The smell of freshly baked bread pulled me out of my reverie. It was like I had been in a dream all along. As the seconds floated away, I couldn’t clearly remember what I was doing here, seated in that armchair, looking at a splendid sunset. Gold, brown and orange light rushed into the room through the giant windows that took up the entire wall in front of me.

My reflection showed a man, brown, almost black hair, hazel eyes, big hands resting on my thighs, dark clothes, and something else, over my head, that I weirdly wasn’t feeling on my scalp. That man was me, I was aware of it, but his features were so different. As if he wore a mask made of shadows, constantly changing his appearance.

I stayed still for a minute more, a bit dizzy from the dream I’d just woken up from. Not a single memory of it, yet its tang was on my tongue, like a nightmare that would have made me sick to the point of vomiting.

Everything felt right and wrong at the same time. I was in the right place, but I couldn’t really determine where I was exactly. The room was gigantic. Black walls, except for the one being glass, dark furniture, golden ornaments sliding into the natural gaps between the stones on the floor and the ceiling. Only the statues and the few paintings were giving colors to that solemn and hard ambiance.

Serious decisions were made here. I arrived at that conclusion from the five feet long table that was planted in the very middle of the room, aligned with the chair that looked a lot like a throne, I was still seated upon.

My body rose up and guided itself towards that dark wooden table, where numerous papers were scattered, like it was natural. And when my hands fell flat on the edge, my head kept throwing me visions I never saw before, that sensation of deja-vu making my brows frown, certain to have lived that situation a long time ago without being able to completely put my finger on it. Like I was still dreaming.

I knew it wasn’t real when I realized I couldn’t read anything that was on the papers. Not because I didn’t speak the language, not because there wasn’t enough light, though the enormous chandelier hanging low was reflecting a very smooth and cozy glow, but because I was totally unable. My eyes could see it, but my brain was utterly incapable of processing the words. Only vague and blurry paragraphs were visible, nothing more. Even if I put it right before my eyes, nothing. I threw the sheet on the ground and discovered what the table really was.

A massive map, that’s what it was. I hadn't seen it before, but there were levels: carved landforms mountains, rivers, villages, oceans. A world map made flat. Everything was on it, and I couldn’t help but search for my home. For Kendara. But I couldn’t find it. None of the words on the caption were discernible either.

A long sigh escaped my mouth and I took my attention elsewhere, seeking clues, hints, anything that could help me understand what this place was. I turned, looked in every corner until I found myself in front of a huge arch of white stones, at the exact opposite of the large windows and the throne. And then I heard it. A laugh. A melodious and gorgeous laugh that made me smile uncontrollably, the same sensation invading me, like I knew this person but also being sure I never listened to that voice in my entire life.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

I couldn’t walk past the arch. My whole body froze, an invisible wall preventing me from going too far. But further was all I was asking for, I needed to know, needed to see those people talking and laughing, needed to learn who they were, what I was doing here, what we all were doing here. My fingers stroked that transparent imaginary panel, as if I tried to persuade it I was trustworthy. Nothing happened.

The voice came closer, though, and I was bracing myself for what I was about to see. The trepadation of the unknown, the incapacity to fully grasp the reason for this vision, it made my heartbeat quicken, but falter. My breath caught up and my hands were clenching the fabric of my trousers, which were peculiar from what I used to wear, when she appeared. As the words said, her face was smooth and empty, her shape seeming to flaot in the air. Her hair was red, like a tamed fire, and her irises were blue, almost gray, icy.

“I didn’t know you were here” she said, with a tone I could kill for. I let out the breath I was holding, relieved. “Do you want to join us?”

It felt like she was talking miles away from me, distant, even if we were standing so close to each other, only that fake wall separating us. “Come—”

And then, she said something that I couldn’t register. Her mouth moved but the sound crackled. It was only one word, maybe a name. I looked at her beautiful red lips, saying it before stretching into a wide and reassuring smile. But I was too disoriented with that word I did not understand. All of this was slipping from my fingers like smoke I wanted to hold in my hands, knowing that it was impossible but trying anyway. I needed answers and I needed her to tell me.

“Where am I?” I mumbled and opened my mouth to ask who she was but she cut me off and said again “come”.

I wanted to come, I wanted to shout to her that I was lost and scared, and that everything felt right and wrong. I wanted to take that hand she was giving to me but I suddenly couldn’t move or talk. I was frozen, from head to toe, and I could just watch, my eyes burning, nauseous again, the room spun around me. There was fire and icy blue, golden stripes and ebony marks, there were papers flying, statues and paintings mixing and then there was nothing. The Nothingness expanding for miles and miles, no beginnings, no ends. And before my eyes opened violently, my whole body being pushed out of the mattress, my breath ragged and my face covered in sweat, I heard her one last time.

“Come, Raen”