Roman's breath slammed back into his lungs as he jolted awake, air rushing out of him in a sharp gasp. His vision snapped into focus—stone pillars, towering walls, polished marble floors, banners embroidered with sigils he had never seen before. The air was heavy with the scent of incense and something older...something arcane.
He was lying on cold, ornate tiles.
No...not just him.
His classmates sprawled around him in a wide circle, some groaning, some coughing, others barely able to speak yet. And above them—looming with an overwhelming presence—was the raised dais of a vast throne room.
High ceilings arched like the inside of a cathedral. Dozens of armored guards lined the perimeter—still, silent, disciplined. There were robed figures as well, each holding glowing staves, the faint remnants of magic sparking around them like dying embers.
At the center of it all sat the king.
Golden crown. Long white cloak. Eyes like polished steel watching them with a strange combination of curiosity and satisfaction.
Roman pushed himself upright, heartbeat pounding against his ribs. His senses sharpened rapidly—every sound, every breath, every shift of armor ringing like a warning bell.
Where are they? Jordan...Rin...did they make it?
He quickly scanned the room.
Aiden Cross was the first he spotted—already kneeling, jaw tight, eyes scanning their surroundings like a strategist analyzing a battlefield. Aiden rarely panicked. Even now, he looked more alert than afraid.
Next was Mira Kesslin, frozen with wide hazel eyes and trembling hands pressed to her chest. Her copper ponytail was half undone, strands falling into her face as she stared around in a mixture of awe and disbelief.
Ren Takahiro sat rigidly on the floor, glasses slightly crooked, hands gripping his knees. His analytical mind was probably scrambling to rationalize a phenomenon that had no logic whatsoever.
Selene Ward was beside him, face unreadable, but her blue eyes sharp and calculating—already judging the room, the guards, the king, the exit routes. Detached but alert.
Lena Hartwell knelt with her arms wrapped around herself, shaking lightly, her soft brown eyes darting between classmates as if checking which of them needed help.
The rest of the students formed a scattered circle—fear, confusion, shock dominating every expression.
But Roman's chest tightened—he still didn't see—
"Roman."
The whisper came from behind him.
He turned sharply.
Jordan and Rin stood only a few feet away.
Jordan looked pale, but breathing—alive—his hazel eyes widening with relief when they met Roman's. Rin hovered at his side, steadying him with one hand, her own golden eyes focused entirely on Roman with unmistakable concern.
He moved toward them instinctively—but Rin subtly shook her head and Jordan lifted a hand, palm down.
Stay still.
Stay quiet.
Roman froze.
Because they weren't alone here.
This wasn't a dream.
This wasn't a hallucination.
This was real—painfully, terrifyingly real.
He slowly turned toward the throne.
The king rose from his seat, robes flowing like a river of white and gold, his expression calm—almost welcoming—as the magical glow finally faded from the ritual circle beneath the students' feet.
When he spoke, his voice boomed through the hall, echoing in every corner, leaving no space for doubt.
"Heroes from another world..."
The guards stood at attention. The mages lowered their staves. Every student fell silent.
"I'm glad you've all managed to cross over without casualty."
Jordan muttered softly under his breath, "Cross over? As in—like—dimensions?"
Rin's hand tightened on his sleeve, silencing him.
Roman didn't speak. He couldn't.
His heart thudded once—hard—as the king continued.
"I have summoned you here not because our world is in peril...nor because we face some demon king. No, we ended that threat centuries ago."
Some students exchanged confused glances. Others simply stared.
"I summoned you all," the king said, spreading his arms in a grand gesture, "because I desire heroes at my disposal."
Mira choked. Ren looked like he forgot how to breathe. Selene's eyes hardened with suspicion.
The king smiled faintly.
"You see...upon arrival, the mana of our world has already seeped into your bodies, granting each of you unique abilities. Powerful ones."
A ripple of shock swept through the class.
"However," the king added, voice dropping lower, "you must remember one rule that governs our world: the stronger the magic... the greater its weakness and recoil. This rule has maintained balance since the dawn of Eltoria."
Eltoria.
The name hit Roman like a thrown stone.
This wasn't Earth.
This wasn't Brooklyn.
This wasn't even remotely close to anything rational.
The king's gaze slowly swept over each student, as if memorizing them.
"After this explanation, my servants will provide you all with clothing more suited to our land. You will then be free to explore the kingdom—until I require your aid."
The torches lining the walls flickered, shadows dancing around the throne.
"And when I do require you," he said, voice resonating deep and commanding, "you will know. A messenger raven will seek you out. That is when you shall come before me again."
Silence fell like a heavy cloak.
Jordan exhaled shakily.
Rin lowered her eyes, visibly calculating the situation.
Roman just stared at the king, the weight of reality settling like lead in his chest.
They weren't in class.
They weren't in Brooklyn.
They weren't going home anytime soon.
And for the first time in years...
Roman wasn't sure what he was supposed to do next.