I don't know how this happened. One moment, I was sitting in my apartment, tapping away at my keyboard, finishing the last chapter of a novel I had never intended to bring to life.
Next, I was here. In a place I couldn't even recognize, in a body that wasn't mine.
I staggered to my feet, a dull ache shooting up my spine, but the pain wasn't physical. It was… like my very soul had been yanked from its home and shoved into this strange, unknown vessel.
I was tall, with dark black hair that fell in waves to my shoulders, my body lean yet strong, more so than it should have been. I had a warrior's build, the kind I'd once written for a character in my novel, but this?
This was me. In this body.
The realization hit me like a punch to the gut.
Damien Wells, that was my name.
Or was it?
My breath was caught in my throat, a strange heaviness filled the air, the kind of feeling you get when someone's watching you but you can't quite tell where they're hiding.
My surroundings were barren wasteland, rocks and dust were swirling like an endless storm. No sky, no horizon, just this infinite wasteland.
I wanted to scream, to shout, but the words were caught in my throat, swallowed by a silence that screamed louder than any sound.
"What the hell is happening?"
I muttered, but the voice that came out wasn't mine either. It was deep
I looked down at my arms and that's when I saw it.
A symbol.
Black as night.
A tattoo, but not just any ordinary one. This was the symbol. The one I'd written in my story. The one I had never intended to give to anyone, especially not the protagonist. It was a symbol of death. Of fate.
A skull sat in the center of an hourglass, flames twisting around it like an eternal curse. There were chains wrapping around my wrist, as if binding me to something beyond my comprehension.
My chest tightened, like I couldn't get enough air.
I lifted my hand without thinking, my cold fingers brushed over the symbol, the cool surface sending a jolt through my arm, and for a split second, I saw something, someone, flashing through my mind.
A figure in a black cloak, eyes glowing like burning embers, their face hidden in shadows.
'You made this world'
'You're bound to it now'
The voice was nearly a whisper in my mind.
'No. No, no, no.'
I couldn't even wrap my head around it. This wasn't real. But then, what the hell was it? It couldn't be my story. Could it? Was I losing my mind?
I staggered back, my hands trembling as I reached up to feel my face, but not me.
The air felt heavy, thick with a pressure I couldn't explain, and the ground beneath me seemed to hum with ancient power. As if it were alive.
I had to get out. I had to find a way back. But even as I thought it, I knew; I wasn't leaving until I figured out what the hell was going on.
And then, I felt it. A sharp pain deep in my chest, like I'd been struck with a hammer, and I gasped, my vision blurring.
Something inside me stirred. I doubled over, collapsing to the ground, and everything went black.
…
When I woke up, everything was the same, but nothing was.
I was still here.
I was still here. The barren wasteland, the oppressive silence, the swirling dust. Everything felt eerily unchanged. But the air grew colder, as if something had shifted. And I wasn't alone.
A figure stood before me.
I hadn't heard him approach, hadn't sensed him at all, yet here he was, draped in black from head to toe. A cloak that swirled around him as if it had a life of its own, shadows dancing across the fabric.
The figure's hood was pulled low. But beneath it, a faint glow of burning embers pierced through me.
His eyes.
They glowed bright like molten gold, with a strange intensity. And though I couldn't see his face, something about the way he stood, the aura he exuded, made my heart beat erratically.
A wave of dread washed over me.
For a moment, we just stared at each other, the silence stretching between us like a taut wire, ready to snap.
Then, the figure spoke. His voice was deep, cold, and yet there was something almost... familiar about it.
[You've been waiting for me.]
I didn't respond immediately, too stunned by how real he looked. How real he was.
He looked exactly like how I'd envision Emil, my original protagonist, the character I had crafted from nothing but words. A sharp jawline, intense gaze, an aura of something far older than his years.
But this wasn't Emil. This was something different, something... wrong.
"No, this isn't possible,"
I whispered, struggling to find my words.
