A moment later, I was back in my living room, sitting on the family sofa. Sunlight poured in through familiar windows, casting a warm shine over the carpeted floor, the coffee table, and the framed photos on the wall. The air smelled like coffee, and for a moment, I really thought that maybe I’d simply been dreaming.

For an instance I dared dream it was real. But then I noticed the dogs weren’t there. Normally, they’d be all over me, tails wagging, cold wet noses shoving against my leg. Big Fat Maggie would already be lying in my lap.

But the room was still, too still, and that’s when the first flicker of doubt crept in. I reached out for the remote and I flicked on the TV.

The screen came to life in a spinning kaleidoscope of colors, flashing and shifting in a way that made my stomach churn. No morning news, no cartoons, just a chaotic mess of images and sounds that didn’t make any sense. I winced, jamming the power button to shut it off.

I stood up, the floor under my feet feeling strange—soft like flesh and pulsing as if it were attached to a beating heart. I gasped, a knot of anxiety tightening in my chest. “Casey? Kids?” My voice echoed through the house, sounding loud and desperate.

There was no answer. Just silence. I wiped sweaty palms on my blue-jeaned knees, shaking my head before turning towards the kitchen. Maybe they were outside. Maybe I’d walk over to the windows there, look out towards the front yard, and see them playing basketball together near the garage. But as I took a step, the TV flickered back on, this time filled by loud and crackling static. It was like a swarm of bees buzzing inside my skull, and no matter how many times I hit the power button, the damn thing wouldn’t turn off.

“Casey!” I shouted, louder this time, my voice cracking with panic as I moved through the house. But everything was wrong. The air was getting colder, and I could see my breath in front of me, each exhale a little puff of white mist.

The static on the TV stopped, but the silence that followed was even worse. The walls were covered in a thin layer of frost now, the ice crawling across the floor and up the furniture as if it was alive. The light outside dimmed, turning that warm, golden glow into something pale and sickly.

And that’s when I knew it for certain. I wasn’t home. This wasn’t real. I was in hell.

A laugh echoed through the room, deep and rumbling, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It wasn’t just a sound—it was a feeling. One that crawled under my skin, wrapping around my spine like a cold, arctic hand.

“So this is the great champion? What a disappointment,” a voice said, low and mocking. I turned toward the TV, and there he was—Jeldorain, staring at me from behind the layer of ice that covered the screen. His eyes were cold, blue, and filled with something that wasn’t quite amusement. “Sit down, Ryan. Let’s talk.”

I didn’t move at first. My feet felt like they were frozen to the floor, and I strained against the unreality of it all. If I sat down, if I listened to him, I’d be giving in. I’d be accepting this madness, accepting that my world was gone to me. But the cold was biting at me, and my legs felt weak, so I sat down on the couch. The ice cracked and crunched, but the cushions were soft, and even a little warm.

“This isn’t real,” I said, but it came out sounding more like a question.

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“Real? Not in the way you think,” Jeldorain replied, his voice rolling out of the TV like thunder. “This is a dreamscape—a place where your mind and mine meet. We’re in your head, Ryan, but this is as real as anything else you’ve ever experienced.”

He was right in front of me now, stepping out of the TV like it was the most natural thing in the world. His massive body filled the room, the air around him freezing as he moved. His skin was blue, shimmering like ice, and when he smiled, it was all teeth—sharp, glinting, and not at all friendly.

“Where am I really?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “Where’s my body?”

He tilted his head, like he was amused by the question. “Your body? It’s back in your world, lying in a bed, hooked up to strange devices that beep and whirr. Your brain’s dead, at least by their standards. But you, Ryan, you’re here with me. In this place. And that means we need to talk.”

The words hit me like a sledgehammer. I could see it, that hospital room, the sterile white walls, the machines keeping me alive. I could see Casey, sitting next to the bed, holding my hand, her eyes red and swollen from crying. The thought of it made my stomach turn, and I could feel something inside me snap.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I spat, the anger boiling up in my chest. “You’re feeding off their pain.”

Jeldorain’s grin widened. “Their grief is like a fine wine, Ryan. Rich, full-bodied, and it only gets better with time. But it’s not just their pain I enjoy. It’s yours too.”

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. “You sick bastard. This isn’t a game! My family needs me! Put me back!”

His laugh was loud, echoing through the frozen room. “Put you back? I’m afraid that’s not how this works. You’re here because you were chosen. The champion spell picked you, and now you’re stuck with me.” He shook his head and sighed. “It also means that I’m stuck with you, an apparently nothing being that is about as far from the intentions of the spell as possible.”

I slammed my fist down on the coffee table, and this time the wood splintered under the force. “I’m not nothing! I’m a husband and a father, and I’m going to find a way out of this! I’m going to get back to them!”

The memories came rushing back—Casey’s smile, the way she’d look at me like I was her whole world. The kids, laughing and playing, their voices like music. The warmth of our home, the life I had. It all felt so far away, and the thought of never seeing them again made me want to tear the walls down with my bare hands.

Jeldorain’s scowled. “You think it’s that easy? We’re both prisoners, Ryan. Trapped by magic that’s older and stronger than you can imagine. I don’t know if there’s a way out.”

“There has to be,” I said, standing up, my voice firm. “There’s always a way out. Why did the spell take me? Why am I here?”

“Maybe the spell made a mistake,” Jeldorain said, his eyes narrowing. “Or maybe it saw something in you that I can’t. But if you really are the champion it was looking for, then you’re going to have to prove it. When we wake up, we’ll be in chains, heading to some sadist’s fortress to be educated into the ways of obedience. If you’re really the champion, you’ll find a way to break free.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, the only sound was the creaking-crackling of the ice as it spread, inch by inch, over everything. I didn’t want to believe him, didn’t want to accept that this was real. But deep down, I knew it was.

“Fine,” I said, meeting his gaze. “But I’m going to need to know more about, well, everything. Magic, mana . . . it all reminds me of a video game. Nothing like my world at all.”

Jeldorain stared at me, sizing me up. “I’ll mentor you, teach you how to escape and fight and survive long enough to find a way out of all of this and back to your home. But it’s hard to know what you do and don’t know. I can see snippets of things from your mind, about your world, and all of it is so different and alien. A dimension without the order of our numbers. Perhaps an unrecorded hell. I will advise you whenever you encounter things that you don’t know, starting with your character sheet.”

“My character sheet?” I asked. Around me, the room began to shake and Jeldorain let out a long groan.

“This is going to be much harder than I thought. We are waking up now. I’ll meet you in consciousness.”