While The Bobs rushed around trying to get help, I found myself floating out of my body. I was not much for religion, so this was a curious condition. Had I been wrong? Was I about to pop up in heaven and meet St. Peter? Was I headed to The Bad Place to party with Kristen Bell? What the fork was even happening right now?

"I do apologize for the interruption, but I have need of your body." The raspy voice was back.

"You and me both."

"How would you like a life filled with power, money, legions of fighters, more women than you can imagine, and the world at your evil fingertips? How does that sound to you?"

"This is a really weird way to die. Are you offering me a job, or something?"

"You're not dying."

"That's good news."

I wasn’t the religious sort and, honestly, hadn’t given much thought to what happens when you die. I assumed everything just went black. No afterlife. No singing angels. No departed family members were waiting to escort you through the pearly gates.

Now I had a disembodied voice in my head asking me if I wanted to be an evil something-or-other.

"Can I take a rain check?"

The voice laughed, but it was without mirth.

I was suddenly spiraling, but I was without form. If I passed through any astral planes, I didn't feel it. If I was judged by a god or a devil, it was off-screen.

In an instant, I transitioned from my physical form, facing unemployment at the behest of The Bobs, to locking gazes with a diminutive, ghastly creature. Its visage was emerald-hued, its nose hooked, and its demeanor utterly grim. The being sported a set of crooked fangs and a gilded circular earring dangling from an elongated, battle-worn ear riddled with nicks and scars.

"Mother of God!" I sat back with a start.

"Yeah? You don't look so good yourself!"

I gasped, relieved the weight was gone from my chest, as was the stabbing pain. The feeling of being faint had also disappeared. I glanced down and found an extraordinary sight.

I was perched on a massive obsidian throne with arms carved into snarling dragon heads.

My gaze swept across the cavernous room, taking in the sea of grotesque faces. They looked like…fantasy creatures? What the–?

Orcs and goblins, their skin varying shades of sickly green, stood in rigid formation. Their eyes, filled with fear or anticipation, were not fixed on me, but instead on the entryway on the other side of the room.

I glanced down at myself again, startled by the unfamiliar attire. Black robes adorned with intricate silver runes draped over my frame. My hands, no longer the pale, soft appendages I was used to, were now long-fingered and ashen gray.

A movement to my left caught my attention. A dark elf woman… what? I stared and stared. Tall, pointy ears, dusky skin, a pinched face—though not unattractive—with piercing crimson eyes and hair like spun silver. She took a step back as her gaze raked over me critically.

"Did it work?" she asked, her voice low and melodic. "My lord, did the spell succeed?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. Spell? What spell? And why was she calling me 'my lord'?

The silence stretched on, and the tension in the room ratcheted up with each passing second. The assembled creatures shifted uneasily, exchanging worried glances. I covered my nose because the smell was cloying—decaying flesh mixed with copper, sulfur, and a strong hint of sewage.

"Lord Morthisal?" the dark elf pressed, a hint of concern creeping into her lowered voice. "Are you well?"

Lord Morthisal? That wasn't my name. I was Vincent... wasn't I? But as I looked around at the expectant faces, at the opulent yet sinister surroundings, a creeping sense of dread began to take hold.

What the hell had happened to me?

"Uh."

"My lord?" She peered closely at me.

”You’re weird.”

The walls around us shook violently. The assembled host of creatures tensed, readying their weapons as they stared at a pair of huge metal doors at the other end of the room. The doors rattled in their frame, each impact sending tremors through the floor.

"Who? What? Where are the guys? The dudes who were just about to lay me off? Where’s my office building? I need a Coke. And a Xanax. In any order.”

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

"It worked," she said in a whisper, sounding pleased. The dark elf turned and called to the assembled creatures. “Cast these invaders back. For Lord Morthisal!"

“For Lord Morthisal!” the orcs yelled back, shaking weapons and shields.

“He has accomplished a powerful spell. A world-altering spell! He will blast the heroes all the way back to the cursed lands of Mythralon!”

“Me? No, I won’t,” I said, but my voice was drowned out by the screaming orcs. “Who are you?” I asked the woman.

“Thalindra, not that it matters now. And, of course, you won't, but they don't know that,” she said, looking me up and down. Right. “Enjoy the last few minutes of your life, whoever you are. And…" She paused and looked deep into my eyes, then smirked. "Good luck."

“What? What! What does that mean? What in the world is happening right now?" I exclaimed as my new and bizarre reality set in.

She darted away and looked at the rattling huge double doors. They were rocked with resounding clangs, like giant bells being struck. Thalindra quickly hurried to a smaller entryway off to the side.

"What's happening?" I demanded again and noticed that my voice came out deeper and more resonant than expected.

What in the world was going on? Had I been somehow zipped from my world into a fantasy world and was now sitting on a throne in a room filled with… well… these creatures? My eyes had to be betraying me. That and my brain. Oh. I was in a coma. That had to be it.

