10:00 p.m. - At California
The city hummed with the rhythm of innovation and progress, a testament to Ryan Mercer's passion. A talented software engineer, he had climbed the rungs at one of the top tech companies in Silicon Valley. From a young age, he had a remarkable knack for understanding technology's inner workings, turning complex lines of code into remarkable applications. His colleagues often marveled at how he could transform mundane ideas into extraordinary results, such as mobile apps that streamlined daily tasks or software projects that pushed the boundaries of creativity. But with each successful project, an undeniable itch grew within him: the yearning for authenticity and the chance to create something uniquely his own.
Ryan's days were consumed by endless coding sessions, brainstorming meetings, and late-night caffeine-fueled marathons that left him skimming the surface of exhaustion. His ambitions outgrew the cushy corporate straitjacket; he wanted to revolutionize technology—a desire that pulsed within him like a heart beating for freedom. At just 24 years old, he'd understood that life was too short to pour energy into someone else's dream. The shadows of self-doubt loomed large but so did the glow of his aspirations.
Having saved enough money for a leap of faith, Ryan decided to break free. With his resignation letter in hand, excitement coursed through him, complemented by a pinch of trepidation. Today marked a pivotal moment—his dream of starting a tech startup was within reach. As the day drew to a close, he took his usual route to the bus stop, his mind racing with ideas and plans for the future. The urban landscape around him blurred into a tapestry of billboards and flashing lights, a world of endless possibilities.
He settled onto the cold metal bench at the bus stop, the weight of change pressing on his chest. In moments of quiet contemplation, he envisioned his startup: a technology that could connect people in meaningful ways, something beyond mundane schedules and traffic updates—a bridge between dreams and reality.
But before he could flesh out the details of his vision, fatigue washed over him like a tidal wave. Ryan leaned back, willing his eyelids to stay open, but soothing whispers of slumber beckoned him to rest. With a soft sigh, he succumbed to the comforting embrace of sleep.
7:00 a.m. at unknow forest
Ryan's head throbbed as he blinked against the piercing light filtering through the impossible canopy above. It took a moment for his mind to emerge from the foggy depths of unconsciousness, each breath a struggle against the confusion clouding his thoughts. Faint recollections of his recent decisions fluttered past like wisps of vapor—the resignation letter, the bench, Silicon Valley's familiar hum. He had drifted off in San Jose, that much he knew.
Now, he lay on a damp forest floor, the moisture seeping through his hoodie into the shirt beneath, chilling his skin. Towering trees, their trunks like columns of ancient temples, stretched into the azure sky. Leaves whispered in tongues unknown, stirred by a breeze that came from nowhere yet everywhere.
Panic's icy fingers wrapped around his chest, tightening with each heartbeat. This certainly wasn't the bustling cityscape that had consumed his waking hours, nor the sterile office he'd left behind.
Instinctively, he fished his phone from his jeans' pocket, the device a tether to normalcy, one last vestige of his past life. He jabbed at the screen with trembling fingers, willing for signals, for data, for any whisper of connectivity to slice through the eerie silence. Blank bars mocked his desperation, empty of networks, devoid of Wi-Fi. Just an empty void.
"Come on, work," he muttered through gritted teeth, shaking the phone as if it too might wake from a strange slumber.
Nothing. The screen dimmed in defiance, a cold reminder of his disconnection.
Ryan dragged himself upright, leaning against one of the giant trees, the bark smooth beneath his hand like polished stone. Moist moss snagged at his fingers, and the forest's vibrant hues pressed in, a symphony of unreal.
He took a deep breath, forcing his eyes to calm the needling vibrations of fear. Birdsong drifted from somewhere above, a distant echo of life, yet it held no familiarity. Creatures skittered in the periphery, furtive shadows slipping through underbrush. This world, for all its strange tranquility, bristled with an undercurrent of danger, as if watching, waiting.
His breaths steadied. No use staying paralyzed here. Ryan tapped into the courage previously spent on dreams; it was time for action, not angst. Slowly, he rose, slipping the phone back into his pocket.
"Alright then," he spoke to the void, his resolve solidifying. "Let's figure this out."
Ryan's heart raced, his breath quickening, each inhale sharper than the last. He willed himself to calm down, to stave off the panic that clawed at the edges of his rational mind. With a focused breath, he settled into a clearer state of thought. Panic wouldn't help him here; ingenuity would.
He took stock of everything in his possession, carefully removing his backpack and spreading its contents across the forest floor. The sight of his digital companions offered a semblance of comfort amidst uncertainty.
His trusty laptop lay at the center, its sleek body a testament to countless late nights of coding and dreaming big. A power bank sat beside it like a treasured totem of the past—a link to another world. Two charging cables wound neatly alongside, along with adapters for versatility. A small screwdriver set gleamed in the scattered light, a holdover from projects he'd tackled with curiosity and determination. His keycard lay there, useless now yet a reminder of where he'd been.
