For a long moment, Alex could only kneel on the cold stone floor, heart hammering in his chest. The portal was gone. His world was gone—sealed away as if it had never been. "No… no…" he whispered into the emptiness, a tremor in his voice echoing off ancient walls. Panic clawed at him, but he forced it down. Stay calm, he urged himself. If he lost it now, he'd be done for.
He retrieved the fallen wrench and clicked the flashlight switch a few times in vain. It must have shorted out during his transit through the portal. He shoved it into his jacket pocket and surveyed the chamber. The light filtering in came from cracks in the ceiling, through which he could see slivers of a night sky. Pale, cold moonlight—though the moon itself was out of view—illuminated scattered debris on the floor: splintered wood, ancient pottery shards, and something that glinted near one wall.
Alex approached the glinting object. It was a tarnished metal lantern lying on its side. When he lifted it, it rattled; inside were desiccated remains of a candle. He fumbled through his pockets and found his lighter—thankfully one thing that still worked. With some effort, he lit the stub of the ancient candle. It sputtered but then a small warm flame steadied, casting dancing shadows.
The chamber came alive in that fragile light. The walls were indeed carved with symbols and reliefs that looked like scenes of figures wielding elements—fire, water, wind, earth. One panel depicted a robed man holding a flame in his hand; another showed a woman riding a gust of wind. Alex stared at them in awe. This place felt old, far older than anything he knew on Earth.
He murmured to himself, voice echoing softly, "What is this place…?"
As if in answer, a distant howl reverberated through the stone halls beyond the chamber's single archway. Alex froze, lantern clutched in one hand, wrench white-knuckled in the other. The howl was low, guttural, and unlike any animal he'd ever heard in the woods back home. It spoke of something hungry.
His mind raced. Maybe stepping through wasn't my brightest idea. Dry humor bubbled up as a coping mechanism. Too late now, Alex. With the portal gone, forward was the only option.
He inched toward the archway, peering out into a dark corridor that stretched into shadows. The air here was damp and heavy. Another faint sound—a scrabbling of claws on stone—echoed, difficult to tell which direction it came from. Alex felt the hairs on his neck rise. He was being watched.
For a moment, he considered staying in this chamber until daylight. But what if daylight was far off—if this world even had a day-night cycle like Earth? And that howl suggested he might not be alone for long. Better to move than be cornered.
Steeling himself, Alex stepped through the archway into the corridor. The lantern's glow illuminated dust motes swirling in air that hadn't been disturbed in ages. He saw more of the strange symbols along the corridor walls as he crept forward. Some stones underfoot were loose, and he nearly tripped more than once. Each time, he paused, heart hammering, listening for any sign of pursuit.
The corridor eventually opened into a wider hall with a partially collapsed roof. Moonlight—brighter now—spilled through a gash in the ceiling, revealing rubble and what might have once been an altar at the center. The howling had stopped, but Alex remained on edge. His pulse was loud in his ears.
Crossing the hall carefully, he stepped over chunks of fallen stone. As he passed the altar, he noticed something that made him pause: dried dark stains on the stone floor, leading towards a large pair of wooden doors that hung crooked on their hinges. The stains looked old, but unmistakably blood. Alex's stomach churned. What happened here?
He approached the doors. One had partly fallen and was split down the middle; the other creaked as it swayed gently. Beyond them, he could see faint bluish light. Maybe an exit?
Alex squeezed through the gap between the door and frame, emerging into the open night. He found himself outside the ruins of what he now realized was a temple or shrine built into a hillside. Overgrown weeds and twisted trees encroached on stone pathways. A half-collapsed stone arch marked the entrance from which he emerged.
Above, the sky was a tapestry of unfamiliar stars. Directly overhead hung a huge moon—no, two moons—one a silver crescent and the other a smaller, reddish orb glowing faintly behind wisps of cloud. The sight was so alien and breathtaking that for a moment Alex forgot his fear. "Definitely not in Kansas anymore," he whispered shakily, a half-hearted grin tugging at his face.
