Part 1
Bisera descended the wooden staircase at a half-run, her heart pounding against her ribs. She wore only an oversized T-shirt and a pair of James's boxers, not daring to waste time on more clothing in her rush. Even with her damp hair clinging to her neck, her focus lay on the alarmed shout she had just heard from below.
"James?" she called, her voice taut with urgency. Her bandaged shoulder—still sore from the arrow wounds she had taken in Thessaloria—throbbed faintly, reminding her that danger was never far away.
She found him in the living room, seemingly engaged in conversation with… no one. His gaze was fixed on empty air at eye level, brows knitted in disbelief. He lifted a hand and swiped at something invisible, like a man operating a touchscreen only he could see.
Bisera scanned the room for threats: No Gillyrian soldiers, no looming ambush. "James," she repeated, softer this time. "Are you… are you all right?"
He startled, as though yanked from a trance. "Oh! Bisera!" A flush spread across his cheeks. "I—I didn't hear you come down."
She relaxed, relieved no attack was underway. "You looked upset. Is something wrong? Did the Gillyrians follow us here?" A tremor of dread slipped into her voice—she wouldn't put anything past the empire that had pursued her so relentlessly.
James shook his head, letting out a tight laugh. "Not that kind of problem. I was just—uh—talking to Seraphina. She popped in to show me something. Sorry if I worried you."
"Seraphina…" Bisera exhaled in relief, though her posture remained rigid. At the name of the Archangel of Hope—so revered in her homeland—she felt a flash of reverence. Even now, she fought the instinct to kneel, knowing she was unworthy to behold a heavenly being. "What did she say?"
James grimaced at the empty space. "Apparently, she wants me to pay a monetary price for healing the Gillyrian soldiers I shot with that weapon she gave me when we escaped Thessaloria."
Bisera blinked. "Wait, she's charging you for miracles? To keep things… fair?"
James's mouth twitched. "Seems so. She itemized costs for bullet wounds, shattered bones, blood loss… She even tacked on a separate fee for emergency triage in a swamp."
A faint giggle—inaudible to Bisera—made him stiffen, then color with embarrassment. She guessed Seraphina was teasing him again. Bisera's heart constricted with awe: If only she could sense the archangel's presence too. For now, respectful curiosity would have to suffice.
"So… it's expensive?" she asked gently.
James nodded, exhaling. "Unbelievably expensive. It might cripple the funds I'd saved for your army's supplies. But… I guess it was worth it. We would've died otherwise."
Bisera snorted softly. "Of course it was worth it. You're worth more than any fortune." The instant the words left her mouth, her face burned red.
Quickly, she redirected the conversation. "Did Seraphina mention anything about my soldiers?"
James glanced over the invisible lines once more, then shook his head. "Nothing about a new threat. She told me the cost and I freaked out. Sorry if my shouting scared you."
Bisera's shoulders loosened. "All right. No fresh crisis. That's a relief." She paused.
James forced a small grin, then noticed Bisera's attire—or lack thereof. His gaze flickered away as heat rose in his cheeks. "Uh… sorry if I sounded insane. I promise I'm not—"
He stopped mid-sentence, evidently reacting to one last quip from Seraphina. His expression teetered between amusement and exasperation before he waved at nothing.
"It's fine," Bisera reassured him. "You're not crazy. I know how you commune with Seraphina." She shrugged, offering a half-smile. "Yes, I thought you were weird the first time I saw you talking to thin air. But once I realized it was really the Archangel… I understood."
James exhaled, relief showing in his posture. "That means a lot, coming from you. And no, I didn't get any bad news about your men."
She gave a firm nod. "Good. Let's hope it stays that way."
A slight lull followed. James glanced around the living room, as though confirming the invisible interface had closed. Bisera watched him, noticing the faint worry lines on his brow—the look of a man bearing a thousand responsibilities with too few answers.
