The first thing she noticed upon waking was the much too-hard mattress she was leaning on–or sitting on. She frowned. Did she somehow fall off her bed again? Something small and unyielding was digging at the back of her head. She winced, as her usual wiggling around only made the object dig deeper into her scalp. She felt around the space under her head and stilled. Whatever she was leaning on was not her old mattress, nor was it the smooth wall of her apartment. It was much colder. But it wasn’t what sent her tired brain into a frenzy. It was the rough and uneven texture that greeted her fingers.

It was the ground. Not the cold ground of her apartment–mostly buried under a week’s worth of unwashed clothes. No. It was the hard and sturdy ground of somewhere she would have associated with mountains. It's not that she was an expert. Going hiking once years ago barely made one a connoisseur of the subject.

She peeled her eyes open, dreading what she would find. Did she somehow sleep through an earthquake and then become trapped under tons of rubble? Or did she underestimate her tiredness and was stuck deep in a fever dream she might never awaken from as the last drops of her soul seeped away from exhaustion? She had heard of people dropping dead from overwork, but somehow, she had never thought it was something that would happen to her. She had thought youth and energy drinks were on her side.

If she knew this would happen, she would have done many things differently. She would have taken a break, stopped to smell the roses on the university campus, and overslept for an hour or two without overwhelming guilt tearing down at her. She would have stuffed her duffel with whatever clothes she had and skipped to the mountains. She would have forsaken civilization and lived the life of a hermit.

Or maybe she was merely exaggerating. Maybe her tired mind had tricked her, and she would soon find herself in her bedroom with mountains of homework awaiting her attention.

But no matter how many times she blinked, the rocky, cavernous walls remained closed in around her. The high ceiling still peeked down at her, with crystalline-like objects hanging down from it, like icicles, whitish with a hint of sky blue.

She swallowed, the air damp and cool in her throat. She sat up, wincing as one of the tiny rocks tore into the palm of her hand. She whipped the blood on her pajama pants before stopping. She wasn’t wearing her night clothes, her earthy pajamas with faded bunnies scattered all over. She was wearing a navy blue uniform with black leather boots. A broken sword–the one from her dream–lay discarded a few feet to the side.

She glanced at her clenched fist, the one loosely enclosed around something small–a white crystal with cracks running all over its surface.

She looked at the crystal, but as soon as her fingers shifted around its smooth edges, the fragile rock shattered into a million pieces, turning into fine dust in the palm of her hand. The crystal crumbled like it was made of sand. The small fragments disintegrated before they could touch the ground. Gone, like they never existed.

She swallowed, trying to keep the deep-hidden hysteria that threatened to overwhelm her. Freaking out would bring her no help. She needed to think. But one question kept repeating in her head, nullifying any attempt to gather her thoughts to try and make sense of the situation.

‘What’s happening?!’

She didn’t know how long she had walked. There was no way to tell the time. The place seemed to have been removed from the world. A rocky structure isolated from space and time. At some point, she started doubting there was anything beyond the rocky walls.

Her arm ached as she dragged the broken sword. It was heavy despite half of its blade missing. Still, she wasn’t going to walk around defenseless. There must be a reason she had a sword in the first place–a reason she didn’t want to find out.

She was walking, dragging one foot after the other, then she found herself pinned against the wall, the jagged rocks digging into her back, and a dagger pressed against her neck. It happened so suddenly that her head still reeled from the whiplash she got. She squeezed her eyes futilely to keep the world from spinning.

“I finally found you,” a voice hissed next to her ear.

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She peeled her eyes open. Brown eyes with a hint of red stared down at her, cold and dispassionate.

“What? Who–who are you?”

He tilted his head to the side, the raven strands framing his face shifting.

“Is this one of your games?”

“What–no–I don’t—”

The blade bit into her skin. She winced, her pained gasp reverberating through the cavern. She grasped his hand, struggling to ease the sharp dagger’s bite. But his grip was unyielding. She felt the cut in her neck ich and a warm liquid trickle down to her collarbone.

