Caelum sat in silence, staring into the flickering campfire as his thoughts churned, disjointed and chaotic. His muscles ached from the violent shifts between realities, but the nausea that had been clawing at his stomach had finally dulled. The bitter taste of dark chocolate lingered on his tongue, a grounding sensation that tethered him to something familiar, even in the midst of this madness.

But the real thing that had kept his mind focused was the thin vial Seraphine had handed him. He rolled it between his fingers absentmindedly, the smooth glass cool against his skin. The liquid inside swirled with an odd, faint glow—otherworldly, just like everything else about this strange place. The campfire’s flickering light glinted off the vial, casting long shadows as Caelum stared at it, his mind still grappling with the enormity of what had happened.

Reluctantly, he raised the vial to his lips. There was a moment of hesitation—a silent rebellion against the reality he was now trapped in. But he knew, deep down, that he didn’t have a choice. He was dependent on her now, and on whatever this vial contained. His old life was slipping further and further out of reach. With a soft sigh, Caelum tossed his head back and swallowed the liquid.

The taste was sharp and herbal, much stronger than the chocolate. It left a warmth in his chest, radiating outward and soothing the lingering queasiness. As the warmth spread through him, the disorientation that had clouded his mind began to clear, but the weight of his new reality pressed down on him even harder.

Across from him, Seraphine sat cross-legged, her fingers tracing the edges of her grimoire as she studied him with that same quiet intensity she always had. She was a picture of calm, her violet eyes catching the firelight, reflecting it back like something ancient and unreadable. Her long, dark braid shimmered as the small jewel at its end caught the light, and the stars on her deep purple robe blinked in and out of existence, as though she were wearing the night sky itself.

But for the first time since they had met, Caelum wasn’t focused on her appearance. His thoughts were elsewhere, unraveling the threads of everything she’d said to him so far. The word magic lingered in his mind, its weight settling in like a stone in his gut.

Magic. He still couldn’t fully wrap his head around it.

"Jump sickness..." Seraphine had called it that when they landed here. But she’d also mentioned something else—Shifting. Caelum stared into the flames, his brows furrowing as the word echoed in his mind. Jumping made it sound casual, almost effortless, like skipping between steps. But Shifting—it sounded more deliberate. More dangerous. His fingers tightened around the vial in his lap, the empty glass still cool against his skin.

“What... exactly is Shifting?” Caelum finally asked, breaking the silence. His voice was hoarse, his throat dry from both the shifts and the stress. “I mean, what are we actually doing when we... jump?”

Seraphine didn’t look up from her grimoire at first, as if she had expected the question but wasn’t in any rush to answer. After a moment, she closed the book with a soft thud and set it aside, meeting his gaze.

“Shifting is the technical term for what we just did,” she said, her tone calm but laced with the kind of precision that suggested she had explained this before. “Jumping is what some people call it casually, but it’s far more than just ‘jumping’ from one place to another.”

She raised her hand, showing him the turquoise ring she wore on her finger—the artifact that had brought them here. The swirling vortexes within the stone glowed faintly in the firelight, the patterns shifting like currents in an endless sea. “Shifting is about moving through layers of reality. Each reality is like a different page in a book, stacked on top of one another. When we Shift, we’re phasing through those layers, crossing the boundaries that separate them.”

Caelum blinked, trying to make sense of it. He had imagined something like this earlier, but hearing it from Seraphine made it feel more concrete—and more terrifying. “So, we’re not just teleporting?”

Seraphine shook her head. “No. Teleportation is a myth, a legend of the ancient magicians. They say that some could do it, could bend the fabric of reality itself with nothing but their will. But no one’s been able to do that for centuries, maybe longer. These days, we rely on artifacts like this one,” she said, gesturing to the ring.

Caelum’s eyes focused on the ring, its glow pulsing softly. “That’s... how we got here? Because of that ring?”

“Yes,” Seraphine confirmed. “This ring is one of the few remaining artifacts capable of Shifting. It’s on loan from the university, and it’s incredibly rare. Most magic users rely on larger, more permanent arrays to Shift—complex networks of magic and runes that allow them to travel between dimensions. This ring, though, is a relic of a lost age. It’s old magic, the kind we don’t fully understand anymore.”

