The fog gradually cleared, but something was wrong. It seemed to me that I had not moved. The same trees towered around, the grass grew, and the birds sang as if nothing had changed. I listened and suddenly heard a distant car horn — a sound that was impossible in Nyx’s world. It brought me back to reality: I was home again, in my world.
Looking around, I noticed that the forest looked different from the one I had been in before. In Nyx’s world, I appeared in an open area, and there were trees. After walking about a hundred steps forward, I came across a narrow concrete path. It led through thickets of bushes and trees, as if long abandoned, but retaining its purpose.
I carefully hid the shotgun in the dense thicket of bushes among the branches. The case was left in Jude’s car, and I was supposed to get it later. A shotgun in plain sight would have attracted too much attention, and it was a long way from the abandoned estate to my apartment. Walking along the old path overgrown with young growth, I could not shake the feeling that I was not alone here. Every shadow that flickered among the trees seemed to be playing hide and seek with me, as if a furry creature was playing pranks, hiding behind the trunks.
Sometimes, when the branches gently touched my face, I caught myself thinking that these were not the touches of leaves, but the gentle hands of Dionela, enveloping me with her care. The playful wind that circled above the treetops brought with it a whisper and crackle, reminiscent of the distant noise of a dragon’s wings. These sounds gave birth to vague memories, causing a melancholy emptiness in my heart.
But as soon as I crossed the border where the wild nature ended and the noisy city began, all the magic disappeared. The bustle of the city, the roar of cars, and the stream of passers-by brought me back to reality.
As I walked out onto one of the city streets, a picture began to form in my head: this place seemed familiar to me. I recognized the area — it was the Razumovsky estate, an old private property that was rumored. They said that the city authorities were going to set up a botanical garden here and restore the abandoned estate and the adjacent territory. But now it was neglected, although the concrete path indicated that life had once been in full swing here.
Standing on the deserted street, for a moment, I felt like a stranger in this familiar world.
Returning home, the first thing I did was plug in my smartphone. I needed to call my parents and Jude. The apartment greeted me with a strange, even oppressive feeling of frozen time. Everything was in its place — the clothes lying on the chair, the half-empty glass on the kitchen table, and even the books on the shelf, as if I had just stepped out for a minute. But something was wrong… I was especially confused by the strange feeling of time. It felt like I had spent a year in Orqualia, an eternity full of adventures, battles, and losses. And here? It had barely been a day. Just Saturday and Sunday.
There was no trace of dust on the floor, the mailbox was empty — as if I had never disappeared at all. How was that possible? Nix hadn’t warned me about this peculiarity of traveling between worlds, and now, having returned, I felt this strange, almost frightening discrepancy between two realities. It was as if I had fallen out of one stream of time and plunged back into another, which I now had to come to terms with.
Dialing Jude’s number, I heard his worried voice. “Where have you been? I almost called the police!” — his concern sounded louder than words.
“Sorry, Jude, I just… decided to go on a solo trip,” I answered, trying to sound casual, although questions were still swarming in my head. — “Just got back.”
A slight hesitation hung in the air. It seemed he didn’t believe me completely, but I couldn’t tell him everything. How could I explain that I had been in another world, fighting dragons and saying goodbye to magical creatures?
Having promised Jude that I would improve soon and would treat him to a beer as compensation, I ended the call. Having taken a shower, I felt lighter, but a strange uneasiness inside did not go away. Having laid down in front of the TV, I turned on a boxing match in which two titled athletes were figuring out who was stronger. However, I barely followed what was happening on the screen. My thoughts were far away — they remained in Orqualia, among my friends: Tarnis, Maleus, Tush, and Nix.
In my dream, I found myself in the heavens again, accompanying Chiquita on her first flight. She awkwardly flapped her small wings, and I hovered next to her, trying to support her with my thoughts and words. It was a pure feeling of happiness, as each of her strokes filled me with pride and warmth. I smiled in my sleep, full of satisfaction.
But, like a bolt from the blue, anxiety flared up inside me: I hoped not to miss my classes! The reality of the city returned, reminding me of my routine duties, that everything here is subject to a schedule — bus schedules, the exact start time of classes, and regulated hours. All this again covered me like an invisible net. Looking out the bus window, at the familiar landscapes flashing behind the glass, I realized the year spent in Orkvalia had changed me. I was still a simple student, but this year added wisdom and maturity to me, which no one here can see.
I was different, and this contrast with my previous life, with its trifles and rules, was felt even more strongly.
Furthermore, I needed to speak out, to share the secret that was burning me from the inside. We gathered with friends, and I, choosing the moment, spoke. However, Nikos interrupted me mid-sentence:
“I don’t remember you ever telling us anything like that.”
