The musty aroma of mildew and old paper permeated the air, laden with the remnants of forgotten tales. Amara Blake knelt beside a collapsed bookcase, her gloved hands sweeping away layers of dust that had settled over the years. This abandoned manor's library was her sanctuary—a hidden gem of secrets waiting to be uncovered after centuries of neglect. "Where are you hiding?" she murmured to herself, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. Her flashlight flickered, illuminating the edge of something peculiar lurking behind the fallen shelves. She halted, her breath catching as a glimmer of gold caught her eye in the dimness. With determination, she shifted the shelf aside, her heart racing as she revealed a peculiar disk, about the size of a dinner plate. It was made of solid gold, adorned with elaborate symbols that seemed to dance in the low light. Her fingers quivered as she reached for it, torn between the voice of caution in her mind and the pull of her curiosity. As her fingertips made contact with the cool surface, the atmosphere thickened around her. A deep hum resonated through the room, echoing in her chest like a distant drum. The symbols began to radiate light, intensifying with each heartbeat. "What the—?" she started to say, but her words were drowned out by a sudden whirlwind. Papers and dust spiraled around her as the golden light enveloped her completely. Her scream vanished into the roaring chaos. When the tumult finally ceased, she found herself lying on damp grass. The musty library had vanished, replaced by the fresh, earthy scent of the outdoors. The sounds of chirping birds were sharper, and the landscape around her appeared untouched by civilization. Dazed, she pushed herself up, clutching the artifact tightly. Before she could process what had happened, the sound of hoofbeats caught her attention. From the tree-line, a group of rugged men emerged, their eyes narrowing at her unusual clothing.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" one of them taunted, his voice dripping with malice. "A lady lost in the woods?" Amara took a step back, her heart pounding. "Stay back," she warned, though her voice faltered.
The leader let out a low chuckle as he unsheathed a dagger from his belt. "I believe we'll be taking everything you have, miss." A wave of panic washed over her, but just as he moved, a commanding voice resonated through the clearing. "Release the lady," it ordered, "or you'll have to deal with me." Amara turned, her breath catching in her throat. A figure emerged from the shadows, mounted on a sleek black horse. The man's broad shoulders were draped in dark riding attire, and the brim of his hat obscured part of his face. Yet, his tone was firm and left no room for doubt. The leader of the bandits scoffed. "And who might you be?" With a fluid motion, the man dismounted, drawing a shining sword from his side. "Your gravest error."