I never thought my life would end like this.
I woke up that morning like any other, going through the motions shower, breakfast, commute. Everything was routine, comfortable, predictable. I guess that's why I didn't see it coming.
I'm not what you'd call a hero. I've never been in a fight, never saved anyone from a burning building. But as I walked down that busy street, watching the world rush by, something caught my eye a small child, maybe six or seven, chasing a ball that had bounced into the road.
Time slowed down. I saw the truck before the kid did, barreling down the street, and for a moment, I froze. I didn't know the kid; I didn't know his name or where he was from. But in that split second, none of it mattered. All I knew was that I couldn't let him die.
Before I could second-guess myself, my legs were moving, carrying me forward faster than I'd ever run in my life. I heard people shout, felt the adrenaline surge through my veins as I lunged toward the child. My arms wrapped around him, and with all my strength, I threw him out of harm's way.
That was the last thing I did.
The impact was instant, a flash of blinding pain, and then... nothing. No light at the end of the tunnel, no tunnel at all. Just darkness, swallowing me whole.
But then, there was light again.
I woke up gasping for air, my heart pounding as if I'd just run a marathon. The first thing I noticed was the ground beneath me hard, cold, and rough like cobblestones. My hands shot out, trying to make sense of what I was feeling, but the texture was all wrong. This wasn't pavement; it felt ancient, uneven, and... gritty?
My eyes shot open, and I was met with the sight of a bright blue sky, unfiltered by smog or skyscrapers. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear the haze from my vision, but it was no use. The world around me was unfamiliar, alien.
I sat up slowly, wincing as a sharp pain shot through my side. My clothes were the same as they'd been before the same jeans, t-shirt, and sneakers. But everything else was different. I was in a narrow alleyway, the walls on either side of me made of rough stone, moss creeping between the cracks. The air smelled different too cleaner, fresher, but with a hint of something old and earthy.
I staggered to my feet, trying to get my bearings. That's when I noticed them: the people.
They were dressed in strange, old-fashioned clothes tunics, cloaks, simple dresses. They stared at me with wide eyes, whispering to one another in a language that was both familiar and foreign at the same time. It sounded like English, but there was something off about it, like the words had been twisted by time.
"Where... where am I?" I asked, my voice coming out hoarse and shaky. But they didn't answer. They just stared, their expressions a mix of curiosity and fear.
One man stepped forward, an elderly fellow with a long white beard and a cane. His eyes were sharp, and he looked at me as if he were trying to solve a puzzle. He said something I didn't understand, gesturing to my clothes. I glanced down at myself, suddenly acutely aware of how out of place I must have looked in my modern attire.
"Do you understand me?" I tried again, slower this time. The man tilted his head, his brow furrowing, but still, no response. I tried to take a step forward, but the pain in my side flared up, nearly sending me to the ground. The man said something else, more urgently this time, and a few people in the crowd started to move forward, cautiously.
They were scared, I realized. Scared of me.
I couldn't blame them. I must have looked like some kind of alien, appearing out of nowhere in their world, dressed in strange clothes. But as I looked around, panic started to set in. This wasn't my world. This wasn't anywhere I recognized.
"Where am I?" I whispered to myself, the words barely audible. My mind raced, trying to piece together the last few moments of my life saving the kid, the truck, the impact. I should be dead. I was dead.
But somehow, I wasn't.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. There had to be some kind of explanation. Maybe this was a dream, or I was in a coma, hallucinating. But everything felt too real the rough texture of the cobblestones beneath my feet, the crisp air in my lungs, the weight of a dozen pairs of eyes staring at me.
No, this was real. As real as it gets.
The old man stepped closer, his expression softening. He reached out a hand, and for a moment, I hesitated. But then I took it, grateful for the support. He led me out of the alley and into a broader street, where more people had gathered. The street was unlike anything I'd ever seen lined with wooden carts and market stalls, the air filled with the smell of fresh bread and roasting meat. The buildings were tall and narrow, made of the same rough stone as the alley, with thatched roofs and wooden beams.
As I looked around, the reality of my situation began to sink in. This was no ordinary place. It was like stepping back in time, into some kind of medieval village straight out of a history book. But there was something else too, something... magical about it. The colors seemed more vibrant, the air tingled with an energy I couldn't quite place.
I tried to speak again, but the old man shook his head and motioned for me to follow him. He led me through the crowd, which parted to let us through, until we reached a large building at the end of the street. It looked like some kind of inn, with a sign hanging above the door that I couldn't read. The language was completely foreign to me now, the letters twisted and ornate.
Inside, the inn was warm and dimly lit, with a fire crackling in the hearth. The old man spoke to a woman behind the counter, and after a brief exchange, she nodded and disappeared into a back room. The man turned to me and gestured for me to sit at one of the wooden tables. I did, my legs still shaky, and he sat across from me, watching me with those sharp eyes.
He spoke again, slowly, carefully, as if trying to break through the language barrier. I caught a few words here and there, enough to piece together what he was saying.
"You... not from here. Strange... clothes. Where... from?"
I shook my head, struggling to find the right words. "I don't know. I don't know where I am. One minute I was... I was somewhere else, and now I'm here. This place... it's not my world."
The old man nodded slowly, as if he understood more than he was letting on. He reached into a pouch at his side and pulled out a small, round object a coin, by the looks of it. He handed it to me, and I took it, turning it over in my hand. The metal was warm, almost as if it were alive, and the design on it was intricate, unlike anything I'd ever seen.
"New... world," the man said, his voice soft. "You... must learn."
I looked up at him, meeting his gaze. There was a kindness in his eyes, but also a weight, as if he knew more about my situation than he was letting on. But before I could ask him anything else, the woman returned with a bowl of steaming soup and a hunk of bread. She placed them in front of me with a small, hesitant smile.
"Eat," the old man said, the word clear as day.
I didn't need to be told twice. The smell alone was enough to make my stomach growl, and I realized just how hungry I was. I picked up the spoon and took a cautious sip of the soup. It was warm, savory, and unlike anything I'd ever tasted a blend of herbs and spices that danced on my tongue.
As I ate, the old man watched me, his expression thoughtful. I could feel the weight of his gaze, but I didn't mind. In that moment, I was just grateful to be alive, to have something warm in my belly, and someone who seemed willing to help me.
But even as I finished the last of the soup, the reality of my situation lingered at the back of my mind. This was a new world, a place that seemed ripped straight out of a fantasy novel. I had no idea how I'd gotten here, or what I was supposed to do next. But one thing was clear: I wasn't going home anytime soon.
The old man reached out and patted my hand, his grip firm but gentle. "We... help," he said, his words slow and deliberate. "But... you must learn."
I nodded, feeling a strange mix of fear and determination bubbling up inside me. Whatever this place was, whatever challenges it held, I had no choice but to face them head-on. I had been given a second chance, a new life in a strange world. And I wasn't about to waste it.