James lay motionless, his back pressed against the rough bark of the tree, his wrists still bound by the cold, unyielding cuffs. The discomfort was constant, a dull throb in his muscles from being restrained for so long. But this time, he wasn't trying to free himself. Instead, he forced his breathing to slow, mimicking the steady rhythm of sleep. His body remained limp, his eyes shut just enough to leave a sliver of vision. It wasn't perfect, but he hoped it was convincing enough to avoid suspicion.
The faint scrape of boots against the forest floor reached his ears. Sylra was nearby, her movements precise and deliberate. James had noticed that she rarely made a sound unless she wanted to, which made this moment—the deliberate pacing—all the more curious. He heard her approach, then stop a few paces away. His heart thudded in his chest, but he kept his breathing even.
Then, a faint hum filled the air. It was soft at first, like the gentle buzz of a tuning fork, before it grew into a steady resonance. James risked a peek through his lashes and saw a faint glow emanating from Sylra's hands. She held a crystal orb, its surface shimmering with shifting colors that seemed to pulse in time with the hum. Her expression was focused, her lips moving silently as though she were reciting an incantation. The orb flared, and then a voice crackled to life, muffled but distinct.
James's breath caught. The crystal ball was some sort of communication device, and whoever she was contacting was on the other end. He strained to listen as Sylra spoke, her voice low but clear.
"Your Majesty," she began, her tone reverent but steady. "I've located the source of the spatial anomaly detected a couple of days ago."
James's stomach twisted. Spatial anomaly? Was she talking about him?
The voice on the other end responded, too faint for James to make out the words. Sylra nodded, her silver hair catching the faint light of the orb. "No, it's a human. His aura is unlike anything I've encountered—raw, chaotic, and powerful. He's currently restrained and unable to use his magic."
James felt a surge of anger and fear. She really does think I'm some kind of ticking time bomb.
The voice from the orb spoke again, and Sylra's expression hardened. "No, I don't believe he's aware of the full extent of his abilities," she replied. "But his presence here poses a risk. If the wrong people find out about him, it could destabilize the entire region."
James bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from reacting. What does that even mean? His mind raced as he tried to piece together what little information he had. She was reporting to someone—someone important enough to be called "Your Majesty", and that was all he knew.
The conversation continued, Sylra's voice remaining calm and measured. "I'll continue to monitor him and ensure he doesn't become a threat. However, I recommend deploying additional resources to secure this area. If his power were to attract… others, we might have a situation on our hands."
The response from the orb was longer this time, and Sylra's eyes narrowed slightly. "Understood. I'll await further instructions. For now, I'll keep him suppressed and start the journey."
The glow of the crystal dimmed, and the hum faded into silence. Sylra stood there for a moment, her gaze fixed on the now-dormant orb. She slipped it into a pouch at her waist and let out a sigh, her shoulders relaxing slightly. James kept his breathing steady, resisting the urge to shift or make any noise. His thoughts were a storm of questions and doubts. Who was this "Your Majesty" she was reporting to? And what did they want with him?
Sylra turned, her movements slower now, almost hesitant. She glanced in his direction, and for a moment, James feared she'd noticed something amiss. But she didn't approach. Instead, she moved toward the edge of the clearing, disappearing into the shadows of the forest.
James exhaled silently, his mind racing. He replayed her words in his head, trying to decipher their meaning. The mention of a "spatial anomaly" had to be related to his arrival in this world. But if they'd detected it, that meant others could too.
His frustration bubbled to the surface. He'd thought this new world would be a chance to start fresh, to carve out a life on his own terms. Instead, he was bound and surveilled like some kind of experiment. He clenched his fists, the cuffs biting into his wrists. He needed a plan, but first, he needed to figure out how much Sylra actually knew—and what she planned to do next.
The hours crawled by, the weight of the revelation pressing down on him. Sylra returned eventually, her expression unreadable. She carried a small bundle of herbs and a waterskin, setting them down near the fire she'd rekindled. James feigned stirring awake, letting out a low groan as he shifted against the tree.
"You're awake again," she said without looking up. Her tone was neutral, almost clinical.
James blinked groggily, playing his part. "Yeah," he muttered. "Hard to sleep when your back's being stabbed by tree bark."
She glanced at him, her lips twitching in what might have been amusement. "You'll live."
"That's debatable," he shot back, his tone laced with just enough sarcasm to sound convincing. He shifted again, wincing as the cuffs scraped against his skin. "Any chance you'll take these off? Or are we sticking with the whole prisoner vibe?"
Sylra's expression didn't change. "They're for your safety."
"Yeah, you keep saying that," James said, narrowing his eyes. "But forgive me if I'm not feeling particularly safe right now."
She didn't respond immediately, instead focusing on grinding the herbs with a small mortar and pestle. The rhythmic motion filled the silence, and James's frustration grew.
"Look," he said, his tone softer now. "I get that you don't trust me. I wouldn't trust me either if I were in your shoes. But maybe you could at least tell me what's going on. Why am I here? And why do you care so much about what I am?"
Sylra paused, her hands stilling. She looked up, her emerald eyes meeting his. For a moment, James thought she might actually answer him. But then she shook her head, her expression guarded.
"You'll understand soon enough," she said. "For now, just focus on recovering."
James's jaw tightened, but he forced himself to nod. Pushing her too hard wouldn't get him anywhere. He needed to bide his time, gather more information. If she thought he was compliant, she might let her guard down. And when that happened, he'd be ready.
As night fell, the forest came alive with the sounds of chirping insects and distant rustles. Sylra sat near the fire, her posture relaxed but alert. James pretended to doze, his mind racing as he replayed the earlier conversation she'd had over the crystal ball. Whoever she was working for, they clearly had plans for him. And he doubted those plans included giving him a choice.
He'd spent his whole life being underestimated, treated as less than because of where he came
His eyes cracked open just enough to watch Sylra. She was staring into the fire, her expression thoughtful. Whatever she was planning, he needed to be ready. This wasn't just about escaping anymore. It was about proving that he wasn't a pawn in someone else's game. And when the time came, he'd make sure they all knew exactly who they were dealing with.