Zayn found himself suspended in an overwhelming bird's-eye view of a vast expanse of land. Below, the terrain stretched endlessly, a patchwork of forests, rivers, and open plains.

In the center, a solitary mountain peak pierced the skies, its snow-capped summit glistening under a radiant sun. The sheer scale of the scene was enough to make Zayn feel insignificant, a mere speck in the grand tableau of this unknown world.

As he observed, the skies above began to shift. Puffy white clouds darkened ominously, and a low rumble of thunder reverberated through the air. The serene beauty of the land was replaced by chaos as cataclysmic storms engulfed the skies. Tornadoes ripped through forests, torrential rains swelled rivers into monstrous floods, and earthquakes shattered the tranquility of the plains.

It was like nature itself was at war.

Yet, through it all, the mountain stood unwavering, a symbol of resilience against nature's wrath.

Then, from the heavens, a crimson meteor blazed across the darkened sky. Its fiery descent was both majestic and terrifying. The meteor struck the never-changing mountain with a deafening roar, obliterating its peak and top half, reducing it to a smoldering crater. The shockwave rippled outward, toppling forests and sending tremors across the land.

The mountain, once a steadfast monolith, a visage of sturdiness and unshakable will, was now a deep scar on the earth.

Time seemed to accelerate from there.

Zayn watched as the land away from the impact site gradually healed. Forests regrew, rivers found new courses, and wildlife returned to claim their domains. The skies regained their calm blue and nature was filled with vibrance once more.

Yet, the crater formed by the crimson meteor remained a desolate void, untouched by nature's regenerative hand.

Then he watched as new organisms, humanoids began to appear, first as small nomadic groups cautiously traversing the land. They were of all shapes and sizes, some resembling humans, others were simply human-shaped with extra features, like tails horns, and different skin colors.

Over the years, their numbers grew, and their activities became a blur of rapid motion. Zayn watched them hunt, gather, and construct rudimentary shelters. Then came conflicts—tribes of these humanoids warring over resources and territories.

These skirmishes eventually gave way to alliances, and together they built villages, towns, and cities.

The cycle of war and peace repeated endlessly, the humanoids advancing with each iteration. Years upon years passed under Zayn's gaze, villages and tribes fell and rose, and humanoids lived and died. It was like watching the life of ants at a thousand times the speed.

Finally, he watched as the humanoids finally united and constructed a massive fortress city at the heart of their civilization, a bastion of unity. Yet, no matter how grand their progress was, the crater left by the meteor remained untouched, an ominous reminder of a past they never saw.

Time slowed to its normal pace. Zayn found himself engrossed in the bustling life of the humanoids, their achievements and struggles captivating. That he didn't notice this.

He was caught off guard by the sudden change in what he was witnessing, and his vision darkened. The vast landscape, the cities, the crater—all vanished into an endless void.

Zayn's thoughts raced, struggling to process the imagery he had seen. The scenes had been so vivid, so profound, but before he could make sense of them, he felt an abrupt movement.

His eyes shot open. The darkness was replaced by dim, flickering light. He found himself in a cramped wooden carriage, its interior worn and creaking with every bump along a rough path.

The walls were adorned with crude iron reinforcements, and the air was thick with the smell of damp wood and unwashed bodies. Oil lanterns hung from the corners, casting a faint glow that barely illuminated the space.

Zayn realized he was sitting on the wooden floor of the carriage. Around him were several other people—men and women, young and old—all dressed in ragged, threadbare clothing. Their faces were gaunt, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and resignation.

He glanced down at himself. His body was still the same frail, pale form he remembered, but his attire matched those around him: a tattered shirt and pants, frayed at the edges.

The sight made Zayn's mind churn. His mind raced with questions, but he forced himself to focus. 'This must be the Story,' he thought. The Librarian hadn't warned him about this, but he didn't know if it would have helped as it felt so real.

The texture of the wood beneath him, the wind blowing leaves outside, the faint groans of the carriage wheels—all of it was unnervingly authentic.

'This is so weird...'

He slowly got up and peered out of a small, barred window. Outside, the landscape rolled by: dense forests, open fields, and distant hills. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and red, casting long shadows over the land.

Zayn's thoughts churned. The juxtaposition of his vivid vision and his current predicament left him uneasy.

'Where am I? What am I supposed to do here?' he wondered.

But for now, he kept his questions to himself, silently taking in every detail of his surroundings, trying to piece together the purpose of this strange and unsettling journey.