The cold metal under my ass, which was barely covered by a ridiculous silken robe, begged to differ.

The pounding on the doors grew louder and more insistent. Flakes of stone fell from the ceiling, and the entire chamber seemed to quake. The minions shuffled nervously, exchanging worried glances.

"The enemy is within. What orders?" an orc, the largest near me, asked in a voice that sounded like it was being spoken through a churning cement truck mixer.

"Where'd that girl go?" I stood up and looked in the direction she had fled.

"My lord!" one of the orcs yelled.

"Yeah. Go get ‘em, boys. Give them hell. I'm right behind you!" I yelled back.

As a mass, they turned and moved toward the door, drawing more weapons along the way. Hoping no one noticed immediately, I did the only thing my addled brain could think of doing.

I turned tail and ran.

----------------------------------------

I bolted through the smaller doorway, my heart racing as I fled the chaos that erupted behind me. A tall hallway stretched before me, lit by flickering torches that cast eerie shadows on the stone walls. My new body felt strange, and longer limbs and unfamiliar muscles carried me forward with surprising speed.

Steel clashed with steel behind me. Shouts, yells, gurgles, and explosions rang out, shaking the floor.

Ahead, I caught a glimpse of silver hair – the priestess who'd been at my side moments ago. Without thinking, I chased after her, my robes billowing behind me.

"Wait!" I called out, my new voice a commanding rumble that startled even me. Well, at least I sounded like a Saturday morning cartoon villain. Bonus points for that.

At the end of the hallway, I skidded to a halt. The path branched, but rubble blocked two directions. Left was my only option. I took it, rounding the corner just in time to see an ornate door swinging shut.

I burst through the doorway, panting, and found myself in a bedroom that screamed "evil overlord." A massive four-poster bed dominated the center, draped in black silks. The walls were adorned with paintings that made my stomach churn – dragons breathing fire upon helpless villages, armies of the undead marching across blighted landscapes…

Ornate weapons hung on racks, their blades gleaming wickedly in the dim light. A bookshelf lined one wall, filled with tomes bound in what looked suspiciously like human skin. Everything about this room felt wrong, yet disturbingly familiar. Of Thalindra, there was no sign.

A small green face peeked out from under the bed. "My lord?"

"Hey. You. What's your name?" I asked as I frantically looked around the room for a way out.

"Churl, lord. You know who I am. Wha? Wha's happened? That puffin Thalindra actually pulled off the spell?" the little goblin asked.

"Yeah. Pulled it right off, buddy, and pulled me right out of my body. Now I'm here," I grabbed my robe and yanked the lapels, "dressed like this! Honestly, I don't suppose you have a tailor on staff? I'm drowning in this robe!"

"Reckon no one seen that comin'." The little goblin pulled itself out from under the bed.

"Especially me! Now, where did she go, man? She needs to put me back. Or maybe not. Put me somewhere else since my human body seems to be in a great deal of distress. Like heart attack distress, if you get my drift."

The goblin stared at me like I'd suddenly sprouted a second head.

"Worked, did it? Reckon tha's why you're lookin' confused?"

"Like I said. Point me in her direction."

"I'm a female goblin, lord. That one's gone. Hid in the treasure rooms. He, eh...he that used to be you, could zip through portals."

"Treasure room. Portals. Yeah. Can you take me there? Oh, and sorry about the mix-up. Didn't know you were a lady goblin."

"A lady." She smiled. "Tha's it. I'm a lady.' She pointed at a blank wall under one of the horrendous paintings. It was a space no larger than a doorway. I rushed to it, touched the wall, struck it, and looked for a lever or any means to open it as the sounds of fighting grew louder.

"I want his head!" a distinctively loud man with a deep voice shouted. Wow. Someone needed to go to anger management classes.

"Think, Vincent, think," I muttered to myself. "What would Morthisal do? Gee. What would he do? Because I have no damn clue!"

I took a step back and quickly scanned the room. Movies, books, and even video games all had one thing in common with secret passages—there was always a trigger. I glanced at the painting the goblin had indicated, but something else caught my eye: a sconce on the wall near the painting. The metal looked slightly shinier than the others.

I lunged at the sconce with no better plan and pulled it down. Nothing happened. Growing desperate, I glared at the goblin.

"Churl, be useful! What do I need to do?"

The little goblin wrung her hands, but something in my menacing tone seemed to make her suddenly animated. "The painting, lord! There's something what's ta do with that painting!"

I turned and rushed to it, examining it closely. One corner of the frame looked more worn than the rest. Taking a chance, I pressed hard on that spot. The painting swung forward, revealing a hidden lever. With a determined yank, the blank wall shifted and groaned, with a narrow passage now opening before me.

"Thank God." I breathed in relief.

The goblin stared blankly.

"Come on!" I grabbed her by the scruff and plunged into the darkness of the passageway; the distant clamor of approaching heroes urged me faster.