Darius woke to the sound of muffled voices and clattering pans from the floor below. A dull ache throbbed in his right shoulder, reminding him of the black lightning that had burned into his flesh. He pressed a hand to the spot and found no injury, though the memory lingered in his muscles. For a moment, he questioned whether last night's ordeal had been a dream. Yet the worn, unfamiliar room around him told him otherwise.
He stood and stretched, surveying the cramped space: the small bed with its thin blanket, the chipped wooden table, and a narrow window revealing early morning light. A faint chill drifted in through that window, and his breath formed a wisp of fog in the air.
He stepped to the table, where his dagger lay alongside his belt pouch. Three silver coins remained inside, enough for one more night at best. That would not help him learn where he was or how to return home. He clasped the dagger to his hip, resolved to leave the inn as soon as he gathered information.
A creak sounded in the hall. He opened the door and found a short staircase leading down to the tavern's main floor. Freya, the tall woman from the night before, stood behind the counter with an air of authority. Several patrons hunched over bowls of porridge or steaming mugs.
"You look better rested."
He nodded.
"Thanks for the room. I'd like something to eat."
She jerked her thumb at a large pot hanging over a small hearth.
"Porridge is what we've got. Two copper if you want a mug of tea."
He felt a flash of uncertainty.
"I only have silver."
She shrugged.
"Break it for you, but I take a cut for the trouble."
He handed her a silver coin. She returned a handful of rough copper pieces, then ladled porridge into a wooden bowl. He took it, slipping onto a bench at the corner of the room. The porridge smelled plain, though any warmth was welcome.
Freya leaned on the counter as she watched him.
"You never told me what brought you here."
He stirred the porridge, deciding to keep his story vague.
"I was traveling, got attacked. Woke up outside the village with nothing but these clothes and my blade."
She snorted.
"That's a common tale, you know. People wander in from all sorts of places with near-death stories, especially near Helia's Gate."
He paused, recalling how Arok had mentioned Helia's Gate too.
"What exactly is Helia's Gate?"
A patron near him, a bearded man with lines of fatigue around his eyes, lowered his mug.
"You must be from way out if you haven't heard of that place. It's a portal that shows up once every few months, sometimes depositing folks like you. Strange sorts with odd gear."
Darius inhaled slowly.
"I see."
Freya set a cup of tea beside him.
"Drink up. You look like you need it."
He lifted the wooden cup, sipping the bitter brew.
"Thanks."
The bearded man continued in a low voice.
"You'll want to watch yourself in these parts. The lords up north aren't too kind to strangers, and the local militias don't like trouble."
Darius noticed the man's caution in every glance. The last thing he wanted was to raise suspicions.
"How far north are these lords?"
The man shrugged.
"Couple days by horse, maybe more. If you stay in the southern villages, you might avoid them."
Freya cleared her throat.
"You should finish that porridge and head out. We're not an inn that lets travelers linger all day."
He gave a nod and took a few quick bites. The bland taste made him long for better food, but his mind stayed focused on next steps. He needed to track down the orb that led him here. Perhaps it would return with instructions. Until then, all he had was the name of Helia's Gate.
He finished the meal, stood, and secured his pouch.
"Appreciate the hospitality."
Freya gave a curt nod.
"Stay out of trouble."
He pushed open the tavern door, stepping into the morning light. The breeze carried a faint scent of dew from the tall grass beyond the village fences. A few villagers glanced his way but said nothing. Arok, the guard from the night before, was nowhere to be seen.
He moved toward the village square, passing a small stall where a thin woman sold baskets. She regarded him with mild curiosity but kept to herself. He ventured closer to the well, noticing faint footprints in the dirt as though something had paced around it during the night. The thought of the orb hovering overhead came back to him.
The thought of the orb hovering overhead came back to him.
"Where are you?"
He half expected the glowing sphere to appear, but the sky remained empty. A single gull screeched overhead, circling before heading off.
A voice broke into his thoughts from behind.
"You talking to yourself, friend?"
Darius turned to find a middle-aged man in simple clothes, carrying a bushel of wheat.
"No. Just thinking out loud."
The man set down the wheat.
"Well, if you're looking for something, folks around here don't know much. Farmers, mostly. You might want to visit the capital down south."
