The painting or perhaps something greater — was the last thing he saw before everything went black. Darkness swallowed him whole.
—
A low groan slipped from Elian's lips as the world around him seemed to shift beneath him — like it was… swaying. His head spun violently, enough to nearly drag him back into unconsciousness.
When the nausea faded, he found himself flat on the ground on his stomach, cheek pressed against something cold and solid. Not the smooth marble of the museum floor — no. This was different. Rough. Uneven. Earth.
This isn't the museum. He thought to himself.
Dirt clung to his skin. His once-clean clothes were now stained, streaked with mud. He exhaled sharply through his nose, brushing his delicate fingers over his cheek in an attempt to wipe the grime away — only to smear it further.
"Brilliant." He muttered
"Absolutely brilliant."
He slowly rose to his feet, brushing off his coat. Leaves crackled beneath his boots. He looked around, expecting — hoping — for some sort of landmark, a structure, even ruins.
Nothing.
Just towering trees, birdsong in the far distance, and the buzzing of unseen insects. A forest — thick, still, and unfamiliar. The sun shone harshly above, almost blinding as it filtered through the swaying branches against his skin, carrying the scent of earth and leaves.
Birds chirped somewhere in distance, then quieted — as if sensing something he didn't.
The trees creaked gently as they swayed, whispering low secrets in a language only the forest understood. The wind stirred again, ruffling his coat. It was peaceful — but too still. Too watchful.
His heart was pounding. He could feel it in his throat, behind his eyes. But he pushed it down — calmly, carefully, the way he always did.
"I was at the museum," He muttered to himself. "So why the hell am I here?"
His hand clenched into a fist, more out of instinct than intention — frustration, confusion, and the weight of too many question pressing against his chest.
What brought him here? Why?
The voice at the museum — was it real? A hallucination? Or worse… a lure?
The thought twisted in his gut. Had someone orchestrated this? Had he been distracted — then taken? But why?
He wasn't important. He had no enemies.
All he'd ever done was seek knowledge. Preserve the past.
And yet… here he was, torn from his world and dropped into another, with nothing but silence for an answer.
—
He couldn't stand still. Fear clawed at the edges of his thoughts — fear of where he might be, or what could've happened to him. Worse… what if he was injured and didn't know it yet?
Still, standing there like a statue wasn't going to save him.
Better to move forward than rot in place like a tree waiting to be struck.
Once more, he cast a glance around, sharp and cautious, before starting forward. His only guide was instinct — and his mind, sharpened by years of study, strategy and silent calculation. He need to know where he is.
He walked.
No destination, no direction — just the crunch of dries leaves beneath his boots and the endless curtain of trees stretching around him. He had nothing but himself… and the weight of survival pressing down on every breath.
Time blurred.
Every turn looked the same. Every patch of forest echoed the last. It felt like he was walking in circles, caught in some silent maze carved by the woods themselves.
How was he supposed to find a way out, when he didn't even know what path he was on?
His legs ached. His breathe grew shallow. Hunger gnawed at his gut, thirst thickened his tongue. And worst of all — doubt began to creep in.
He was tired.
Exhausted, really. No food. No water. No sign of life.
But even so… he couldn't give up.
Not now. Not when he had made it this far.
He shook his head, trying to chase the fog from his thoughts — as if clarity could be summoned by will alone. Then he kept walking.
…
Just when despair threatened to root him in place, fate, ever uninvited in his life, had interfered in his life once again… and now, in a rare flicker of grace, chose to guide him out of his misery instead.
A sound reached him, faint distant, but steady.
A rush.
Like water tumbling over rocks.
The echo of a waterfall prickled at his ears, rising above the forest's quiet like a whisper of hope.
Elian paused, head titling slightly.
"Could that be…?"
He hesitated.
Unarmed. Vulnerable. Alone.
For all he knew, the sound could lead to danger — a cliff, a wild animals, or even worse. But the thoughts of walking in circles until exhaustion claimed him… that was a death of a different kind.
And so, he moved — cautiously, but with purpose — following the sound, step by step, chasing the promise of water… or whatever waited beyond it.
…
After following the sound with careful steps, Elian finally reached the source. His eyes widened at the sight.
The waterfall cascaded down a jagged cliffside, water glinting like silver beneath the sunlight. It poured into a clear river below, its surface rippling gently as it stretched through the forest.
The view was so mesmerizing, he found himself frozen for a moment — breathe caught, thoughts quiet. Or perhaps — he was relieved that he was greeted by something else rather than those overwhelming trees.
Slowly, he made his was towards the edge, drawn by the sound, the light, and the faint mist brushing against his skin.
As he crouched near the river's edge, Elian leaned forward to catch his reflection in the water.
He frowned immediately. Pouting, even.
What stared back at him was a mess — a smear of dirt streaked his cheek, and his medium silver-birch hair was tangled beyond reason, a few leaves still clinging stubbornly to the strands.
It was pitiful.
"Is this part of fate's grand plan? Make me suffer, then humiliate me?"
…
"…Perfect. I suppose I could be the forest's newest tragic prince. How lovely."
An irritated sigh slipped from his lips as he glared at his own reflection in the water.
He dipped his hand in, cupping a small pool before bringing it to his mouth. The water was cold — clean enough — but he still took a cautious sip.
"Better than dying of thirst like a dehydrated stray mutt," he muttered, deadpan.
However, a thought crossed his mind.
"This better not be frog water." He gagged at the thought. Then again — he mentally scolded himself for thinking that way. Now he wouldn't be able to swallow it without thinking of frogs sliding down his throat.
He shakes his head multiple times before he cupped more water in his hands and splashed it over his face, rubbing away the streaks of dirt and dried leaves with annoyed swipes.
Water trickled down his face, dripping from his chin and soaking into the ends of his hair. The cold touch soothed something deep in him — not just the dirt, but the tight knot of irritation and unease curling inside his chest.
He exhaled slowly, letting the silence wrap around him.
Still… he needed answers.
"Where am I?"
The question lingered like a thorn in his mind.
But no — he was getting ahead of himself. Before worrying about "where", he needed to worry about "how" to stay alive. Priorities.
This was a forest. Dense, untamed… but forests didn't exist in isolation. If there was wilderness, then surely — somewhere — there had to be a sign of villages, a sign of human presence.
But that thought came with its own risks.
What if the people here don't trust strangers? What if they see me as a threat? Torture me for answers that I don't have?
He grimaced.
What a delightful spiral. Still, being wary wasn't weakness. It was survival. Suspicion could save your life.
"Being paranoid just means you plan to live longer," He muttered dryly to himself.
But,…
A thought crossed his mind.
What if I just lie and tell them that I am a traveler from a faraway land? seeking a shelter to sleep? Hold on — do I have to pay for a roof above my head? But I don't have any money on me...! Even if I do, what are the chances of my currency getting accepted? Peobably zero—
But before he could spiral further into his thoughts—
A sharp hiss cut through the air.
Something whistled past his ear, fast and deadly — an arrow. A sharp one at that.
It struck the tree just a few feet behind him with a solid "thunk", the shaft still quivering from the impact.
Elian froze. What... was that?