You are too uptight! You need to loosen up. At this rate, you will never find a man!
These words kept ringing in Amara's head as she found her way home.
She wondered if her mother was right after all. Her friends had often complained of the same thing.
She could not help it, is it her fault that most of the men she has met over the years did not meet her checklist?
She knows what she wants in relationships and intimacy with a man. So far, no man has been able to meet that criteria.
Perhaps my dream man is not of this world! She thought.
Amara jolted out of her thoughts as she walked towards the library. The stale smell of mold and old books filled the air, heavy with forgotten stories.
Amara knelt beside a fallen bookcase, her gloved hands brushing away years of dust.
This neglected library in the abandoned manor was her refuge—a hidden treasure of secrets waiting to be discovered.
"What are you hiding?" she whispered, tucking a loose curl behind her ear.
Her flashlight flickered, revealing something strange behind the toppled shelves. She paused, breathless, as a glint of gold caught her eye in the shadows.
With resolve, she moved the shelf aside, her heart racing as she uncovered a strange disk, about the size of a dinner plate.
It was solid gold, covered in intricate symbols that seemed to shimmer in the dim light.
Her fingers trembled as she reached for it, caught between caution and curiosity. As her fingertips touched the cool surface, the air around her thickened.
A deep hum filled the room, resonating in her chest like a distant drum. The symbols began to glow brighter with each heartbeat.
"What the—?" she began, but her voice was lost in a sudden whirlwind.
Papers and dust swirled around her as the golden light enveloped her completely. Her scream faded into the chaos.
When the storm finally calmed, she found herself on damp grass. The musty library was gone, replaced by the fresh scent of the outdoors.
The sounds of chirping birds were clearer, and the landscape around her seemed untouched by people.
Confused, she pushed herself up, gripping the artifact tightly. Before she could understand what had happened, she heard hoofbeats.
From the edge of the trees, a group of rugged men appeared, their eyes narrowing at her strange attire.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" one of them sneered, his voice full of malice. "A lady wandering in the woods?"
Amara stepped back, her heart racing. "Stay away," she warned, though her voice shook.
The leader laughed softly as he pulled a dagger from his belt. "We'll be taking everything you own, miss."
Panic surged through her, but just then, a strong voice echoed in the clearing. "Let the lady go," it commanded, "or you'll face me." Amara turned, her breath hitching.
A figure stepped out from the shadows, riding a sleek black horse. He wore dark riding clothes, and the brim of his hat hid part of his face. Still, his voice was steady and left no doubt.
The bandit leader scoffed. "And who are you?" With a swift movement, the man got off his horse, drawing a gleaming sword. "Your biggest mistake."