Haruma walked deeper into the dark forest, following the woman behind him, the chirping of birds and occasional scuttling of small animals never to be heard again.
His ribs protested with each lurch, but he beat himself to keep up. She hadn't told her name, hadn't even looked back at him since she chose not to slit his throat.
She moved like a shadow, each footfall purposeful, as if she were accustomed to walking invisible. Haruma had no idea if that was reassuring or frightening.
His mind was racing.
What is this place? Where the hell am I?
The sky wasn't right. The moon was broken. The air seemed … thicker, filled with something invisible.
And this woman — whoever she was — took this all in stride.
Haruma took a slow breath, assembling his thoughts. He needed information.
"Where are we?" he asked finally.
The woman kept walking, as fast as she'd been.
"The Blackwood."
Haruma frowned. "Never heard of it."
"Then you've been living under a rock."
Haruma suppressed his frustration. He needed more than that.
"And this… Blackwood. What country is it in?"
This time, she looked at him, her face inscrutable. "Verra."
Verra. The name rang no bells for him.
Haruma made an effort to keep his voice neutral. "Never heard of that either."
The woman stopped.
For the first time since he'd been able to walk, she turned to look at him then.
Her ice-blue face studied him carefully as if re-evaluating something. He had no idea what she decided.
"I do not believe you," she said.
Haruma sighed. "I'm not lying."
She folded her arms. "You're saying you've never heard of Verra?
"Yes."
"Not the Blackwood?"
"No."
"Then what? You mean you just dropped out of the sky?" There was skepticism in her tone, almost dismissiveness.
Haruma hesitated. He knew how crazy it would sound.
"I'm saying," he said slowly, "that I don't think I'm from here."
A long silence followed.
Then—she laughed.
A quick, sharp exhalation, as if she couldn't decide whether she should be amused, or annoyed. She didn't believe him.
"That's the best thing you could think of?" she said dryly. "Who are you, some runaway noble trying to sound mysterious?"
Haruma tensed. She suspected he was fabricating it.
Of course, she did.
If someone were to come up to him and say they were from another world, he wouldn't believe them either.
"I know what it sounds like," he confessed.
"Do you?"
"Yes. But it's the truth."
The woman sighed. "And where do you say you're from, exactly?"
Haruma hesitated. Would she know what "Japan" meant?
"A place that's not here," he said matter-of-factly.
"Convenient."
"I don't expect you to take my word for it. But you tell me —" he gestured around them, to the twisted black trees and glowing flora, "does this world have things that shouldn't be possible?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Explain."
"Things that go against the laws of nature. That shouldn't exist. "Like it's normal."
The woman exhaled. "You mean magic?"
Haruma's breath caught.
Magic.
The word made the room heavy, a realization of what he suspected.
"You look surprised," she said, arching an eyebrow.
Haruma swallowed. "That's because, in my house, magic is a myth."
The woman frowned. She finally looked a little uncertain.
"What?"
"Magic doesn't exist where I'm from. It's something out of stories, not reality."
She stared at him, plainly trying to figure out whether he was messing with her.
"You're serious," she eventually replied.
"Completely."
Another silence hung between them.
Then finally, she sighed and rubbed her temple. "Great. I've found an idiot."
Haruma scowled. "I'm not an idiot."
"No, you're a hopeless idiot with memory loss and a talent for saying dumb things."
He exhaled sharply. "Fine. Believe what you want."
The woman shot him a dry look. "Oh, don't worry. I will."
Then she said no more and turned and walked again.
Haruma paused for a moment, sighed, and went after him.
He didn't know where she was leading him.
But wherever it was, it was better than being alone in this strange world.
For now.
….
Down the Blackwood, it was quiet, save for the occasional crunch of damp leaves underfoot.
Haruma had given up on the conversation.
The woman — who still hadn't introduced herself — strode purposefully, eyes straight ahead. She didn't ease up for him, making him keep pace with her despite the pain in his ribs.
It wasn't until the trees thinned that he saw her destination.
A cabin.
Not a weak, decrepit shack, but a solid, well-constructed house of dark wood and stone, at the base of a cliff. To the side was a small stable, and a stream ran close by. A fortress of solitude.
Without a second thought, the woman opened the door and walked in.
Haruma followed cautiously.
The interior was spartan but lived-in, with a few pieces of furniture, a hearth containing low-burning embers, and shelves covered with books, weapons, and things he didn't recognize.
She waved vaguely toward a chair.
"Sit."