The night air was cold but fresh compared to the musty ruin. In the distance, beyond a stretch of dark forest, he thought he saw a faint orange glow against the horizon—perhaps a fire or lights of a settlement. Hope fluttered in his chest at the prospect of finding other people. Even if they were strangers, even if everything here was strange, any company was better than wandering alone in the dark.
Clutching the lantern, Alex carefully descended a set of worn stone steps that led from the hillside shrine down toward a narrow trail. The forest loomed ahead, a wall of black pines and tangled underbrush. The trail was just visible in the moonlight, winding into those woods in the general direction of the distant light.
He had taken only a few steps along the path when a snapping of twigs to his right made him halt. Lantern raised, he squinted into the gnarled bushes. Silence. Then—swift as a shadow—a creature lunged out onto the path in front of him.
Alex's shout of alarm barely escaped his lips as he stumbled back. The creature was low to the ground and canine, but unlike any dog or wolf he had seen. Its eyes reflected the lantern light with a sickly green shine. Patches of fur were missing from its mangy hide, and bony spines jutted from its back. It snarled, lips pulling away to reveal jagged fangs. Saliva dripped from its maw, sizzling when it hit the dirt as though acidic.
The monstrous wolf—if that's what it was—stalked toward Alex, head low. Another rustle in the bushes revealed a second pair of glowing eyes. He was being flanked.
Alex's mouth went dry and his hands trembled around his makeshift weapons. I'm going to die here. The thought flashed by, cold and bitter. Not an hour ago he had been safe (if unhappy) in his own home, and now he was about to be ripped apart in some nightmare forest. Part of him wanted to laugh at the absurdity, but terror held it down.
The first wolf-beast snarled again and pounced. Alex yelped and swung the wrench wildly. By sheer luck, the heavy tool connected with the creature's skull. There was a crack and it yelped, knocked aside mid-leap. Pain jolted up Alex's arm from the impact, but adrenaline pushed him on. The second wolf was already springing from the flank. Alex whirled, throwing the lantern at it. The glass shattered on the beast's face; the flame inside burst out, momentarily engulfing the creature in a wash of fire and burning oil. The wolf-creature howled an ear-splitting scream, shaking its head madly as flames clung to its hide.
Alex didn't wait to see if it would die. The first wolf was recovering, scrabbling back to its feet with a bloodied head. Alex ran. He sprinted down the forest path, darkness closing in now that his lantern was gone. Branches whipped at his face and arms. Behind him, the enraged howl of the burning creature mingled with the furious cry of its companion. They were giving chase.
He forced himself onward, lungs burning, heart pounding as loudly as the footfalls behind him. The path was barely visible. Twice he nearly careened off into the trees. Faster. He had to be faster. A fallen log loomed at the last second—Alex leapt, clearing it with a burst of desperate strength. One of the beasts snapped just behind his heel with a snarl.
Up ahead, through the weave of branches, that orange glow he'd seen earlier was closer now—definitely firelight. A chance at rescue, or at least more light to ward these things off. "Help!" Alex screamed into the night, his voice raw with fear. "Anybody!"
His cry seemed to make the creatures hesitate a fraction, as if wary of a potential trap. Alex burst through a wall of foliage at the forest's edge and nearly pitched forward down a small embankment. Below, in a hollow between the hills, a campfire crackled, surrounded by a handful of rough tents. And rising from beside it, mid-guard, was a figure cloaked in tattered leathers, drawn by the commotion.
Alex half-ran, half-slid down the slope. He heard the stranger shout in a language he didn't recognize—a warning or a battle cry, he wasn't sure. The stranger snatched up something from beside the fire, then moved surprisingly fast towards Alex. In the firelight, Alex caught a glimpse of a lean, muscular woman with ash-gray hair cropped short. She brandished a spear tipped with a gleaming blade that danced with reflected flame.
Behind Alex, the first wolf-beast burst from the trees, snarling. The woman met it with a ferocious lunge, spear driving into the creature's open maw and out through the back of its skull. She yanked the weapon free with a wet jerk, not pausing as the beast fell. The second creature emerged, charred and maddened. It lunged for the woman's flank, but she was faster—she thrust out her free hand and a burst of icy wind howled forth from her palm. The gale struck the beast like a physical force, knocking it back and coating it in frost. The creature whimpered, limbs shivering as ice crackled over its body.
