Milo:

The first thing I felt when I woke up was the pounding ache in the back of my head. My hand automatically went to the sore spot, and I winced as a sharp pain shot through my skull. It wasn’t too bad—just a nasty knock from the fall. But as the fog in my brain started to clear, I noticed something weird. My clothes were different.

Gone were the jeans and plain t-shirt I’d thrown on that morning. Instead, I was wearing black robes, cinched tight at the waist with a thick leather belt. My forearms were wrapped in snug bracers, and my legs were covered in leather greaves. To top it off, there was this heavy leather shoulder armor strapped across my chest. It felt solid, like it had been molded to fit me perfectly.

What the hell?

I stood up, still a little dizzy, and looked down at the outfit. The robe hung just right, like it had been custom-made for me. None of this made sense. Today was supposed to be a simple rehearsal. Costumes and makeup weren’t supposed to happen until later this afternoon. So why was I suddenly decked out like a full-on warrior from The Emperor’s Sword?

I frowned, trying to think back to the concept they’d given me for my role. The general’s outfit was supposed to be ceremonial and polished—fancy, sharp, like he’d just stepped out of a royal court. This wasn’t that. This gear looked rugged, like I’d been living in it, surviving battle after battle. It wasn’t just some prop; it felt real.

I ran my hand along the belt, feeling the cool metal of the dark buckle and the rough texture of the leather. It didn’t feel like costume material. It felt worn, like it had been used for years. Then I noticed my hair. I reached up, and my hand froze. My bleached-blond hair was gone. Instead, long, jet-black strands fell past my shoulders, tied half-up with a headband holding it back.

When did this happen?

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None of it added up. One minute I was riding Raven, marking some scenes, and the next I was… here. Dressed like this. I flexed my fingers, watching the bracers move with me. Everything fit like it belonged. It was unsettling, to say the least.

That’s when I heard it. Hooves. The sound of a horse trotting through the foggy woods around me. My head snapped up, and I squinted into the thick mist hanging between the trees. Slowly, a familiar figure emerged—Raven. His saddle and gear were completely different, though. Gone was the basic setup from the stables. Now he was decked out in intricate, elaborate tack, like he’d been pulled straight out of a medieval painting.

Raven snorted, tossing his head and stamping his foot. His eyes locked on something in the distance, but I didn’t have time to figure out what. My hand brushed against something on the ground beside me. I looked down and froze.

A bow. A sleek, black bow lay there, like it had been waiting for me. My fingers curled around the smooth wood, lifting it. It felt… familiar. Too familiar. The weight, the grip, even the slight curve of the bowstring—it was like I’d used it my whole life. A quiver hung across my back, its feathered arrows shifting slightly as I moved.

I took a shaky breath, trying to piece it all together. Was I dreaming? Hallucinating? Everything felt too real for that. The weight of the bow, the tightness of the bracers, the cool mist clinging to my skin—none of it felt fake.

Raven snorted again, pulling my attention back. He kept looking toward the trees, like he was signaling me to follow. My stomach twisted. I had no idea where I was, how I’d gotten here, or what was happening. All I knew was that I needed to move.

Without thinking, I swung onto Raven’s back. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t need any coaxing. It felt natural, like we’d been doing this forever. Somehow, it was as if Raven knew where to go. As soon as I was in the saddle, he took off, his hooves thudding against the ground as we tore through the foggy forest. The mist swirled around us, making it impossible for me to see where we were headed. Left, right, forward—it all looked the same.

Then I heard it. A scream. It sliced through the silence, sharp and chilling.

My heart froze for a second, then started pounding like crazy. I pulled the reins tighter, leaning into Raven as he slowed for a moment.

"Where did that come from?" I mumbled, more to myself than anything. As if answering, Raven snorted and turned sharply, heading straight into the direction of the scream. I didn’t object; my mind locked onto one thought.

Was that… Orla?