The throne room reeked of desperation masked by incense. Cracked marble pillars bore the weight of a vaulted ceiling stained with decades of neglect, while threadbare tapestries depicting long-dead victories hung like funeral shrouds. King Aldric sat forward on his throne, hands gripping the armrests with white knuckles, watching the court mages complete their ritual with barely contained hope.
"The circle is prepared, Your Majesty," announced Court Mage Cornelius, his voice trembling with exhaustion. Dark circles ringed his eyes—the Soulstone fragments embedded in his staff had been draining him for weeks in preparation for this moment. "The summoning will bring forth heroes of legend, champions to save our realm."
Around the throne room's perimeter, nobles shifted uncomfortably. Lord Garrett's fingers drummed against his sword hilt, while Lady Morwyn's painted smile couldn't hide the calculation in her eyes. They'd each committed resources to this desperate gambit, but their loyalty extended only as far as their own survival.
The summoning circle blazed with ethereal light, carved runes pulsing with borrowed power from the kingdom's dwindling Soulstone reserves. The very air seemed to writhe as reality bent, and four figures materialized within the glowing boundaries.
The light faded, leaving smoke and the acrid smell of burnt magic.
Four young people stood in the circle, blinking in confusion. They looked... ordinary. Too ordinary for the King's liking.
"What the hell?" The first to speak was a young man with dark hair, maybe twenty-one, wearing jeans and a faded band t-shirt. He spun around, taking in the medieval throne room with wide eyes. "This isn't... where am I?"
"Alex?" A younger voice, uncertain. A boy who looked strikingly similar to the first, but maybe eighteen, in a rumpled hoodie. "What's going on? I was just walking home from the gym and then..."
"I was in my apartment," said a young woman with silver-streaked hair, her voice carrying a slight accent. She wore a simple dress, now wrinkled from the summoning. "There was this light, and then..." She touched her temple, wincing. "My head feels strange."
The fourth figure, a young man with kind eyes and work clothes, looked around in genuine alarm. "I was at the hospital. My shift just ended, and I was heading to my car..." He faced the ornate throne directly. "Where are we?"
King Aldric rose slowly, his prepared speech dying in his throat. These weren't the legendary warriors he'd imagined. They looked like... children. Confused, frightened children in strange clothes.
"Welcome," he began uncertainly, "heroes of legend. You have been summoned to—"
"Summoned?" Alex stepped forward, his confusion sharpening into something harder. "You mean you did this? You brought us here against our will?"
"I... yes, but—"
"Jesus Christ." Alex ran his hands through his hair. "This is insane. This is actually insane." He looked at his younger brother. "Vlad, tell me you're seeing this too."
Vlad was staring at his hands, flexing his fingers. "Something's different. I feel... I don't know. Stronger? But also like there's something crawling under my skin."
The woman—Nyt—pressed her palm against her forehead. "The air here tastes like electricity. Like right before a thunderstorm, but... more." She looked at the court mages with their glowing staves. "That's magic, isn't it? Actual magic."
"This can't be real," the fourth young man whispered. "I'm Eli, by the way. Eli Morrison. I'm a nursing student from Portland, and this... this has to be some kind of breakdown."
King Aldric felt his heart sinking. "You are heroes, summoned in our darkest hour—"
"We're college students!" Alex's voice cracked slightly. "I'm a computer science major! My brother's in high school! You can't just kidnap people and call them heroes!"
"But the prophecy—"
"Screw your prophecy!" Alex's composure was cracking, fear bleeding through his anger. "I have exams next week! I have a life! You can't just... just steal people!"
Vlad stepped closer to his brother, the violence in his posture more protective than predatory now. "How do we get home?"
The throne room fell silent. Court Mage Cornelius exchanged glances with his colleagues before clearing his throat. "The summoning... it's not designed to be reversed. The ritual pulls you across the barriers between worlds during moments of great need—"
"Great need?" Nyt's voice was sharp. "What kind of need?"
"The kingdom faces plague, famine, invasion—"
"So you decided to kidnap four random people instead of fixing your own problems?" Alex's voice was cold now, the shock wearing off into something harder. "That's your solution?"
King Aldric straightened, trying to reclaim some authority. "You were chosen by fate itself. The summoning pulls forth those with the potential to—"
"Potential for what?" Eli asked quietly. "I'm just a nursing student. I help people, but I'm not... I'm not special."
"You all are," Cornelius insisted. "I can sense it. The summoning has awakened something in each of you. Abilities that will grow with time and training."
Vlad flexed his hand again, and there was something unsettling about the way he smiled. "Yeah. I can feel it."
Nyt was looking at the magical implements around the room with growing fascination. "The energy here... it's responding to me somehow." She caught herself staring and shook her head. "But that doesn't make this right."
"Right or wrong, you're here now," said Lord Garrett, stepping forward. "And the threats to our kingdom are real."
Alex looked around the room—at the crumbling grandeur, the nervous nobles, the desperate king. "So you're a failing kingdom that decided to gamble with other people's lives instead of dealing with your own incompetence."
"Alex," Eli said softly, "maybe we should—"
"Should what? Be grateful? They stole us from our families, our lives, our world." Alex's voice was getting colder, more controlled. "And now they want us to clean up their mess."
"The situation is complex—" King Aldric began.
"I'm sure it is." Alex studied the King with growing calculation. "But complexity doesn't justify kidnapping. And it doesn't make us your heroes."
Vlad cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp in the tense silence. "So what do we do, brother?"
Alex was quiet for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Around the throne room, nobles shifted nervously, sensing that something fundamental had shifted in the conversation.
"We adapt," Alex said finally. "We learn the rules of this world. We figure out how to survive." His gaze moved across the assembled court. "And we decide for ourselves what kind of people we want to be here."
The King felt a chill run down his spine. There was something in the young man's tone—a cold pragmatism that didn't belong in someone barely old enough to drink.
"Surely you'll help our people?" Eli asked, his voice plaintive. "Even if we didn't choose to be here, there are innocent people suffering."
Alex looked at him for a long moment. "We'll see."
Those two words hung in the air like a verdict. King Aldric had summoned heroes to save his realm, but as he looked at these four displaced young people—confused, angry, and beginning to change—he wondered if he'd made a terrible mistake.
The heroes of legend were supposed to bring salvation. But salvation, he was beginning to realize, might come at a price none of them were prepared to pay.