Alex stared, dumbfounded. Magic—there was no other word for it. Elemental magic, just like the temple carvings had hinted. The woman had summoned a gust of frigid air from nothing.
She ended the second wolf with a swift thrust to its frozen throat. Silence fell, save for Alex's ragged breathing and the crackle of the campfire. He realized he had fallen to his knees, exhausted and in shock.
The woman turned towards him, spear still in hand, her stance wary. In the fire's glow, her eyes were sharp and a deep amber color. A long scar ran from her jaw to her temple. She looked human, but something in her taut posture and the faint luminescence in her irises told Alex she might not be entirely ordinary. Then again, what is ordinary here?
She said something in that strange language again—a terse question by the tone—but Alex could only shake his head, chest heaving. "I-I don't understand," he managed to rasp.
Her eyes narrowed. She took a step closer, spear angled partially between them. "Who are you?" she asked this time, haltingly, in accented but understandable English.
Alex's eyes widened in surprise. "You speak English?" It came out almost as a laugh of relief. The familiarity of words on his tongue was a balm.
"I speak Common," she replied, frowning. "Answer me. What are you doing out here? Are you alone?" Her gaze flicked to the woods, as if checking for others.
"I…" How could he possibly explain? He felt a hysterical urge to laugh again at the absurd truth: Well, I just fell through a portal in my basement and ended up here, fought some mutant wolves, and… hi. That would go over well. He settled on a half-truth. "I got lost," he said weakly. "I'm not from around here."
The woman's frown deepened. "Lost? You're lucky to be alive. These woods are crawling with wraith-wolves at night, not to mention patrols." She lowered the spear slightly but did not fully relax. Up close, Alex could see she was maybe in her late twenties, her face smudged with dirt and hardened by determination. She wore a patchwork of leather armor reinforced with metal plates on the shoulders and chest. A symbol was etched into one of the plates—a crescent moon entwined with a thorny rose.
Alex's racing thoughts snagged on one word she said. "Patrols? Patrols of what?"
Before she could answer, another voice called from the camp, speaking the unfamiliar language. Two more figures approached: a burly man with a bandaged arm carrying a sword, and a younger man—perhaps an older teen—with a bow in hand. They eyed Alex suspiciously.
The woman replied to them in their tongue, then turned back to Alex. "My name is Serah," she said briskly. "We'll talk more inside the warding circle, not out here in the open." She gestured for Alex to follow as she ascended the short slope back towards the fire and tents.
Alex rose unsteadily, retrieving his wrench from where it had fallen nearby. Serah raised an eyebrow at the battered tool but said nothing. He followed her, flanked at a distance by the other two men who kept a watchful eye, their weapons still drawn. Exhaustion was settling into his limbs; the adrenaline crash left him aching and dizzy. But he had so many questions swirling in his mind that it overpowered the fatigue for now.
They entered the circle of firelight. Alex noticed strange carved stones placed evenly around the campsite, faint runes on them glimmering in response to Serah's presence. Some kind of magical perimeter, he guessed—the warding circle she mentioned, likely to keep creatures away. The camp itself was sparse: a few bedrolls, crates, and three tents. The remains of a stew in a pot hung over the fire, giving off a meaty aroma that reminded Alex how long it had been since he'd eaten.
Serah pointed to a log by the fire. "Sit. You look like you'll fall over if you don't."
Alex didn't argue. He sank onto the log, the warmth of the fire finally reaching his cold skin. The man with the bandaged arm put away his sword but continued to stare, while the younger bowman kept an arrow loosely nocked, just in case.
Serah leaned her spear against a stump and crouched across from Alex, studying him in the flickering light. "Now," she said, "you're going to tell me exactly who you are and how you wandered into the middle of Tirnen Forest at this hour dressed like…" she waved a hand vaguely at his clothes, "…like that." Her tone carried suspicion, but also curiosity.