Now that the tension had ebbed, Bisera became acutely aware of how close they were standing—barely a foot apart. She was suddenly conscious of her attire: James's boxers, a T-shirt that barely reached mid-thigh, and her damp hair clinging to her shoulders. Her pulse quickened as she realized how exposed she must look from his perspective.
He blinked, and she caught him eyeing her bare legs. The moment crackled with energy, sending a tingle of awareness through Bisera's body. She felt that flutter low in her stomach, her mouth going dry, and warmth blooming in her veins.
He cleared his throat, his own cheeks flushing. "I was… just checking if you were okay."
Bisera swallowed, tugging the T-shirt down to cover more of her thighs. The motion only accentuated how snug it fit across her chest, and James looked away, red creeping along his cheekbones.
She let out a shaky breath, embarrassed and oddly exhilarated. By the Spirit, she thought, this is more nerve-racking than any battlefield. Her body tingled with adrenaline, her senses hyper-focused on James—on the clean scent of his soap and the subtle warmth radiating from his skin.
She crossed her arms over her front, her heart hammering. She caught the flicker of yearning in his eyes and felt a corresponding thrill. She had faced enemy armies without hesitation, yet this intimate tension seemed to turn her inside out.
James coughed lightly. "Let me… grab you a cover or something. You might be cold."
Before she could respond, he reached for a folded throw on the couch. He returned and gently draped it around her shoulders, making sure it was snug. The protective gesture sent a rush of warmth through her chest.
"Thank you," Bisera whispered. In Vakeria, men had followed her orders, even idolized her prowess, but no one had shown her such personal care. A swirl of gratitude, vulnerability, and undeniable attraction knotted within her.
James's tentative smile widened. "Better?"
She nodded, her voice caught in her throat. "Yes."
Silence settled for a heartbeat. It felt as though a magnet was drawing them closer, forging a connection both powerful and delicate.
"You're extraordinary," James murmured, letting his hand linger on the edge of the blanket. "You're strong, smart… and you genuinely care." His voice dipped lower. "It's like you could bend the world to your will, yet you choose kindness instead."
Emotion surged through Bisera, leaving her dizzy. She opened her mouth, searching for a response, but all she managed was a soft exhale. With tender caution, she lifted her free hand to brush his arm.
James's breath came faster, his eyes darkening with that undeniable spark of desire. "Bisera," he whispered, stepping in closer.
She tilted her head, letting the blanket slip away so she could rise on her toes, eliminating the last bit of distance between them. Warmth radiated from him, and her T-shirt rode higher on one thigh as she moved, revealing more of her toned leg. This time, she didn't pull it down.
James lifted one hand to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking lightly. Bisera leaned into his touch, heart in her throat. Their gazes locked, and in that electrified hush, she felt more alive than she ever had on the battlefield.
He bent his head, and she moved up to meet him. Their lips brushed gently at first, testing. Then, as the heat flared on both sides, they pressed closer, the kiss deepening in a heady rush. Bisera's pulse thundered, and she let out a soft moan, leaning her body fully against his. James responded with a low sound at the back of his throat, his arms sliding around her waist to pull her nearer.
The entire world seemed to narrow to the sensation of his mouth on hers, his hands exploring the small of her back. She threaded her fingers through his hair, marveling at the warmth of his skin and the rapid cadence of his heartbeat beneath her palm. It felt as though every nerve in her body had awakened, electricity sparking wherever they touched.
Somehow, they maneuvered to the couch, never breaking contact for long. James sank down, guiding her to follow. She braced herself on the cushions, gasping softly as he gripped her hips. Her own hands roamed under his T-shirt, skimming the lean muscle beneath. The honesty of her desire surprised her; she had never longed for closeness like this.
They kissed deeper, each drawn by the other's urgency. The blanket fell aside, forgotten, as she pressed against him. His body felt solid and reassuring, a welcome counterbalance to the swirl of emotions that flooded her. She arched her back, hands sliding around his sides. The friction of skin on skin made her heart flutter wildly, a thrill that pushed aside any lingering shyness.
