok. It was a grin Nathan couldn't help returning. After all, it was true. What did this woman have to offer but bugs and sand? Sure, he'd be loved and adored-treated like a king. But a king of what? A king of sand dunes and insects? “I'm afraid Bobok's got a point,” he said as he turned to the woman. “I mean, you really don't —”

But that was as far as he got. For as soon as their eyes met, he came to a stop. He wasn't sure if what he saw was inside her eyes, or if it was a reflection upon their surface . . . or if he was even looking into her eyes at all. Whatever the case, the barren desert had suddenly exploded with life. Everywhere he looked, there were marvelous castles of crystal, sprawling pathways of gold, and lovely parks and gardens filled with flowers. But what impressed Nathan the most were the people. Thousands of beautiful, perfect people — waving, smiling, and applauding. More importantly, they were all waving, smiling, and applauding for him!

“You were saying?” the Illusionist softly whispered. Now she was standing beside him. It was odd; one moment he was looking into her eyes and the next moment they were standing together gazing over the beautiful city and its thousands of citizens.

“Where — where did they all come from?” Nathan asked, breathless with emotion. “They're . . . beautiful.”

“Their beauty is only a reflection of yours,” she assured him. “Where they came from is of no importance. The fact that each loves and adores you — that is all that matters.”

“Who loves you and adores you?” Mr. Hornsberry asked as he looked about nervously. “Master Nathan, I fail to see to whom she is making reference.”

“Gracious lady,” Bobok sternly warned. “We agreed. Your reflections are most unwelcome!”

“This is his illusion, not mine. This is what he wants to see.”

Bobok turned back to Nathan, speaking louder to get his attention. “Chosen Thread? The canteen you have about your waist, the water.”

But Nathan barely heard. He was too mesmerized by the thousands of adoring people calling out to him — beautiful people begging him to come closer so they could admire him, so they could reach out and touch him. How could he refuse? He started toward them. And to his amazement, he discovered that his hip no longer hurt. He didn't even have his limp!

“Master Nathan,” Mr. Hornsberry shouted. “What are you doing — where are you going?”

“Those are my people . . . my fans.”

“What people? What fans? Master Nathan, you're proceeding directly toward that multitude of insects!”

Nathan had no idea what Hornsberry was talking about. All he saw were the fans.

“Chosen Thread!” Bobok called.

“Leave him be,” the lady warned. “If this is the reality he wishes, let him live it!”

Closer and closer Nathan approached the excited, teaming crowd — every one of them desperate for his attention, for his presence, for his slightest touch.

“Chosen Thread!” Bobok shouted. “Your canteen — your water!”

Nathan could barely hear him. The cheering fans were just too loud. He was only a few feet away now. Just a couple more steps and he would be in the center of their loving, adoring arms.

“Master Nathan!” Mr. Hornsberry cried. “Master Nathan!”

Bobok rolled toward him, shouting over the noise. “Chosen Thread! Chosen Thread, aren't you thirsty? Does not this hot, dry sand make your throat ache for water?” Now he was beside Nathan, then under his feet, nearly tripping him in an effort to get his attention. “Chosen Thread, how about a drink of water! It is so hot. I'm so thirsty — aren't you? How about some cool, refreshing water?”

Nathan glanced down at the creature and smiled. Poor little guy, he thought. He's obviously feeling left out. Probably jealous. But why's he making such a big deal about taking a drink?

“Just open your canteen! Just one sip!” Bobok shouted. “Just one little sip!”

Nathan shrugged. The little guy had obviously been helpful. If he wanted a drink so badly, there was no reason he couldn't have it. And he was right, it was awfully hot. It probably wouldn't hurt to take a few gulps himself. So, partially for Bobok, partially for himself, Nathan reached for his canteen and opened the lid.

That was all it took.

Immediately the adoring fans began screaming. But they weren't screaming in adoration . . . they were screaming in horror. They began pushing and shoving each other — not to get closer to Nathan, but to get away!

They were shoving and shouting and screaming to get away from him!

“Bobok, what's going on?” Nathan cried. “Bobok!”

“Stop it!” the lady screamed from behind them. “Stop it now!”

“Pour it on the ground!” Bobok yelled. “Pour the water on the ground!”

“But they're leaving!” Nathan cried. His lifelong dream was dissolving before his eyes. “Why are they leaving?” By now the crowd was trampling over one another in their desperate attempt to flee.

“Stop it!” the lady screeched.

“Pour the water on the ground!”

Mr. Hornsberry began running in tight little circles of frustration, shouting, “Do what he says! Do what he says!”

“Bobok, I don't understand!”

“Pour the water on the ground!”

“Do what he says! Do what he says!”

“But —”

“NOW!” Bobok shouted.

Mr. Hornsberry could stand no more. Suddenly the chubby fellow leaped into the air, opened his mouth, and chomped down on Nathan's wrist. Hard.

“OW!” Nathan cried as he grabbed his hand, dropping the canteen to the sand.

And then it started. . . .

As the water of letters and words poured from the canteen onto the ground, they started to sizzle and pop. Like some sort of powerful acid, they began eating into the sand, turning it into a clear, dark liquid.

“Get back!” Bobok shouted as he rolled away from the rapidly growing puddle. “Get back! Get back!”

Nathan and Mr. Hornsberry didn't need a second invitation. They leaped backwards and watched as the liquid letters ate into the sand, making a bigger and bigger pool — a bubbling pool that began to swirl as it liquefied everything it touched.

But it was not just the pool that held Nathan's attention. It was the reflection in that pool. Now at last he was able to see the illusion for what it was. There were no castles, no golden paths, no flowery hills — just sand. And there was definitely no crowd of adoring fans. As Nathan looked at their reflection he saw them for what they were — a mound of teaming insects, a mound that he had nearly walked into and that had nearly devoured him! But now the mound was collapsing as the insects tried in vain to scurry away from the widening pool.

“My children!” the lady cried. “My precious children!”

But it did no good. The growing, spiraling pool continued to eat away at her kingdom. Maybe eat away wasn't the right phrase. Maybe dissolve would be better. In any case, Nathan watched with horror and fascination as the pool continued to grow and suck in the sand . . . the insects . . . everything that it touched.

“Run!” Bobok shouted over the roar of melting elements.

“What's happening?”

“It's the water from the stream — it is destroying the Kingdom of Seerlo! Run!”

Nathan started to run, but he wasn't quick enough. The very sand under his feet was being sucked into the pool, faster and faster. He began losing more ground than he was taking.

“Jump!” Bobok yelled. “Jump and run! Jump and run!” Nathan understood and started leaping. So did Hornsberry. And with each leap dozens of yards of sand rushed by under their feet. Up ahead he saw a dark blue forest. But instead of racing toward it, it was racing toward him! As more and more of the desert was sucked into the pool, the forest quickly approached!

“You'll pay for this!” the lady screamed over the wind and roar of melting elements. “I swear, you'll pay!”

Nathan looked up and was amazed at what he saw. It was the lady's voice, all right, but it was no longer the lady — or at least as he'd seen her. This time the Illusionist appeared entirely different . . . a scaled and war-scarred body, with huge cloven hoofs. She had black leathery wings that were now unfurled and flapping-wings that lifted her high above the swirling whirlpool of what had once been her kingdom.

“Hurry, Chosen Thread!” Bobok shouted as he rolled ahead of them, spinning so fast he was merely a blue blur. “Hurry!”

Excerpted from The Portal, book one of the “Imager Chronicles” series by Bill Myers, and reprinted by permission of Tommy Nelson Publishers. Read chapter 9 of The Portal.

To read chapters 1 through 7 of The Portal click here.