Tony felt his body dragged through space like a thread yanked through a needle.
Colors smeared across his vision, entire places blurring together as if the world had been shattered into shards and he was being spun through every fragment at once. A crowded street, then a darkened alley, then the dim glow of a tea shop—all gone in a blink, replaced by something stranger still. His stomach twisted with each shift, and by the fifth or sixth change of scenery he had to clamp his teeth shut to keep from groaning aloud.
Am I falling? Am I moving at all?
The question circled in his mind, lost in the dizziness. His head spun so badly that even closing his eyes only made it worse.
Then suddenly—stillness.
Tony gasped and found himself sitting in a chair. His hands pressed into solid wood on either side, but the ground beneath was soft grass, stretching out in every direction like an endless meadow. The sky above was pale and cloudless, unnaturally serene. His vision swam as he tried to focus, and then—
"Tony! Tony, you good?"
The familiar voice cut through the haze like a rope thrown to a drowning man. Tony blinked hard, forcing the dizziness down, and turned his head.
"Clay?" he breathed.
Sure enough, Clay sat in another chair just across from him, leaning forward with that half-concerned, half-easygoing expression he always wore. Between them stood a tea table, delicate and out of place against the vast emptiness of the field.
Tony straightened, still gripping the arms of his chair. "Where… what the hell—? Clay, where have you been? I was waiting outside the shop for ages. You weren't answering your calls—do you have any idea—"
Clay rubbed the back of his neck, smiling awkwardly. "Yeah, uh… I expected you'd be a little mad about that. Hehe." His eyes flicked sideways. "Truth is… I didn't exactly come here on purpose."
Tony followed the motion—and froze.
Across the tea table, a third chair was already occupied. Dorri sat there like he had all the time in the world, fingers wrapped around a porcelain cup, sipping at his tea with a quiet amusement. He had been listening the entire time.
"You," Tony muttered, narrowing his eyes. "Of course. You're behind all this disappearing, reappearing nonsense."
Dorri set his cup down gently, smiling without answering. Instead, he gestured toward Clay. "Why don't you let your friend explain what he did before arriving? It will make the picture clearer."
Tony turned to Clay, still bristling. "Well?"
Clay raised his hands. "Okay, okay. Don't shoot me with those eyes, man. I… drank the tea. The one that came with that package I told you about? Next thing I knew—poof—I was here."
Tony blinked. "...Tea?" He sat back, replaying events in his head. "But I didn't drink tea. I had water. That girl at the tea shop gave me—"
Dorri's chuckle interrupted him, smooth and deliberate. "It makes no difference. Both were laced with a touch of my craft. A tether, if you like, so that I could bring you here. Tea for your friend… water for you." He tilted his head with a foxlike grin. "Though, since yours was less direct, I imagine the journey was rougher."
At once, Tony's skull throbbed in memory of that chaotic ride—the whiplash of a dozen realities flashing past. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking it away. "Yeah. No kidding."
His hands dropped to the table, steady now. "Alright, fine. Doesn't matter. We're here. So let's cut the chase." His eyes locked onto Dorri. "Why did you call us?"