Zayn stirred as muffled voices reached him, sharp and heated. They broke through the dead silence of the carriage.

They were coming from the front of the carriage, a man and a woman locked in an argument. His curiosity piqued, Zayn glanced at the others around him.

The passengers sat slumped in silence, their bodies hunched and lifeless. Their faces were gaunt and dirt-smeared, eyes hollow and distant. It was as though the very essence of life had been drained from them, leaving behind breathing husks—or at least, he thought they were breathing.

The thought lingered as he pushed himself up to move toward the front of the carriage. He paused, cautiously studying the figures around him. They didn't react to his movements, not even a flicker of acknowledgment.

'I could punch one of them, and they wouldn't even react,' he thought grimly. 'What the hell happened to these people?'

Sliding quietly to the front corner of the carriage, Zayn angled himself to better hear the exchange outside. The male voice carried over first, gruff and sharp.

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"I'm telling you, the price hikes are because of the southern border! The beast attacks are worse than ever. The kingdom's diverting resources to protect the towns. That costs money, and it's driving up food prices."

The woman's retort was quick, laced with disbelief. "Nonsense! There've been worse attacks in the past, and food prices never soared like this. It's the council—they're lining their pockets, stealing from us under the guise of a crisis!"

The man groaned in exasperation. "You sound like those drunkards at the taverns. Always blaming someone else for your problems. Maybe if they spent less time whining and more time working, they wouldn't starve."

The argument spiraled, voices rising and overlapping. Zayn tried to piece together the information, but his thoughts were interrupted by a sudden crash outside. The carriage jolted to a stop, throwing Zayn off balance. He scrambled back from the front, his heart racing as shouts erupted outside.

The commotion subsided, and moments later, the door to the carriage creaked open. A woman stepped inside, her presence commanding immediate attention. She wore leather armor, scuffed and worn but clearly functional. A sword hung at her side, its hilt well-used, and a strange circular ring adorned with multicolored crystals dangled from her belt.

She scanned the carriage, her lips curling in disgust at the sight of its occupants. Her gaze lingered on the lifeless forms before settling on a cluster of slightly healthier-looking individuals. With a sharp gesture, she pointed at them.

"You. Up. Now," she barked.

The selected individuals remained motionless, their vacant expressions unchanging. Her jaw tightened, and with a click of her tongue, she reached for the crystals at her side. Selecting a blue one, she held it aloft, its surface glowing faintly as she pointed it at each person in turn. Zayn watched, transfixed, as the crystal's glow pulsed brighter with each gesture.

Then she spoke, uttering words in a language Zayn didn't recognize. The crystal flared brilliantly, and suddenly, glowing runes appeared on the necks, wrists, and ankles of the selected passengers.

The air filled with the crackling hum of electricity. The runes pulsed, and the people convulsed violently as a current coursed through their bodies. Their screams ripped through the silence, raw and guttural, a sound of pure agony. Zayn winced, his hands clenching into fists as he watched the scene unfold.

The nearby people didn't even flinch at the noise, their expressions not shifting in the slightest at the electrocution right at their side.

The shock eventually ceased, leaving the selected individuals trembling and slumped. The woman stood silently, waiting for the spasms to subside before issuing another command. This time, the figures rose unsteadily to their feet, their movements sluggish and uncoordinated.

"Pathetic," she muttered, eyeing them with disdain. "Weak, but better than the rest of the wretches in here."

Satisfied, she turned and led them out of the carriage, muttering under her breath. Zayn exhaled in relief but stiffened as she abruptly paused and looked back. Her sharp eyes scanned the interior, her expression hardening.

Zayn froze, his heart hammering in his chest. She lingered, her gaze sweeping the carriage, before shaking her head and stepping out.

As the door shut behind her, Zayn let out a shaky breath. 'That was too close.' He slumped back against the wall, his mind racing. He didn't want anything to do with that woman and her crystal. Especially now that he was basically in the blind.

Whatever he had walked into, it was more dangerous—and more real—than he had anticipated.

Zayn sat back in the corner of the carriage, his mind racing. The scene that had just unfolded replayed vividly in his head—the woman, the glowing crystal, the rune-like tattoos lighting up, and the heart-wrenching screams of the others as they were forced into submission. He couldn't shake the memory, not out of fear but because of a new sense of awareness.

