Chapter 2 – The Wooden Room
Aurora's eyes fluttered open, and the world was immediately alien. No sterile white walls of a hospital, no familiar city skyline framed by the night—only rough-hewn wooden walls, glowing faintly with the trembling light of several candles. The air was thick with the scent of burning tallow, mingled with the faint, earthy tang of damp wood. Her head throbbed violently, each pulse a hammer against her temples, as if reminding her that her life as she knew it had ended—or at the very least, paused.
She tried to rise, but her body protested, muscles weak and unyielding, limbs heavy as though she were wading through some invisible mire. A low groan escaped her lips, and from the corner of the room, a figure stirred.
"Ah… you are awake," said a voice, soft yet tinged with authority. Aurora's eyes sought its source, and she saw a young woman, perhaps no older than twenty, dressed in garments unfamiliar to her—a long, earth-toned gown, simple yet elegant, and her hair braided neatly over one shoulder. "Do not strain yourself. You have traveled far, it seems."
Aurora blinked. "Traveled… far?" Her own voice sounded odd to her ears, muted and brittle. "Where… where am I?"
The woman stepped forward, her hands folded before her. "You are… not where you think you are. That much is certain. You may call this place the Wooden Room, though it is but a small chamber in the larger estate of Lord Caelwyn."
Aurora's mind reeled. "Lord… Caelwyn? Estate? I… I do not understand."
Another figure entered the room, this one a man, older perhaps in his forties, with sharp eyes that seemed to pierce through her very thoughts. He bowed slightly. "Pardon our intrusion, Lady Aurora," he said, each word deliberate, measured, as though testing the weight of her mind. "You are… bewildered, yes? Understandable. The journey you have undertaken is… most uncommon."
Aurora's chest tightened. "Journey? I… I did not journey anywhere!" Her voice rose, tinged with fear and disbelief. "I was in my home… my life… and now…" She gestured vaguely, taking in the wooden walls, the faint shadows dancing in the candlelight. "This is… impossible."
"Impossible?" echoed the young woman, a trace of amusement in her voice. "Perhaps. Yet you stand before us, awake and… breathing. That is fact. Facts are seldom impossible, my lady. Only truths we have not yet grasped seem so."
Aurora's mind flashed with fragments of last night—the wine, the bus, Julian, Madeline's laughter. And then—the darkness, the blinding pain, the sensation of being pulled as if by some unseen hand. Could it be… she had died? Or been transported? Her heart pounded in terror.
"Please… tell me," she said, her voice trembling. "Tell me I am not… mad. Tell me I am not imagining this."
The older man, who had introduced himself as a steward of the estate, took a careful step forward. "Madness is often a convenient cloak for those who cannot bear the truth. But you, Lady Aurora… your mind is sharp, your senses keen. You are neither mad nor dreaming." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "You have crossed into another realm."
Aurora's breath hitched. "Another realm?" she whispered, disbelief tangled with the growing thrill of fear. "Like… a… world apart?"
"Yes," said the young woman, with a faint smile. "A world not of London streets, nor of your city's bustling life. A world where truths and deceptions wear different masks, where time itself moves differently. You were brought here… though how, and by whose hand, remains uncertain."
Aurora sank back onto the hard mattress, her head spinning. "I… I do not understand. Why me? Why now?"
The older man, who introduced himself as Master Edrin, regarded her gravely. "Lady, the threads of fate are tangled. Some events are orchestrated by powers beyond comprehension. Others… are the work of mortals with guile. I cannot yet tell which applies to you. But you… you are needed here. And until your purpose becomes clear, you must remain under protection."
Aurora's hands gripped the quilt beneath her, knuckles white. "Protection? From… what?"
The young woman's gaze softened. "From those who would see you undone. From those who whisper in shadows and plot in darkness. This world is not without peril, Lady Aurora. But neither are you without allies."
Aurora swallowed hard. Her pulse raced. She had never been one for fantasy, for imagined lands and chivalric tales. And yet here she was, thrust into the impossible, her mind straining to reconcile the world she knew with the one she now occupied. "Allies?" she asked, voice trembling. "I… I do not know you. I do not know this place. How can I trust anyone?"
Master Edrin inclined his head. "Trust is earned, and not lightly given. You are wise to question, Lady. Indeed, suspicion is a necessary tool for survival." He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "But know this: enemies are nearer than you think. Some wear familiar faces, even… friendly ones. And some will strike without warning."
Aurora shivered, the candlelight flickering across her pale face. "Enemies… like…" Her voice faltered. She thought of Julian, of Madeline, of the life she had been ripped from. "Like them?"
The young woman's lips curved faintly, but she did not answer immediately. Instead, she motioned for Aurora to rise, helping her to her feet. "Perhaps," she said softly, "perhaps like them. But perhaps… worse. That is a question only time can answer."
Aurora's legs wobbled beneath her, but she stood, gripping the edge of a small wooden table for support. Her gaze roamed the room—rough planks of oak, shelves lined with jars and rolled parchments, a single wardrobe in the corner. Everything was simple, functional… yet alien. She felt a surge of determination.
"If I am to remain here," she said, voice firmer now, "then I must learn. I must understand this world, its rules… and why I am here."
Master Edrin nodded approvingly. "That is the spirit of one who will endure. Very well, Lady Aurora. Rest for now. There will be time for learning, and for revelation. But first… you must regain your strength."
The young woman, whose name Aurora learned was Elowen, lingered by the doorway. "Sleep, if you can. And remember, the Wooden Room is but the first threshold. Beyond its walls lie choices that will test every facet of your being—courage, wisdom, and heart."
Aurora swallowed, her throat dry. "Choices… tests… heart…" she repeated softly, the words unfamiliar yet heavy with meaning. She wondered whether she was prepared. She wondered whether she had a choice at all.
As Elowen left, the candles flickered in the gentle draft, casting shadows that danced across the walls. Aurora approached the nearest window, pressing her palm against the cool wood. Outside, the estate sprawled under the cloak of night, trees whispering secrets, and distant lights glimmering like fireflies. It was serene… and yet it felt dangerous. Every whisper of wind, every creak of timber, was a reminder that this world was not hers, and yet… somehow, it awaited her courage, her wit, her very being.
"Very well," she whispered, her reflection wavering in the dark glass. "If this is to be my reality, then I will not falter. I will not be a pawn. I will understand. And I will endure."
The Wooden Room, with its rough walls and faint candlelight, had become her first lesson: that life, even in worlds far removed from one's own, demanded vigilance. And Aurora Lane, who had survived betrayal and loss in her own realm, would meet this challenge with the same indomitable spirit that had once carried her through fire.
Outside, the night deepened, and in the shadows, figures moved unseen, watching, waiting. Aurora did not yet know them. But she would soon learn that the world she had stumbled into was alive—not merely with people, but with intention. Every corner, every whisper, every candle flame might carry meaning, and she would have to decipher it all.
For in this world, Lady Aurora, the girl who had once been merely a victim of circumstance, would need to become far more: a seeker, a learner, a fighter, and perhaps… a force that even the architects of fate could not ignore.
And thus, in the quiet of the Wooden Room, the first threads of a new destiny began to weave themselves around her, intricate and unyielding, carrying her into a reality from which there was no easy return.