Darius frowned.
"Capital?"
The man wiped sweat from his brow.
"City of Astrath. It's bigger than this place by a wide margin. Some travelers come through every so often, though it's a hard journey. Could be someone there can answer your questions."
He thanked the man and walked away, uncertain if heading to Astrath was wise. Every hour he lingered increased the chance of drawing unwanted attention. Yet with no sign of that orb or anything resembling an explanation, he had little choice.
"Maybe I can find a clue."
He passed the last house near the village boundary, stopping at a small crossroads. One direction led into forested hills, the other curved south along a dirt path. He rubbed his temple, mulling over his options. A flicker of light appeared at the corner of his vision. He spun to see that same orb, bobbing faintly above the grasses near the path leading south. It glowed with a subdued pulse, as if beckoning him. He walked toward it, keeping his dagger hand free.
When he stood a few paces away, the orb displayed a single line of text in the air:
[Follow the road. Next objective: reach the city gate of Astrath.]
He breathed a sigh of relief.
"There you are. Is this the..."
The orb flashed, interrupting him. It projected one more line:
[system identifying required trial zone. Incomplete data on occupant's abilities. Proceed to Astrath for synchronization.]
He read the words slowly, noting that it referred to him as an occupant. It drifted closer, offering no other explanation.
"So I need to pass some kind of test to prove I'm worth keeping alive."
The orb vanished into a faint shimmer, leaving him alone. He looked down the winding road. The sun climbed higher, illuminating the path. He tightened his grip on the dagger hilt, a habit from years of infiltration and combat. Though uncertainty gnawed at him, he set off. Each step took him farther from the village and any remnant of what had once been home.
He could not shake the image of Lord Ferric and those robed mages from his mind, nor the memory of black lightning coursing through his body. Whatever power had saved him, or pulled him into this world, was beyond his understanding. He walked steadily, passing fields of tall grass that rippled under the breeze. Occasionally, a farm animal called out in the distance. Clouds drifted across the sky in slow procession. The quiet felt unreal, unlike the bustle of Blackstone City or the tension of his usual missions.
After some time, he stopped near a small stream to drink. The water ran clear, refreshing him more than he expected. He splashed his face, letting the coolness sharpen his thoughts.
"This place is real, and I'm alive. I need answers."
He continued onward, the road winding between low hills. Every so often, he thought he glimpsed a flash of light that could be the orb, yet nothing materialized. The day stretched before him, bringing a mixture of resolve and dread. He wondered how much of his old assassin life still mattered here.
Past midday, he noticed a shape in the distance: a ragged figure trudging along the same path. As he drew closer, he recognized the tattered cloak of the same thief he had encountered in the hidden passage back in Blackstone. That realization struck him like a jolt.
"How could he have ended up here?"
He approached carefully. The man turned, eyes wide with shock.
"You— I remember you. From that corridor near Ferric's manor."
Darius held his hands open in a nonthreatening gesture.
"I don't know how we got here either."
The thief shook his head, visibly rattled.
"Last thing I recall was... that corridor collapsing. Then darkness. Next moment, I was alone in some field."
Darius scanned the horizon, mind racing.
"Seems we're both caught in whatever took me after Ferric's ambush."
The thief gave a nervous laugh.
"Figures I'd survive only to wind up in another strange place. Any idea how to get back?"
He shook his head.
"No. I'm heading south, to the city called Astrath. Maybe we can find answers there."
The thief exhaled.
"Guess I don't have a better plan."
They walked together for a stretch, neither speaking much. Despite Darius's distrustful nature, having a companion, even if a reluctant one, eased a bit of the tension. The thief introduced himself as Lodan, a former cutpurse who drifted from town to town.
Not long after, they crested a small hill. In the distance, faint towers rose against the skyline. Darius guessed that must be Astrath. Knowing a major city waited ahead stirred a flicker of hope. Perhaps there he would learn more about the strange orb and the power that had spared his life.
He reminded himself to stay wary. A new world could hold threats as deadly as any he faced in the old one. The path stretched toward Astrath like an invitation he could not refuse. He moved forward with steady steps, determined to unravel the mystery surrounding that glowing presence and the system it served.