[After the immediate transfer...]
A sour-tasting breeze caressed Roy like warm touches, its taste sweet, like something resembling fresh lemon mixed with melted honey. He opened his wandering eyes to the scene of the sky tinged with light green, while comets sang around the sun—but it wasn't any sun, rather a golden metallic piece rotating regularly, like a decorated vessel shining in space with its enormous size.
Roy rose from the soft ground as if drunk after a session of intoxication, rubbing his hair and eyes at the same time, only to find himself facing a path extending with giant, multicolored, clashing trees and fungi. Goosebumps pierced his skin like a numbing needle, while shock gripped his frozen expression from the sheer horror of the sight. He turned left and saw Liora and the White lying on the ground.
Roy shook Liora's shoulder: "Liora… Liora, are you okay?"
Liora slowly opened her eyes, her voice faint: "Ah… where are we? Why has the color of the sky changed suddenly?"
Roy replied: "I don't know, all I know is that we were on the edge of death. It was like a nightmare."
The White stood, staggering, and said with a tremor: "If it weren't for those cards, we would have been nothing but scattered remains!"
Liora rose heavily and stared, amazed by the scene: "I've never seen mushrooms this enormous! But what about that golden piece in the sky? Is it like a sun here?"
Roy adjusted his cloak and replied seriously: "It rotates like a clock. We must stay alert for any emergencies." He pointed with his hand: "Let's keep moving."
They walked with steady steps, amidst the whispers of flying leaves like the ringing of bells, while the sound of the birds seemed somewhat rough, unfamiliar to human ears… After a few moments, a huge pigeon with golden feathers landed on a branch.
Liora looked to the right, panic gripping her: "What is this rustling?! Oh, what is that thing?"
Roy, staring calmly at the pigeon, said: "It's just a pigeon, that's all. It remains peaceful even if its biology is different."
The White placed his hand on his forehead: "I can see a mountain range on the horizon. It seems full of life."
A faint smile appeared on Liora's face: "This world does not know the meaning of hospitality. The rule here says beauty is fragile."
They continued walking on the echo of the cold wind's whistle, which naturally sowed confusion in tender hearts, while that "artificial" sun rotated like a steam engine.
After a few moments, they stopped before the view of blood-colored mountains touching the clouds, while wooden huts perched in the sticky trees.
Liora, clinging to the edge of the rocks, furrowed her brow: "This suspicious color bodes no good, but it seems inhabited."
Roy observed cautiously and said: "But I don't see anyone. It seems they sensed our arrival. We must be careful of any stray arrow."
The White replied: "Perhaps it's a clear strategy anticipating any intruder. This is called calm before striking the target."
Roy's eyes widened, and he whispered: "It's as if I hear steps coming slowly toward us. I ask you for composure and tact in dealing."
Hesitant steps approached them, then a captivatingly beautiful girl appeared, her golden hair cascading like a flowing waterfall. She wore a paper skirt, while red flowers clung to all her pink skin from her arms down to her feet. The three stared at her in astonishment, without a word.
She stood before them, her voice trembling: "Who are you? Your appearance does not suggest you are like those mercenaries."
Roy laughed like a fool: "No! We are just lost travelers in this intricate place. But what do you mean by 'those mercenaries'?"
The girl replied: "Never mind, what do you want us to serve you? The villagers now are alert to any imminent danger."
Liora urged: "We are just looking for a place to spend the night before we continue our journey tomorrow. We simply escaped certain death."
The White said: "As soon as we woke up, we found ourselves here somehow. You could say fate sent us to you."
The girl hesitated a little and answered, trembling: "Then come with me, we will take another path away from the eyes of the village. We will head to the house."
They followed her with complete reassurance through narrow alleys decorated with enormous flowers, an unusually strong scent of fragrance in the air.
Finally, they reached the wooden hut, which was a single, large room, while a sofa stood in the middle of the fireplace, casting a dim light amid the darkness, and a blue carpet covered the solid floor. The three sat together, exhausted from this bitter journey.
The girl asked: "Where exactly did you come from? Your sweat seems different."
Roy replied confidently: "I am Roy, the ruler of the 'Mutants' race, and this is the White, my loyal follower, while Liora is my companion. We faced some obstacles, but nothing grave. Now it's your turn. Won't you introduce yourself?"
The girl answered calmly: "Oh… excuse me, my name is Amethyst, and we belong to the 'Flowers' race. We live here in 'Infada'."
Liora, astonished, said in an eager tone: "Infada? Flowers? But what explains that golden structure in the sky? It's like it serves as a sun."
Amethyst replied: "Legends surround it, like anything that sparks curiosity, but its primary task is to maintain the course of life here."
The White pointed with his finger: "But why are these flowers attached to your body?"
Amethyst smiled: "This is a trait that distinguishes every 'Flower' among us. Any damage inflicted on them will cause the entire body to wilt. But it's nothing to worry about; the sun now maintains its stability."
She paused briefly and continued: "Now rest, for the night has indeed fallen."
Darkness cast its black garment, while the golden structure's rays filtered through the window like the glow of luminous fireflies. Midnight arrived, and Roy and Liora whispered the murmurs of insomnia.
Liora gazed at the circular ceiling and whispered to Roy: "Is your revenge the path to salvation? Or the path to survival?"
Roy replied in a barely audible voice: "Neither. I am not the one who will take revenge; rather, the cries of my dead people will do it. As for that honorable knight, he will end up forgotten under the palace of his queen, and no one will remember his service."
Liora responded: "I agree. The winds do not know the meaning of loyalty."
Sleep finally overcame them, while the "artificial" sun waited for the opportune moment, slowly opening and shining in the sky until a gigantic clock appeared, its hands pointing to midnight.