The door creaked open with a weight that surprised me, like it hadn't been used in years. As I stepped out of the room, I was immediately hit by the smell of salt and sea breeze, sharp and refreshing, slipping in through open corridors like an uninvited guest that had long made itself at home.
The hallway was wide, unnaturally wide, and stretched out endlessly in both directions. The floor beneath my bare feet was made of polished obsidian-black tiles that gleamed like mirrors, so smooth it was like walking on glass. Every few feet, the tiles were interrupted by soft glowing lines of blue light that pulsed gently, as if the house had a heartbeat. I looked up and saw the ceiling was impossibly high, lined with hanging crystal chandeliers—but not ordinary ones. These hovered just a few inches below the ceiling, floating in midair, their light shifting between soft candle-glow and cold white luminescence, like they couldn't decide if they wanted to be from the past or the future. I guess I didn't do well enough with the description.
The walls were carved stone, rough in some places and smooth in others, like they'd been patched together from two different timelines. One section would be covered in intricate Victorian wallpaper, deep maroon with golden fleur-de-lis, and right next to it, there would be sleek metal panels blinking softly with embedded circuits. I could hear the faint humming of energy behind the walls.
Windows the size of entire walls stretched along the corridor's left side, framed in elegant brass and covered with transparent glass that looked like it had been spun from starlight. Through them, I saw the sea. Endless, crashing, wild. The entire castle was perched at the very edge of an island, with sharp cliffs falling straight down into dark blue waters. The sky above was moody and gray, clouds moving lazily as if dragged by invisible strings. Far in the distance, jagged mountains rose from the ocean like sleeping giants, barely visible through the fog.
I walked slowly, taking in the absurd grandeur of it all. Everything felt expensive, ancient, futuristic, and alive. The fusion of Victorian and sci-fi was jarring, but it worked. There were portraits hanging on the walls, too—big oil paintings in golden frames—some of people dressed in old royal clothing, others wearing sleek armor that looked like it belonged in a space opera.
I passed a massive clock hanging above a twin staircase. Its face was a mix of spinning gears and glowing digital numbers, ticking in harmony. The railings of the staircase were carved wood with delicate vines etched into the sides, but the steps themselves were made of some kind of translucent glass that shimmered underfoot. I could see down into the floors below through the steps, but they were fogged with mist, like they were hiding something.
As I descended the stairs, I heard the familiar sound of footsteps and hushed giggling. Sure enough, at the bottom of the steps, I saw them—Blackie, Brownie, and Blondie. The triplets stood in a huddle, whispering to each other, but they all stopped and turned when they noticed me.
"You're up," Blackie said, sounding surprised but not exactly thrilled. Her black hair was pulled back in a ponytail today, and she was wearing some kind of steampunk-inspired outfit—leather straps, buckles, and a skirt that looked like it was made from curtain fabric.
"Well, duh," Blondie said, flicking her bright hair over her shoulder. "We literally saw him walking."
Brownie tilted her head, studying me like I was a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit. "You look better. Not like you got beaten up to a pulp anymore."
I chuckled. "Thanks, I guess."
They didn't say anything else. Just exchanged glances and skipped off toward another hallway, giggling again. It was strange. They looked like normal teenage girls, but the way they moved, the way they spoke—it felt like there was more to them. More than met the eye. And there was more than met the eye, but we hadn't reach that arc of the story yet.
I continued exploring. Every room I peeked into told a different story. One room was filled with old telescopes and maps of stars I didn't recognize. Another one was filled with books, and shelves... and it was the library. The library remained like a normal library. That was one of the things I was too lazy to modify
Then I found the balcony.
I pushed open two huge brass-trimmed doors and stepped out into the open. Wind hit me immediately, carrying the scent of salt and storm. The balcony stretched along the side of the castle like a stone ribbon, guarded by tall iron railings that curled into impossible shapes. From here, the ocean looked even more massive. Waves crashed against the base of the island with a thunder that could shake the bones.
I stood there for a while, hands gripping the cold iron, breathing in the view. This was mine now. Or at least, the body I was in—Lorien—his world, his home, his castle. I didn't know how I was going to live here, or what was expected of me, but one thing was clear:
This wasn't Earth. And I wasn't who I used to be.
Just as I turned to go back inside, I heard footsteps again—heavier this time. Confident. Measured. I turned toward the sound, and then I saw him.
A tall man stepped into the light, dressed in a long, regal coat with gold embroidery lining the sleeves. His boots were polished to a mirror shine, and his gloves looked like they'd never touched dirt in their life. His hair was jet-black, streaked with silver, combed neatly back. His face was firm, clean-shaven, and oddly kind.
His eyes—his eyes looked exactly like mine.
"Lorien," he said, voice deep and warm, with the kind of softness you wouldn't expect from someone who looked like a war general. "You're awake. Thank the gods."
He crossed the space between us and placed a hand gently on my shoulder, gripping it with surprising strength. "You had us worried. We weren't sure if you'd make it."
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.