“You just don’t remember,” I continued, holding back my irritation. “Six months ago, at the bowling alley. You decided I had too much to drink and tried to send me to bed. Did that happen?”
“Well, yes,” Nikos drawled. “Then you started saying something about dragons that you chopped into pieces. I thought you were just overtired from playing some fantasy game.”
“I thought so too,” Michel chuckled, putting in his word. “You were not yourself then.”
“You see,” I sighed. “But I wasn’t drunk then. Do you understand that now? I was telling you the truth. Imagine if I suggested going to another world for gold. How would you have reacted?”
Michel and Nikos exchanged glances, but there was no answer. I knew him myself.
"You would curse me and laugh," I finished. "And I would smile back, knowing that the truth is too incredible for ordinary life."
There was a pause. Nikos, accustomed to my pragmatism, looked puzzled. Michel wanted to ask something but did not dare.
"Without our journey together, you all didn't know about dragons, about a world where swords decide destinies and magic changes lives? Now what I tell you doesn't raise any questions, it's all natural and familiar, isn't it? You see, that's why I kept quiet then," I continued.
“My story would have sounded too strange, if not wild, to be told over a glass of beer or between throws at the bowling alley. I am not offended by you,” I said, trying to dispel the tension. “I decided that the time had not come for the story. For you to believe me, I had to open the Portal and show you the existence of Orkvalia with my own eyes.”
“Can I ask you a question?” Basil asked, his eyes curious. “How much gold did you bring back from your first trip?”
I smiled. My friend, the blond giant, was still obsessed with the yellow metal. “Zero! I didn’t bring back a single gram. I simply forgot about it.” Basil didn’t believe me and lowered his head, whispering something under his breath.
“Let me finish this story, and if you have any questions, you can ask,” I suggested, preparing to share my memories...
"One day, when classes were over, and I was returning home, I suddenly realized that I could feel the use of magic by the townspeople. It was a strange discovery: a slight pulsation in the air, like invisible waves passing through me. Every time one of the passersby used magic, a barely perceptible sensation arose in my soul, reminiscent of a quiet heartbeat.
But magic was not only used by people. To my surprise, I felt that the city was far from being as simple as it seemed at first glance. Magic penetrated it from behind the shadows, from everywhere. It was always here, just hidden under the surface of everyday life.
The townspeople did not notice it, but I saw and felt how thin threads of magic sparkled and vibrated in the flow of reality. The city was inhabited by creatures that no one would call dangerous if they knew about their existence. For example, shape-shifters — creatures capable of taking the form of ordinary people, animals, or even objects. They moved among us, merging with the environment, becoming invisible in the noisy city as if they were not there.
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I realized that werewolves lived next to me — mysterious creatures who used magic to not stand out in the crowd, hiding their true nature. They lived among people, but every time I approached them, I felt a light wave of energy emanating from them. Outwardly unremarkable, inside they were seething with wild, unbridled power.
And then there was the entire tribe of “sewerlings”, hidden in the labyrinths of the city’s sewers. Their world was under people’s feet, among the pipes and dark corners of abandoned buildings. They collected trash like treasures, turning everyday objects into their relics. Their magic fed on the city, like tree roots growing deep under the asphalt, tying everything together.
These creatures maintained an invisible connection between themselves. They had their system of signals, their world that pulsed with magic, intersecting with ours. And now I knew — they were watching. They were everywhere.
One ordinary day, I was walking along a narrow street in the city center, where the windows of long-closed stores reflected neon lights. An ordinary street. It shortened my path to the fencing hall, where I was practicing my sword exercises. A few people were passing me, busy with their affairs, but my gaze was drawn to the three standing at the corner. They seemed like ordinary people at first glance — men of medium height in dark jackets. One of them raised his hand to his face as if gesturing in conversation.
When I drew level with them, the conversation died down, and I felt their gaze turn to me. An unusual, almost tangible, tension hung in the air. I turned my head and saw the men's eyes - something unnatural sparkled in them, too sharp, sparkling like precious stones, not noticeable to an ordinary person, but obvious to me.
The unusual eyes gave away the nature of these creatures. They were shaped, hiding among people, changing their appearance like one of the city dwellers' changed clothes. But at that moment, they caught something in me. For a second, they looked at me with slight fear mixed with recognition. They knew I was more than just a human. My dragon essence, though hidden, was seeping through my shell.
One of them stepped back, the second tensed up, and the third froze, as if unsure of what to do next. Without saying a word, they turned away and disappeared into the crowd, leaving me with the thought that I was not the only one who could hide in this city.
