I, Connor McKinney, adjusted my Pit Vipers and grinned, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline.

The crisp morning air bit at my cheeks as I stood atop one of the steepest slopes I had ever faced, my feet strapped to my snowboard. Below me, the world was a pristine white canvas, untouched and inviting, aside from the majestic pine trees lining the trail.

Snowboarding and martial arts were my two escapes. Nothing compared to the adrenaline through my veins. I finally had a break from my job as a commercial pilot. Layovers, jet lag, and a long year of exhausting flights had worn me down. The job paid well enough, though most of that went to my divorce bills and property disputes. But right now, it was time to be free.

With a deep breath, I pushed off, gaining momentum as I slid down the slope. The snow beneath my board hissed like a snake and the world blurred into streaks of white and blue. I was flying, each turn sharper than the last. My board slid effortlessly toward a narrow section of rocky terrain, barely covered in snow. I weaved from side to side, dodging obstacles with precision, knowing full well that any hesitation could end in disaster.

But then, something strange caught my eye.

A purple glow flickered just a few feet ahead. Sun flare? Reflexively, I adjusted my course, riding switch to steer away from danger.

But something was wrong.

I caved, struggling to regain control, then twisted, trying to get away from the purple light, but my board didn’t respond. It was as if the glow had a magnetic pull, dragging me toward it. My feet struggled to change direction, but the board kept its path.

Shit.

I struggled to keep my balance.

The light felt like a current, pulling me in like a raging river.

And then I lost control, tumbling into the snow. The impact rattled my helmet and back, but before I could regain my bearings, I was dragged—pulled by some invisible force through the snow, like a magnet drawing iron. My heart raced as I fought to understand what was happening.

The cold air whipped past, a howling gale that drowned out all other sounds. I twisted, trying to catch a glimpse of what was pulling me, and then my feet made contact with the purple blur.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

A sudden warmth spread through my legs, then surged into my abdomen, chest, and limbs. I screamed as I was dragged further into the light. The pristine snow-covered world transformed into a kaleidoscope of colors, and then, abruptly, I hit solid ground—damp, humid, and warm.

Groaning, I pushed myself up, my head spinning. I closed my eyes to stave off the dizziness, then opened them again, blinking in shock. Towering trees glowed with a soft, fluorescent light. I turned around, feeling my boots sink into what seemed like a swamp, surrounded by strange trees with twisted branches and gold-green leaves. Above, a sky in hues of purple and orange peeked through the leaves and branches.

I thought I was dreaming. I had to be. The warmth was welcome after the frigid snow, but everything felt too real. Did I have an accident? The air was thick with an earthy scent I couldn’t place. The sounds of the forest were alien, strange chirps and growls blending with rustling leaves.

Before I could process it further, a sound from the underbrush caught my attention. I tensed, heart pounding. Brown eyes gleamed between the leaves, fixed on me. But no, the eyes held something else. Determination, maybe innocence… definitely female.

“I’ve spotted you, necromancer,” hissed a female voice. “Step away from your magical tablet, or I’ll put an Arcanian arrow through your gut.”

“Huh?” I raised both hands. “What?”

“You heard me,” the woman said, her voice sharp and boyish. “I’m tired of your trickery. Make a sound, and I’ll skewer you like a boar for Ostara.”

I frowned, confused.

“You’ve made a mistake. I’m not—what did you call it, a necromancer?”

“Enough talking!” she snapped. “Turn around, hands behind your back. I’m going to tie you up. If you try to play smart you’re dead.”

“What? Why?” I turned, complying, still too disoriented to resist. “I’m not a necromancer. I had an accident, but I don’t want to hurt you.” “

“Quiet!” she hissed. “You’re no necromancer? Right, lie all the way. If so, if you had no magic, you’re one of their collaborators, aren’t you? I wouldn't hurt an unarmed man, but I can’t let you warn your people about me. You’ll stay my prisoner until I figure out what you are.”

“Wait, what?” I muttered, bewildered. This was the weirdest situation I’d ever been in—some kind of LARPing gone wrong, maybe? Tribal conflict? My mind raced, but it didn’t seem like a game anymore.

I had to remain calm, perhaps even try to empathize with my captor and remain cool-headed, planning meticulously for the right moment. Hell, as pilots we had codes to lock the cockpit in hijacks, or hostage situations, but in this case, I was alone.

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But… another part of me knew muay thai and BJJ. I could try and disarm her if she had a knife or something. It was always a bad idea, though. Even as a brownbelt, I could die trying. Should I?

Not really.

“And what kind of robe is that?” she snapped behind me.

I stayed still, feeling the leaves rustling behind me.

She stepped out of the bushes and… Now this woman was hot! She had beautiful eyes, an almond shaped face, a straight nose and straight black hair bound into a high ponytail. She looked vaguely Asian, more like a mix of Asian and European, like people I’d seen when traveling across Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan.

