Block, dodge, block again. Sweat streamed down Ethan Martins' face, but his alert brown eyes never left his opponent. In the school gym, the smell of rubber and sweat was as familiar as the ring itself. Ethan enjoyed provoking his opponent, Karl, a kid at least forty pounds heavier and two years older, who unleashed a series of punches and kicks that would have knocked out most. But Ethan wasn't most. While he usually didn't accept sparring against amateurs, he was in a good mood today and gave the guy a chance.

  "Come on, Karl! Finish him!" someone random yelled from the sidelines.

  "Ethan! I bet on you!" another kid watching the fight in the Massachusetts Boarding High School gym shouted.

  Ethan's black hair bounced as he moved quickly, dodging Karl's attacks, sometimes just taking the blow and absorbing the impact. Karl hadn't landed a single significant hit on Ethan's impenetrable defense, who hadn't even bothered to attack yet.

  "Ethan, can you just finish this already?" a bored voice asked from further up in the stands. "I still have things to do, you know?"

  It was Jack, Ethan's best friend and dorm neighbor on campus. They always walked back from school together. Jack was a nice guy, though he had a somewhat complicated personality. For example, it was clear now that he was annoyed by how long Ethan was taking to finish the fight and go home. Ethan rolled his eyes and smiled in amusement at his friend's attitude, who had no concern that he might lose the fight.

  "Okay... okay... I'm almost done," Ethan replied, defending against a straight punch from his opponent. "Riiight... now!"

  Ethan faked a left jab, making his opponent recoil. He landed a low kick directly to Karl's right leg, destabilizing him, and followed with a kick to the side of his abdomen. Karl dropped his guard from the kick and ended up taking a series of blows to the face.

  "End of the fight! Ethan wins by sequence of strikes," said the teacher supervising the friendly Muay Thai match.

  Ethan smiled and stretched, relaxing his body before grabbing his backpack as the other students watching the fight congratulated him on his victory. He grabbed a towel and threw it over his shoulders.

  "Why do you always do that?" Jack asked, tossing a water bottle to Ethan. "You're a two-time regional champion, Ethan. You could've finished him much earlier in the fight."

  "Then the fight wouldn't be worth it, the idea of sparring is to train, not compete," he replied, taking a few sips of water. "If I just attacked him and ended the fight right at the beginning, he wouldn't have a chance to learn."

  Jack scoffed, watching his friend pack his things. When he finished, the two began walking towards the dormitory.

  Their school, Massachusetts Boarding High School, was definitely larger than they'd like when it came to walking. Of course, it was good to have such a well-prepared infrastructure for students, but it was still awful to have to walk so much at the beginning or end of classes to get to the dorm.

  "So, Jack, are you going to spend the whole afternoon buried in your remedial books?" Ethan asked, just to make conversation and tease his friend.

  "Unfortunately, yes," he replied monotonously, ignoring Ethan's joke. "Honestly, I don't know how you manage to get such good grades when all you do is punch and lift weights."

  "Hey, don't exaggerate! I also like to stay home and study, okay! I just do it less often than you," he retorted, turning to walk backward and face Jack. "Besides, it's important to have hobbies and take breaks; it helps relax your brain and learn faster, okay?!"

  Jack just gave a knowing smile, not believing his friend's words. The two were already halfway to the dorm, a path so familiar to them since the beginning of the year. It was strange to think they were so far from home and yet felt so comfortable in this new place. Jack was from Texas; he had moved at the beginning of the year right after his fifteenth birthday. His parents had sent him there for "greater opportunities" or something like that. Ethan, on the other hand, came from even further away, Brazil, a tropical country in the southern hemisphere. He had moved on his own with a little help from a distant relative and the director of his old school.

  Finally, after a few more minutes of walking and idle chatter, Jack and Ethan arrived at their dormitory apartments. Yes, you read that right, apartments. These dorms weren't for just anyone; only scholarship students could use them, one of the perks of maintaining the best grades in school.

  "See you later, Ethan, try not to spend the whole afternoon just binging series," Jack teased before opening the door to his own apartment.

  "Ha! My only marathons are running marathons, you idiot!" he playfully retorted, opening his own door. "And anime!"

  The two laughed and entered their apartments. Ethan had a large, enormous pile of nothing to do. You see, Ethan always finished his assignments as soon as they were given by the teacher; he didn't like waiting for deadlines and things like that; his anxiety didn't allow it. So he spent most of his time with nothing to do. In cases like this... it was time to work on his hobbies!