Her tone shifted slightly, a note of caution creeping in. “But it’s not unlimited. Every Shift we make drains its mana. Too many consecutive uses could damage it permanently. It’s why we had to stop here—to give it time to recharge.”

Caelum swallowed hard, staring at the ring. He had just assumed that magic, like the stories he’d heard as a child, was boundless—something all-powerful. But here was Seraphine, telling him that even magic had its limits. The idea of this priceless artifact being so fragile, so finite, unsettled him even more.

“If we use it too much,” Seraphine continued, “it could break, and if that happens, we’d be stranded wherever we are.” Her violet eyes met his, sharp and unblinking. “This artifact is dangerous to overuse, but it was the only way to retrieve you without alerting the wrong people. Most of the world of magic uses larger arrays for travel, but this ring allowed us to move quickly and under the radar.”

Caelum’s heart sank. “So... what happens if it breaks? We’re just... stuck?”

Seraphine’s expression darkened, and for the first time, he saw something like hesitation in her eyes. “Yes. We would be stuck in whatever layer of reality we’re in at the time. It’s happened before. Shifting without control or a proper anchor is dangerous. There are stories of people getting lost between layers, never able to find their way back.”

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Caelum shuddered at the thought. The idea of being trapped in a place like this—alone, untethered—made his skin crawl. He glanced around the campfire, suddenly hyper-aware of how isolated they were, how the this place seemed to stretch out endlessly in all directions. For all he knew, they were the only two people in this entire realm.

“Is that... is that how people traveled before?” he asked, trying to wrap his head around the idea of ancient magicians Shifting through sheer force of will.

“There are stories,” Seraphine said, her tone turning more reflective. “Legends, really. Ancient magicians who could Shift without artifacts, without arrays—just pure will and power. But those stories are just that—stories. No one alive today has that kind of strength. The magic we have now are teachings inherited from the ancients, but much of it has been lost. The ring is one of the few remnants of that lost magic.”

Caelum nodded slowly, the weight of it all pressing down on him. This wasn’t just some game or story. The world of magic was real, and it was far more dangerous—and fragile—than he had ever imagined.

“We’ll rest here until the ring recharges,” Seraphine said, her voice softening. “Then, we’ll move again. But for now, we’re safe. This place—this pocket dimension—was designed to be hidden. No one can find us here.”

Caelum stared into the flames, his mind racing as he tried to process everything. He was safe for now. But for how long?

Caelum sat in silence, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames as Seraphine’s words settled over him. Shifting. A relic of lost magic. Artifacts that could break, leaving them stranded between layers of reality. It was all so much to take in, and despite the warmth of the fire, a cold, hollow feeling gnawed at his insides.

He clenched his fists, his nails digging into the palms of his hands as the weight of his situation pressed down harder. The life he had known—the ordinary, predictable world he had grown up in—was gone, ripped away from him in a matter of hours. He was sitting here, in a pocket dimension, with a girl who wielded magic and spoke of things that sounded like ancient myths. Except they weren’t myths. They were real, terrifyingly real.

“Why me?” Caelum’s voice was quiet, almost lost in the crackle of the fire. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but the question had been festering in his mind, demanding an answer. “Why am I the one who has to deal with all of this?”

Seraphine’s violet eyes flicked toward him, her expression unreadable. She didn’t respond right away, as if she were weighing her words carefully before speaking. When she did, her voice was softer, more measured.

“Because you’re different, Caelum,” she said, her gaze steady. “You possess something inside you—a power that’s been hidden for a long time. Your inheritance is tied to something ancient, something that people will kill for. I don’t know all the details, but what I do know is that your existence changes things. That’s why they’re after you.”

Caelum swallowed hard, his throat tight. “But... I didn’t ask for any of this,” he said, his voice cracking. “I just want my life back. I want to go home.”

Seraphine’s expression softened, just slightly, but her tone remained firm. “I know. And I’m sorry. But going back isn’t an option anymore. If you try, they’ll find you. And when they do, they won’t be kind.”

