Frigid sleet stung Daniel’s face, pulled nearly horizontal by a fierce prevailing wind. He shivered, shielding his eyes with one hand as he tried to take in his surroundings. Through the rain and dim light he could make out coarse grasses and a thick bed of moss stretching across the foreign landscape out to the horizon, rising and falling along gentle swells of earth. This expanse was only occasionally broken by short scraggly trees or pools of water fed by narrow streams, the rain causing them to overflow their normally meagre banks.

Tundra, he thought, memories of a unit from an ecology class he’d taken a few semesters ago rising unbidden to the forefront of his mind. He’d spent hours and hours studying for that class, though he’d been sure he’d forgotten it all the minute he finished the final exam. Apparently, some of that knowledge wasn’t gone. But why would he be in some arctic tundra?

A dream, he concluded after a brief moment of thought, was the only logical explanation. Strange though, he wasn’t normally a lucid dreamer.

As Daniel examined his surroundings with renewed purpose, curious now about what his subconscious might dredge up to show to him, a particularly harsh gust of wind threw a sheet of freezing rain directly into his eyes. He cursed under his breath and blinked rapidly to clear his vision. When he could see again, a figure stood before him in space that had been empty a moment before.

The man was oddly familiar, like a cousin he’d never met but who shared many of the physical features Daniel saw in the mirror every morning. They were a match for height, apparent age, breadth of shoulders, and in the cast of the face. Not exactly the same, but it was all the more eerie for the few differences between them.

“Who are you?” Daniel wondered aloud, mostly to himself.

“You’ll find out,” the man answered with a mournful note in his voice. “You’re going to kill me first, but I'm sure you'll find out after.”

What a strange dream.

“I’m not going to kill you!” Daniel protested, playing along. “Why would I kill anyone?”

“Because you don’t have a choice,” the strange man said, the hint of a sad smile quirking the corner of his mouth. “It isn’t your fault, I was going to die anyway. This way at least I’ll have some company as I go. Someone to meet in the threshold, pleasantries exchanged as one person enters and the other leaves. Those conversations never amount to much do they? Purposeless, just a formality.” The man chuckled with a bitter edge. “It figures that those will be my last words. A greeting to a stranger, no meaning, no feeling, just empty expression.”

“What are you talking about?” Daniel asked, no longer as sure as before that this was a dream. There was some undefinable quality to the experience that gave him pause. “Entering? Leaving? You aren’t making sense!” He placed a concerned hand on the man’s shoulder and noticed his clothing for the first time. While Daniel had on his own familiar clothes, soaked through now by the weather, the man was in what looked to be a uniform right out of a museum. There was something about the cut that suggested military office, the lines straight and the fabric tough. The color was a deep black and struck through with silver, shedding the cold rain with ease, as though it had been made for just such conditions.

“Like I said, empty words,” the man intoned. “No reason for them to be anything else, is there? I won’t accomplish anything new. I’ve done my part, said my piece. You might still do something meaningful, but you haven’t even started yet. So again, meaningless.” The man grinned and now there was a hint of mania in his eyes that unnerved Daniel. “There’s freedom in that, isn’t there? But I shouldn’t brag. After all, you haven’t shed your chains yet, have you?” One more bitter cackle tore itself from the strange man’s throat. Then, the strangest sensation consumed Daniel. It felt like a hand closed around his heart, gathering everything that was him together in one grip.

With a jerk, it tore away, pulling him with it as it went somewhere else, somewhere very far away.

Daniel opened his eyes and was surprised to see not the off-white ceiling of his cheap college apartment, but a low dome of rough stone.

“He wakes!” a deep, warm voice echoed through the chamber. Daniel let out a groggy moan. He tried to sit up but clenched his teeth as waves of pain wracked his body. It felt as if rusty nails had been driven into each of his joints and his muscles were being pried apart at the seams. A large hand pressed against Daniel’s chest, its counterpart resting on his back and gently easing him back down to the soft cot where he lay.

“Easy my lord,” the voice said, “your recovery isn’t finished. It’s a wonder you’re even alive. We weren’t sure for a while there.”

“My lord?” Daniel asked, confused. He turned his head and saw that the large hands were attached to a large man with a pair of very large, very kind eyes. “What? Where am I?”

