The city wasn't far, a half-day's walk at best, but to me, it felt like I was stepping into another world.
The path was well-worn, lined with wooden signposts and the occasional stone marker etched with ancient runes. Traders and travelers passed by every so often, some on horseback, some guiding enchanted carts that hovered just inches above the dirt.
I had seen these things before, but only when merchants visited the village. Seeing them out here, on the road, in their natural element, was something else entirely.
A group of armored riders thundered past me on horseback, their cloaks bearing a sigil I didn't recognize.
And then there were the caravans, their wagons laden with goods from across the kingdom. One wagon carried towering barrels of honeyed mead, another had a caged basilisk, its emerald eyes watching everything with eerie stillness.
I quickened my pace.
It was one thing to hear stories about the outside world.
It was another to walk through it.
****
I spotted the city long before I reached it.
It rose from the plains, its towering walls stretching high into the sky. Beyond those walls, spires and domed rooftops gleamed in the midday sun. At the city's heart was a colossal obelisk, dark and polished, its surface engraved with glowing markings.
Velmora, the closest major city to my village.
I had never been here before and the sheer scale of it stopped me in my tracks.
Even from a distance, I could see bridges crisscrossing above the streets, suspended platforms carrying people from one district to another, and wisps of magic trailing through the air.
I swallowed hard.
The city gates were massive, as if reminding me of my place.
Two enormous silver-plated doors, covered in runes that shimmered like trapped starlight. These were not ordinary gates. They did not creak open or swing aside. No, they melted, parting like liquid silver, reforming seamlessly each time someone passed through, as though the city itself was deciding who could enter.
I hesitated.
Standing near it felt like standing before a living thing, something vast and intelligent, watching, waiting.
Then, with a deep breath, I stepped forward.
The moment my foot touched the threshold, the air vibrated. A deep, resonant hum pulsed through my bones, and the runes flared, washing over me in a pulse of cool, electric light. It wasn't just a scan.
It was a judgment.
I held my breath.
Then, acceptance. The glow faded, the hum quieted, and just like that, I was inside.
The city roared to life around me.
The first thing that hit me was the sheer noise. A symphony of voices, footsteps, and the sharp, unpredictable crackle of arcane energy surging through the streets everywhere I looked, something was happening.
To my left, a street performer juggled glowing orbs, their colors shifting with every toss, deep violet, then fiery gold, then a shade of blue so impossibly bright it felt like staring into the heart of a star. A flick of his wrist, and the orbs twisted into the shape of a dragon, flaring its wings before dissolving back into light.
Nearby, a group of scholars stood in a tight huddle around a floating book, its pages turning feverishly as it scribbled notes into itself, ink appearing with each flick of a spectral quill. They argued with such intensity that the air around them shimmered with heat.
A merchant with six arms stood behind a stall overflowing with enchanted trinkets, flipping through an inventory list while simultaneously haggling with three customers at once. One set of hands gestured animatedly, another exchanged coin, while the last pair carefully wrapped a glowing vial in cloth.
Then there were the smells.
Freshly baked bread, its crust darkened to perfection by enchanted ovens. The rich spice of roasted meat sizzling over coals that pulsed with a soft, enchanted glow. The unmistakable sharpness of alchemical reagents, acrid and metallic, carried by the wind from some unseen experiment, probably not going as planned.
I turned a corner and nearly collided with a clockwork automaton.
Its brass limbs clicked and whirred in precise, rhythmic movements as it adjusted a street lantern, its glass eyes briefly flickering over me before returning to its work. Intricate runes were etched along its joints, glowing faintly as gears shifted beneath polished metal plating.
A world where magic wasn't just a tool, it was woven into the bones of the city.
I walked deeper, drawn forward by the current of movement, until the streets beneath me shifted. The rough cobblestones gave way to smoother ones. Floating lanterns drifted above the streets, their flames flickering between colors to mark the passage of time. Towering archways of spellbound glass stretched overhead, refracting light into endless cascades of color.
Scholars and mages, draped in deep blue robes embroidered with silver filigree, moved through the district with quiet purpose. Some walked alone, noses buried in books that hovered beside them, flipping pages on their own. Others held conversations through enchanted mirrors, their reflections speaking back in voices that carried a faint, otherworldly echo.
And above everything….
A huge circular structure, almost as big as the obelisk, carved from stone so dark it seemed to drink in the light around it.
The Teleportation Gate.
The final step before Arcanis.
My heart skipped a beat.
The entrance to the gate was guarded, by mages clad in ceremonial white. Their robes shimmered with protective wards, and their eyes held the weight of knowledge far beyond my own.
A line of travelers stood before the gate, each presenting a document, an emblem, or a sealed invitation.
I swallowed hard, stepping into line.
The people around me moved with purpose, their presence radiating power, confidence. A scholar adjusted his glasses while levitating a tome bound in enchanted leather, its pages turning on their own. An adventurer tightened his grip around a gnarled staff, the wood pulsing with barely contained magic. A noblewoman stood ahead, her robes shimmering like woven moonlight, her hands adorned with rings that glowed with latent spells.
And then there was me.
A village boy.
With a satchel.
And a wrinkled letter gripped too tightly in his hands.
