As their laughter faded into the desert breeze, Carl and the mysterious man locked eyes, partly avoiding each other’s manhoods, and partly sizing each other up with a mixture of curiosity and cautious camaraderie. The young man looked no older than twenty-five, about that same age as Carl, with short black hair, blue eyes, and a large build. Around his neck was a thick, gunmetal collar imprinted with glowing yellow patterns. Each line snaked towards a glowing yellow gemstone inlaid into the clasp.
“What are you doing here?” he asked Carl.
Carl blinked, momentarily taken aback. “I should be asking you that,” he replied incredulously. “You were just buried there having fun with yourself.”
“Touché, my friend," he conceded with a playful grin. “But as much as I enjoy the feeling of warm sand against my skin, I must confess that my current circumstance was not by choice.”
Carl arched an eyebrow, intrigued by the young man's cryptic response. "Not by choice? What do you mean?"
The man's smile softened, his gaze turning introspective. "Let's just say that a certain group of people want to use me as…erm…ransom. I was kidnapped and stripped of all my belongings, but last night I escaped and I hid under the sand.” He looked back sheepishly at the hole in the sand. “I may have fallen asleep. But enough about me. What's your story?"
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He hesitated, unsure of how to respond to the stranger. But something in the young man's demeanor put him at ease, as if Carl sensed that the man was someone he could trust.
"I woke up here, disoriented and alone," Carl admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. "One moment I was on top of a mountain, and the next...well, here I am, stranded in the middle of nowhere."
The man nodded sympathetically, his expression mirroring Carl's own sense of bewilderment. "A curious turn of events, indeed. Sounds like you got hit by an errant teleportation spell. But fear not, my friend. I’ll lead you out of here. What’s your name?”
“I’m Carl,” he replied. His brain caught up to him a second later; “Wait, teleportation spell?!”
“Yes, sometimes they can go awry. Surely you know this?” Henry asked with incredulity.
“Eh!?” Carl's mind raced, grappling with the idea of magic and teleportation. It seemed preposterous, and yet here he was, in the middle of a desert after being hit by a ball of fire larger than anything he’d ever seen in his life. It was a concept straight out of fantasy novels, but undeniably what Carl had experienced.
“So…magic is real?” Carl asked.
Henry looked at him like he was an idiot.
“People can teleport.” This time Carl said it as a statement of fact and Henry’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“You’re not supposed to be in this world, are you? Cistern, that is..” Henry trailed off.
“I’m a tourist,” Carl replied.
“Actually?”
“No.”