The tension in the house was so thick that I felt like I could take the knife off of my table and cut it. That's how bad it was. My mother, having noticed my visible discomfort, said nothing but placed her hand on my shoulder and gestured for me to finish my food.

Yet, how could I? Something about those two men felt horribly off. I don't know what it was, but… it felt like I was being seen through. That man, Putinov, glanced towards me before he went and sat down, something about it just said, "Yeah, I know who you really are." Maybe I was being paranoid, yet even my family seemed unnerved by that man.

Were they feeling what I was feeling?

Varis didn't seem to be that way; he seemed oblivious to what was going on and was happily chowing away at his food.

Lucky kid. I wish I was that oblivious still.

Though my parents, Isa and Aenorin, seemed to share a look of concern when the two visitors went into the living room, after a few minutes of awkward silence and eating, my aunt returned from her room with a few bags of goods and placed them down before the two men.

"Thank you, Lady Sartosi," the archbishop purred in that creepy as fuck way, and I shuddered. "Your contribution will be duly noted."

My aunt smiled and bowed deeply. "Thank you; I have more in my room. Do you have any way to carry all of this?" She asked. "If not, I can save these till tomorrow when I go to church."

As I stuck a piece of bacon in my mouth, I watched as Putinov slowly shook his head from side to side, as if he were stuck in some kind of molasses. Every action he seemed to take was just wrong, it seemed. "No need," he said. "We have a buggy outside capable of carrying these goods."

My aunt's smile widened, but as she turned away to get the rest, Putinov raised his pale, thin hand. "Before you go, I wanted to praise you and your home."

My aunt's eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed. "O-Oh?" She turned to face him.

Putinov gestured about the room with a twirl of his hand. "I noticed how devoted you are to his will. Every room I've seen is adorned with his likeness, and the shrine at your door—I love it, and so does he. I can feel his presence greatly here."

I don't know why, but I felt the sudden urge to groan and roll my eyes, yet I resisted.

"O-Oh thank you!" My aunt stammered out. "I've been collecting all I could of his greatness over the years, some of which I've even made myself and had blessed."

The pale-skinned man's face twisted into a smile, an expression that almost seemed inhuman. "Well, you've certainly been doing a great job, except…" His voice trailed off, and the smile dissipated as his expression turned to a cold stare.

Once again, the tension in the room thickened, and I, along with my family, took notice. Even Varis set his fork down. My aunt's face fell, and she blinked a few times. "Wh-what is it?" She asked.

The Frenchman, Lucien, who had been writing this entire time, lowered his notebook and pen and looked at Putinov. The archbishop slowly raised a bony hand towards an ornament on the wall, which I never really took notice of. It was a bronze religious icon of an anvil and hammer with a roaring flame around them.

A symbol of Margon, if I wasn't mistaken.

"This icon does not fit with his will, for it's a symbol of one of the mistaken idols," Putinov said in a low, almost threatening voice. "It disrupts his balance and weakens his presence."

"Excuse me," Uncle Aenorin said as he turned in his chair to face the living room. "That is the symbol of Margon—"

"I-It's alright," my aunt said.

"No, it isn't—" My uncle started to say, but was stopped by my aunt holding a hand out towards him.

"My husband is a follower of Margon," she said simply.

Putinov's expression didn't change. By this point, the tension was so thick that I felt like I needed a chainsaw to cut through everything, and I felt my little heart beating against my chest.

"So, the household is not whole then," he said slowly, his yellow eyes shifting in our direction. "Truly, this is anomalous," he said as his eyes locked on me once again and I shrank back into my mother. They then flicked back up to my aunt, and he said in a much clearer voice now, "Well then. I will not judge; the misguided can choose to follow whomever they wish."

"Excuse me?!" Aenorin snapped as he stood up from his chair. "I've had enough. I'll not be disrespected in my own house! Take your shit and leave!"

"Aenorin, please!" My aunt pleaded though he shook his head.

"Go!" He pointed towards the stairs.

Putinov slowly stood up from the couch along with Lucien and bowed his head. "As you wish." He reached into his coat and pulled out a thick, black book, which forced a shudder from me once more. Something about it caused my chest to stir, and I gulped and I also noticed my mother tense a little as she placed a hand on my shoulder.

