Adrián let the receiver fall onto the nightstand.
"Did you find anything?" he asked with the calm of a man who handles volcanoes and court systems before breakfast.
The operator's voice came through tense, consonants dragging.
"Yes… sir. There's a structure. Ancient. Something that looks like… a door. Beneath the main vein. Hidden in the rock."
Adrián arched a brow and glanced toward Meilan. She was still asleep, naked beneath the sheets. Her breathing was deep and steady—a quiet contrast to the chaos they themselves had unleashed the night before. The battle had been intense. Brutal. Relentless.
She, however, slept like the world hadn't shifted.
"Let her rest," Adrián said, almost smiling. His tone blended pragmatism and dry cynicism. "Waking her after last night would be… unwise. Better she sleeps."
The operator cleared his throat.
"Should we investigate immediately?"
"No," Adrián replied, resting an arm along the back of the chair. "Don't touch anything. I'm on my way… after I finish my coffee."
He stood, crossed to the bed, and pressed a soft kiss to Meilan's forehead before leaving. She didn't stir.
Taking a slow sip of coffee, Adrián studied the holographic map floating above the table.
"A door," he murmured. "Inside a mountain. Let's hope it comes with treasure."
Deep within the mountain, no one noticed the shadow slipping between the columns of stone.
Security picked up movement, and Nara—momentarily alone—was quickly ushered toward Adrián.
Kael used the distraction.
Silent as dust, he moved forward. With a precise motion, he slid the jewel hanging from his neck into a narrow crevice between mineral veins. His eyes burned with a determination that shut out everything else.
The stone reacted instantly.
Electric-blue light pulsed through the rock. Ancient symbols spiraled into the air.
Kael didn't look around. Only he could see the path the jewel revealed—leading to something mythic.
Before anyone could react, the light swallowed him.
And the mountain swallowed them all.
Vertigo crashed into Adrián's senses.
Rock. Air. Gravity.
Everything twisted.
He felt himself floating and falling at once. An electric hum roared in his ears. His mind searched for reference points—angles, vectors, coordinates—but found nothing familiar.
When the light died, the world had changed.
The ground beneath his feet was soft and damp. The air carried a metallic tang mixed with scorched earth. Towering trees loomed overhead, their trunks twisted like spears. Shadows stretched and shifted as if alive.
Every step echoed strangely.
A distant murmur seemed to surround them—whispering something just beyond comprehension.
"Where… are we?" Adrián breathed.
He pulled out his phone.
No signal. No satellite lock. No map. Even the compass spun uselessly.
The forest hadn't merely trapped them.
It felt aware.
Every swaying branch, every lengthening shadow forced him to question his senses. His analytical mind hunted for patterns.
There were none.
Only chaos.
Alive.
Watching.
Adrián glanced at Nara and the others. Fear, confusion, disbelief—reflections of his own thoughts—tightened their faces.
"We stay together," he said, voice low and tight. "Move carefully."
They advanced slowly, each step a negotiation between survival and curiosity. The air vibrated faintly, as though every molecule reacted to their presence.
Sometimes he heard footsteps behind them that matched no one in the group.
Sometimes a sweet, metallic scent struck him, unsettling his memory.
After hours of uncertain movement, the forest began to thin.
A valley opened before them.
Adrián felt a chill run down his spine.
Light spilled from above like liquid, filtering through mist and turning every leaf into shimmering crystal.
And then they saw them.
Creatures that defied reason.
Deer with iridescent coats hovering inches above the ground. Beasts that seemed stitched together from multiple species. Birds whose wings reflected light like liquid mirrors.
The valley vibrated with their movement, as though it breathed to its own rhythm.
"This… this can't be real," Nara whispered.
Adrián felt awe and dread collide inside him. His calculating mind tried to categorize, classify, rationalize.
Nothing fit.
This place did not obey human rules.
A sudden rush of sound shattered the stillness.
A golden griffin burst from the shadows, stalking the iridescent herd. With a silent, deliberate beat of its wings, it struck.
The valley exploded into chaos—light, dust, animal cries.
Adrián and Nara ducked behind a rise, holding their breath.
The scene was savage.
Brutal.
Perfect.
This world had its own laws.
They were only visitors.
"How do we get back?" Adrián murmured.
Every step is an unknown. Shelter. Food. Perimeter. Survival first. Everything else is incalculable.
As he watched beauty and violence unfold together, one certainty settled in his mind:
Eldoria was not made for them.
They had arrived by accident.
And this world could devour them without effort.
Night began to fall.
Mist thickened across the valley, moving with unsettling intent. Shadows stretched longer. The wind carried a metallic whisper that raised goosebumps.
They needed shelter—fast.
Adrián paused, assessing.
Inside his mind, the inventory was precise:
Twenty bodyguards.Twenty pistols.Sixty magazines.
That was it.
No food.No tools.No information.
Morning would have to solve the rest.
Every tree could conceal something. Every rock could hide a predator.
Nara and the archaeologists followed in silence, eyes wide, struggling to accept the reality around them.
"Shelter first," Adrián muttered. "Then everything else."
He guided them toward a rocky rise that offered partial cover. Every strange sound—a crack, a hum, a whisper—tightened muscles and stole breath.
The forest did not forgive mistakes.
They were intruders.
Adrián knew it.
And as he ran through weapons and positioning in his mind, he understood:
The night would test their discipline, their strategy, their nerves.
There were no certainties.
Only survival until dawn.
They found refuge in a narrow cave, faintly lit by the last spill of twilight.
Cold, damp stone chilled their skin. Every sound from the forest outside echoed like a threat.
Adrián sat across from Nara, watching her uneven breathing.
"Talk," he said quietly but firmly. "What do you know? Where are we?"
Nara hesitated, swallowing hard.
"It's… it's a children's story," she whispered. "They said there was a door in the mountain. A doorway to another world. A place of treasure—but also danger. Mythic beings. Monsters no one could control. I thought it was just a tale to keep us from playing near the mountain."
Adrián processed every word.
"Wait," he said, disbelief threading his voice. "Are you saying we're… in another world?"
Nara nodded slowly, eyes wide and unfocused.
"I don't know. I never thought it was real. But this forest… those creatures… what else could it be?"
Silence pressed down on them.
Outside, wind scraped against stone. Something cracked in the trees, and both of them froze.
Responsibility settled heavily on Adrián's shoulders.
Every decision now carried unknown consequences in a world they did not understand.
"So everything we saw," he said quietly, "the deer, the griffin, the beasts… they're not legends. They're real. And we're trapped here."
Nara lowered her head, trembling.
The fear wasn't just of what lurked outside.
It was of the unknown.
Of a world that felt alive, conscious—capable of changing their lives or ending them at any moment.
Adrián inhaled slowly, forcing his analytical mind to adapt to chaos.
He had weapons.
He had trained men.
But nothing prepared him for absolute uncertainty.
"We stay together," he said at last. "We hold position. At first light, we explore carefully. Until then, no one leaves this cave."
The cave became an improvised sanctuary.
Outside, the forest breathed.
Watched.
Waited.
And inside, Adrián and Nara understood for the first time:
The mountain door was no story.
It was their reality.