The line crawled forward.
Every step felt heavier. My boots pressed against the smooth stone, polished from the passage of countless others who had walked this same path. Some had arrived brimming with confidence, others trembling with doubt. I had neither.
Just an uneasy acceptance of whatever came next.
It was finally my turn.
A mage extended a hand. "Your summons?"
I forced my fingers to unclench, nearly dropping the parchment in my rush to hand it over.
He barely reacted, eyes scanning the letter with the kind of efficiency that spoke of routine. For a long moment, he said nothing.
"Step forward," he instructed. "The next gate opens in five minutes."
I stepped toward the platform.
The runes encircling the gate ignited in full, bathing the area in ethereal light. The air shuddered, warping like a mirage as the very fabric of space bent to accommodate the magic.
This was it.
My final moment before leaving everything behind.
I took a deep breath and stepped into the light.
****
Teleportation was supposed to be instantaneous.
One second, you were standing on the glowing platform, the next, you arrived at your destination. Smooth, seamless, and precise.
But of course, something went wrong.
The glow around me, instead of being steady, flickered violently. The runes on the floor hissed, their symbols twisting unnaturally.
And before I knew it, I was yanked forward.
Voices. Shouting, confused. The mages operating the teleportation gate sounded panicked.
Then…
Everything collapsed.
And I was gone.
****
I wasn't aware of how long I was falling.
Or if I was even falling at all.
There was no ground, no sky, just a void of twisting energy, pulling and pushing in every direction.
Somewhere, whispers echoed.
It has happened again…
Another misplaced soul…
A memory surfaced, unbidden. Something I had once overheard in the village when I was younger. A legend.
Long ago, a mage was travelling through teleportation. But due to an anomaly, he had been redirected elsewhere.
They called him "The Misplaced", the only recorded case of a teleportation failure in history.
A year later, they found him in another continent, with no memory of how he got there.
I had always thought it was just a story.
A warning meant to scare novice mages.
But as the magic around me snapped and twisted, as I felt my very existence being forcibly thrown off-course, I realized that I was about to become the second Misplaced.
****
With a violent jolt, I was spat out of the void.
I slammed into cold stone, rolling across the ground before coming to a painful stop.
For a few seconds, I just lay there, gasping. My vision spun. My ears rang. My stomach protested violently.
I had no idea where I was.
But I did know one thing:
This was not Arcanis.
I forced myself upright, the smooth stone icy beneath my fingertips. My ears still rang, my breath came in uneven gulps, and my limbs felt like they weren't entirely my own. But through the haze of disorientation, something cut through.
Silence.
Not the peaceful kind.
The kind that held its breath before something terrible happened.
I blinked hard, my senses sharpening, taking in my surroundings. And the moment I did, I wished I hadn't.
Two figures.
Standing opposite each other.
Tension coiled between them, thick as a storm about to break.
Both wore ornate dueling attire, embroidered with sigils of noble houses. One of them, a man with sharp silver eyes, had a blade glowing with runic energy. The other, a woman with dark, braided hair, had one hand raised, a spell half-formed in her palm.
A duel.
A noble duel.
And I was lying in the middle of it.
For a long, stunned moment, no one moved.
I could practically hear the crackle of raw magic in the air, feel the weight of their stares as they shifted from each other to me.
The silver-eyed noble was the first to speak. His voice was cold. Lethal.
"What… is this?"
The woman narrowed her gaze, studying me like I was some unfortunate insect that had wandered into a dragon's den.
"An interference?"
I swallowed hard.
Slowly, very slowly, I lifted a hand in a weak attempt at diplomacy.
"Uh. Hi?"
Dueling was a serious thing among nobles.
It wasn't just for sport, it was about honor, power, and influence. Interrupting one was considered an offense. Which meant I had just committed a crime before even stepping foot in Arcanis.
The nobleman's grip tightened on his sword. The woman's fingers twitched, the spell still charged.
I raised my hands quickly. "Look, I can explain…"
"Kill him," the nobleman ordered.
"WHAT…"
The woman hesitated. "We don't even know who he is."
"He ruined the duel," the man growled. "That's all that matters."
Nope.
I am not getting incinerated over this.
So, I did what I did best.
I ran.
I twisted on my heel and sprinted across the unfamiliar courtyard.
Shouts erupted behind me.
Footsteps thundered against stone.
The crackle of magic ignited the air, sharp, dangerous. A bolt of energy screamed past my ear, scorching the very air beside me.
I yelped.
"STOP HIM!"
"I WOULD IF HE'D STOP MOVING!"
Not happening.
I dodged around a marble fountain, barely missing the blast of another spell. I cut between towering statues, the faces of long-dead nobles staring down as if unimpressed by my life choices. My heartbeat slammed against my ribs, that's when I collided face first into something.
Something solid.
Something armored.
A hand snatched my collar before I could even think about escaping.
I looked up.
The guard stared down.
"IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!" I blurted.
The guard narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"
And that was when I saw the insignia on his armor.
A crest I recognized.
Not from personal experience.
But from history.
I knew where I was.
I was in one of the restricted estates of the kingdom's ruling families.
A place no outsider was allowed to enter.
And I had just trespassed into it.