"You're not Emil. You can't be."
The figure tilted his head, his glowing eyes narrowing as he seemed to study me.
[I am Emil, and yet, I am not.]
His lips twisted into something resembling a grin, though it held none of the warmth I had imagined for my character.
[I am what you made me to be.]
My mind raced. What the hell was he talking about? Was this some twisted game, a delusion?
"What the hell is this? What do you want from me?"
Emil's eyes flickered with an odd amusement.
[A wish,]
he said simply.
"A wish?"
I repeated, my throat dry.
"You dragged me into this hellhole for a wish?"
He stepped closer, the shadows swirling around him like they were alive, reaching for me.
[Not just any wish. A specific wish,]
he explained, his voice growing colder, more insistent.
[You will grant it, whether you wish to or not. Because you're bound to this world. You are as much a part of it as I am.]
I couldn't even fathom what he was implying. My brain was still stuck on the fact that this… Emil was standing in front of me.
The same character I had written, poured hours of time and energy into creating, carefully crafting a hero of the world. But now he wasn't the naive hero I had imagined.
"What kind of wish?"
I asked, my voice showing a tremor in it I couldn't hide.
His gaze softened for a moment, but the warmth was anything but comforting. It was deadly cold.
[You will give me what I need to change this world. To shatter it, if need be. To break the chains of fate you have so carefully crafted.]
The words hit me like a hammer. Change the world? Shatter it?
"What are you talking about? I just wrote this damn thing! It's fiction!"
Emil's grin widened at my outburst, but it wasn't reassuring.
[You think you wrote it. You think you created it. But this world has a will of its own. And you've already set things into motion, whether you like it or not.]
I swallowed hard. Wasn't this a story? Some words written and typed out? Yet, now it has become entirely too real. And somehow, I had become its unwilling participant.
[You will grant my wish,]
Emil said with a smooth tone, as if he knew I had no choice.
[There's no escaping this. Not for you. Not for anyone.]
A wave of nausea suddenly washed over me, but I couldn't look away. I had to know what the hell was going on.
The tattoo on my wrist burned once more, as if responding to his words, and for the briefest moment, I saw glimpses of a world collapsing under its own weight.
A world of power, of darkness. And in the center of it all was Emil, watching as everything unraveled.
"I don't know how to grant your wish,"
I finally managed to squeeze out those bitter words.
"I don't even understand what you're asking for."
Emil's lips twisted into a smile, one that wasn't comforting in the least.
[You will. In time. Because you are the key.]
"The key? What the hell are you talking about?"
I asked, my confusion growing ever further.
[You are the one who set this world in motion. And now, you will be the one to bring it to its knees.]
"Wh-"
Snap!
Before I could even finish my question, Emil snapped his fingers and my vision turned black.
"Ugh…"
I groaned as my vision cleared, the darkness slowly lifting. And that's when I realized I wasn't in that desolate wasteland anymore but a bustling city.
I blinked as I sat up taking in my surroundings, still trying to wrap my head around everything that had just transpired.
Am I really in my novel? Was that truly Emil? As if answering my denial with a slap to the face, a small chuckle echoed out.
[Welcome, my dear creator, to the capital,]
"!!.."
A chill ran its way down my spine as I slowly turned my head to face the voice, and there he was… Emil.
[The heart of the Demon Realm, the city of Kharaz'mar!]
What I saw made my heart race.
The city sprawled before me, with a mix of black stone towers and twisted spires that clawed at the ash colored sky. The streets were alive with a pulse, with an eerie hum that seemed to emanate from the ground itself. Dark symbols glowed faintly on every corner, flickering in time with the low growls of creatures that stalked the shadows. The market buzzed with strange wares, the scent of incense and sulfur was thick in the air, while creatures that were neither human nor demon wandered alongside the occasional armored figure. Magic here wasn't just a tool, it was a living force, coursing through the very foundation of the city.