Books offered distraction from his current predicament: one on economics and finance—the plans for his tech startup whispered from these pages—and a well-loved science fiction novel, dog-eared and annotated in places. His diary lay among these, its leather spine supple with the weight of recorded thoughts and aspirations.
Keeping the lifeline of prepared sustenance, his hands traced the edges of his wallet, phone, and then amongst food treasures—a burger, still wrapped tight, a soft drink, and two bags of potato chips, crinkled like leaves underfoot.
He puzzled over the recent past and how he came to be here. After another long day at the tech company, he'd stopped by the market, picking up essentials—a routine akin to sleepwalking he hardly remembered. Exhaustion had drained him, and beyond that, nothing until this surreal awakening beneath shimmering branches.
"I don't remember buying tickets to fantasy land," he muttered to himself, leaning back against the tree's comforting bulk. His mind raced ahead, thinking about priorities, survival. Charging the essentials like his laptop wouldn't be possible, although it thrilled him to know it was in good company.
As he crouched among the mundane detritus of another life, his resolve sparked, glimmering like the emerald canopy above. He'd wrestle answers from this unfamiliar realm, harnessing every scrap of wit and resilience to navigate the wonders and dangers ahead.
Ryan slowly rose to his feet, shouldering his backpack with a sense of determination that pushed through the veil of curiosity and nerves. He glanced skyward and his breath caught at the sight above. Two moons—one delicate with a pale silvery hue, the other a deep, haunting crimson—hung suspended like spectral guardians over the world. Their mingling light painted shadows across the ground, both unsettling and mesmerizing.
"What the…?" Ryan murmured, blinking hard, half expecting them to vanish if he rubbed his eyes enough. Yet the moons remained, unchanged, glowering down like ancient souls. Around him, the forest brimmed with otherworldly life. The towering trees shimmered faintly, the veins within their bark glowed with a soft luminescence that suggested magic or something close to it. He shook his head, setting aside disbelief. Reality had shifted into a place where logic seemed secondary, or perhaps irrelevant.
He needed to move. Spencer turned, took the first tentative steps, pushing past the fear that clawed at the corners of his resolve.
"I need to find an exit," he whispered into the air, though doubt lingered, heavy as fog.
His journey meandered through thickets of dense foliage and shafts of light splintering through leaves. Strange creatures darted between ethereal trunks: reptiles clad in iridescent scales, shimmering under the twin moons' glow. With every mile crossed, a shiver passed down his spine.
He checked the phone—a habit of his old world, though here it failed to comfort. 13:30, four hours of walking already. Would he find a way back?
Desperate for guidance, Ryan tried invoking a system: skills and status updates, like fantasies from anime, hopes cast into the infinite unknown.
"System, open! Status, open! Skills..." Ryan's voice echoed in the vast, ethereal silence.
Nothing responded. Frustration simmered beneath his skin, twisting his thoughts into a restless coil. "This is bad," he muttered, stepping over a root that curled like a stone serpent. "Stranded in a fantasy world without help from a system, not knowing if magic even exists here. And what good would that do, anyway? I've never started a fire in my life, let alone lived outdoors."
Thoughts tumbled out as he pressed on through the dazzling forest. Each phrase born of his racing mind, a firestorm of worry and whispers. "How long to find my way out? What are the odds there's a village, a community, waiting past the next rise?" The prospect of encountering hostile remnants of a post-apocalyptic world gnawed at his edges, a thought best left untouched.
But he needed to ground himself—find direction amidst chaos. He reached for his phone once more, a utility existing beyond desperation. The compass feature flashed to life, its arrow a tether and guide. Conserving battery became paramount, scanning the direction every five minutes under the rarity of twin suns. He committed his course to memory, determined to carve a path through darkness, buoyed by a slim hope that an exit lay beyond.
That gnawed at his unease. But it also awakened something else: a curiosity that demanded acknowledgment. I paused, eyeing the vibrant flora around me—leaves etched with intricate patterns, colors vibrant almost to the point of pain. Instinctively, I reached out, collecting plants with cautious fingers, the cool waxy surfaces contrasting against my warm skin.
I slipped them gently into my backpack, careful not to crush them. Knowledge eluded me about their properties, but each unique texture held a promise of some yet-to-be-discovered value.
Among the multihued tapestry of nature, I stumbled upon curious glowing seeds. Their ghostly luminescence intrigued me, an invitation wrapped in mystery. I pocketed a few, feeling their smooth forms rest cool and steady against my palm.
Bioluminescent mushrooms dotted the forest's floor like stars in a forgotten galaxy. Their soft light bathed the path with an ethereal glow, guiding my wary steps forward. But more than once, my eyes caught the fleeting dance of small creatures weaving through the shadows, their eyes glinting with a clever, silent watchfulness.
With each discovery, my scientific instincts flared alive, temporarily casting aside dread. Had these plants and creatures cousins in my own world? What secrets lay hidden in their veins? My diary became a canvas for burgeoning excitement. Sketches of leaves, seeds, notes. The forest slowly transformed into a vast, living laboratory.
