Engulfed in a blaze of panic that seared like walking on hot coals, Torahm threw herself upward from the earth in a single, convulsive motion. Her heart hammered against her ribs, fluttering wildly like a trapped bird. Driven by the shadow of terror that loomed over her, she scrambled backward, putting distance between herself and the entity before her.
But the figure standing opposite her had changed. The colossal, skyscraper-high silhouette that had dwarfed her only moments ago had evaporated like morning mist. In its place stood a figure of manageable, human proportions, perfectly leveled with her own gaze. Her eyes, wide with suspicion and bewilderment, locked onto him; she scanned him intensely, her expression a giant question mark, desperate to unravel the enigma of his identity.
Saruel, noticing Torahm's retreat, arrested his stride. He paused, seemingly out of a desire not to churn the turbulent ocean of shock already raging within her.
In the heavy silence that followed, his gaze drifted past her shoulder, resting upon the sharp blade she carried strapped to her back. When he finally spoke, the movement of his lips was terrifyingly calm.
"I am Saruel," he declared. "The God of Lightning."
His voice didn't just vibrate in the air; it sank into her ears like the distant rumble of thunder. Yet, without waiting for a reaction, Saruel abandoned her there, slumping his shoulders in a casual, almost bored demeanor as he walked past her and continued forward.
Torahm could barely process what she had heard. "The God of Lightning?" she whispered the words to herself, testing their weight. As a physicist, the concept of 'lightning' was, to her, a natural phenomenon—a chaotic flow of electrons, a result of energy calculations and atmospheric friction—not the manifestation of a deity. The absurdity of it birthed a conflicted, cynical smirk deep within her. But this was no time for theoretical debates. She shook herself free and called out.
"Where are you going? ...Wait, where are we?"
Saruel halted. He did not turn to face her immediately. Instead, he closed his eyes and opened them slowly, a gesture heavy with fatigue or perhaps the ennui of an immortal, before lazily pivoting halfway around.
"Rama," he said, his voice laced with a strange, possessive undertone. "Welcome, Dr. Torahm."
He didn't wait for a rebuttal. Turning his face away, he resumed his trek. "This is the vast and great world; a virgin earth, undefiled by anyone, belonging to no one."
Torahm spun around, scanning her surroundings, and her senses collided in confusion. The earth and the sky seemed to merge, swallowed by a strange, phantasmagoric interplay of darkness and light. The clouds drifting above defied all meteorological norms, saturated with the hues of a rainbow. But it was what lay beyond the clouds that made her freeze, forcing her eyes to widen until they hurt.
Above... anchored in the roof of the heavens, two suns were burning.
"Two suns?" she muttered, the shock choking her voice. "Am I truly in another world?" The questions buzzed in her mind like a swarm of agitated bees. The laws of physics, her knowledge of astronomy—everything was jumbled.
Saruel was already ten meters away. Snapping out of her trance, she sprinted after him. Breathless, she overtook him and planted herself firmly in his path, blocking his way. Saruel stopped again, his composure unbroken.
"I understand you have many questions," he said, his voice hardening like tempered steel. "But I do not have the time for your inquiries right now."
Once again, his eyes flicked to the sword on her back. Torahm followed his gaze, instinctively realizing that the weapon she carried was perhaps the only thing not alien to this strange world.
"I am not asking you!" she shouted, raising her voice to mask the tremor of fear beneath it. "Take me back to my home the same way you brought me here! Now!"
Her words were framed as a command, but the emotion underlining them was a desperate plea. Saruel, however, remained indifferent to her distress. He placed two fingers in his mouth and unleashed a piercing, sharp whistle that split the air.
Instantly, the sky tore open.
A massive chariot, seemingly carved from a throne and pulled by two gargantuan white horses the color of milk, plummeted from the celestial rift. The thunderous galloping of the beasts rolled down like an avalanche as they nose-dived toward the ground with terrifying speed. Overwhelmed by the sheer majesty and power of the sight, Torahm recoiled, retreating toward Saruel's back—like a doe seeking shelter behind a predator to escape a beast.
The chariot and the steeds descended like a lightning bolt, yet the moment they reached Saruel, they halted with unnatural stillness. The aura of the horses was heart-stopping. Saruel unfurled a pair of magnificent, folded wings, flapping them with an air of arrogance as he ascended the chariot and took his seat upon the throne.
"Dr. Torahm," he said, looking down at her from his elevated perch. "At this moment, you have no better home than this. From now on, your home is Daruel."
His words made no sense to her. She furrowed her brow, ready to scream another question, when her eyes caught the foreheads of the horses. Protruding from the skull of each beast was a single, sharp horn. She looked up again, her gaze fixing on the twin suns burning in the sky.
Her mind, sharpened by years of scientific rigor, began to calculate involuntarily. Where is the thermal energy from these two stars going? Why don't I feel the heat intensity? What is the composition of this ozone layer? The questions raced through her synapses.
"Have you not decided?" Saruel's voice jolted her from her thoughts.
Torahm realized she had no choice. There was nowhere to run. She bowed her head in bitterness, but the moment she looked back up, it happened in a blur.
A force like a lash of living fire coiled around her waist, snatching her from the ground. Before she could scream, she was yanked upward, her feet leaving the earth as she floated through the air, feeling as though time had sped up while she was left behind.
She was pulled onto the chariot, landing with a heavy thud next to him, breathless and disoriented. As she struggled to gather her air, she turned to look at the creature seated beside her.
A being with the shape of a man, yet winged; a god who commanded lightning. Torahm, unable to reconcile this with her reality, lashed him with a look of profound suspicion and terror. Saruel offered no response.
The horned steeds turned their faces toward the heavens from whence they came, and together, they rocketed into the sky.