Putinov opened the book and muttered a phrase, and I noticed Aenorin hesitantly take a step back as if expecting something bad; however, nothing came. Instead, the bags that my aunt laid before the archbishop began to levitate off the ground. He then turned to my aunt and nodded. "Perhaps I shall wait for your delivery tomorrow."

My aunt solemnly nodded and said, "I'll guide you to the door."

As they walked towards the stairs, Lucien followed behind. The archbishop took a deep breath and glanced over his shoulder, and I swore as he looked at the table. He stared directly at me once again and said,

"Fear not, for though the path before you is shrouded in shadows and doubt, I shall walk beside you always.

In the days to come, when the third moon rises upon the horizon and the stars align in a celestial dance, you shall find me once more.

In the great halls of eternity, where time and space are but whispers, we shall meet again.

Hold steadfast to the chalice of my promise, and let its golden glow be a beacon in the darkness.

For as sure as the cosmos spins in the vastness of the Void Space, so too shall our spirits reunite in the divine embrace of everlasting light."

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"What the hell?" My mother muttered as she placed a hand on my head and tussled my hair.

"That's from the book of revelations, isn't it?" My aunt asked as they began to descend the stairs.

"Aye, it is," Putinov cooed. "When God and Jesiah separated, those were their parting words. A phrase that I hold dear: no matter where we are, we will always meet again…"

"I fucking hope not," My uncle growled as the door shut. As silence fell over us once again, he turned around to face the table and shook his head. "Come into my home, criticize my beliefs; I can't believe he called me misguided!"

My father nodded. "Indeed, it was uncalled for, but they're gone now."

Uncle Aenorin clenched his fists. "All of those religious… I want to call them nuts, but that'd be wrong…" He whispered, "They're so damn condescending, it drives me nuts! They always put on this nice facade, but the moment they find out you're not part of them, they try to force it down your throat."

"Aunt Saria doesn't seem like that," Varis said softly as he pushed his eggs around on his plate. "She's been very nice to us."

"Your aunt is different," my uncle said. "She wasn't always a follower of this "All-Father," she used to be margonite like me. She understands how close I am to the Forge Mother."

"What made her convert?" Isa asked curiously.

My uncle gripped the table and sighed. "An accident happened… Forty years ago, around the time the religion began to spread to Heinmar, Saria was employed at Arcanum Studies. She was working on some sort of project… I don't know what; she could tell the story better; she would pray every morning to Margon to help her in her work, and well, one day. While at the facility, there was what she called a "spellcascade event"."

"By the gods…" My mother muttered.

"What's that?" I asked curiously.

"It's very rare that it happens," my mother said. "But it's when an uncontrollable amount of ether is poured into a spell. Think of it like a broken flood gate or a dam. Wizards throughout history have been known to die when such rituals lose control."

So like a reactor meltdown. Got it… Wait a second, isn't that how I can cast such weak spells so powerfully? If I lose control and put too much magic into a spark spell, could I detonate like an atomic bomb? I, uh, don't like the thought of that…

My uncle nodded. "That's exactly what happened. They were running an experiment that went out of control; she said they some how tore open a fabric in reality, and nearly everything and everyone got sucked into it."

"Wait," Isa said, "I know this… The Altstein incident back in 1903."

"I'm surprised," my uncle said. "Heinmar tried to cover it up."

Isa nodded. "I've been known to be good at finding information in my time." She smirked, though it faded immediately. "I'm happy to hear she survived it."

"Wa-wait so…" I blinked. "A hole got cut up in reality, and everything sucked into it?" I was trying to wrap my head around the story; it was like a black hole got ripped open or something, but my mother also told me teleportation and portals don't exist aside from a few rare structures or small items like my bag or her magic door.

"I don't know the details," my uncle said. "Saria doesn't like to talk about that day too much. It brings up too many bad memories; all I know is that, after that incident, she changed."

"Alstein was a town in the northern province of Oberwald just north of us, Luna," Isa said. "During my travels, I learned from folk that Heinmar had been experimenting with replicating the Far Reacher superstructures."

Super what? Huh? I've been in this world for seven goddamn years. I've never heard of such a thing. It sounds more like a science fiction story than a fantasy. Forerunner race, crazy technology—this is a goddamn rabbit hole I need to go down later.

