I woke up in a field.
Face in grass. Mouth full of something floral and suspiciously crunchy. My head was spinning, and everything smelled like parsley.
The sky above me looked too blue. The clouds too... curly?
> "Okay. That app seriously glitched."
I sat up slowly, brushing off scrolls that were tangled in my hoodie like clingy toilet paper. One fluttered angrily and nipped my ear before zooming off.
> "Ow. Okay. Magic paper. Got it."
That's when I heard the voice.
> "You're awake. Language core is stable. Good. We have work to do."
I turned to see a giant green owl floating midair.
It was massive — at least six feet from wingtip to wingtip, covered in runes, eyes glowing like neon spirals. Oh yeah, and it was absolutely judging me.
> "You again?!"
> "Yes. Duo. Remember me? You broke your streak, screamed about croissants, and then deleted the sacred app."
> "It wasn't that serious—"
> "It was sacred," he said flatly.
I scrambled to my feet, still swaying.
> "Where am I?"
> "Thistle," he said. "A realm where language is power. Words hold magic. Grammar can cause explosions."
> "Wait—grammar causes what now?"
He flapped once and glowing symbols fluttered around us.
> "Each word you learn shapes the world. Say it right, with intent and flow, and boom — spell. Say it wrong, and well…"
He gestured to a scorched tree in the distance. A squirrel was roasting marshmallows on the blackened stump.
> "You get firebutt."
> "Fantastic," I muttered. "So this is because I didn't finish a French lesson?"
> "You made a pact," he said. "You clicked 'Start Course.' That was an oath. You gave up. And now you've been... relocated."
> "So I'm not here to save the world?"
> "No. You're here as punishment."
> "Oh thank God."
> "But hey," Duo added, flapping to land on a floating rock, "if you do happen to learn something useful and not die in the process, maybe you'll become more than a disappointment."
> "Touching."
A scroll floated down beside me.
> [Language Core Initialized]
Class: Tongueborn (Unregistered)
Primary Language: French (13%)
Spell: Petit Feu (Small Fire)
Warning: Mispronunciation may cause minor combustion or butt-related flare-ups
> "Great," I muttered. "A fire spell I can barely say."
> "Then practice," Duo said. "And avoid flammable old men."
> "What?"
> "You'll see."
He flapped his wings once more, swirling into a spiral of punctuation marks, and vanished.
I was left standing there, with burning grass, scrolls fluttering past me like gossiping pigeons, and one singular thought:
> "I'm gonna die here. Probably while saying 'omelette du fromage.'"