She was half a head taller than me, wearing that green silk that seemed to absorb the strange light of the forest. Her robe clung to her neck like a Chinese qipao, but unable to hide a generous chest, perfectly round and perked. The sides of her silk opened up to her pale legs. A quiver hung from her hips, replete with tiny arrows, and, as if that wasn’t enough, a long narrow scimitar hung behind her back.

I blinked. She was beautiful—like a warrior princess from a JRPG, sexy clothes and all.

Was she a cosplayer or something?

This couldn’t be real.

“Who are you?” I asked, my voice hesitant.

“I asked you a question, necromancer!” she retorted sharply. “What’s with your armor?”

“It’s not armor,” Connor answered. “It’s my ski gear.”

“Sky what? And what about that bizarre helmet? And that glass around your eyes. Is it made from the skull of an arcane beast? Your cloak! Let me see your eyes.”

I pulled up my ski glasses and took off the helmet, letting it drop on the grass.

I sighed. “Look, I have no idea what you’re talking about. But tell me where am I? Who are you?”

“Answer my questions, you murderous warlock,” she snapped, reaching for my wrists. I pulled them back. “You’re in no position to ask.”

“Listen, you’re making a mistake. I’m not a necromancer, and I can prove it. I’m a man from somewhere else. I got here by mistake. Is there a way to prove that I have no magic? See. Zero. If I were a necromancer, I would’ve exploded half the forest. Hell, I’d turn you into a newt. You’d get better, though.”

“You have the oathmark, don’t you?” she said, loosening her grip.

“The what?”

She reached for my hand.

“Remove that glove!”

I brought my hands to the front, and I removed my gloves, keeping her distance as if a mere glimpse of my palm could melt her face.

She narrowed her eyes, inspecting me.

“No oathmark,” she mumbled, taking a look at my hands. “Are you a mere initiate? If this is a trick, I’ll chop your head off and bury it in a shaman’s mound.”

I sighed in frustration. “Why… Do you insist that I’m a sorcerer, necromancer, whatever. I’m from America. From Kansas City. I was just in Wyoming for a bit of snowboarding before my next flight and suddenly, I’m here. In this… Jungle.”

She immediately unsheathed that curved sword and pointed at me.

“Hey, I’m not playing rough like that,” I said, lifting both arms and trying to keep my calm.

“Swear that you’re no follower of Hath-Aman!”

“I am… no follower of Hath.... Who?”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Alright, alright” I said. “Hath Aman. Who’s that even supposed to be? Is he the big baddie? Master necromancer? Well, fuck him, for all I care.”

“Don’t try to fool me. I know your type, lying all the time to get the better of us. What you did to our people won’t be forgiven. You’re a scout, aren’t you?”

That blade was sharp as hell. I could try to outrun her, now that my feet were away from my board, but it’d be taking chances. I could, perhaps, wrestle the sword out of her, but most likely I’d get cut. In half.

Besides, this was clearly a woman with a sharp sword and actual bow and arrow, and she was distressed in some way. Trigger happy to say the least. Or should I have said blade-happy?

“I will tie you up, necromancer, or whatever you are, and bring you to Zyra,” she mumbled. “She’ll know what to do. She’ll make you sing.”

“As long as you don’t stab me in the gut before talking. Talking is always welcome. And, hey, listen. I know you’re going through a hard time. I’d help if I could, but I have to go back to Wyoming. I’m the captain, by the way. I’ve got a flight tomorrow night, and…”

“Huh, captain? Wait. Are you an Alabenian? Or Northern? Anyway, turn around, I’ll present you to the elves.”

I made a sour face, complying and turning around.

“Not that kind of captain,” I added.

“A merchant? Sea captain?” she added with sarcasm and a chuckle. “How did you get here? We’re thousands of miles from the open sea, and no river vessels cross this far down the Danion river.”

“I’m not… from this world, let’s say. I’m from another world. Earth. I was snowboarding. This is my snowboard, not a magic tablet, by the way. I slid into some portal.”

Now that made her pause.

“Aria’s gate…”

“What?” I asked.

Birds chirped in the distance.

Her eyes opened sharply, she sheathed her blade and reached for her bow, nocking an arrow faster than the blink of an eye.

“Wha…”

She hushed me, her eyes attentive at our surroundings.

To be honest, there was something weird about that bird song. I’d never heard a bird making sounds like that, so precise, so mechanical. For whatever reason, made the girl hold her bow tighter.

Suddenly, a blaze of purple light burst toward us. I didn’t have time to think—I just reacted. Leaping forward, I grabbed the woman and took her to the ground as three men emerged from the bushes, wearing flowing dark cloaks, green paint smeared across their skin. My heart pounded as I took in their pale, porcelain-like faces. One of them raised his hand, marked with a strange dented spiral, and a purple glow sprang to life, swirling ominously in his palm.