It was dark, almost midnight if he had to guess. The commotions, brawling, and even the alley’s stench had faded away. He felt all alone in the world, and he loved it. As he stared into the starry night, he was fascinated by what he saw. It was like a scene from a fairy-tale. Two moons hung in the lonely sky. They seemed as though they were longing for each other. It was hard to explain, but Jake could hear them. They hummed a melody, a melody far greater than any lullaby even the greatest minds in his previous world could produce. It was beyond their potential. Jake could’ve spent the rest of eternity listening to the moons’ symphony, but he knew better, no pleasure lasted long.

  The clinking of the chain mail startled him.

  City guards.

  Out of instinct, Jake hopped into an empty barrel. Throughout the night, he had spotted at least a dozen of them scouting the marketplace, but none had gotten this close so far. As the clinking approached, he could hear a pair chatting.

  “I think Asariel has gone mad,” the first guard said. “We have been patrolling the city for hours. Do you not think such a dangerous threat would have already made an appearance? We had to evacuate the whole damn area for this, so where in the name of the gods are the citizens supposed to sleep?”

  “Listen mate, I don’t make the rules here. If the chief says we gotta look, then we gotta look. At the end of the day, I have a family to feed.”

  Jake held his breath as the clinking noises increased. They were right next to him.

  “Curse this city. I bet you 20 silver pieces this is the doing of those wretched goblins again. If it weren’t for-”

  tik tok, tik tok, tik tok

  A loud noise that resembled a ticking clock abruptly interrupted their conversation. A long silence between the men ensued. Jake could tell they were contemplating something.

  “Odd, the stone senses a strong presence close-by.”

  Is it me? Are they planning on killing me?

  “The barrel…” the second guard said as he unsheathed his sword.

  Crap.

  Adrenaline kicked in and Jake jerked out of the barrel, barely dodging the sword as it crashed into the barrel. The first guard cried out as Jake banged his head into his jaw. “YOU SON OF A WHORE!”

  With incredible speed, Jake blasted out of the alley. As he was about to motion his body to the left, he quickly made a sharp U-turn for the right.

  Crap, crap, crap. There are at least forty of them.

  “OVER HERE! WE FOUND HIM!”

  What the hell did I do to you people?

  In perfect synchronicity, all of them instantly chased him. The thought of stopping and explaining himself crossed his mind, but he figured if it came down to it, he’d have a hard time describing how he got to their world. In fact, he didn’t really know himself.

  After a while, it started to seem like he wouldn’t have to explain anything after all. The distance between them was becoming more evident. One by one, he was losing them.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  I’m… outrunning them?

  Was his experience as a track runner the deciding factor? He hadn’t run in years. Could it really make this much of a difference? As things began to feel like child’s play to him, an obstacle appeared. A hooded man stood ahead of his path and it sure didn’t seem like he had any intention of scudding over.

  He’s one of them, isn't he?

  It was a do-or-die game of tag. Jake had to get past him, then he’d be free. What next? Where would he go? What would he do? He didn’t know. He was used to the unknown though, whatever awaited him, he’d just have to improvise. In hindsight, that’s how he lived his entire life.

  Faster. I have to go faster. I’ll go so fast that he won’t even have the time to register it.

  He was only a few meters away. Jake dropped his shoulders to the left. That was the moment the hooded figure reached out.

  Now.

  Jake faked left, then cut right at the last second—just enough to slip past.

  I actually did i—

  Before he could even process his thoughts, a sharp pain shot through his gut and before he knew it, he was falling to the ground just as something cold and solid cracked against his skull, causing his vision to blur. Darkness swallowed him whole.

  Where’d I go wrong?

  ***

  What’s happening?

  His body was fighting for every last bit of air.

  Am I drowning?

  He weakly tried to push himself out of the water but to no avail. He couldn’t move. It was almost as if his limbs were tied.

  As panic faded into numbness, his heartbeat slowed down. But somehow, he knew he wouldn’t die. It didn’t yet feel right. Something about drowning was almost inconceivable. And he was right. Out of nowhere, his head was aggressively pulled out of the water. He took the greatest gasp of air possible, so much so that he almost choked on it. His eyes were still blurred by the water, but it’d be impossible for him not to tell where he was. A prison chamber.

  The chamber was dilapidated, poorly held together. Rats the size of puppies freely roamed the room. It was exactly the conditions you’d expect a prisoner to be kept in. A metal door was the only apparent way out or in. He was kneed to the ground; his legs, arms, and even his neck were chained to the walls. The length of the chains was just long enough so they’d be able to plunge his head into a nearby bucket of water at will. But he couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room: Fully armored soldiers surrounded him on all sides at sword point, waiting for even the slightest of errors on his part, waiting to mercilessly slaughter him. Their eyes were completely inhumane. They lacked any sort of natural pity. If he so much as breathed too hard, they’d kill him. It was quite a predicament to place an introvert in. He knew he was on for one hell of a ride.

  Seconds, minutes, and hours inevitably passed by, but by then Jake had already lost his sense of time. Sleep was a no-go. A man clad in a black robe was in charge of violently whipping him if he dared close his eyes for over 5 seconds, and every now and then they’d make sure to pour a few bottles of alcohol over his wounds. Whether it was to avoid infection or inflict pain, he couldn’t tell. The exhaustion made his head droop despite the pain. He was almost relieved when, for the first time, the metal door of his torture chamber was opened. Two men walked in. One appeared much older in age than the other. He wore a bright purple open robe with turquoise boots and a violet top hat to match. He looked to be about 6'4 with an outrageously long beard. If Jake went according to his knowledge on fantasy stereotypes, then there was no doubt the old man was screaming Wizard. The other man, on the other hand, looked very young, almost Jake’s age. He wore very well-made and extravagant white clothes with gold lining. Around his waist, he also wore a knight’s sword, which endued him with an intimidating air. He was slender and tall, but what stood out the most was his fiery red hair and sparkling eyes that could only be described as “taunting”. With just one glance, anyone would be able to tell he was a cut above the rest. If they had met in a different setting, Jake would’ve been jealous of his looks, but at the moment, that was the least of his worries.

  The old man gestured towards the soldiers in a way that probably meant “get lost” because they did exactly that. It was only the three of them in the room, and Jake didn’t like where it was going. The room felt bigger, emptier. But not safer. The young, red-haired man knelt down so that he was at eye level with Jake. “I believe our last encounter was too spontaneous for a formal introduction,” he said. The light in his eyes was dazzling.

  Our last encounter?

  “You may not recognize me, but I was the one to render you unconscious. Forgive me for the rude hostility. My name is Asariel… Asariel Snowhart.”