His consciousness started to come back slowly. Everything hurt. His throat, his lungs, his arms. He tried to move and felt resistance. Cold metal against his wrists and ankles.
Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Getting closer.
Then a voice, low and rhythmic, speaking words that made his skin crawl.
"To dreamers cast upon the muddy silt, I grant a nap that no escape shall spoil. Before my help, a bargain must be built. Hold fast until I sever chain from coil."
Thomas's body jerked like he'd been shocked. His eyes snapped open. He tried to sit up but couldn't. Chains. Real chains, solid and cold, pinning him to the sand.
"Who..." His voice came out as a rasp. "Who are you?"
"And what could you be doing all alone around here?" Another voice. The one that had spoken the words.
Thomas blinked hard, forcing his vision to clear. Two figures stood over him. A girl and a boy, both around his age.
The girl had dark hair pulled back in a messy braid, loose strands falling around her face. She wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, brown trousers patched at the knees, and scuffed boots. A wide belt hung at her hips with a knife strapped to it.
The boy was pale and lanky, sharp features, with a vest over a stained shirt and suspenders holding up his trousers. He had a small notebook tucked under one arm and looked far too pleased with himself.
Thomas stared at them. Their clothes were wrong. Old-fashioned, like something out of a history book. And the surroundings... this wasn't Vrakos. The trees behind them were too tall, too dark, their trunks twisted in ways that didn't make sense.
He sighed, trying to process it. What is this? These people are totally different. And they're speaking English. There were no English people anywhere near Vrakos. Good thing he'd actually paid attention in his English literature classes.
He wasn't sure what to make of this. Were the others safe? Could he get home?
"Look at him ignoring us," the boy said.
"He's thinking, you bastard," the girl shot back.
"Maybe he's lost like us," she added, softer now.
The boy straightened up, that smug look still on his face. "Hey. I'm a pirate. My name is Iris. This is Callum."
"Pirates don't introduce themselves like that," Callum snapped. "And we aren't pirates. They threw us away."
"That was to assert dominance, Callum."
"That was stupid."
Thomas was already tired of them. "I'm a fisherman. I was swimming in the sea and got caught in the current. I ended up here after... an accident with the waves." He looked down at the chains again. "What kind of chains are these?"
Callum cleared his throat, standing a little taller. "So, we don't know where this is either. We're lost too, deep in the deadly sea." He paused for effect. "And I'm the one who tied you with those chains. I climbed to the second tier."
He was smiling now, proud and happy.
Thomas blinked. "What?"
"I said I'm a poet. Second tier. The chains are my work."
"A poet?" Thomas stared at him. "What does that have to do with chains?"
They both went quiet, staring at him now like he'd said something insane.
"What do you mean, what does that have to do with chains?" Iris asked slowly, her voice cautious.
"I mean... how did a poem tie me up? That doesn't make sense."
Callum and Iris exchanged a look.
"Are you messing with us?" Iris asked.
"No. I'm serious. How does saying words create chains?"
"Because that's what poems do," Callum said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Thomas shook his head. "But I write poems too. They don't do anything."
They both tensed. Iris's hand moved toward the knife at her belt. Callum took a step back.
"You're a poet?" Iris asked, her voice sharp now.
"Well, not officially. I just... write lines sometimes. For school. Or when I'm thinking about things."
"For school?" Callum repeated.
"Yeah. Art studies. We had to write poems sometimes."
Iris frowned. "So you're an apprentice then."
"I guess? I don't know. I've never called myself that."
"Have you built your library yet?" she asked.
Thomas blinked. "Library? What library? Why would I build a library?"
They stared at him.
"You haven't built your library," Callum said slowly, "but you write poems."
"Yeah."
"That doesn't make sense," Iris said.
"Well, it's true."
She crouched down, studying his face. "Where are you from?"
"Vrakos. It's a fishing village on the east coast."
"Never heard of it."
"Well, I've never heard of you either."
Callum snorted. Iris ignored him.
"Alright," she said. "I believe you. You're not lying. You're just... ignorant."
"Thanks," Thomas muttered.
"Can you get me out of this?" he added, pulling at the chains again.
Callum grinned. "I do have a counter for it." He straightened up, cleared his throat, and spoke again in that same rhythmic way.
"The chain is severed, coil now unspun. The debt of stillness is fully done."
The chains vanished. Just gone, like they'd never existed.
Thomas sat up slowly, rubbing his wrists. No marks. Nothing. He stared at Callum. "That's... that's incredible."
Callum's grin widened. "I know, right?"
"Don't glaze him like that," Iris said, but Callum was already basking in it.
Thomas looked between them. "So you can just... say things, and they happen?"
"If you're a poet, yeah," Iris said. "That's how it works."
"How does that work?"
"You really don't know anything, do you?"
"No. I don't."
Iris sighed. "Alright. Having an extra hand would be better anyway. We're in deep danger here, and it won't be easy getting out." She looked at Thomas. "If you want to survive, you need to learn. And fast."
Thomas nodded slowly. He didn't fully understand what was happening, but he knew one thing: this wasn't Vrakos. This wasn't anywhere he'd ever been. And if these two could make chains appear and disappear with words, he needed to figure out how.
"Alright," he said. "Teach me."
Iris nodded. "First, you need to build your library. That's where everything starts."
"And how do I do that?"
"Didn't anyone teach you?" Callum asked. "You just stay calm, close your eyes, connect your emotions and heart, and think of a small room. That simple."
"How long does it take?"
"Took me a day or two," Iris said. "I was a genius. Callum here did it in 4 days."
"Hey, you chose an easier school," Callum said. "I chose to be a Mocker. You chose to be a Mender."
"That doesn't matter."
"It does. You're actually the dumbest."
"Hey, look at him."
Thomas had already closed his eyes. He wasn't sure what they meant by emotions and heart, but he focused anyway. Tried to feel himself. His thoughts. His breath.
Stay calm. Think of a room.
He pictured it. A small room. Four walls. A floor. A single table in the center.
It felt real. He could almost walk around in it.
A library, Callum had said. Or maybe just a room. He focused harder, trying to hold the image.
Then it was gone.
Everything went dark.
Thomas opened his eyes. Iris and Callum were staring at him.
"Well?" Iris asked.
Thomas shook his head. "I... I think I failed."
"What happened?"
"I saw the room. I saw the table. But then it just... disappeared."
Iris frowned. "That happens sometimes. You have to hold it longer."
"How?"
"You'll figure it out. Everyone does."
Thomas looked down at his hands. He'd felt something. Just for a second. Like a door opening, then slamming shut.
"Can I try again?"
"Not now," Iris said. "You're exhausted. And we need to move. This beach isn't safe."
Thomas looked around. The tree line loomed behind them, dark and wrong. The sky overhead was too bright in places, too dim in others.
"What's out there?" he asked.
"We don't know," Iris said. "But we're not alone."
Thomas felt a chill run through him. He thought of his friends. His parents. Vrakos.
"Alright," he said quietly. "Let's go."