The man grimaced. “In the South, sire. This cave is a seasonal caravan camp. It should be safe enough for the moment. We thought it best not to introduce ourselves to local authorities until you were lucid.”

“I don’t understand…” Daniel mumbled. “Who are you?” A pair of bushy eyebrows knit together in concern on the big man’s face.

“His memory, did you do anything to his memory?” he said accusingly to someone behind him.

“Maybe. Not on purpose,” a woman replied, voice clipped. “His soul was lost, and it had wandered farther than I expected. Maybe pulling it back was traumatic?”

“My memory is fine!” Daniel protested. He forced himself to sit up, his face screwing into a grimace from the pain. He could see more clearly now. The big man stretched out a hand as if to stop him, but pulled it back at the last moment, visibly worried. Behind him stood the woman, younger than he’d assumed from the sound of her voice. She wore a uniform not unlike the one the strange man had worn in the dream. The attire was a good fit for her dark hair and sharp features. A small fire burned in the cave’s center, the smoke winding its way upward and through a small hole in the ceiling. “Who are you people?”

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“It’s me, Taur,” the man said gently, “and that’s Arnica. Do you remember now Telann?”

“Telann? My name isn’t Telann. It’s Daniel. This isn’t some kind of sick joke, is it?” Despite his words, the suggestion was almost hopeful. Daniel hoped this was some kind of prank, or that he’d been kidnapped, but his gut told him something else. Something impossible. He looked down at himself and saw his own clothes for the first time since waking. A black uniform struck through with silver. The feeling in his gut grew stronger. Daniel remembered the bitter laugh of the man from his dream, and it echoed through the inside of his skull.

“What is this, Arnica?” Taur glanced at her, alarmed. She rushed to the bedside, leaning over Daniel and meeting his eyes. A moment later he felt some invisible presence wash out from her, questing towards him. His reaction was immediate and violent as a wave of intense nausea swept through him, compounding with his earlier pains to set him into convulsions. Arnica recoiled, eyes wide with fear.

“That—” she whispered, “—that thing isn’t Telann!”

“I told you,” Daniel spat, clutching his heaving stomach. “My name is Daniel!” Taur’s eyes darted between the two, apprehensive.

“How did this happen?” Taur asked, hands clasping together nervously.

“The ritual must have grabbed the wrong soul. I didn’t think it was possible, but that’s just our luck,” Arnica fumed.

“Can you get Telann back?”

“No, we missed our chance. His soul will have long since entered Death’s collection. We can, however, correct this abomination.” Arnica fixed her eyes on Daniel as she drew a short, wicked knife from her belt.

“No, wait!” Daniel said, throwing off the blankets which had covered him and struggling to his feet. The pain was intense, but this woman’s threat had raised his adrenaline, dulling the sensation.

Taur stepped back, eyeing Daniel warily, but he seemed more reluctant than Arnica.

“My name is Daniel Valle, I’m no abomination, I’m a biology student!” The statement sounded absurd even to Daniel, but he let the words hang in the air nonetheless, and they worked well enough to still Arnica’s knife for the moment.

“A scholar?” Taur ventured, glancing to Arnica. “You’ve replaced our duke with a scholar?”

“It’s no scholar,” she spat, “my magic rebelled at its mere touch. Abomination, demon, call it what you like, but it’s a foul creature.”

“I’m just me!” Daniel protested, swaying as a bout of weakness caused his legs to waver. “I don’t think I’m from here, wherever here is.” As he gave voice to his suspicions they rang true to his own ears and Daniel grew more convinced that he was somewhere very, very far from his home. Despite the fog of pain and confusion, he had not missed Arnica’s reference to magic.

“Please,” he said, “I don’t know where I am. I know I’m not your friend, but I need help.” Taur’s eyes softened again as he met Daniel’s gaze. The big man’s demeanor didn’t completely relax, but he moved to Daniel’s side, carefully lowering him back to the cot. Daniel let himself rest as the body which he had begun to realize was not his own fought him, as if rejecting his ownership. With a sigh, Arnica tucked the knife away.

“Fine. We’ll abide you for now. Where are you from, Daniel?” She crossed her arms and stared down her nose at him.

“Washington?” he ventured, “Earth?” There was no hint of recognition from either Taur or Arnica.

