Illusions

For the past three days, Ryan had lived in his humble lodge. In that time, he had learned many things—especially about Sebastian. It turned out Sebastian had not written just one book, but four. The first two were clear and thoughtful, but the later ones grew increasingly erratic.

Before something unknown changed him, Sebastian was a nobleman. He came from the White Valley of Terosha, he was born in a declining baronial family that had ruled over the valley for thousands of years. Although he was born into power, he never cared much for ruling. After his father retired, his elder brother took over the barony. Sebastian, on the other hand, was passionate about literature and longed to be a scholar. In the valley, he was known as the Scholar of the White Ashes.

As he grew in knowledge, the valley began to feel too small for him. Determined to learn more, he set off for Peothra—the largest city in the Terosha Dukedom, known as the City of Gold. Peothra was famous for its vast library, gold-plated architecture, and abundant wealth. On his way to Peothra, he was teleported to shifting realms almost by accident and had been traveling ever since, and that was 146 years ago.

It was raining outside.

Tip, tip.

Seeing the rain, Ryan slowly stepped out. The downpour was heavy, so he decided to harvest the water as his drinking supply was nearly gone. He dug a two-foot hole and placed a plastic tarp inside, making sure the water wouldn't seep into the soil. He secured the tarp's edges with pencils so that it wouldn't blow away. His drinking problem was solved, but the food problem remained. The only chance to find food was out in the endless forest—or, can it even be called a forest anymore? Sooner or later, he would have to venture out again.

With damp hair and dead, tired eyes, Ryan gazed into the dark, twisted woods that had driven his mind to the brink. Slowly and steadily, he began to ready his gear—strapping on his worn vest and military equipment. He was almost ready.

He had his pistol checked, his torch checked, and his bottle checked.

Very meticulously and with discipline, Ryan examined his equipment. It reminded him of his old training days—after a long day of exercise, he'd carefully inspect his gear. Once he was satisfied, he packed everything up, opened the gate, and picked one of the lanterns hanging at the cabin's gate. Then he stepped into the dark forest.

When the lantern's light hit the forest, it was as if a chain reaction had begun. Wherever the light touched the dark green trees, they turned into a rotted, decaying version of themselves—the forest revealing its true, haunted colors. In that eerie darkness, Ryan walked on, his face growing cold from the strange, chilling winds.

As he followed the dark path, he wasn't sure when the decayed forest suddenly turned snowy. The entire scene shifted—the leaves on the trees turned white and blended with the snow on the branches, as if he had stepped into another plane entirely. Beautiful, glowing flowers lined the side of the road, offering a strangely pleasant view, though the cold was far from comforting. The wind ceased, but the chill only deepened. The air felt humid, dry, and piercingly cold. Soon, his lips and skin began to crack and dry up.

Knowing that staying for more than five or ten minutes would leave him dehydrated and with hypothermia, Ryan started to run—desperate to escape this snowy death trap. After three minutes of constant running, he finally broke free from the snowing forest. Relief washed over him as the scenery changed: no more snow, no more dry wind. But it was a false hope.

"Why is everything so dark?" Ryan shouted, panic edging his voice.

His eyelids grew heavy. "Shit, I have to leave," he cried out.

He ran faster than he ever had before, but the more he sprinted, the weaker he felt. His frantic pace slowed until he collapsed onto his knees, then onto his face. Lying on the ground, he felt his consciousness slowly slipping away—a horrifying, numbing fade into darkness. His fate remained unknown.

Only the dim light from his lantern revealed his location in the darkness—but that light, too, began to fade. Somewhere, his consciousness remained awake, yet he could not move his body. It felt as though he no longer had a body at all—only his soul was left.

"No, I can't. I have to escape this. I can't die here. Wake up, Ryan!" he screamed, summoning every ounce of his willpower. But his body didn't budge.

Then, as if the darkness itself had listened to his despair, a small flip-flop phone began to vibrate and glow—and then, in an instant, it vanished.