Ryan pawed through tangled underbrush, each step propelled by resolve. He kept his compass tucked securely beside his hip, its arrow guiding movements in a continual search for the world beyond crystalline trunks and vibrant foliage. Earlier panic had dissolved, replaced by a methodical determination pushing past fatigue and strengthening resolve.
The forest stretched endlessly, shadows deepening with the sun's arc toward the horizon. Yet Ryan pressed on, fueled by necessity and the lingering possibility that every step might reveal a path home. He embraced focus, where fear had thrived before, nurturing a means of survival despite unfamiliar terrain.
He paused beneath a sprawling canopy, catching glimpses of the twin moons through shifting branches. He wiped sweat from his brow, appreciating the breeze brushing across him—refreshing, not nearly powerful enough to banish doubt entirely.
Dead-still air shifted suddenly, carrying a sound unlike anything he'd heard. Whispered voices drifted on the wind, faint but unwavering, an echo that chilled him to the core. Someone—or something—lay ahead. Ryan's heart quickened, urging caution as he ventured further, closer to the threshold of discovery.
He tightened his grip on perceived reality, ready to greet whatever awaited in the forest's depths, determined not to flinch.
3:00 p.m. - At Unknown Forest
The sun had begun its descent, painting the sky in hues of tangerine and amethyst, when Ryan stumbled into a clearing. Relief surged through him, a tide of hope crashing over weariness. The terrain shifted beneath his feet, the forest's tight embrace loosening its hold.
His eyes caught sight of a well-trodden path, like a lifeline cutting through the wilderness. Its compacted dirt promised direction, a chance for the lost to find their way. Ryan quickened his pace, energy coursing anew through tired limbs.
As he moved, the trees began to thin, branches whispering encouragement in the soft evening breeze. Signs of civilization emerged from the verdant depths, validating his choice to persevere. A discarded cartwheel lay half-hidden in the undergrowth, testament to journeys long past. A broken fence post, weathered and grayed, hinted at borders that once held purpose.
Smoke curled lazily beyond the treetops, an ethereal signal against the darkening sky. Ryan's heart thrummed with anticipation, each step carrying him closer to that beckoning plume. The possibility of finding others—of obtaining answers—drove him forward. Civilization loomed near, shrouded in mystery yet brimming with promise, a beacon drawing him from the clutches of isolation.
Ryan followed the path, anticipation mingling with dread, until a low growl shattered the air, rolling like thunder through the forest. He froze, the distant roar wrapping icy fingers around his spine, urging him to halt. He stood breathless at the edge of a rise, eyes widening as a shadow loomed across the horizon.
A dragon soared high above, its scales glinting fiercely in the fading light, a living tapestry of fire and earth. The creature unleashed a torrent of flames toward the village below, painting an apocalyptic scene. The flames curled and climbed, roiling over the rustic buildings, casting a hellish glow against the darkening sky.
Ryan's instincts betrayed him. Without thinking, he yanked his phone from his pocket, thumbing the camera open. The lens shook as he aimed it skyward, trying to capture the impossible—massive wings blotting out the fading sun, fire spilling across rooftops like a nightmare made flesh.
"Jesus Christ," he whispered, voice cracking, the phone trembling in his grip. "That's… a dragon. A real dragon."
The absurdity hit him mid-recording. What was he doing? Filming? As if anyone back home would ever see this. As if proof mattered more than survival. His hand lowered slowly, chest tight, the recording still running as the screams of villagers filled the air.
He remained rooted, caught in indecision between the safety of the forest's embrace and the beacon of destruction. The village writhed in chaos—villagers screamed and scattered, their figures mere blurs against the inferno's backdrop.
"To run back or move forward," he murmured, heart pounding against his ribs.
Steeling his resolve, Ryan pressed forward, drawn by adrenaline and a flicker of innate courage. The journey to the village unfolded like a dreamscape turned nightmare—with every step, the sight of destruction sharpened with brutal clarity. Thatched roofs collapsed under fire, smoke choking the air with despair.
He hid beside a tree just far enough to stay safe, weaving through the clamor, feeling the weight of shadowy figures gathering, wary eyes fixed skyward where the crimson dragon menaced. Near a well, a cluster of villagers murmured, voices rising with battle-worn defiance.
Ryan's attention shifted to a pair of frantic officials rallying defenses, their determination flickering in the chaos. The dragon circled with cruel grace, its presence oppressive and imminent.
Then, as if bored with the destruction—or satisfied—the beast veered off, retreating into the forest shadows. The village gasped in its wake, sound of fear and relief mingling in the ashen air, eyes nervously scanning the sky for its return.
Ryan glanced at his phone, still recording, the dragon's roar echoing faintly from the tiny speaker. His stomach lurched. The video proved nothing to these people. To them, the device itself would look like strange magic. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to delete it. Proof or not, it was the only thing tethering him to the world he'd lost.