Rowan sat in the dimly lit corner of the tavern, staring at the half-empty tankard in front of him. His mind was swirling with questions, but none of them had clear answers. He had spent the last few days wandering the streets of Stagpeak, trying to make sense of this strange new world. No matter where he looked, though, he found nothing that would explain how or why he had been brought here.
Maya noticed him from behind the bar, her eyes narrowing as she watched the tension in his expression. She had seen travelers like Rowan before—people who had stumbled into Stagpeak from faraway lands, lost and confused, unsure of how they had ended up here. Most of them eventually accepted their fate, but Rowan seemed different. He was still holding on to something, still searching.
After a moment, she made her way over to him, pulling up a chair. "You're still trying to figure things out, huh?" she said, her voice soft but laced with curiosity.
Rowan blinked, startled out of his thoughts. "Yeah," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I just... none of this makes sense. I thought maybe I could find a way back, but the more I think about it, the less likely it seems."
Maya tilted her head, considering him for a moment. "You know, there is a place you might want to check out. It won't have all the answers, but it could help you get a better sense of where you are."
Rowan glanced at her, intrigued despite his frustration. "Where?"
"The library," she replied, leaning back in her chair. "It's not exactly a place most people go. It's old, full of dusty books and forgotten knowledge. But if you want to learn about magic, or this world in general, that's where you'll find it."
"Magic?" Rowan's interest piqued. Ever since he'd arrived, there had been something strange about this world. If magic existed here, it could be the key to understanding what had happened to him—and perhaps finding a way back.
Maya smiled. "Yeah. The library has a lot of books about it. Some are basic, some are more advanced. You might not be able to use it, but it couldn't hurt to learn."
Rowan thought it over, then nodded. "Thanks, Maya. I'll check it out."
With a renewed sense of purpose, Rowan left the tavern and headed toward the library. It was just as Maya had described—an ancient stone building, its once-grand façade now draped in ivy. The doors creaked as he pushed them open, and the scent of old parchment filled the air.
Inside, the library was a maze of towering shelves, each one filled with books that looked like they hadn't been touched in centuries. Rowan wandered through the aisles, pulling out volumes at random, flipping through pages filled with strange symbols and diagrams.
He found books on the basics of magic—how to channel energy, the principles of spellcasting, and the rules of magical laws. There were also tomes on intermediate magic, describing more complex spells and the dangers of tampering with forces beyond one's understanding.
Rowan read for hours, trying to absorb as much as he could. But no matter how much he learned, the books felt distant, like they weren't written for him. The language was archaic, and the concepts too abstract to grasp fully. He tried to cast simple spells, but nothing happened. It was as if the magic in this world wasn't meant for him.
Frustrated, Rowan closed the last book and leaned back in his chair. Maybe Maya was right—this was his reality now, and he had no choice but to accept it. There was no going back, at least not yet. He needed to find a way to survive here, even if it meant giving up on the idea of returning home, for now.
With that acceptance, Rowan decided to explore beyond the town. There was a forest just outside Stagpeak that the locals avoided. It was eerie, shrouded in mist and mystery. Something about it drew him in, as if it held the answers he sought.
As he left the library and made his way toward the forest, he encountered a drunken man stumbling down the street. The man reeked of alcohol, his clothes disheveled, but he stopped when he saw Bash.
"You're not headin' to the forest, are ya?" the man slurred, his eyes wide with drunken fear. "Monsters... big, ugly things... they roam those woods. Orcs, they are. You'll not make it out if you go in there."
Rowan hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. He had heard rumors about the forest, but he wasn't about to let drunken warnings stop him. "I'll be fine," he muttered, continuing toward the tree line.
The man shouted something else, but Rowan ignored him, stepping into the shadowy embrace of the forest. The trees loomed overhead, their branches tangled together, blocking out most of the light. The deeper Rowan ventured, the quieter the world became, until even the sound of his own footsteps seemed muffled by the dense underbrush.
As night began to fall, the temperature dropped, and a chill crept into the air. Rowan wrapped his arms around himself, wishing he had brought something warmer. He kept walking, hoping to find some kind of shelter before the darkness fully set in.
Eventually, he came across the remains of a small house. It had been abandoned for years, its stone walls crumbling, the roof caved in. Rowan stepped inside, relieved to find a bit of shelter from the cold. He found a corner where the stone walls still stood and huddled there, trying to stay warm.
Exhaustion finally took over, and Rowan drifted off to sleep, his body aching from the long day.
Hours later, Rowan awoke with a start. The night was pitch-black, the only light coming from a strange glow that seemed to be emanating from his chest. He blinked in confusion, sitting up and looking down at himself.
There, just above his heart, a small ball of light hovered in the air, pulsing with a soft, golden glow. It was warm, but not hot, and it seemed to hum with an energy that Rowan had never felt before.
"What the...?" He muttered, reaching out to touch it. But as his fingers neared the light, it flickered and danced away, staying just out of reach.
He stared at it, both amazed and terrified. What was this? Had it come from the forest? From the magic he had been trying to understand?
Before he could think of an answer, a distant sound caught his attention—a low, guttural growl, coming from the forest.
Rowan froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He strained his ears, listening. The growls grew louder, accompanied by the sound of heavy footsteps, like something large was moving through the trees.
Suddenly, through the misty forest, Rowan saw them—monsters, just as the drunken man had warned. They were orcs, tall and muscular, with twisted, snarling faces. Their eyes glowed faintly in the dark, and their massive hands gripped crude weapons made of iron and bone.
Leading them was an even larger figure, an orc with scarred, gray skin and armor that looked like it had been pieced together from the remains of fallen enemies. This was no ordinary orc—this was their general, a towering beast that commanded the others with silent authority.
As the orcs marched through the forest, the general suddenly stopped, his eyes narrowing as he stared in Bash's direction. The golden light from Rowan's chest had caught their attention, and the general let out a guttural snarl, pointing toward the ruins where Rowan was hiding.
Rowan's breath caught in his throat. The orcs had seen him.
Panic surged through his body, but the glowing orb above his chest pulsed brighter, as if sensing the danger. Rowan knew he had to act quickly—if the orcs reached him, he wouldn't stand a chance.
Without thinking, He scrambled to his feet, his mind racing as he tried to figure out a way to escape. The ball of light seemed to grow stronger, casting long shadows across the ruined house, and for a moment, Rowan wondered if the light could help him.
But there was no time to find out. The orcs were closing in.