But then I notice something.
Grass. Under my fingers. Real. Solid. Not another illusion.
I reach out to the tree beside me and press my palm against the bark. I feel the texture, every ridge and groove biting into my skin.
I take a deep breath. The air fills my lungs with the scent of flowers, earth, growing things.
I almost cry.
I’m back. I’m actually physically back.
Thank the goddess. Thank whoever runs this messed-up cosmic operation, because I did not want to spend another second floating in that void.
I scramble to my feet so fast I nearly fall right back down, brushing dirt and leaves from my clothes. Then I stop and look down.
Same stupid outfit. Mud-caked pants. The same torn shirt, someone’s dried blood stiff along the sleeve.
I’ve been scattered across time and space, and the universe couldn’t even throw me a wardrobe change. Not even a clean pair of socks.
“Kaelren!” I shout, spinning around. Nothing but trees. Thick ones, old ones, the kind that have been here a long time. “Kaelren!”
No answer. No broody, dark-haired man emerging from the underbrush. No Peeble buzzing into my face with a snarky comment. Just birds, wind, and the sound of my voice bouncing off bark.
I wait a beat. Two. Nothing.
I have a moment of panic before realization hits.
Okay. Fine. He pulled me out of the void, then apparently dropped me in the wrong spot. That tracks.
I start walking, picking a direction at random. No landmarks. No plan.
After about thirty minutes of pushing through brush, dodging low-hanging branches, I reach the edge of the tree line and stop dead.
I know this village.
It’s Vyn Hollow. I recognize the layout: the clustered huts in the canopy, the rope bridges strung between the massive trees, the way the whole settlement is built up and around the forest instead of through it.
But something is off. The paths look less worn. Some of the bridges are missing. The buildings are smaller, rougher, like a version of the town that hasn’t finished growing yet.
Strange. But maybe things just changed while I was away. I don’t know how long I was floating in that void. Could’ve been weeks. Months. Maybe they remodeled.
I walk down into the village to find the Sage, or anyone who can tell me what’s going on. I pass a few small shops and canopy cafés and immediately notice the stares. People stop what they’re doing to watch me. People here are weird. The clothing differs from what I remember, older, maybe. More layered, more patchwork. I guess I was too busy training last time to notice the local fashion, but this is definitely its own vibe. Like something out of a history book.
A mother with twig-thin limbs pulls her child to her side as if I’m something dangerous.
I mean, I know I look rough. But I just saved their entire realm. A little gratitude would be nice.
I find a tavern and push inside. It’s small, dim, smells like something fermented mixed with wet wood.
I sit at the bar and order a glass of mead. I figure I’ve earned at least that after being dead, or whatever I was, for however long.
The tavern is surprisingly busy for this time of day. A group plays music in the corner. Some song I’ve definitely never heard before.
The bartender sets it down in front of me without a word, eyeing me like I might start a fire.
“Just curious,” I say, taking a sip. “Have you seen a six-foot-four, dark-haired, broody asshole around here? Might have a bee or a beetle with him?”
The bartender looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “We don’t have anyone like that here.”