He glanced around at the other passengers again. The grim, lifeless faces of the people hadn't changed, but now he noticed something he'd missed before. Dark markings encircled their necks, wrists, and ankles—tattoos in intricate rune-like patterns. They looked like faint scars at first, but under closer inspection, Zayn saw they were more deliberate.

Those must be the runes the crystal activated, he thought, his stomach sinking. It wasn't hard to connect the dots—the woman's crystal had some link to the tattoos, which gave her control over these people. His hand shot to feel his neck, then his wrists, and finally his ankles. Sure enough, they were there as well.

The realization made his skin crawl. He wasn't just stuck here—he could be subjected to the same torment he had witnessed. The thought churned in his mind as he tried to process the weight of it all.

His musings were interrupted by faint groaning noises from the front of the carriage. Zayn tensed, leaning forward to listen. Against his better judgment, he decided to investigate. Rising cautiously, he crept to the carriage door and found a small hole in the wooden paneling. Peering through, he saw what lay on the other side.

A massive fallen tree blocked the road ahead, its splintered branches and trunk sprawled across the dirt path. Near the tree, the group of people selected earlier struggled to move it. Others, similarly dressed in rags and bearing the same tattoos, were there too, joining their effort.

Standing apart from them were figures dressed like the woman from earlier—leather armor, weapons, and crystals gleaming faintly at their sides. They barked orders at the slaves, who strained against the tree with all their might.

Zayn watched them fail, the tree budging only slightly before slipping back into place. Shouts from the overseers spurred them on, and they tried again, faces contorted with exertion. Eventually, after several attempts, they managed to dislodge the tree, clearing the path.

Zayn shifted as he observed what happened next. The overseers separated the slaves into groups and led them off toward what he presumed were other carriages. The woman from earlier returned with the group she had taken, her sharp voice cutting through the air as she ushered them back.

Zayn quickly moved back to his corner, keeping his head low as the door swung open. The woman stepped inside, glaring at the group she had brought. When the last of them stumbled over the threshold, she kicked him hard in the side, sending him sprawling.

"Hurry up, trash," she snarled before slamming the door shut.

Zayn watched as the newly returned slaves, though visibly weakened, shuffled back to their spots. Their faces were as blank and lifeless as before as if nothing had happened.

Leaning against the wall of the carriage, Zayn tried to piece together the situation. The way the overseers treated these people—it was slavery, plain and simple. But there was something else he couldn't quite put his finger on. The runes, the crystals, the strange magic-like technology—it felt different, more systematic than the cruelty of mundane slavery he'd read about in the Empire's history.

'Am I being paranoid?' he wondered, shaking his head. 'Is this just slavery and I'm looking too much into it?'

His thoughts drifted back to what little he knew about Stories. Like most people in the Empire, Zayn wasn't privy to their inner workings, but being surrounded by the privileged offspring of nobles and high-ranking officials had taught him a few things. He'd overheard enough in their gossip to know that Stories were entire worlds of their own, self-contained and governed by their own rules.

Characters entered Stories to solve monumental problems, problems that could reshape the world within them. If they succeeded, they gained incredible rewards. If they failed, the Story underwent an "Unraveling," a catastrophic event that posed a threat to both the Story world and the real one.

Zayn recalled how dangerous it was to tamper with closed books containing Stories. It was known that if not dealt with they would Unravel on their own not giving Characters the chance to solve them.

Even he knew about the global ban on their use, though it hadn't stopped people from exploiting them. Himself included.

But none of that explained why he was here. What was the purpose of dropping him into this hellish place? He glanced at the runes on his wrists again, bitterness rising in his chest.

Am I just a slave here? The thought gnawed at him. Compared to his miserable life back in the Empire, this felt looked worse in every way—who was he kidding? This was worse in every way.

Despite what little he had seen so far, he could tell by how all the slaves acted and behaved they had basically been brought to the point of losing their sanity.

They had nothing left of themselves and were just existing for the sake of existing. But even though he knew this Zayn still felt something about it.

'I don't know if it is because it is a Story or because I died but I don't find this as bad. Maybe it's because, unlike my life in the Empire, I actually have an escape..." He wondered.

Then a darker thought crept in. Maybe, deep down, he'd hoped for something different. Maybe after the strange encounter in the Libraros place, he'd thought this might be some kind of opportunity.

He scoffed, a dry and bitter sound in the silence. Stupid. Stories aren't places for hope. They're dangerous, unpredictable, and lethal. Expecting anything else was naïve.

Yet, despite his cynicism, he couldn't shake the question burning in his mind. 'Why am I here? And what should I do?"