The old man gestured for me to follow him and I did, my sore ankle protesting but my curiosity overriding the discomfort. He led me towards a hut larger than the others, decorated with carvings of animals and swirling designs I didn't recognize.
We sat on woven mats inside, the air thick with the scent of herbs and something unfamiliar, both sweet and earthy. "My name is Elder Torin," he said, his voice calm and steady, "and this village, it is called Havenwood."
"I'm Ravi," I offered, unsure of what else to say.
"Ravi," he repeated, the name rolling strangely off his tongue. "That is not a name of Elyria, the realm in which you find yourself."
The word sent an icy shiver down my spine. Magic wasn't something I ever considered, yet here I was in 'Elyria', a place with shimmering rabbits and turquoise hawks. Had magic somehow brought me here? I gripped my lucky stone in my pocket – a pathetic defense against the swirling unknown.
"Please, Elder Torin," I said, trying to hide my unease, "tell me, how did I get here? And how do I get back?"
Torin sighed, his gaze falling on a gnarled wooden staff leaning by the door. "I wish I could answer that, Ravi. The truth is, we've never had anyone appear in our village as you have. Travelers, yes, but… never just out of thin air."
The room seemed to spin. My carefully trained composure cracked. "So I'm stuck here? Forever?" The question came out strangled, a desperate plea.
"Not forever, perhaps," Torin said, though his words offered little comfort. "But you must understand, magic in Elyria is… unpredictable. Those who wield it can sometimes bend the world in unexpected ways."
He paused, then leaned towards me, those ancient eyes piercing. "Tell me, Ravi, where were you before?"
I explained as best I could – Mount Acala, my life of training, the focus on martial arts that had defined my existence. Torin listened without interruption, only occasionally stroking his beard in contemplation.
"Fascinating," he murmured when I finished. "This martial arts... it's the way you fight?"
I nodded. Confused but desperate for any connection to my old world, I rose and shifted into a fighting stance. I moved through the forms slowly at first, muscles still stiff. Images flashed through my mind – my master's stern gaze, the sting of sparring blows, the rush of victory in competition. Here in this strange hut, it felt like a lifeline.
Torin was watching me with rapt attention. As I picked up the pace, mirroring the speed I was used to, his expression changed. There was a flicker of recognition, and then… respect? I finished the form with a powerful strike, shattering the silent air of the room.
"Incredible," the elder breathed. "I have never witnessed such a display of raw power, of control over the body. Ravi, this martial arts of yours – it is unlike anything I've seen."
Hope ignited in my chest. This wasn't a death sentence. It was an opportunity. Maybe they didn't have my mountain or my master, but here, I had something they didn't. Something powerful.
The sound of voices outside the hut broke the moment. A woman's voice – younger, with an edge of breathlessness – called out, "Elder Torin! You have to come quickly!"
The old man stood abruptly. "Stay here, Ravi," he commanded. "I will return."
As Torin hurried out, a wave of chaotic energy swept into the hut. A girl, barely taller than my waist, stood in the doorway. Her eyes were wide, her vibrant blue hair disheveled. It was the girl from yesterday – the one who found me by the well.
"I'm Lyra," she said, then without further preamble, grabbed my hand. "You have to come with me. Right now!"
I let her pull me, a mix of confusion and apprehension warring with an instinct to trust her boundless energy. She led me to the village square where a crowd had gathered, murmuring in low, agitated voices.
In the center of the commotion stood a warrior, far taller and broader than any man I'd ever seen. His armor was black iron etched with symbols I didn't recognize, and his eyes crackled with barely contained menace.