"Bisera…" he breathed, breaking away just enough to meet her gaze. His voice was husky, his eyes full of wonder and wanting. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of her T-shirt, grazing the bare skin of her waist. She trembled, heat coursing through her.
She let him explore, her own hands trailing over his arms and shoulders. The tension felt unstoppable, a wave of pent-up emotion finally cresting.
Then James stiffened, drawing back sharply. Bisera's breath caught—had she done something wrong? She was about to speak when she heard a melodic, unfamiliar voice echo around them.
"Oho, you two are certainly… enthusiastic. Don't let me spoil the moment."
A bolt of shock ran through Bisera. Her body went rigid, and her cheeks flamed with mortification. That voice… Seraphina? But I can hear her?
James, chest heaving, looked equally stunned. "You heard that?" he managed.
Bisera nodded, her stomach twisting. "Yes," she whispered, sliding off the couch in one swift motion. Half in awe and half in panic, she kneeled, pressing her forehead to the floor. Arms out, palms flat, she bowed low. "M-My Holy Lady Seraphina," she stammered, tears threatening. "Forgive me for my… my wantonness. I led James into—"
James reached for her shoulder. "Bisera—"
She shook her head fiercely. "James, do not interrupt! This is the Archangel of Hope—the caretaker of souls. I'm not worthy—"
A tinkling laugh resonated through the room. "Oh, hush, child. I'm not here to chastise you. Honestly, a kiss—or more—won't unravel the cosmos."
Bisera dared lift her face, confusion warring with reverence. "But… aren't you displeased by our sinful—"
"Sinful or not, it's not for me to judge," Seraphina teased gently. "A colleague of mine handles that rather dreary task. Personally, I'm interested in the sincerity of your hearts. If there's genuine love and a willingness to bear consequences, who am I to complain?"
Bisera's lips trembled. She slowly straightened from her bow, still kneeling. Her cheeks burned, tears clinging to her lashes.
James looked stunned but relieved. He gave Bisera's hand a reassuring squeeze. "See? She's more meddling than punishing."
Seraphina chuckled, her voice swirling in the air like a warm breeze. "My dear James, always so quick with labels. But back to business, my devoted General."
Bisera's insides went cold. "My men?" she asked, dread tightening her chest. "What's happening?"
Seraphina's tone became more somber. "An outbreak has struck your army. Many of your soldiers are gravely ill. Panic spreads as quickly as the fever."
Horror crashed through Bisera. "A pestilence? But how?"
James's expression darkened. "How long ago did this start?"
"This morning," said Seraphina. "Men have died already, and morale is crumbling. Vesmir's trying to maintain order, but despair is taking hold. I can bring you back in three hours. Prepare yourselves. Make the most of this respite. You'll have your hands full soon enough."
Bisera's heart pounded. "Three hours? That's too long—people could die—"
"Have some faith," Seraphina replied, sounding faintly apologetic. "Use the time well, child. You must be ready in mind and spirit before you return."
Part 2
Bisera stood by the front door, tightening the final straps of her armor. Her heart still hammered from Seraphina's revelation that a lethal pestilence had gripped her army. Yet here she was, donned in full battle regalia—leather pauldrons scarred by combat, reinforced vambraces, a steel breastplate bearing the marks of long-ago clashes. Each buckle and strap brought an odd sense of comfort, reminding her of how she had always confronted danger: armed and ready.
James, meanwhile, tore through his study like a man possessed, snatching up tangled cables, chargers, and electronic devices. The clock ticked mercilessly; Seraphina had granted them three hours before returning them to Bisera's realm. He copied files, flicked through search results, and swapped out external drives, every frantic motion reflecting the weight on his mind.
Bisera paused in the doorway, still tugging on her gauntlets. "What are you doing with all that?" She nodded toward the snaking cords and blinking lights on his desk.