Alex glanced down at himself. He must have been a bizarre sight: sneakers caked in mud, jeans torn at the knee from his tumble, a modern hoodie under his light jacket. By the looks of Serah and her companions, none of those items were commonplace here.
He took a deep breath. The truth sounded insane, and lying might be dangerous if they caught it. But maybe a version of it… "My name is Alex," he began slowly. "I come from… far away. I know I don't look like anyone you've met. I got lost after…" He hesitated, then decided to stick as close to truth as he dared. "…after I passed through a sort of portal."
He watched their faces for a reaction. The bandaged man and the young archer exchanged puzzled, wary looks. Serah's eyes widened a fraction. "A portal? You mean one of the old gates?" she asked sharply.
Alex shrugged helplessly. "I don't know what it was. I found a crack… a doorway, maybe. One moment I was in my world—very far from here—and then I stepped through and ended up in some ruin up on that hill." He pointed in the direction he'd come from. "I swear I'm not an enemy or a spy or anything. I'm just as confused as you are."
Serah studied him in silence. The only sounds were the popping of the fire and the distant call of night insects. Finally, she spoke in a softer tone, almost to herself, "The Ancestors' Gate… after all this time." Clearing her throat, she fixed Alex with a firm gaze. "Alex, you said? Fine. Suppose I believe you—suppose—it still leaves the matter of what to do with you."
The younger man with the bow muttered something in their language, his tone doubtful. Serah replied curtly over her shoulder, seeming to dismiss whatever concern he raised. She continued in English for Alex's sake. "We are…," she paused as if weighing her words, "travelers, let's say. And these are dangerous lands to travel, as you've seen. We can't just have strangers wandering about. Especially not near our camp."
Alex sensed the guarded warning in her voice. He was keenly aware of the two men standing behind him now. He raised his hands placatingly. "I have nowhere to go," he said earnestly. "Believe me, if I knew how to leave, I'd be gone. I won't cause trouble. If you want me to leave camp, I will… but could you at least tell me where I am? Maybe point me toward a town or something?"
Serah's hard expression flickered with what might have been sympathy. She exchanged a glance with the older man, who gave a reluctant nod. "You're in Arlen—what remains of it," she said, seating herself on a nearby crate. "Tirnen Forest is one of the last stretches of the old wilderness that hasn't been fully tamed by the Empire. Closest town is Greyford, a few hours east on foot, but it's under curfew and heavy watch."
"Empire?" Alex asked, latching onto the familiar term. "What empire?"
That made the archer boy smirk, as if Alex had asked what the sun was. Serah answered patiently, "The Vel'dorn Empire. The empire that claims these lands and most beyond. Where exactly did you say you came from, that you don't know this?"
Alex rubbed his forehead. "A place far from here. Maybe… another world altogether." The more he said it, the more real it felt. He wasn't dreaming or hallucinating; the ache in his muscles and the cuts on his arms from the forest were proof enough. "Vel'dorn Empire," he repeated, committing the name to memory. "And you… you're not part of it, I take it?"
Serah gave a humorless chuckle. "Not anymore." She did not elaborate, instead nodding toward her companions. "That's Darius," she indicated the burly man who finally sheathed his sword and gave a gruff nod, "and Caleb," the teen with the bow gave a curt wave. "We're, as I said, travelers. Some might use the word rebels but I prefer not to bandy that term about."
Alex's mind immediately connected the dots—fugitives from the Empire, maybe. Rebels. So there was indeed some kind of uprising or resistance happening. "You're fighting against the Empire," he said quietly, glancing at their meager camp. It didn't look like much of an army, just four people including their scout. Maybe part of a larger group?
Darius snorted. "Fighting, surviving, running—it all blurs together these days."
Serah shot Darius a warning look, then returned her attention to Alex. "It's not safe for anyone to wander alone, especially not someone clueless about where he is. The Emperor's patrols are the least of your worries in these wilds. Those wraith-wolves you met, for example—they're creatures twisted by dark magic seeping into this region. The closer you get to old battlefields or cursed sites, the worse the abominations become."
She was speaking more openly now. Alex leaned forward, absorbing every word. "What caused it? The dark magic, I mean."
