I should have known better.
Really, I should have.
Years of studying ancient myths had taught me one irrefutable fact - mysterious books and overeager scholars never mix well.
But there I was, Dr. Alexander Matthews, a respected mythology professor, reading aloud from an unidentified text like some wide-eyed freshman at their first frat party setting.
The words flowed from my lips, a strange mix of ancient Greek and something that I did recognize, it was something... older.
I don't know how I was able to read it but each syllable sent a shiver down my spine and I couldn't stop.
The text seemed to pull me in, urging me to continue despite the growing sense of unease in the pit of my stomach.
"Ἡρακλῆς... ἔργα... μεταμόρφωσις..." I muttered, my tongue stumbling over the unfamiliar combinations.
Suddenly, the pages began to glow with an eerie blue light. I yelped, nearly dropping the book, but found my hands wouldn't release it.
My hands were glued to the book!
The light grew brighter, pulsing in rhythm with my rapidly beating heart.
"Okay, Alex," I said to myself, trying to inject some rationality into the situation. "This is just a stress-induced hallucination. Too much caffeine, not enough sleep. Any second now, Janice is going to walk in with that chamomile tea, and everything will be fine."
But Janice didn't come.
Instead, the blue light expanded, enveloping me in a cocoon of crackling energy. The air in my office grew thick and heavy, charged with an otherworldly power that made my hair stand on end.
As the light intensified, I caught glimpses of strange symbols swirling around me.
Some I recognized from ancient Greek texts – the club of Hercules, the head of the Nemean Lion, and the multiple heads of the Hydra. Others were completely foreign, twisting shapes that hurt my eyes to look at directly.
"This isn't happening," I muttered, squeezing my eyes shut.
"This can't be happening. I'm going to count to three, and when I open my eyes, I'll be back at my desk with a killer migraine and a great story for the faculty lounge."
I took a deep breath.
"One... two... three!"
I opened my eyes.
The blue light was gone, replaced by... complete darkness.
For a moment, I felt a wave of relief. Then I realized I couldn't feel my chair beneath me. Or my desk in front of me.
Or anything, really.
Panic set in as I flailed my arms, trying to find something, anything to orient myself.
But there was nothing.
I was floating in a void, untethered and alone.
"Hello?" I called out, my voice sounding small and tinny in the vast nothingness. "Is anyone there? Old man with the suspiciously magical book? Janice? Anyone?"
Silence was my only answer. Well, there was silence, and I started to feel dizzy as I tried to make sense of my surroundings – or the fact that there weren't any.
Just as I was about to give in to full-blown hysteria, I heard a voice. Deep and resonant, it seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"Alexander Matthews," it boomed, "you who have sought to know the truths behind the myths, your time has come."
"My... my time?" I stammered, trying to sound braver than I felt.
"Look, if this is about that paper I published debunking the historical accuracy of '300', I stand by my research, but I'm open to scholarly debate..."
The voice chuckled, a sound like distant thunder.
"Your journey begins now, Alexander. You wanted to experience the myths firsthand? Your wish is granted. But remember, with great power comes great responsibility."
"Did... did you just quote Spider-Man at me?" I asked hesitatingly. But before I could get an answer, the darkness around me began to swirl and shift.
I felt a tugging sensation as if my very essence was being pulled in a thousand directions at once. The void exploded into a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations. I caught fleeting glimpses of ancient cities, fearsome monsters, and godly figures that defied description.
As quickly as it began, the maelstrom of images ceased. The pulling sensation intensified, focusing on a single point ahead of me. I was being drawn towards... something. A pinprick of light that grew larger with each passing second.
"Wait!" I cried out to the mysterious voice. "What's happening? Where am I going?"
This time, the answer came.
"To fulfill your destiny," the voice replied, already fading. "And to walk in the sandals of a hero."
Before I could ask what on earth that meant, the light engulfed me. I felt a final, wrenching pull, and then...
Darkness.
But this time, a different kind of darkness. The soft, warm darkness of closed eyelids. I was lying on something hard and uneven. The air smelled of dust, sweat, and something distinctly... ancient.
With a groan, I opened my eyes, blinking against the harsh sunlight streaming through an open window. As my vision cleared, I found myself staring at a rough wooden ceiling.
This definitely wasn't my office.
I sat up, my head spinning, and looked down at myself. My tweed jacket and loafers were gone, replaced by a rough-spun tunic and sandals.
And my body... my body was...
"By the gods," I whispered, using a phrase I'd only ever used academically before. "What have I gotten myself into?"
Because the body I was inhabiting was most definitely not my own.
The muscles rippling under sun-bronzed skin, the massive hands that could crush stone – I knew this body from countless artistic depictions and historical descriptions.
Somehow, someway, I, Dr. Alexander Matthews, mild-mannered mythology professor, had woken up in the body of Hercules himself.
And that's when I heard the voice – not the booming, otherworldly voice from the void, but a familiar, concerned voice coming from just outside the room.
"Hercules?" it called. "Are you awake? We need to get moving if we're going to make it to Nemea before nightfall."
As I struggled to come to terms with my impossible situation, one thought kept repeating in my mind.
Be careful what you wish for, indeed.
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