James glanced up, tension etched into his face. "I'm downloading every bit of scientific and medical data I can—formulas, diagnostic charts, engineering references. Once we're back in your world, I won't have any internet. If there's a chance I can help treat your men or replicate medicines, I'll need these files stored offline."
She gave a solemn nod. "A plague can bring even the mightiest to their knees. Any advantage we have could save lives."
James ejected one memory stick, replaced it with another. "Exactly. I'm making multiple backups. If this laptop gets destroyed or the battery dies, we're out of luck." He glanced at her, noticing the question in her eyes. "I know it sounds like a lot, but we can't be too careful."
Bisera let her gaze wander over the screen, where numerous folders scrolled by. One label read Geography & Cartography. She caught James's eye, then nodded toward it. "That folder... your maps?"
"Yeah," James said, following her line of sight. "They're collections of my world's regions, including modern political boundaries. Why?"
Bisera shifted, armor creaking softly. "Earlier, you said an area called the Balkans in your world was similar to my Balkania. I'd like to see it, if it isn't too much trouble."
His shoulders relaxed a fraction. "No trouble at all. I even have a printed map I can show you." Sifting through a closet, he tugged out a large rolled parchment, its edges yellowing with age. "I've kept this since I was a student—it's a bit worn, but it should do."
He cleared space on the dining table, brushing aside cables and adapters, then unrolled the map. Bisera's eyes widened at the sight of sprawling oceans and landmasses in a patchwork of colors. The legend identified them as continents, with names like Africa, Europe, Asia, North America, South America.
She hesitated before placing a gauntleted hand near the top, careful not to tear the paper. "All of this… is your world?"
James nodded. "Most of it's ocean—the blue expanses here—and these huge sections of land are continents."
Bisera's gaze zeroed in on Europe, scanning the mosaic of countries. She found the southeastern corner labeled Balkan Peninsula. Her pulse quickened. The shape of the coastline, the mountain ranges, the placement of major rivers—nearly identical to Balkania. But the labels read Greece, Bulgaria, Romania, Serbia, and more.
She glanced up. "So many states… where, in my world, only two or three empires hold sway."
He gave a wry smile. "History over here has seen countless wars, revolutions, and changing borders. This is the current layout. Most of these places are now republics or democracies."
Bisera studied the tiny lines denoting borders, reminded of how Vakeria stretched across much of her land. Here, though, that same shape was divided among several nations. "I never imagined there could be so many governments in such a small area." She drew a shaky breath. "It puts things into perspective."
James gestured toward two vast landmasses across an ocean. "And those are the Americas—two enormous continents. My world is huge, Bisera. Even the biggest empires in our history once knew only a corner of it."
She stared, the scale boggling her mind. "I've heard rumors of far-off places across the sea, but never imagined the land could be so vast." Her voice dropped. "Vakeria takes pride in controlling a great portion of the known world, yet here… it would be no more than a scrap of territory."
He rested a gentle hand on her armored shoulder, sensing her awe. "Don't let it discourage you. Each empire had its own time and place. People adapt, and societies grow."
Bisera's chest tightened with a sudden rush of humility. He is leaving all this behind—an entire realm I can barely comprehend—to help save my soldiers. She looked down at the map, thoughts buzzing. "I'm proud of Vakeria's might," she said quietly, "but it humbles me to see how small we are in the grand scheme of things."
They shared a moment of silence, broken only by the laptop's low hum. Carefully rolling the parchment, Bisera took another steadying breath. Whatever the size of James's world, her own still needed her leadership—and his knowledge—right now.
She glanced at him, seeing the same spark of determination in his eyes that she felt in her own pulse. "You nearly finished?"
He disconnected the final drive and nodded. "Ready as I'll ever be."
Bisera tugged the last buckle on her breastplate, then gripped her sword hilt. "Good. Let's go save an army."
Side by side, they prepared to return to a land in crisis—carrying fresh hope, battle-tested steel, and the stark realization of just how vast creation could be.