There was no wind.
No sun.
No sky.
Only color.
It shifted overhead in waves—purple into green, green into silver, like oil spilled across water. The air smelled of warm stone and something sweet, like wild berries and rain-soaked wood. Mike lay on his back in a bed of soft moss that glowed faintly beneath him. He didn't remember falling. He barely remembered standing in the barn, holding the device, pressing the glowing glyph that pulsed to his touch.
Then light—blinding and endless—and now… this.
He sat up slowly.
Around him stretched a forest, but not one like the woods back home. These trees were impossibly tall, their trunks glowing with slow pulses of light. Vines swayed on their own, like fingers feeling the air. The leaves were translucent, veined with blue and violet.
"Where am I?" Mike whispered.
His voice sounded different. Muffled, almost like it didn't belong here.
He stood, testing his balance. The bow was still on his back. The satchel still slung over his shoulder. The pendant Harold had given him was cool against his chest.
Mike took one cautious step forward.
The moss beneath his feet responded—glowing brighter as he moved. A path began to form, as if the ground itself was guiding him.
It was beautiful.
And terrifying.
As he walked, strange sounds echoed in the distance—hollow birdcalls, gurgling winds, and a distant chime like bells hung in water. Small creatures darted between tree roots, too fast to see clearly. One looked like a squirrel with feathered wings. Another shimmered out of sight before he could focus on it.
After maybe an hour, Mike reached a clearing, and there he found it—curled beneath a tangle of glowing thorns.
A baby eagle.
Its feathers were white, streaked with gray, and one wing was bent awkwardly. Blood—deep red and too bright—matted its side.
Mike's heart squeezed. He stepped forward slowly, kneeling beside it.
"Hey there," he said gently, reaching into his satchel for a cloth and a small vial of herb paste. "You're alright now. I've got you."
The eagle blinked weakly but didn't move. It was barely breathing.
Mike worked fast. He cleaned the wound with a splash of water from his flask, then spread the paste over the break and wrapped it as best he could with the cloth. When he finished, he sat beside the creature, unsure what else to do.
"You're not from my world either, huh?" he murmured.
The eagle shifted, just a little, its beak parting slightly as if trying to speak.
Mike smiled faintly. "I'll call you Aero."
The name felt right.
Mike sat there for a long time, the two of them surrounded by glowing trees and a sky that wasn't a sky. He didn't know where he was or how far from home he had come.
But as Aero breathed steadily beside him, Mike knew one thing for certain.
He was no longer alone.