It had been a couple hours since the skeleton attack, yet none of them could make sense of what happened. They kept replaying the fight in their minds, Killian's lightning, the giant skeleton, the impossible speed. The forest around them felt too calm, as if the world had forgotten what they'd just survived.
As they walked, talking quietly about Killian's new powers, they stumbled onto a beaten dirt trail. A path. Finally, something man-made. They hoped it led somewhere safe, or at least somewhere human.
They followed it.
Silas, ever alert, suddenly froze mid-step. His eyes flicked upward.
"Guys..." he whispered. "I think we're being watched. Look. Up. Slowly."
Killian and Deandre glanced up just long enough to see shadowed figures perched in the trees, silent, motionless, masked. They wore dark cloth, looked unarmed, but something about them radiated danger.
Killian opened his mouth to whisper a plan. Too late.
A flick of movement from above. Then a sharp thunk.
Deandre stumbled forward, a small dart sticking out of his shoulder.
"Dre!" Silas yelled as he caught him. The big man groaned and dropped to one knee.
Smart play, Killian realized. Take out the strongest one first.
"How are we supposed to get out of this one?" Silas asked, fear creeping into his voice.
Killian had no answer.
Ten figures dropped from the trees at once, silent, controlled, landing in a semicircle around them. Their masks were smooth and expressionless. One stepped forward and pulled back his hood. He was bald, with three burned dots on his scalp and a chiseled face carved with discipline. His deep brown eyes didn't blink once as he studied them.
When he spoke, his voice was strong and intimidating.
"What business do you have in this forest?"
English. Killian and Silas nearly sagged with relief.
"We're... not from here," Killian said carefully. "Can you tell us where we are? And who you are?"
The man lowered his arms.
"We are the Warrior Monks of Ishu Chu," he said. "And you stand within Ishu Nenchu Forest. Your garments make it clear you are not of this region. Perhaps you hail from Elyndra?"
Killian and Silas only stared, confused.
"I see," the man muttered. "Then tell me... do you even know what continent you are on?"
"North America?" Silas answered weakly.
The monks exchanged puzzled glances.
"We know no 'North America.' You stand on the continent of Dunterra, in its forest region." The man gestured. "Come. We will show you."
Two monks lifted Silas and the unconscious Deandre. Killian protested.
"I'm fine. I can climb by myself."
With a flash of blue electricity, he scaled the nearby trees like it was nothing. The monks watched with interest but said nothing.
They climbed higher and higher until they reached the top of a towering platform, overlooking the endless forest. The view stole their breath. Miles of treetops swayed under the moonlight. Strange birds flew in flocks across the silver sky. The air smelled impossibly fresh.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" the monk said quietly. "I come here often to look upon Nenchu Forest."
He pointed toward a cluster of faint lights in the distance.
"There lies our village. They will welcome you."
Then he pointed in the opposite direction, toward a massive bridge barely visible in the night.
"And there," he said, voice hardening, "is the bridge to the opposite forest. Across the great river lies another village. Our enemy."
Killian's stomach tightened.
The monks led them down into the village. The entrance was massive, guarded by soldiers with spears. As soon as they saw the outsiders, the guards raised their weapons.
"Identify yourselves!" one shouted.
The monk quickly stepped forward, explained everything, and escorted them to an inn near a grand building.
"We will take you to the Abbot," he said. "He will judge your fate. Forgive the hostility. They do not yet understand your situation."
Killian nodded.
They ascended another long flight of stairs to a magnificent blue building with golden pillars shaped like dragons' tails. Giant dragon statues guarded the doors. The guards inside opened heavy doors leading to a long hall lined with weapons, ancient relics, murals of great battles, and gorgeous tapestries.
Silas's eyes glimmered with wonder.
Dre finally woke up, although he was a little groggy.
They approached the throne and were ordered to kneel. The Abbot sat upon it, an old man with long white hair tied in a bun, a flowing robe hiding his build, and deep scars across his eyelids.
He was blind.
Yet Killian felt the Abbot's gaze like a spotlight.
"You may stand," the Abbot said at last. "Now speak. What brings you here?"
Killian stepped forward. "I don't know how we got here. We woke up in your forest and were attacked by skeletons. We almost died... but then I suddenly gained some kind of powers."
He held out his hands. Blue electricity crackled up his arms, brighter than before. The Abbot leaned forward, stunned.
"Which god has blessed you?" he asked.
"What do you mean?" Killian replied.
The Abbot frowned. "And your friends? Have they manifested anything?"
"No," Silas answered.
The Abbot sighed.
"Then allow me to explain. Your abilities are uncommon, but not unheard of. Only those chosen by the gods possess such gifts. They are called Vessels. A Vessel can borrow the power of their god, and if they are worthy, transform into a Vessel Form. Not all Vessels are human."
Killian's throat tightened.
"I," the Abbot continued, "am the Vessel of the God of Wind."
The Abbot displayed his power as a sharp gust of wind hit the group. The revelation stunned the trio.
"All Vessels must undergo a trial to keep their abilities," the Abbot continued. "A trial related to their power. You, young one... lightning, speed, combat. Your trial will test strength, speed, and battle."
Killian felt cold seep into his bones.
"And if I fail?" he asked quietly.
The Abbot closed his eyes, softly, sadly.
"You will die."
Silas exploded. "No way! Why does he have to go through a test he never asked for?!"
"This is bullshit!" Deandre shouted.
The Abbot's voice thundered:
"ENOUGH. I do not know your world. I do not know your gods. But if you want to live, you will train. You will become stronger. And you will pass. Think not of what was, but what will be."
The hall fell silent.
Killian thought of his family. His mother. His brother. He clenched his fists.
"I don't know what's going on," he said, "but we have to get stronger if we want to survive. Complaining won't help. If I get through this trial... then we can focus on what's really happening."
Silas and Deandre finally calmed down.
Liwei, the bald monk with the three burned dots, stepped forward.
"I will help arrange lodging for the night," he said. "Tomorrow, your training begins. All of you. I sense great strength in your future."
They followed him to a small building, where three simple beds awaited. Exhaustion hit them all at once. There was no talking, no arguing, just heavy breathing and tired bodies sinking into thin mattresses.
Killian stared at the ceiling.
Wherever they were...
It definitely wasn't Earth.