Something was off. I didn't know exactly what, but the moment I stepped forward, the air felt strange — like the world itself was holding its breath.
I wandered through a small forest, oddly shaped, where the grass lay unnaturally flat, as if someone had pressed it into place. Long strips of polished wood were scattered about, upright and smooth, like strange art I didn't understand.
Somewhere near one of these wooden pieces, I spotted a figure. A man sitting on the ground, hunched over, wearing a wide-brimmed hat that hid his ears. I didn't even notice the details — just his shape.
I strolled over casually, curiosity nudging me.
"Hey," I said lightly.
He barked sharply, "Get off me!" making me stumble back.
"Okay… okay," I said, raising my hands. I didn't mean to annoy him.
The space around him felt… like some kind of open area. Trees lined wide paths, grass stretched endlessly, and distant wooden pieces punctuated the ground. I moved on, deciding to focus on something practical: food.
A rabbit darted nearby, twitching its nose nervously. I crouched low, muscles coiling instinctively, and moved silently through the flat grass, careful not to disturb the strangely still forest around me. My hand went to my dagger, feeling its weight and balance — familiar, reassuring.
I tracked the rabbit for a long stretch, careful to adjust for the slight slope of the land and the shadowed hollows between the oddly shaped trees. Every step had to be measured; I couldn't afford a misstep that would alert it. My heart pounded as I inched closer, my breathing controlled, steady.
Finally, the moment came. I lunged with precise timing, slashing cleanly. The rabbit went down without a sound. Relief and a strange pang of guilt mingled as I bent over it, careful to avoid crushing it accidentally. My hands worked fast to prepare it — stripping, cleaning, and readying it to eat.
Carrying it back toward the cave, I kept my senses sharp, listening for movement in the unusual stillness around me. Every crack of a twig or rustle in the grass made me tense, dagger ready, instincts from my training kicking in. I knew survival here meant more than hunger; it meant paying attention, being ready for anything.
The man from earlier shuffled up behind me, hat still low, and said quietly, "Sorry for shouting before. I… I'll start the fire for some of that."
I nodded, watching in awe as he produced a small box and struck a fire stick. Flames leapt to life immediately. I didn't speak, just stared.
He tilted his head. "Cosplay?"
"Cosplay?" I echoed, unfamiliar with the word. "Would you care for some water?" I asked instead, reaching into my bag. My hand went deeper than I expected — a bag of holding, still working despite this strange place.
He smiled beneath his hat. "Name's Hank."
I giggled at the simplicity of it. "Sa'ha," I said, offering him the water.
"Right. Cosplay," he said again, as if confirming something.
He leaned back on his elbows, eyes scanning the oddly flat forest around us. "Times are tough," he said quietly. "Watch yourself around these parts. You never know who's really paying attention… or what they're after."
I nodded slowly, swallowing a lump in my throat. "I can handle myself," I said. "I've trained in martial arts… my master taught me since I was small. My parents… they weren't around much."
Hank glanced at me under his hat. "You've got spirit," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "That's good. You'll need it."
I shrugged, trying to seem casual, though my stomach twisted nervously. "I've had to be ready for anything," I admitted. "Nobody's going to fight my battles for me."
Hank chuckled softly. "Fair enough," he said. "But even the strongest have to watch their step."
Then a pair appeared, moving with measured precision. They wore odd helmets that left much of their skin exposed, clearly offering little protection against a blade. Their shirts were a light green, marked with a star and some unfamiliar, ornate writing across the chest. Black pants and boots completed the uniform, and each had a belt with a finely crafted metal buckle, signaling wealth or status. Nobles, perhaps?
As I looked closer, I noticed their ears. Short, unnaturally shaped, almost as if someone had mutilated them. Yet aside from that, everything else about them looked normal. The sight made me uneasy. Their movements were deliberate, controlled, and almost ceremonial.
"You can't be fooling around in these parts," one said, his voice calm but sharp, carrying a strange weight that made my stomach tighten. "Rules aren't suggestions here, and breaking them… has consequences."
Hank muttered something and shuffled away, leaving me behind. But the guards' eyes flicked to the bloody knife in my hand and the dead rabbit at my feet, lingering there for a long moment before settling on me.
I stepped back, thinking they were going to take my food. One reached for my shoulder.
"You're coming with us," he said.
I reacted instantly, throwing him to the ground.
Then a sharp jolt of electricity surged through me. Pain ripped through my muscles, my body stiffened, and my vision blurred. My legs gave out beneath me, and I collapsed, unconscious.
When I woke, I was alone. Armor still on, but my bag was gone. My dagger, gone too. The room was small, bare… a simple holding cell. I pressed myself against the cold wall, heart hammering, and realized how utterly unprepared I was for this place