There I was, standing beside Elara Elthythen, her semi-noble armor gleaming dully in the dim light. Something was off, though. The gear she wore was a squire's, not a knight's as it should've been. A chill of unease rippled through me. This was Dreamer's Legacy, but not as I knew it.

Elara tried to soothe the restless crowd. "Everyone, please," her voice was a gentle command that cut through the chaos. But her words were like drops in a turbulent sea.

"Two days have passed, and more of us disappear each night. You've done nothing!" An irate villager spit out the words, hot as coals in a pit.

Elara faltered, her silence like a beacon for the crowd's scorn. Then, a voice rose in her defense. "Throwing accusations won't solve our problem."

Quietly, barely heard, Elara thanked him. "Elder Redden…"

Redden? The name prickled at my mind, an itch I couldn’t scratch. My memory of the game's lore was comprehensive, but it seemed to have a gaping hole where this Redden was supposed to fit.

The Elder took charge, gesturing to a cloaked figure beside him. "We need to concentrate on what’s important. This is Cassius Blackwood, an investigator from the city."

Cassius. That name hit me like a gale force wind, stirring memories from the main timeline of the game. He was younger, less hardened. But his introduction held an edge, a dire promise that resounded in the silence that followed.

"I specialize in homicide," he said, and the words hung in the air like an ominous prophecy.

I could feel the dread wrapping around the villagers, a palpable shroud. Elara stepped back, her armor seemed to fade under Cassius's intensity.

Cassius looked over us all. "Let’s bring everything we know to the table. No detail is too small," he said.

A bead of sweat trailed down my brow as I met the hard gazes of the villagers. I could taste the electric tang of uncertainty in the air. It was a deliciously dangerous game and, oddly enough, I was savoring every second of it.

"Your clothes..." an old woman pointed a gnarled finger at me, her voice quivering with suspicion. "They're not from here. Explain."

Ah, the clothes. My modern-day attire was certainly a blatant anomaly in this medieval backdrop. It was a wild card, a jarring discrepancy in the tapestry of this world. And yet, the thrill of having to come up with a plausible lie to explain this anachronism sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Clearing my throat, I mustered up an air of nonchalance. "I am a traveler," I began, my voice steady and confident, "from a land far, far away, so distant that even time behaves differently."

The villagers exchanged skeptical glances. Cassius' eyes bored into me, sharp and unyielding. Even Elara, with her semi-noble armor and her unnerving composure, seemed to be studying me with renewed curiosity. I reveled in the tension, the disquiet that tinged the air.

"In my land," I continued, "our clothing is, shall we say, a bit more advanced. I got these from a trader in the East." I gestured at my attire, playing the part of the bemused traveler. "Quite useful, I must say, quite resilient to the elements."

An audacious lie, but one cloaked in just enough ambiguity to be plausible. After all, in a world of knights and royal bastards, of eldritch horrors lurking in the night, who could say for certain what existed in the farthest corners of the land?

Whispers filled the air, a cacophony of hushed speculation and simmering doubt. Some of the villagers nodded, seemingly appeased by my story. Others weren't as easily swayed. But the thrill, the intoxicating excitement of spinning this web of deception, far outweighed the risk.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"And your current state?" one villager inquired, pointing at my torn and dirt-stained clothes.

"I’ve had a few...unfortunate encounters in the wilderness," I confessed, injecting a dose of dramatic flair into my words. "Traveling alone has its perils."

Every eye was on me, every ear attuned to my words. I was the riddle they were trying to unravel, the stranger who didn't belong. And yet, amidst the whispers and the wary stares, I couldn't help but revel in the delicious danger of it all.

Cassius stepped forward, his cloak swirling around him. His gaze was sharp and calculating, a hawk studying its prey. The crowd fell silent, their collective breath hitched in anticipation.

"Interesting," he mused, his voice low and measured. "A traveler from a faraway land, you say? With attire procured from an Eastern trader?"

I nodded, maintaining the facade of a well-traveled outsider. His next words, however, sent a shiver down my spine.

"And yet, the stains and the tears on your clothes, they don't match the soil and flora of our surroundings." His observation was laced with a subtle accusation, an insinuation of deceit.

The villagers murmured among themselves, their suspicion echoing in their hushed whispers. I felt the weight of their distrust. It was a precarious position, teetering on the edge of danger. Yet, the thrill of the challenge, the adrenaline that came with risk was akin to a potent drug, addictive and intoxicating.

