I wake up in a surprisingly comfy bed, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling.
Is it over? That was one hell of a dream.
I sit up and notice a fresh change of clothes on the table beside me, along with a night lamp and a diary— where am I?
I get up off the bed and look around. The room looks relatively minimalistic, with no real striking features apart from the bed, and a wooden desk with drawers and a swivel chair at the opposite corner. The wall I'm facing leads a small hallway towards the left, with a fitted wardrobe and a door at the end.
I turn to the right and pull apart the curtains on the window, instantly brightening the room, which had no real lighting. The view outside reveals an expanse of wilted grey-green grass, remains of dead trees, and a well that looks used up.
I walk over to the table and pick up the clothes: a simple blue t-shirt with black sweatpants that looked about my size. The diary is empty, lying there like it was waiting to be filled. I make a mental note to make use of it later.
I change out of my grimy uniform, and walk over to the end of the narrow hallway, pulling the door open.
No way a dream would last this long.
. . .
I walk into the corridor, exiting my room. Multiple doors, resembling the one I just came from, line the walls on either side. The walls have paintings hung up, depicting strange battle poses and uncanny fighting styles and weapons.
I walk towards the right and then turn left again, finding myself at the top of a wide staircase. I start walking down, and towards a room that looks completely different from the rest of the house.
A fancy chandelier hangs from the ceiling, with even more paintings adorning the walls on all sides. The long red and gold couches in the center look a little worn and enclose a large circular table in the middle. To the sides of the banisters, the room stretches out as a hallway.
There's a long table to the left, with around six seats, surrounded on three sides by bookshelves that seemed to be filled throughout. And to the right of the room, there's a single messy brown sofa facing a television.
I turn my focus to the couches in the front, where Quin, Row, and AJ are seated. There's a whiteboard behind Zax, who's standing and speaking to the rest of them, in the same brown sweater he was wearing before.
Before I was knocked out.
I reach the end of the staircase, walking towards them. Zax notices me first, and the rest of them turn around.
'Finally,' Quin says, looking at me, 'you were knocked out for like half a day.'
'Yeah because you-'
'To be fair,' he starts, 'It would've been pretty awkward carrying if you were awake.'
'Why would you carry me? You could have just not knocked me out.'
'Could have.'
There's no way.
'Wait,' I say, feeling stupid for not realising this earlier, 'You guys have never been to Earth. How can you understand me?'
'Actually,' Row speaks up, 'You're the one who's speaking Bael, kiddo, the most widely spoken language in Alsia. We know there's no way you came here with that knowledge, but your dialect is on point too.'
'I'm speaking Bael?' I ask.
That has to be why the writing looked so weird, and the things they were saying just sounded so natural, like it all made sense even though it didn't.
It probably should've piqued my attention, but my mind just accepted it.
'Yeah,' he replies, clearing throat, 'so I'll need you to step outside with me for a second-'
'Actually, I have one more question,' I interject, 'since I'm here in "Alsia", am I just gone on Earth? Like vanished into thin air? And has it been half a day there too since the Grove brought me here?'
Zax straightens his glasses, 'There are records from when one of the elders crossed the link several years ago,' he pauses, 'but they're a little bizarre.'
'When he left, his family and friends simply forgot of his existence. But his closest friends were just as perplexed as him when he returned, they knew exactly what happened and their memories weren't altered. There was no recorded time dilation, and his children slowly regained all their memories over the years. The rest of the details were buried.'
Noticing my expression he continues quickly, 'But we don't know how much of this actually holds true, there are some records saying he returned as quickly as he left, with others saying he returned after a week after spending years there.'
I nod, not knowing what else to respond with. I didn't want to assume the worst, which would be my aunts and friends forgetting I exist, or just returning to see them already old after living their lives.
That would... hurt.
I mean, I'm pulled into this world, with a bunch of teenagers telling me their world, as well as ours, were pretty much nearing a war. Oh, and that I might be part of a prophecy. It's not like I had a lot going on in my life anyway but this is kind of a massive leap.
And I haven't even landed yet.
'So the shogunate is gathering weapons and trying to join forces with the Ten Greer, superhuman elites who guard the Gates, to prepare for the event.'
'Aaand it's over if they do, right?' I ask.
'Yeah, and he doesn't need all of them to help either.'
'But,' Zax continues, 'we are going to try and get them over to our sides too. The shogunate is formidable, but not omnipotent.'
So, we have a starting line.
'You mentioned the event,' I reply, 'Why are they waiting?'
'They lack a lot of knowledge about Earth,' she pauses, 'but with the Greer, they can have the tides shift to their favour.
'There are some noticeable dissimilarities between the worlds,' Zax continues, 'which had been confirmed a while ago.
'This,' AJ replies, 'ability in particular.'
She holds out her arm, pointing it towards the whiteboard. One of the markers flies off into her palm.
'What,' I step back, right when I thought things were making sense, it blows up in my face, 'How did you do that?'
'Yeah, that's what we figured,' Row replies, getting up, 'step outside with me.'
. . .
'That went well,' AJ says, 'right?'
