The jungle reeked of damp earth and strange flowers. Aelric lay in the dirt, every bone split, every muscle torn open as if the wall had peeled him alive. He could feel the air rushing in and out of wounds that should not have existed. His chest rattled. His vision was nothing but a red haze.
So this is death…
But death never came. Only pain—and the unrelenting pull of his will. The same will that dragged him through the wall now refused to let him drift into darkness. He blinked through the blur, his mind circling the same question.
Another world… inside this one? The stars above were not lies? Then the world I left… was it only the outer shell? Or am I already mad?
Before his thoughts unraveled, a sound split the silence.
Thud.
Through swollen eyes, he saw a figure approach. A man—robes flowing, staff in hand. For a fleeting instant, Aelric thought he had imagined it, but no—he had seen it clearly. The man had descended from the sky.
The stranger's voice was sharp, unfamiliar yet laced with authority. "You… don't look like one of the dark magicians. What are you doing here?"
Aelric coughed, his throat raw, words scraping out like broken glass.
"I… came from the outer world."
For a heartbeat there was silence—then the man laughed. A booming laugh, cruel in its disbelief. "Outer world? You're half-dead, raving nonsense."
He grabbed Aelric's ruined body as if lifting a rag, swung him over his shoulder, and rose. Rose into the sky. The jungle shrank below. Aelric's consciousness faltered, but through half-closed eyes he glimpsed towers, monuments, stone bridges, sprawling streets—and at last, a fortress so vast its shadow swallowed the horizon. Then the blackness claimed him.
When he woke, he lay within stone walls. Strange ointments burned on his skin; his body, impossibly, was mending. The air was heavy with incense and voices speaking a tongue he half-recognized.
The same man entered. His eyes gleamed with both curiosity and suspicion.
"So… tell me again. Where did you come from?"
This time Aelric bit back his first instinct. He understood now—these people knew nothing of the world beyond. They could not know. To reveal it would be folly.
The words that left his mouth were in a broken, half-forgotten tongue—the language of the ancient book.
"I… came… from… outside."
The man's eyes sharpened. A small smile curved his lips.
"Then answer me this. What is your rank?"