Isa continued her little history lesson by asking, "Remember the plane gates your mother told you about?" I nodded. "Ruins of those gates are scattered across Enora; two of those are still functioning to this day. One lies in the capitol of Branoria, Brennon. The second is in the Capitol of Yankston, Union City. These are the only two forms of teleportation that exist in Enora and for years, the nations of the world have been trying to replicate these amazing pieces of arcane machinery with no success."

My uncle nodded. "She knows more than me, that's for sure." He laughed.

Isa smiled. "I've been studying the Far Reachers for as long as I can remember." She chuckled.

I nodded. "So, to get the facts straight," I said, "Aunt Saria worked for a company that was trying to rebuild these ports, tore a hole through space-time, and after surviving, converted to this religion?"

My mother patted me on the head. "Such a critical thinker she is." She smiled.

My uncle nodded. "Yeah, it sounds… suspicious when you put it like that."

"I wonder if she saw something," I said, but before I could entertain that thought, the front door opened and then shut, and I heard my aunt climbing up the steps.

When she reached the top, I could see she was red in the face with embarrassment She looked at my uncle and said, "Aenorin, I am so sorry. I-I didn't know h-he was going to criticize you, and I just…"

My uncle held a hand up. "It's fine," he said softly. "He's gone now. Let's just sit down and enjoy the remainder of our breakfast."

My aunt nodded slowly, walked over to the open seat beside him, and sat down.

Once again, the awkward tension was back…

----------------------------------------

Breakfast finished without any other issues, and when the time came that I was free to do whatever the hell I wanted, I got the fuck out of there as fast as possible. Where did I go? The backyard is where I went. I just needed fresh air to clear my head after all of that. It's moments like this that make me wish the damn Man in Black wasn't having his beauty sleep. My mind was swimming with everything that had just happened.

First off. The Frenchman, Lucien About. From where I'd come from in my past life, it wasn't uncommon for me to encounter people who spoke French. Just under a hundred miles from where I lived was Canada, and a few of my old internet friends were from there and both knew a bit of French. The two used to always fuck with me by talking shit knowing I couldn't understand them.

So I'm not alone… I thought. Like, other people were reborn in this world from Earth. I didn't know what to think. Part of me was elated that there was someone else I could bond with, yet another part of me, a much quieter part, was actually kind of bummed about it. It made me feel less special.

Who am I kidding? I've never been special. I chuckled as I sat down on the stone stairs, my eyes drifting towards the overgrown shed.

I couldn't believe how open the guy was about it too. He was walking in here speaking a language he knew no one would understand. That's like if I just walked up to my family and started speaking English, kind of like how I accidentally did it during our camping trip.

Since then, I haven't spoken English in… ages. I'm not counting the dreams I've had.

I just want to leave that life behind me. I just want to start over, be someone different, be Luna, and be a girl in a new world. Live life, have a childhood crush, grow up, travel, learn magic, and who knows? Maybe find a wife or husband; maybe even get pregnant and have kids for Christ's sake. Okay, maybe not the last bit. I don't know what that'd be like or if I'd enjoy it.

The point is, I just want a normal, new life.

Yet, I keep having these intermittent nightmares about my past. I have that creepy Charity woman wanting to stick me into some Matrix to relive a happier version of it. Now I have someone from that past showing up… And now that scarred archbishop is looking at me weirdly…

Wait a second. Scarred man… and a man speaking a language from Earth…

It hit me. The camping trip, the talk at breakfast before we left Oren. Isa said she saw a scarred man in her village in Kazora who spoke English and was a wizard. The archbishop had a grimoire; he did a spell, and his face is all fucked up. I didn't hear him speak English, but he had a man who spoke a language from Earth. Was that him?

Isa said that after the elder spoke with that man, her elder began to work with the Rusivites when they colonized her home country, and Putinov is a Rusivite. My stomach began to form a knot, and I gulped.

The Rusivites might be involved with this crazy cult. Perhaps they will be my enemies after all…

The back door opened behind me I turned to see my mother smiling at me. "Luna, there you are," she said as Varis wiggled out from beside her and hopped onto the back porch.

"Your little friend is here!" Varis said as he tossed his arms towards my mother as if presenting something to me.

"Who?" I blinked out from behind my mother, and to my surprise, I saw Anne poke her head out.

"Hello, Luna!" She beamed. "Uncle finally found the time to bring me over! I hope I'm not interrupting."

I blinked a couple of times, and then it hit me. I forgot Anne was coming over today!