I saw no point in picking a fight with them. The magic that surrounded these creatures did not pose a danger to the townspeople. It was part of the city, like a hidden reality that existed alongside everyday life. So I continued my life as usual — training in the gym, concerts, work in the workshop. The city lived its own life, and I lived in it, knowing that the magic around was much closer than most people could imagine.
As I walked around the city, I detected the sources of magical impulses. On the street corner stood a fortune-teller with long, weathered hands, predicting the future of a crowd of interested listeners. I could feel the magic flowing from her fingers as she whispered incantations, weaving them into the surrounding air.
In one nightclub, a group of mediums regularly held seances with the other world. The concentrated faces and hidden signs of people emitted subtle streams of magic, trying to establish a connection with something that was beyond our world. Their magic was discreet, but there was a sense of power and mystery in it.
But one day I saw an illusionist who called himself a magician and worked in a circus. He deftly manipulated cards and objects and created illusions that captivated the audience, and his tricks had their own magic — bright, cheerful and, it seemed, slightly childish. Despite his dexterity, I realized that the magic he used, as well as the magic of all those who lived in the city, did not belong to Oceania.
These displays of magic were only a pale reflection of what I had seen in Orkvalia. They were harmless, insignificant, and, beautiful. As I realized this, I felt the memories of my adventures flood into my mind, giving my return home an unexpected meaning.
I found this illusionist amusing. He thought his primitive tricks were giving the audience pleasure. Some of his tricks were quite simple: card guessing when he guessed the card of one spectator or pulled it out from somewhere in his sleeve. The children were especially pleased when he pulled out a budgie or a small canary from his hat, their cheerful chirping filling the tent with laughter.
But these were only the beginning of the fun. Up front, a magician made objects disappear from one place and reappear in another — marbles, coins, and even paper money disappeared from one end of the stage and appeared in the pockets of the audience. When he made a girl disappear into a chest and then reappear in the crowd before everyone’s eyes, the audience gasped.
At the climax of the show, in his grand finale, the magician picked up a small jug that seemed empty and, almost ceremoniously, poured wine from it, then milk, then water, as if the vessel were a bottomless well of liquids.
And yet, for all the spectacle of his tricks, I felt they were child’s play, a pale shadow of real magic. The illusions were beautiful but lacked the power I had known in Orkvalia.
I met this magician, and soon we became friends. Even though I still kept Orkvalia’s magic a secret, this man was the first person I could trust with my story. Our acquaintance dampened my longing for that wonderful country. Sensei and I often talked about the possibilities of magic, although his tricks remained just clever tricks.
Once, during one of these conversations, he confessed:
“I would like the power of my magic to increase several times. These tricks are just the surface of what I dream of being capable of.”
His words sounded with such melancholy that I, without thinking, demonstrated one of my gifts to him — with a slight movement of my hand, I made fire appear on my palm. It was a tiny tongue of flame, but Sensei, seeing it, seemed to turn to stone.
“You said that the powers of Oceania do not work in our world?” — Michel asked me this question, thinking that there was a deception in my words.
“I said, but you did not check,” I answered. At that moment, I believed that my abilities remained in Orkvalia. But then, to my surprise, I discovered that something had passed with me into this world.
Sensei became my grateful listener. His eyes were shining, but not from curiosity about my fights with dragons or stories about the underground corridors where I met the king of the rocktopuses. No, he was interested exclusively in magic: its power, its possibilities, its nature. Each of our conversations only increased his thirst for knowledge of secrets that he had no idea about. He dreamed of getting to Orkvalia to learn real magic, but I upset him by saying that without the Key it was impossible. And although this did not stop him, he did not lose hope.
So half a year passed. Sensei was obsessed with the desire to get to Orkvalia. He could not stop. One day he suggested that I go to the very place from which my first movement to another world took place. "Maybe there “Is there anything left?” he said with a gleam in his eyes, but I just shook my head. It was a useless path that led nowhere.
He checked Razumovsky’s estate from top to bottom, every nook and cranny, every wall. He wandered around there for hours as if he was hoping to stumble upon a Portal, but nothing happened. I chuckled to myself.
Sensei was full of enthusiasm, but I, on the contrary, was becoming more and more convinced that I would never return to Orkvalia. After all, who needs me in that world? Half a year has passed since my return from Orkvalia. By the standards of this world. In that unusual country, time flows differently. The six months I lived in this world could have become decades in Orkvalia. Those I knew could already be old or dead. I was afraid to return to the void, afraid to see the gloomy, deserted lands where cities once stood. Everything changed in an instant when Nix knocked on my door and, seeing me said just two words:
“Orkvalia is in danger! “
But that’s a completely different story.