He mumbled something too unintelligible for Daliya’s muddled ears. The dagger eased slightly. His eyes briefly shone a faint red glow.

“Huh. Well, that’s curious.” His brows furrowed in confusion.

As soon as he lifted his dagger away from her neck, Daliya threw herself to the side. She clutched the discarded sword and lifted it, pointing it in the man’s direction, her arms straining with the effort. She flinched as he chuckled. His brow raised mockingly as if daring her to attack him. But she didn’t dare move an inch. She watched him, her eyes following his every movement. He held his hands up in mocking surrender, dagger still in his grasp, before it disappeared in a flicker, like the sparks born off the edges of a flame.

“And who might you be?” He whistled, a glint shining in his dark eyes.

She watched him, wary. She didn’t know how to answer and feared her life depended on her next words. He stepped closer, and she shifted the sword in warning, her hold tightening on the hilt to stop the slight tremors that shook her frame.

“Stay away,” she warned him, cursing under her breath when her voice wavered.

He tutted, his fingers pinching his chin. “Not a bad sight. Certainly better than earlier. Relax, I won’t hurt you. I’ve got no interest in someone like you.”

Daliya bristled. The wound in her neck would beg to differ.

When she didn’t budge, he continued, “Fighting you now won’t be fun.”

Then he was in front of her, the sword suddenly gone from her hands and held in his. He threw it half a glance before he embedded it against the ground. Daliya stumbled back, her legs tangled around each other in her haste to get away. She would have fallen if not for his grip on her shoulder, steadying her.

“Careful. Wouldn’t want you to split your head open, not before you answer my questions.”

She wrenched her arm away and stepped back, creating as much distance as possible.

“What do you want?”

“Let’s start with who you are and how you got here. You’re clearly not the princess, are you?”

“What? The princess? No, no. I’m just a university student. I don’t even know how I got here. I just went to sleep and woke up here!” At his narrowed eyes, she continued. “I’m not lying! I don’t know where I am! I don’t know who is this princess you’re speaking of. I don’t even know who you are!”

“Hmm. That’s quite a predicament.” He paused for a moment before leaning forward, his eyes boring into hers, looking, searching for something. Daliya had to steel herself not to jerk back on instinct. “I’ve never heard of a soul switching before.” He seemed like he was talking to himself rather than to her. Then his eyes widened, a glint passing through them as he came to a sudden realization. He clicked his fingers, triumph coloring his face. “The core!” He looked at her. “Tell me, when you woke up, was there a crystal core nearby? A small white crystal.”

She hesitated before nodding. “Yes.”

“Where is it?”

She shook her head. “It disintegrated. I don’t know why. It just turned to dust.”

“I see. So she already used it,” he muttered. “Never thought it would be used for a soul switching.”

His eyes shone red as he regarded her, but unlike in her dreams, there was no deep-seethed anger behind his gaze. But there was something else–a hint of confusion and an even well-hidden tinge of helplessness. His lips pulled into a thoughtful frown.

He pulled the broken sword from the ground and held it towards her. With a flick of the wrist, the sword spun in an arc, and the hilt was up towards her. She took a step back, distrustful.

He sighed. “Take it. God knows what other things reside deep down this damn place. And try not to cut yourself on its blade,” he added as she reached her hand. His gaze at the sword was distasteful, downright hateful. “You’re already useless as it is. Better not add a Seal to this mess.”

Daliya hesitated. She regarded the man’s thoughtful stance, debating before her curiosity won out. “What was it?”

He paused. “The crystal? That was a very, very important crystal core the princess used to escape from the messes she made like the coward she is.”

“What do you mean?” Daliya asked, dread already gripping her chest tight.

“The princess has used the Soul Stone to escape to your realm and, in the process, trapped you in ours.”

He snorted, amused at her horrified look. “Get moving. We have a long way to reach the cave’s exit.”