“I’ve never heard of it,” Taur said. “Arnica, might you have drawn him all the way from another continent?” Daniel shook his head before she could respond.

“No, it would have to be farther than that,” he said. “Another world. A different planet maybe? But no, why would a different planet have magic? A different reality then? Just as likely,” Daniel mused aloud, as if sharing his dreaded suspicions might let him rest some of the burden of his horror on these two. Taur, at least, now comprehended the gravity of the situation. His face had gone slack, and those big hands had begun to tremble.

“You don’t belong here,” Arnica said. Her hands did not tremble.

“Lady, we should have compassion—”

“The world itself rejects him,” she said, then shrugged. “It isn’t a matter of compassion, Taur. I could feel it as soon as I reached out toward him. Any mage would be able to tell you the same. His soul is a foreign entity.”

“Like a cancer?” Daniel asked dully.

“Yes, exactly.” She cocked her head. “Perhaps you were not lying about being a scholar, abomination.”

“And yet he lives in the duke’s body,” Taur said, tears welling up in his eyes. “I cannot abandon such a creature.”

“Telann died, Taur. Your duty was fulfilled when his soul passed on.”

“You do not decide when my duty is fulfilled!” Taur shouted, rounding on her. Grief and anger painted his face. “He was my friend, if you can’t understand the loyalty that commands, then you’re free to leave as you wish.” Arnica stiffened, clenching her fists in anger. Daniel readied himself for a wave of whatever magic she wielded, but it never came. Her fists slowly relaxed, and a calm façade overtook the rage on her face.

“I’m going to keep watch. Stay with that thing if you like, but don’t blame me if it tries to kill you,” she said before turning on her heel and marching toward a passage that must have been the mouth of the cave.

Daniel watched Taur for a long moment, neither man speaking. The situation had yet to quite sink in. He couldn’t deny it, but he was panicking far less than he should have been. It was shock, he decided eventually. Then, another possibility came to mind. This was not his body. Though this place was alien to his mind, to his soul, according to Arnica, it was home to this flesh, to Telann, who Daniel suspected was the man who had spoken to him in his “dream”

Meeting in the threshold indeed, Daniel thought, you moved out and I moved in. This body would be familiar with this world. Perhaps some of that residual familiarity was helping Daniel acclimate. Then again, there was Arnica’s explanation. That he was a cancer, rejected by the world itself. An unnerving thought.

Daniel knew about cancer. He’d wanted to be an oncologist after all. It had always seemed like the thing to do. He’d gotten good grades in school and wanted to help people. The doctor-sized pay check didn’t hurt as motivation either. He’d never really given any other course much thought. In every major decision, the “correct” choice had seemed so obvious to him. Study hard. Do well in school. Play sports. He’d done everything exactly as expected. Daniel was no prodigy, but he was nothing if not consistent. He’d played it safe. As long as Daniel could put in the work to clear a bar, be that a GPA, an MCAT score, a set of fundamental skills, he would never need to roll the dice. He wouldn't need to win the lottery, so he never tried.

By rights, he should be on a straight, well-defined path to success and safety. Was it an easy path? No, of course not, but Daniel wasn’t afraid of difficulty as long as he knew the challenge he faced. Now, though, he was anywhere but that path. What had he done to deserve this? He’d done what he was supposed to, and now he was lost in some foreign world, and for the first time he had absolutely no idea what the right thing to do was.

Taur was staring at him, concerned, and Daniel noticed that his breath had begun to speed up, the hair on his arms rising in panic.

“Daniel?” Taur asked, sounding through the unfamiliar name with trepidation.

“I’m sorry,” Daniel said, surprised to hear the crack in his own voice. “I don’t know what I should do.” He gripped the blankets lining the cot, holding onto them like a rope. “What do I do?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe—” Taur’s voice caught in his throat as his eyes fixed on the blanket. Once again, Daniel saw fear in those sad, kind eyes. Daniel looked down at the source of Taur's reaction. Where he had grasped the blanket the fibers had been destroyed by his touch, leaving only dust of the color the hearty wool had been. Daniel watched as he adjusted his hands and the dust swirled as if to avoid his presence.

“Rejected,” Daniel said, remembering Arnica’s accusations, “by the world itself."

An abomination.

A cancer