The storm intensified, lightning flashing in blinding bursts that painted Edward's office in stark, jagged contrasts. The shadows in the room seemed alive, writhing and twisting as if reality itself was tearing at the seams. Edward's breath quickened, his logical mind struggling to make sense of the impossible.
The cloaked figure stood unmoving, a still point amid the chaos. "It begins now," it said, its voice resonating as if spoken from both inside and outside Edward's mind.
Before Edward could respond, the room erupted in a deafening clap of thunder, the sound so loud it felt like the air itself had shattered. A searing bolt of lightning struck directly outside, its light spilling into the room and enveloping Edward in a blinding brilliance.
He felt the world shift.
The ground beneath his feet disappeared, and Edward was falling—not through air, but through something far more disorienting. He was weightless, tumbling through an endless void where direction, time, and even his own sense of self seemed to warp. His body tingled with a sharp, electric charge, and he couldn't tell if he was freezing or burning.
Sounds surrounded him, some familiar, others alien. The crackle of the storm mixed with faint whispers that he couldn't understand. Snippets of voices echoed—some from his past, others unfamiliar.
"Failure…"
"You could have saved them…"
"Unworthy…"
Edward clenched his teeth against the flood of emotions these words stirred, refusing to give in to the guilt threatening to drown him.
Flashes of memory invaded his mind, sharp and vivid as the lightning that had consumed him. He saw his parents waving proudly as he left for the military academy. His comrades laughing during a rare moment of peace on a battlefield. Then the darker memories: the smoke-filled air of a failed mission, the bloodstained ground, the lifeless eyes of a fallen soldier staring back at him.
"No!" Edward shouted into the void, his voice swallowed instantly.
The sensations shifted. His body felt like it was being stretched and compressed simultaneously, as if he were being molded into something new. A sickening lurch in his stomach made him feel as though he might vomit, but there was no release, no escape.
Suddenly, the whispers grew louder, more distinct. They no longer seemed like random voices—they were a cacophony of commands, questions, and judgments.
"Do you accept the risk?"
"Will you rise or fall?"
"Edward Morsen, are you ready?"
"Ready for what?" Edward screamed, though the sound of his own voice barely reached him.
The light around him shifted, from blinding white to a kaleidoscope of colors so intense they seemed to pierce his eyes. His pulse pounded in his ears as the void began to compress, folding inward like a collapsing star. The colors twisted together, coalescing into a single, overwhelming beam of energy that surged toward him.
And then came the pain.
It was unlike anything Edward had ever felt—searing, all-encompassing, as though every cell in his body were being torn apart and reassembled. He couldn't tell where the pain ended and he began. His screams were swallowed by the vortex, his mind teetering on the edge of oblivion.
Just as he thought he couldn't endure another second, the pain stopped.
The silence was absolute, deafening in its stillness. Edward's body felt heavy, solid, real. The air around him was cool and fresh, carrying the faint scent of pine and damp earth.
He opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was the sky—clear and vast, with stars scattered like jewels against an indigo canvas. The storm was gone, replaced by an eerie calm. Edward blinked, his vision adjusting as he realized he was no longer in his office.
He pushed himself up, his hands sinking into soft moss. All around him, towering trees stood like silent sentinels, their branches swaying gently in a breeze that carried unfamiliar sounds—distant birdcalls, rustling leaves, the faint babble of a nearby stream.
Edward staggered to his feet, his legs trembling as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. His clothes were the same, but his body felt… different. Stronger, lighter, as though the pain of his old injuries had been erased.
A soft glow appeared before him, and Edward froze. The light hovered in the air, flickering like a tiny star, before forming words that floated as if written on glass:
Welcome to Westeros. Trading System Activated.
The message lingered for a moment before disappearing, replaced by another line:
Initializing… Starting resources: None. Objective: Build your empire.
Edward stared at the words, his mind racing. He clenched his fists, feeling a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He wasn't in his office anymore. He wasn't even in his world.
For the first time since the cloaked figure had appeared, Edward allowed himself a grim smile.
"Alright," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos he had just endured. "Let's see what this world has to offer."
His journey had begun, and Edward Morsen, the strategist and trader, was ready to claim his place in Westeros.