She let out a loud groan as she tried to sit up properly, her prosthetic leg hitting the ground with a loud metallic clank. The impact had knocked the wind from her lungs and her elbow scraped something sharp. She cursed loudly as she managed to sit up properly and dust herself off.
And then she realized… she wasn't alone.
Gasps echoed around her, layered and echoing, reverberating off gilded walls. The air smelled like incense, steel, and... awkward tension.
She opened one eye and peeked around her, then swallowed.
She was lying at the center of an enormous glowing circle, runes swirling, etched into white stones, while gold dust floated in the air. Candles burned from towering sconces. Tapestries waved faintly despite no wind.
She noticed, around her stood a ring of stunned people in armor and very expensive clothes, which was not a normal thing where she originally came from.
She blinked slowly. "...Did I crash someone's wedding?"
A man in a red robe immediately backed away, eyes wide. "W-What is this?! This is not the Chosen One! She looks like an evil mistake!"
Another voice, one that was deep, commanding and clearly not thrilled about her presence, cut through the noise. "The summoning was calibrated perfectly! There must be some mistake!"
Rinley groaned, pushing herself up slowly, feeling bruised, slightly scorched and deeply confused about what was going on since the idiot she met before this, did no explanation before giving her a cosmic kick. Her coat was still half on. Her hair was sticking up and her prosthetic leg had snapped sideways; bent at an angle, it really shouldn't bend.
"Oh, awesome," she muttered, fumbling to straighten it with both hands. "Landed like a sack of potatoes and broke the expensive part."
A younger man with silver armor and enough shoulder pads to be compensating for something stepped forward with his sword drawn and her brows furrowed as she glanced at him.
"State your name, creature!" he barked. "Are you a demon?!"
She stared at him, confused and a little offended at being stared at like a common mistake.
"Do I look like a demon?" she asked, gesturing to herself. "I am wearing hospital socks and I think my back is bleeding."
He didn't lower the sword, his face was tense and around the room, murmurs grew louder. A priest was clutching a thick leather-bound book like it would shield him from whatever nonsense had just happened.
Rinley's gaze scanned the throne room; that was when she realized it was a literal throne room. A massive dais stood at the far end and seated on it was a woman with a crown and a very deep frown. She had the kind of posture that said, 'I rule nations,' and the kind of eyes that said, 'I hate being inconvenienced before lunch.'
Rinley blinked again, trying her best to understand the situation that she was in. "Okay. I'll bite. Where am I, what year is it and can someone please tell me if I am about to be executed or blessed?"
The queen stood after she asked that; her robes shimmered with enchantments even Rinley could feel and her voice was measured, slightly cold even.
"You have interrupted the sacred summoning. You are not the hero we requested. Explain yourself."
"Right, so this is the mess that one kicked me in; it is real," Rinley muttered, feeling her heart hammering against her chest, its sound echoing in her ears, everything was real. "I have to figure out something, because this was all totally my plan. Trust me, I had every intention of face-planting into a spell circle in front of the fantasy version of Parliament."
Someone near the back snorted, trying their best not to laugh and the queen raised an eyebrow.
Rinley, struggling to get her leg to snap back into place without looking too pathetic, decided to at least pretend she had some dignity.
"My name is Rinley Valemont," she said, forcing herself to stand, one hand holding her side. "I am… formerly dead. Recently cosmically yeeted into your world without warning. Not a hero, but before you decide to kill me, I am not a demon either. Probably not the chosen one unless your prophecy includes mild joint pain and poor impulse control."
There was a pause.
Then, someone whispered, "...What's a yeet?"
"I think it's a kind of spell," another murmured.
The queen exhaled slowly. "Take her to the holding wing; we will look into this before deciding her future."
Two knights moved forward and Rinley raised her hands, her eyes wide. She knew she was in trouble, one she had no idea how to handle and for the first time, her reality was twisted.
"Whoa, whoa, okay, look, if this is about the circle thing, I am not responsible for your spell's target error. I was minding my own business, well, dying, when some cosmic paper pusher decided I needed to be 'a variable.' So, unless you want to argue with the divine DMV, I suggest we all take a breath."
They grabbed her arms anyway, ignoring her protests and she flinched in pain, but they did not care and she was starting to see that things were not what she was used to here.
Rinley did not resist, mostly because she was tired, confused, and her leg was still being dramatic. But as they led her past the edge of the glowing circle, she turned back toward the throne.
"Oh, by the way," she called out, "your summoning circle smells like death and trauma, it will not be able to summon a hero."
The doors closed behind her with a heavy boom.
They didn't throw her in a dungeon, not exactly.
It was more like a very fancy waiting room that had once belonged to a particularly paranoid noble. Tapestries, a plush chair and a desk. A few windows looking over a garden and one door, which was still better than her last apartment.
She sank into the chair and finally let her face drop into her hands.
"Well, Rinley," she muttered to herself, "you're alive. Ish. Somewhere medieval and possibly under arrest for crashing a prophecy, what the hell did I just get dragged into?"
She sighed, then looked up at the ceiling; reality was beginning to catch up to her, one that she never thought she would ever face, since, deep down she had truly accepted death, with no one at her funeral.
"Ten bucks says the real hero's a twelve-year-old boy with glowing hair and mommy issues."
Before she could continue her rant, she heard a soft hum and she looked down at her wrist; much to her surprise, there was a glowing mark there.
She blinked in confusion, since she was sure that was not there before.
"...Wait. That wasn't there before."
The mark pulsed once and her eyes narrowed.
"Oh no. Oh hell no. You are not giving me more problems. I don't even know how to make toast without burning it."
But something inside her pulsed, faint and electric. As if something had crossed over with her. A trace of that cosmic strangeness. A string pulled loose from fate.
She leaned back in the chair, muttering to herself as she poked the glowing skin, a slight sense of dread washing over her, since for the first time in her life, she did not know what the future held for her.