She looks at Eugene and Row leaving the shed, with an expression somewhere between hopeful and cringing.
'Yeah I mean,' Quin replies, concentrating on his video game, 'I expected him to freak out more.'
Zax has a pencil out, circling things on the blueprint, before finally rolling it up.
. . .
'Is this some elemental kinda thing,' I start, as we leave the Shed, 'did she use wind magic? Can you bend FIRE?'
Row's easily over two meters tall, a couple of inches give or take, wearing a messy flannel shirt with a worn out dark brown coat jacket. A messy beard frames his asymmetrical face, and his curly and unkempt hair. The massive size of his arms and the axe slung over his shoulder don't really help him look less intimidating.
'Sounds like a stretch, how would people do that?' he asks.
Makes sense.
'Okay let's see, where do I start?' he says, looking around.
He faces one of the dried-up trees, and zooms forward with his hands in his pockets, 'That's basically the simplest move.'
He turns around, 'There's usually a cap on how much gravity you can manipulate, relies on your natural aptitude obviously. But it can change in rare cases based on mental and emotional stability.'
'You can also do this,' He leans backward, like the guy from the matrix, then looks at me.
'And this,' he walks over to the tree and jumps onto it, his feet making contact with it first. He places his right hand on the tree too, which begins dangerously bending to the other side.
'How even-' I begin, but the loud crashing of the tree falling over cuts me off and sends all the birds in the vicinity back into the sky.
'I'm okay!' Row shouts, after losing balance and tripping over, landing behind the dust and leaves.
I probably look lost, because Row continues immediately, not waiting for a response.
'So first lesson, put your hand out and pull yourself towards this,' he says, getting up and dusting off his already very worn down jacket. He bends down and picks up the giant trunk that fell over. Walking over to me, he stomps through the pile of dead leaves and branches before holding the dead tree upright.
'Using only your arm is easier because you can center the pull to just the palm of your hand. Imagine your whole body moving, with your arm pulling it along.'
'I-okay,' I say, readying myself and raising my hand. What's the worst that could happen? Me hitting the tree?
'Remember your arm being pulled, and your body being led by your arm: or you'll probably have your arm fly off.'
Nevermind.
I raise my hand towards the tree and visualize it pulling my arm. Nothing.
'Try closing your eyes.' Row says from behind me.
That's right, they grew up with this concept already in their heads. Not having this ability would probably seem unusual to them, almost like a handicap.
I close my eyes and visualize being pulled forward again.
I feel my body moving.
'You're walking,' Row calls out, 'clear your thoughts.'
I take a few steps back and raise my hand again.
'Wait, actually,' Row speaks up; I open my eyes.
'Think of it this way, you're freefalling right, several hundred meters below. The same force that tugs your body downwards is pulling you forward here.' he says, 'You're falling but the direction and mass you're being pulled toward are different and under your control, right?'
This sounds much more complicated than wind magic, but I nod.
I close my eyes and raise my hand forward. Cleared thoughts; blank. Slight frustration, but otherwise blank.
I visualize myself falling. I'm moving, so close to the ground.
thud.
I hit the tree. I open my eyes, a little disoriented. Row looks just the slightest bit impressed.
'You actually pulled it off.' he says, grinning.
'I think I forgot to ask you how to stop moving.'
'Just stop visualizing,' he replies.
My arm hurts. But that was so worth it.
'Now again.' he says.
I step back and repeat, hitting my forehead this time. It feels unreal, except for the impact. That part feels very real.
'Again.'
I step back, visualize, and keep forgetting how fast I'm going before I hit the tree.
'One more.'
I step back, rubbing my nose, my eyes start to tear up.
'Are you oka-' Row almost lets go of the tree.
I sneeze. Once. Twice. Thrice. And wipe my nose on the sleeves of my t-shirt. I'm sweating like hell at this point and covered with bruises— but I'm exhilarated.
Row laughs, 'Okay we're done for today, you can continue tomorrow, kiddo.'
We hear footsteps on our right, and see AJ and Zax coming out from the Shed, which I'm noticing now, looks abandoned from the outside. The paint from the walls is chipping off, and the rubble of broken tiles lay on the slanted roof. There's no sign of life except for the light from the windows and the relatively modern doorway leading into the place.
I notice AJ holding a long roll of blue and white paper in her hand. She walks towards Row and hands it over.
'What is that?'
'A blueprint.' she replies, not elaborating.
Row opens it, I try peeking but give up and sit down on the ground. I realise I've been practicing for at least a couple of hours.
Row looks at AJ and nods, and Zax isn't wearing his glasses anymore. He and Row have similar builds, huge broad shoulders, and red hair, but everything else about them looks completely different. Zax has shorter straight hair neatly trimmed into an undercut, and a light brown sweater over a shirt, tucked into trousers. His face is clean-shaven with light acne, and multi-coloured eyes, which stand out the most. He doesn't have any particular expression; just looking at Row, who's going through the blueprint.
'We leave for them in three days, right?' Row finally speaks up.
'Yes, brother.' Zax responds.