Serah's jaw tightened. "A war. A very old one, that never truly ended." She eyed him as if gauging how much to tell an outsider. "Let's just say the Empire's expansion wasn't without resistance. A lot of blood was spilled not far from here, years ago. The land remembers."
Alex recalled the dried bloodstains in the ruins, the howls, the unnatural wolves. A chill not entirely from the night air ran through him. "And you're expecting trouble tonight? You mentioned patrols."
Caleb, the younger rebel, answered this time. "There's a garrison nearby," he whispered. "Imperials sometimes sweep through the forest to flush out camps like ours. They'd kill us on sight if they found us." His tone held a mix of bitterness and fear that suggested he'd seen it happen before.
Serah added, "We have a scout out keeping watch for that. Still, it's best not to linger in one spot too long." She studied Alex once more, then made a decision. "You can stay with us till dawn. No sense sending you off in the dark to get eaten. But come morning, we'll escort you to Greyford's outskirts. From there, you're on your own."
Darius looked like he wanted to object, but a stern glance from Serah kept him silent. Alex released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Thank you," he said sincerely. It was more kindness than he'd expected from strangers who had every reason to distrust him.
Serah nodded, then reached behind her neck and unclasped a short woolen cloak she was wearing. She tossed it to Alex. "Wrap yourself and get some rest. You're shivering."
He caught it and realized only then how cold he was. The adrenaline of the chase and fight had masked it, but now he felt the damp chill of sweat on his skin in the night air. He muttered his thanks and draped the cloak around himself. Its rough-spun fabric was frayed in places and it carried the scent of woodsmoke and pine… but it was wonderfully warm.
As the others settled somewhat—Darius returning to quietly stoke the fire, Caleb retreating to a perch on a rock with his bow across his lap—Serah remained near Alex. She pulled a small cloth bundle from a pack and offered it to him. Inside were strips of dried meat and bits of hard bread. "Eat. You'll need your strength."
Alex hadn't realized just how hungry he was until the smell of the food hit him. He chewed gratefully, finding the meat salty and gamey but tolerable, the bread tough but filling. It was a humble meal, but it felt like a feast after the night's ordeals.
Serah watched him for a moment, then spoke quietly so the others wouldn't overhear. "Alex, I don't know what fate dropped you into this land, but here's some advice. Trust is earned slowly here. If people think you're aligned with the wrong side or if they sense weakness, they will exploit or eliminate you. Keep your story about being from another world to yourself unless you find someone you truly trust. Most will think you mad or worse."
Alex swallowed the last bite of bread and nodded. "Understood," he murmured. He hesitated, then asked softly, "Why are you helping me at all?"
She was silent for a moment, eyes reflecting the dancing flames. When she answered, her voice had a distant, haunted quality. "Years ago, someone helped me when I was lost and alone. I suppose I owe it to them to pay it forward." The corner of her mouth twitched in a ghost of a wry smile. "Besides, you looked so pathetic stumbling into the firelight. I couldn't very well let the wolves have you."
Despite everything, Alex let out a breathy chuckle at that, a genuine if small smile breaking through his exhaustion. "Lucky me," he said. "Thank you, Serah. For everything."
She just nodded. Rising, Serah patted his shoulder once—an oddly comforting gesture—and then went to confer quietly with Darius near one of the tents.
Alex pulled the cloak tighter, feeling the weight of the night finally descend upon him. His body ached, and every scratch and bruise now made itself known. But for the first time since stepping through the portal, he was safe, at least for the moment. An overwhelming fatigue draped over him. His mind churned with questions and uncertainties—What have I gotten myself into? Could I ever return home?—but those thoughts began to blur as exhaustion took hold.
He watched the flames dance, the warmth easing his trembling. Serah's group clearly had their secrets and he had his own. Yet for now, in this small circle of light amid a dark and foreign world, he allowed himself to close his eyes for just a moment of rest.
The last thing he heard before sleep claimed him was Serah's voice somewhere behind him, speaking softly in that lilting language of theirs, and the crackle of the fire whispering a lullaby under the twin moons.