  After a well-deserved shower to rest his body from the earlier fight, Ethan sat on his couch, grabbing his notebook, pencil, and guitar. He had been trying to compose a new song for a while, but he was having trouble creating lyrics that satisfied him.

  "Come on, Ethan, it can't be that hard, just relax and write." He crossed his arms in front of him and stared at the blank sheet on the living room coffee table, a drop of frustration trickling down his forehead as no ideas came to mind.

  "You know what, forget it," he said, throwing himself onto the couch and closing his eyes, crossing his arms behind his head. "When inspiration comes, it will come," he told himself, convincing himself.

  Taking a deep breath, Ethan brought his hand to his necklace, where he kept two gold wedding rings attached to a necklace—his parents' rings. Ethan barely remembered them, but he remembered loving them, which was why he always kept that necklace with him. Lightly squeezing the necklace, Ethan felt a deep sleep take hold of him as he drifted off peacefully...

  This was the beginning of his unwanted journey...

  I was having a very strange dream. I was in the middle of nowhere, literally nowhere. I couldn't see, hear, or feel anything. It was as if I were just a consciousness wandering in endless darkness. The silence and darkness left me breathless, though I wasn't sure if I could actually breath at that moment. Gradually, I began to feel my own body; I could move my arms – just a little - and feel my clothes, but even opening my eyes, I couldn't see anything. Immense darkness embraced me, chilling my body. Is this what sleep paralysis feels like?

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  Then I started to hear a commotion, muffled screams from low explosions, metal clashing against metal, and the roar of some animal I had certainly never heard before. Suddenly, I felt my body grow heavier as I seemed to be placed on some kind of wooden structure and appeared to be moving in some direction, even though I wasn't moving my body – the effort of trying to move it made me nauseous. The voices and the noise of the commotion gradually grew softer, replaced by the rhythmic sound of hooves trotting at high speed. After that, my brain must have gotten tired of playing tricks on me, and I returned to darkness, falling into a deep sleep once more.

  When I woke up again, things seemed less confusing. My head ached as if I had a terrible hangover – believe me, I know what I'm talking about – and my vision was blurry. At least the room had dim lighting; my head was grateful for that... Wait a minute... room? I'm almost sure I'd fallen asleep on the living room couch...

  I struggled to sit up in the bed, which was a bit harder than I would have liked, and began looking around, trying to get my vision back to normal. The room was furnished with well-crafted wooden desks that looked handmade if you asked me. Candles were everywhere, giving the room a soft, inviting, and cozy illumination; their reddish light was calming, a funny contrast to the large shadows they cast in the room through the other objects.

  Facing the bed was a needlessly large double wooden door; it was ajar – as if someone had just passed through it. It was dark brown with golden doorknobs, had a delicate tone, and yet gave me the impression of being very heavy. In any case, the most important thing was that I didn't recognize this room.

  "W-where am I?" I said to myself, my voice hoarse, and my throat hurt as the words came out of my dry mouth.

  I got out of bed with some effort and felt the cold wooden floor beneath my feet; it was very polished and even a bit slippery. The white walls made me uncomfortable, as if I were in a hospital – a very old, retro one, perhaps – but it helped me finally focus my eyes, allowing me to observe the room more clearly. If I had to guess, I'd say I was in another crazy dream. How had I ended up in this strange room?

  Before I could dwell too much on my questions or explore the room, the doors opened further as some people entered the room with smiles on their faces.

  "Summoned one! Glad you're awake! How do you feel? Is the room to your liking? We've set aside the best of our guest rooms for you!" A middle-aged man began speaking frantically; despite his welcoming face, there was a certain nervousness in his voice.

  He was dressed strangely, reminding me of those old people you'd see in a history book. He was somewhat overweight and must have been at most 5 feet 5 inches tall; his green eyes seemed to observe me cautiously.

  Behind him, two maids remained with their heads bowed, staring at the floor, their hands clasped in front of their bodies. They didn't say a word, seeming attentive, observing the movements of the diplomat in front of them.

  Finally, a little further back, a person entered dressed from head to neck in dark blue medieval armor. At their waist rested what I was sure was a longsword with a white hilt and brown scabbard. The man exuded a certain air of authority, but at the same time, he didn't look directly at me, at least not in the eyes; his eyes seemed fixed at the height of my hands, which was somewhat amusing since he must have been at least six inches taller than me. I must have been staring for too long because they started to look at me with concern.

  "Hm... I... Where am I?" I asked, running a hand over my face, still a bit dazed. "Who are you all?"

