I did not freak out.

In fact, it all suddenly made a lot of sense. There were really only three explanations for what I was seeing.

I might have suffered some sort of brain damage and be experiencing an improbably realistic-seeming hallucination. I might have been kidnapped and placed into an ultra-sophisticated simulation. Frankly, neither of those things felt at all likely. I had done hallucinations before. I had enjoyed a particularly vivid sleep-deprivation hallucination during the sniper selection course, which has been more like an Augmented Reality experience - I saw all the real things around me, plus a bunch of other, utterly nonsensical stuff: a guy in a suit and tie sitting at a desk in a field; a floating cat; a lorry, half-sunk into the ground. It had been easy enough to work out what was real and what wasn't, with an effort of will. And I'd even done psilocibin once, while I was on leave, visiting my older brother in the North Wales commune he had made his home. It had been, literally, a trip. But nothing like this. Dream visions were chaotic and nebulous and behaved strangely in response to the external stimuli that were prompting them. This felt absolutely and completely real. Up was up. Stone was hard. Air was breathed. Other than the jaw-dropping view and the second sun, it all seemed entirely normal.

And the "simulation" scenario made no sense, either. For a start, I was pretty certain that the technology to provide not only seamless visual simulation but also the haptic sensation of the cold, metal railing, the strong breeze in my face and the smell of mountain snow was just too far beyond our ability to achieve. And even if it were possible, how and why would I have been snatched away so suddenly and dropped into a simulation like this?

The only explanation that made any sense was that, through the use of science beyond imagination, I had been yanked to another world entirely. And, to be completely honest, I thought that was utterly, unspeakably cool beyond words.

If this did turn out to be a hallucination or a simulation, well, I'd be happy to eat my words. But in that moment of realization, I simply accepted, completely and wholeheartedly, that everything I was seeing was real and I would act accordingly. Of course, later, I would freak out. But for now, I simply stopped, turned and looked back at Anthelion as he emerged through the door onto the balcony.

'Ar dooky?' he asked me, hands still raised.

I put the safety on the pistol and holstered it again, then pointed at him.

'Anthelion?' I said, questioningly.

'Kip!' he replied, with a smile. Now we were out of the dark, candle-lit room in the daylight, I could see that he was young - perhaps younger than me, although his expansively impressive beard, his wild halo of dark brown hair and his prominent eyebrows made it had to tell. His skin was caucasian in tone, but with a slightly metallic, silvery finish, a bit like the disco glitter finish I'd seen girls wearing down the nightclub, but all over. He was wearing a set of clothes that was basically brown. He had a brown jacket made of some sort of fabric, with gold thread detail stiched down his check, and a pair of brown trousers that looked like leather, tucked into a pair of much darker brown riding boots. Over it all, he wore something that reminded me of an academic gown except that it, too, was brown and stitched with even more of the gold thread, in extravagant detail.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

I tapped my chest.

'Ma... Ryan.'

'Rye'n?'

'Kip!' I replied.

'Ta pathelo esperian?'

'Mate,' I told him, shrugging, 'I just got here. Give me credit for working out two words already.'

'Ah,' he nodded. That surprised me. Wherever I was, he was basically human, at least on the outside and excepting those bits of him covered with clothes. And his body language was familiar. Even I knew that nodding wasn't a universal gesture for 'yes' on Earth, so it seemed strange to find it being used here - wherever here was. 'Pathlatonak esperian. Gel matcha.'

Seeing that I was looking more friendly, now, he gestured for me to follow and began to descend the stairs. But I held up a finger on each hand.

'Two ticks, Anthelion,' I said, ducking back into the round room. He looked alarmed for a moment, but I picked up my bergen and my rifle and immediately turned back to him. 'Lay on, Macduff.'

*

He led me down the stairs to another round room, but this one was appointed more like a study bedroom, with a wooden bedstead, a desk and a bookshelf groaning with handmade tomes, mostly bound in leather or skin, but some pressed between sheets of wood or fabric. On the desk, there was a roll of paper, covered in illegible black scratch marks, with an inkwell and a quill pen - a proper, old school quill pen made from some white feather the length of my forearm and tipped with a silver nib, stained black. I picked it up and rolled it between my fingers in amazement as Anthelion threw open a wardrobe, struggled out of his brown robe and put on a black one before seizing a heavy staff, topped with - I kid you not - a crystal ball. He turned around to me, but looked panicked for a second and turned back to the wardrobe, tapping his head and muttering as he did so until he turned over a wooden box, and snatched up the black cap that fell from it.

'Argak,' he muttered in my direction, handing me the staff, so distractedly that I took it, putting down the quill. It was a six foot length of sturdy wood, indistinguishable from oak, as far as I could tell. At the foot end it was capped with brass and, at the head end, I could see that there was a simple brass claw holding the crystal ball... no, wait. I peered closer at the crystal ball.

It wasn't held by the claw. It was floating within the claw.

'How the hell -?' I began, but Anthelion gently took the staff back and I looked at him to see that he had managed to get most of his hair under control enough to stuff it inside the black cap on his head. It was a conical affair, a bit like a fez, in black velvet. The wildness of his beard aside, he reminded me of that Elizabethan magician guy who spoke to angels. What was his name? Dee?