Haruma didn't argue. His legs were shaking and by the time he sat down on the wooden seat, it hit him how tired he was.
The woman approached the hearth, adding wood to the fire. Flames danced upward, sending flickering shadows across the walls.
Neither of them said anything for a moment.
Then—
"I'm going to explain a few things," she said, finally shattering the silence. "And this time you will listen. No foolish questions. No wild claims."
Haruma exhaled but nodded.
"Good."
She crossed her arms and leaned against the table. It was like a storm cloud filled the room with her presence.
"Because you're some idiot who knows nothing," she went on, "I'll keep it simple."
She waved a hand and ticked off on her fingers.
"First: You are in the country of Verra. It is under a monarchy, but true power belongs to the high houses, the Church and the Arcanum."
Haruma frowned. "Arcanum?"
"The mages. Of those who hold the reins of knowledge and magic in this kingdom."
A governing body of mages? That was… unsettling.
"Second," she continued, "Magic is real. It is neither rare nor infinite. "It has rules, it has a cost, and it has broken more men than it has saved."
Haruma remained silent, taking in every word.
"In third," she said, her gaze sharpening, "if you are walking through the Blackwood, your person that's covered in someone else's blood, and—and you don't know why—" she leaned forward slightly, "then you are either cursed, hunted, or worse."
Haruma clenched his jaw.
"And what does 'worse' mean?"
She didn't respond right away.
Instead, she looked at him again, as if deciding how much to share.
Then—
"The Blackwood is not safe. But it is a lot safer then most places."
"I figured that much."
She ignored him.
"It is teeming with more than just beasts and bandits. Things crawl in the dark. Things that — " She caught herself, then amended, "Things that must not be."
Something in the way she said it gave him the chills.
"And you believe I'm one of those things?"
The woman didn't blink.
"I don't know yet."
Haruma exhaled slowly.
"That's not comforting."
"It wasn't meant to be."
A thick silence stretched between them.
Haruma stared at the fire, his mind in knots. None of this made sense.
A land ruled by lords, a mighty cabal of sorcerers, a shadowy wood rife with terrors untold.
And he was at the center of it, without answers.
"What about the Church?" he asked finally.
Something flickered in her eyes, but it was gone too quickly for him to identify it.
"The Church of the First Light," she said calmly. "They worship the Primordial Goddess — the one who shaped this world."
Haruma nodded slowly. A deity. Not surprising.
"People pray to her?"
"Every day. The Church says she's the origin of all creation — that she oversees the balance of life, death, and magic itself."
"And do you believe that?"
The woman's lips turned up a little, but it wasn't quite a smile.
"I think the Church has power," she said. "And power is intoxicating for men."
There was something in her voice — and also in her attitude — that I wouldn't describe as skepticism or dismissal but as experience.
"If the Church has the power, does that mean they have the magic too?"
"Not directly." She shook her head. "The Arcanum governs the study of magic. The faith surrounding it is in the hands of the Church. The two do not always agree."
That made sense. A religious order and an independent society of magic users? That was a recipe for political conflict.
But the way she had put it had gnawed at him.
"They said the Church has power over the faith and the magic," he repeated. "What does that mean?"
The woman's face clouded over.
"It means they dictate when something is holy —" her eye met him, "and when it is untoward and unnatural."
Haruma sensed a gradual, mounting discomfort settle in his belly.
"Unnatural."
"There are types of magic the Church deems… corrupt. Forbidden."
He swallowed. "Like what?"
She hesitated.
Then, almost as if reluctantly, she said, "Abyssal Sorcery."
Haruma's heartbeat quickened.
"And what is that?"
The woman's voice was soft but serrated with something inscrutable.
"Magic that breaks the laws of existence. Magic that should not be."
The room felt colder.
"People who do it —" she went on, "They don't survive long."
Haruma did not understand why, but his instincts warned him.
Abyssal Sorcery. There was something about those words that felt … wrong.
Like he was hearing them for the first time — and not.
The silence hung, and the fire crackled between them.
Then the woman sat up.
"That's it for tonight," she said. "You need rest. And I have to wait if I regret bringing you back here."
Haruma exhaled. He had more questions than answers, but he wasn't going to tempt fate.
As she turned back, he finally asked, "You never told me your name.
She didn't look back.
"Elya."
And then it was gone, leaving the room.
Haruma sat there, looking into the fire, his head a storm of information.
Verra. The Arcanum. The Church. The Abyss.
This wasn't a simple world.
And if he didn't watch himself, he was going to drown in it.