  The maids, seeing my instability, came to my side and helped me to the bed to sit down. The diplomat sat in a desk chair in front of me. The armored man merely leaned against the wall next to the diplomat, his left hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

  "I believe you are still confused due to your... situation..." the diplomat said. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Larry Kane, descendant of the Kane family, Duke in service to His Majesty Dogul Ferraz Kamrhin VIII, sovereign of Kamrhin."

  I stared at him, stunned. He was what? In service to whom? Kingdom? What had I eaten before sleeping? Was I having an acid trip or something?

  "God, I really need to wake up," I said, lying back down on the bed and closing my eyes, hoping to wake up as soon as I opened them again. It didn't seem to work...

  "Hm... Summoned one... would you be so kind as to tell us your name?" the diplomat asked, observing my failed attempts to wake from this strange dream.

  "Ethan," I replied, standing up and looking around. "Ethan Martins. Where did you say I am again? Kan..."

  "Kamrhin," Larry replied. "You are under the protection of His Majesty Dogul. I was sent along with Garnold, the head of the guard, with the mission to escort you to the palace in the royal capital, Seamond."

  Larry gestured to one of the maids, who promptly came forward with a set of folded clothes in her arms. They were made of substantial, light grey linen and looked clean and comfortable.

  "I perceive your current attire is not the most... suitable for the climate or your stature here in Valorn," Larry continued, with a gentle smile. "These are more appropriate. Please, put them on. We have much to discuss."

  The maids placed the clothes next to me on the bed so I could inspect them better. The set included a simple inner tunic made of cream-colored cotton. Over it, a dark forest-green outer tunic made of the substantial linen, a pair of grey linen trousers, and, finally, a pair of sturdy, earthy-brown leather boots that went halfway up the calf. A darker wool travel cloak, without flashy brooches, was folded with it, to be used against wind and dust.

  It was the kind of attire I'd expect to see in a period film, not on me. All of them seemed a bit oversized for me; they must have been made for someone with more build because they were somewhat loose. I was impressed by the amount of detail I was encountering; not even my most vivid dream came close to this. What was happening?

  "We will give you some privacy so you can change. Please, come to the living room so we can talk once you've changed. Our time is short; we should depart again soon," Larry said, getting up from his chair. He left the room, followed by Garnold.

  The maids waited for the two to leave and closed the door, remaining in the room with me. They simply stood by the door as if waiting for something, which made me uncomfortable. I needed to wake up soon.

  I started performing all the tactics I knew to wake up from a dream: rubbing my hands, focusing on sensations, pinching myself... nothing worked. Then I noticed that on the desk where Larry had been sitting, there was a letter opener. It looked quite sharp. I picked it up and made a small cut on my thumb.

  "Ouch!" I exclaimed, feeling the pain of the cut, blood starting to flow.

  One of the maids approached me with some haste. Quickly, she took a clean bandage from one of her uniform pockets and began to stop the bleeding.

  "Please, my lord, be careful!" the lady said, bandaging my fingers.

  The old lady must have been at least fifty, I guess; she had certainly taken care of many injuries, as she seemed like a professional nurse tending to the wound. Her old body bent slightly forward, probably due to years of service as a maid.

  "These things can be really sharp. How about you change your clothes so we can go to the living room where Master Larry is waiting for you?" the lady finished dressing the wound and released my hands. "Helena! Don't just stand there! Help the young lord Ethan with his clothes."

  I was stunned. The sensation of the cut, the color of the blood, the warmth of the old lady's hands bandaging me were all too vivid to be a dream. I was so lost in my thoughts that I barely noticed when the younger maid approached me with the tunics in her hand.

  The other maid – whom I judged to be Helena – must have been around fourteen, with brown hair and honey-colored eyes. She seemed a bit nervous, like someone who has to do their job while being watched by their boss, or someone on their first job interview. But there was a certain spark of enthusiasm in her eyes...

  "S-sir," she said in a slightly low voice, "Let me help you with your clothes."

  "W-what? W-with my clothes?" A mixture of confusion and embarrassment came over my face. "N-no, I-I can do it myself!" I took the clothes from her arms with some unintentional force. "C-can you turn around, please?"

  They found my behavior a bit strange. Maid Helena seemed to want to insist on helping me change, but the older lady stopped her from speaking and granted my request. As soon as the two turned around, I changed my clothes. As I had thought, they were a bit loose, but they weren't uncomfortable.

  "We can go now," I said when I finished changing. "I want to know what's going on."

  If this was some kind of prank, it was not funny at all.