"The color of the dirt...it’s...it’s not the same," one of the villagers chimed in, his voice quivering with newfound fear.

"Ah, a keen observation, my friend," Cassius praised, turning to face the crowd. "Indeed, the dirt on this stranger's clothes bears a hue unfamiliar to us. It is unlike the rich brown of our soil."

He looked back at me, his gaze piercing. "Would you care to explain this discrepancy, traveler?"

A bubble of laughter threatened to escape my lips, the absurdity of the situation merging with the thrill of the danger. It was a twisted game, a psychological tug of war, and I was the puppet master.

With a shrug, I looked back at Cassius, matching his intensity with a glint of defiance. "As I've said, I've traveled from afar. The stains could be from any of the numerous lands I’ve passed through."

The crowd watched, their attention hanging onto every word. Cassius considered my explanation, his gaze unwavering.

"Very well," he finally conceded. "But remember, we seek truth here. Shadows have a way of coming to light."

Every eye was on me; every breath held as they awaited my response. I could feel their distrust, the barely concealed apprehension. The scent of suspicion was palpable. It was a sensation that tickled the fringe of my insanity.

"My journey has been long," I replied, meeting Cassius' piercing gaze. "I've trodden paths through forests and rivers unfamiliar to you. These stains that seem to puzzle you, are merely remnants of those forgotten terrains."

Whispers swelled amongst the crowd, rippling through the sea of villagers. Skepticism clouded some faces, curiosity others. The tension, oh, it was delectably thick, a sweet potion of potential chaos that had me teetering on the precipice of madness.

Cassius studied me, his gaze unwavering, then nodded. "As you say, traveler. But remember, even the deepest shadows yield to the light of truth. For your sake, I hope your tale is true."

He turned back to the crowd, his commanding voice cutting through the air. "Let's return to the task at hand. We have a mystery to unravel, a threat to uncover. Remember, no detail is too trivial, no theory too outlandish."

His words hung in the morning air, an end to the peculiar interlude that my existence had triggered. The villagers began to scatter, their murmurs and whisperings harmonizing with the early morning birdsong.

Elara was the last to leave, her gaze lingering on me. It was an intense look, a silent promise of intrigue yet to unfold. With a nod, she retreated, leaving me in the awakening square of the village.

As the morning sun climbed higher, casting long, stretching shadows across the cobblestones, I found myself alone. The adrenaline was receding, leaving a tantalizing cocktail of exhaustion and satisfaction. For now, my web of deception held.

Yet, a greater challenge loomed. A mystery threaded its way through the village, lives precariously dangling on its intricate weave. I was tangled in it now, part of their world, part of their story. A whispering voice in the recesses of my mind delighted in the chaos, danced in the delicious insanity of it all.

But with the rising sun and the ebbing thrill, a weariness crept over me. It was time to retreat, to gather my thoughts and prepare for what lay ahead. Today had brought unexpected twists, tomorrow would undoubtedly bring more.

As I trudged away, a peculiar warmth emanated from my pocket. Reaching in, I found the source of the heat — a card. Not just any card, it was the "Master of Reality Sunder," an artifact that had inexplicably hurled me into this untold narrative.

Pulling it out, I studied the design on the card. It featured an ancient entity, its form splintering the fabric of reality as depicted in the card's art. But now, something was different. The image seemed to pulsate, almost alive, and the entity's eyes glowed with a strange luminescence.

Suddenly, the card's warmth intensified, an unnerving heat that seeped through my fingers. A tremor coursed through the card, jolting my arm and taking my breath away.

And then, just as abruptly, it went cold. The luminescence died down, leaving the image of the entity dim and lifeless. My heart pounded in my chest as I looked at the now inert card. Was my existence in this time nearing its end?

In the midst of my brewing dread, a sound reverberated through the otherwise silent alley. Whirling around, I expected to find a villager or perhaps Elara. But it was neither.

Leaning nonchalantly against the alley wall, with his eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and suspicion, was Cassius.

"How curious," he said, his gaze unflinchingly locked on the card in my hand. "Would you care to tell me what that is, traveler?"

I glanced between him and the card, a shiver of anticipation running down my spine. This game, it seemed, was far from its conclusion, and it looked like I had once again piqued the investigator's interest.