The weight of her words settled over him like a suffocating blanket, and for a moment, Caelum couldn’t breathe. He felt trapped, cornered by forces he couldn’t see or understand. His friends, his family—they thought he was dead. There was no going back to them, no returning to the life he had once known. That part of him was gone.

The realization hit him hard, and he fought to keep his emotions in check, his hands tightening into fists once again. He was angry—angry at Seraphine, angry at the world of magic, angry at himself for being so powerless. But beneath the anger, there was fear. A deep, gnawing fear that he couldn’t shake.

“Who’s after me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “You said they’ll kill me for what I have. But who are they?”

Seraphine’s gaze darkened, and for the first time, Caelum saw a flicker of something like unease in her eyes. “I don’t know all the details,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “But I do know that there are factions within the magical world—groups with different agendas. Some want to control magic, to bend it to their will. Others want to protect it, to preserve what’s left of the ancient ways. You... you’re at the center of it. Your inheritance is something they all want, for different reasons.”

Caelum’s mind raced. Factions? Agendas? It was all too much, too fast. “And what about you?” he asked, his voice sharp with suspicion. “Why are you helping me? What do you want?”

For a moment, Seraphine’s expression remained impassive, but then she sighed softly, a flicker of something almost human crossing her face. “I’m helping you because I was asked to. My mission is to protect you, to get you to the university where you’ll be safe. Beyond that... I don’t have all the answers.”

Caelum’s eyes narrowed. “And who asked you to do this? Who sent you?”

“The university,” Seraphine replied, her tone steady. “They’re the ones who trained me, who gave me the tools to navigate the magical realms. They know more about your inheritance than I do. That’s why we need to get there. They can help you understand what’s happening. They have the answers you seek”

Caelum’s thoughts swirled, a storm of confusion and frustration. The university. His inheritance. Factions vying for control of magic. It was all so overwhelming, so far beyond anything he had ever imagined.

He leaned back, staring up at the sky—or what he assumed was the sky. The pocket dimension they were in felt strange, almost dreamlike, as if it existed just outside the edges of reality. The stars above flickered like distant pinpricks of light, but they didn’t seem real. Nothing here felt real.

And yet, this was his reality now.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Caelum muttered, his voice barely audible. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

Seraphine’s gaze softened again, and for a moment, she almost looked... sympathetic. “Like I said, you’re stronger than you think, Caelum,” she said quietly. “You’ve already survived more than most would in your position. You’re still here, still fighting.”

Caelum shook his head, doubt gnawing at him. “But I don’t even know what I’m fighting for.”

Seraphine stood up slowly, her movements graceful and deliberate. She walked around the fire, her eyes never leaving his. “You’re fighting to survive,” she said softly. “To protect yourself. And maybe, one day, to protect those you care about.”

Caelum stared into the flames, his thoughts swirling in a thousand different directions. He didn’t know what to believe anymore. He didn’t know who to trust, or if he could even trust himself.

But Seraphine was right about one thing—he had no choice. He had to survive. And to do that, he needed to keep moving forward, no matter how uncertain the path ahead seemed.

Seraphine paused beside him, her violet eyes glinting in the firelight. “Get some rest,” she said softly. “The ring needs time to recharge, and we’ll need to move again soon. But for now, we’re safe here.”

Caelum nodded absently, exhaustion finally weighing down on him. His body ached, his thoughts spiraled endlessly, and all he wanted was to close his eyes and forget—just for a little while—the chaos of the day.

As Seraphine returned to her place across the fire, Caelum lay back on the cool ground, staring up at the flickering stars above. He didn’t know what the future held, or if he would even survive long enough to face it. But right now, all he could do was rest.

The warmth of the fire pulled him under, and as his eyelids grew heavy, he heard Seraphine’s voice, soft and distant, echoing in the back of his mind: “I hope, after the pain, you can find the beauty in this new world…”

Her words faded as the exhaustion overwhelmed him, and he slipped into a restless sleep. His dreams swirled with fragments of shifting realities and glimpses of ancient, forgotten magic. And somewhere, just beyond the reach of his consciousness, the stars blinked out one by one.