Rowan wasn't someone who drew much attention. His life revolved around classes, football, and video games; always slightly better than he seemed, but with no desire to prove anything. He had a fit body, shaped over years of playing as a defender, arms toned without exaggeration, and a posture that made people think he was more confident than he really was.
One night, like so many others, he was in his room playing video games on his computer. A lost match drove him crazy. He slammed the table, moved the monitor roughly, and stood up abruptly. Frustration blinded him for a moment.
"I can't take this anymore…" he muttered, running his hand over his face.
He left his room without thinking. Anger still boiled in his chest, and as he began to go down the stairs, his foot slipped on the first step. He didn't see where he stepped. He had no time to react.
The world spun.
His body collided step after step, and finally his head hit the lower edge. A sharp pain exploded at the back of his skull… and then nothing.
Darkness.
When he felt something again, it wasn't his bed, nor the cold floor of his house. It was earth. Grass. A smell of wet wood.
He slowly opened his eyes. He was lying in the middle of a small forest. A strange sky filtered through the leaves.
He got up carefully, touching the back of his neck.
"What…? Where… am I?" he whispered, still dazed, though surprisingly without pain.
His clothes were the same: sports shorts, a comfortable black hoodie, and his sneakers. But the place… made no sense.
He walked unsteadily until a path led him to a small village. Wooden houses, people carrying baskets, children running in simple clothing. As soon as they saw him, the villagers looked at him with a mix of curiosity and distrust.
An older man approached, both intrigued and cautious.
"Young man… are you from somewhere far away? Your clothes aren't from around here."
Rowan swallowed. He didn't know what to say without sounding crazy.
"I think… I'm lost. Could you tell me where I am?"
The man frowned.
"You're in the village of Athel. But… I've never seen clothes like that. Seems like you come from some strange city."
Rowan looked away.
"I just need to understand where I am. And… maybe some help."
The villager studied him for a moment, as if weighing whether to trust him or not.
"I can't give you much, but if you need food, you'll have to work. No one here survives without working."
"I understand," Rowan replied. "Is there anything I can do?"
The villager pointed to a half-empty cart.
"I'm taking fruit to the village market. If you help me collect it and load it, I can give you some food and maybe a coin."
It wasn't much, but it was something. Rowan nodded.
"All right. I appreciate your help."
"Before that…" said the man, "what happened to you? You walk as if you just woke from a bad dream."
Rowan hesitated, but answered with partial honesty.
"I think… I had an accident. I don't remember clearly."
The man let out a sigh.
"Then, while you're here, take care. The forest doesn't forgive the careless."
Rowan followed the villager, still processing reality. Nothing fit. Nothing made sense.
But one thing was clear:
He seemed to be in a different world.
He didn't know if what was happening was real or just a dream, but he would need to survive before looking for answers.