I found myself sprawled out on the ground, trying desperately to piece together where I was and what had happened. My body ached everywhere—well, everywhere except for my legs, which I couldn't feel at all. Panic gripped me as the terrible realization set in: I was paralyzed from the waist down. A cold sweat drenched me, and my head spun so much I nearly blacked out. Just yesterday, I was another ordinary student, and now... no, I couldn’t let my mind go there.
Taking deep, slow breaths, I forced myself to survey my surroundings. A rustic wooden cabin came into focus, with a cheerful fire crackling in the fireplace and animal furs draped on the walls. A hunter's abode, by the looks of it. An uneasy hour slipped by before the door creaked open and a forest of a man stepped in—a tall, bearded guy in worn leather gear. He noticed me, and his burly face split into a grin.
“Blargh blah blob blibbity,” he rambled—or at least, that's what it sounded like to me.
Completely lost, I could only give him a bewildered look.
Scratching my head, I pointed at myself and said, “Damian,” a few times to get the ball rolling. He caught on fast, returning the gesture.
“Alistair,” he introduced himself, with a voice like gravel mixed with honey.
Once we had the names down, he brought me a simple meal. It wasn’t a five-star dish, but when you're starving, anything tastes like heaven. After eating, Alistair left, giving me some space to rest—and let my thoughts spiral into that dark territory again.
"Snap out of it, Damian!" I scolded myself, slapping my cheeks. Going down that rabbit hole of gloom wouldn’t do me any good.
Depression is a nasty beast. I needed to keep it on a tight leash, so I focused on a knot in the wood ceiling. Breathing exercises were my new go-to: in, out, in, out. To my surprise, it worked wonders—better than ever before. My mind cleared, my muscles relaxed, and then... oh no. No warning. The next thing I knew, my pants were a disaster. Turns out, other worlds don't just have dragons and magic; they’ve got a whole menu of bacteria and viruses your stomach has no clue how to handle.
The following days were a crash course in "Other Worldly Living 101." I spent a lot of time resting, nibbling on what little my stomach could take, practicing those weirdly effective breaths, and attempting to pick up words from my giant buddy, Alistair. After a while, I managed to show him my paralyzed legs. He examined them like a scientist—okay, a scientist in a fur cloak—then nodded, gave me a reassuring smile, and vanished outside.
Hours later, he was back, wielding a contraption made of leather and suspenders. It was like a backpack for me to sit in—and that's how I started "walking" again, riding piggyback on my new seven-foot-tall friend, who carted me around like I was lighter than a sack of feathers.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Turned out, Alistair was this land's version of a supermarket, hunting for the local grills. I tagged along on his adventures, getting top-notch views of the mountains and learning the ropes of the village market scene. Picking up the language came gradually, mixed with funny attempts on both our sides to understand each other.
But even in the midst of these simple joys, frustration crept in. I yearned to walk, run, and jump. Yet, there was no escaping my reality. Or was there? The nagging thought of finding a cure was both a slice of hope and a fountain of frustration.
* * *
Three months of practice, and I could finally have a decent chat with Big Al—that’s Alistair. On a routine trip home from peddling goods in the village, we were ambushed by a monster bear thing that was more “hair” than “bear.” Its eyes were meaner, and its teeth, well, let's just say a dentist would have nightmares.
“Hungry fella must’ve smelled our grub, normally they aren’t fond of crowds,” Alistair muttered as he settled me onto the ground.
He unsheathed a sword that gleamed like a sliver of moonlight, stood his ground, and locked eyes with the beast. As it charged, I braced for a battle—but with a flash of the blade, it was over. The bear lay defeated, and an electric buzz filled the air. It was that same sensation as before, my breathing exercises, but dialed up to eleven.
“What in the...” I gaped at Alistair. “How did you do that?”
He looked puzzled. “Do what? Fell the Ursidae?”
“Not the bear, you walking fortress! What’s with the... the zappy air thing?”
“You felt that?” His surprise mirrored mine.
“Yeah. Ever since I arrived, I’ve noticed something off, like static. But this was way intense,” I confessed, still tingling from the experience.
Alistair's eyes illuminated with a newfound intrigue, possibly mixed with a bit of cautiousness. "You're sensitive to these forces? Interesting," he mused. "We should head back; I'll explain some as we walk. Though, to get the full scoop, it sounds like we'll be diving into some dusty books."
In that brief moment, my frustration was sidelined by intrigue. What could this strange power be? And more importantly, could it be the key to getting my legs back on the leaderboard?