The hum of the fluorescent lights was the only sound left in the school hall.

  Astrid dragged the mop across the linoleum floor, one hand gripping the handle, the other holding her phone as the latest true crime podcast droned in her ear. It wasn't even interesting—just a habit to fill the silence. She paused at the end of the hallway, blinking up at the high windows where the moonlight filtered through. Dust floated in the air like glitter no one had asked for.

  She sighed. Her back ached. Her legs burned. Her shift was nearly over, and her brain had already clocked out an hour ago.

  One more classroom, then done.

  She told herself that every night.

  She shoved the mop back into the bucket, water sloshing over the side. Somewhere down the hallway, a door creaked.

  She froze. Listened. Nothing.

  Just the echo of an empty school at night. Always a little too quiet. A little too cold.

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket. A message from her sister lit the screen:

  Charlie: "Are we still going to the movies? ??"

  Astrid smiled faintly. Her whole body said no, but her thumbs tapped out a reply anyway:

  "Yeah, kiddo. Wouldn't miss it."

  Even if she fell asleep halfway through with popcorn on her lap, she'd be there. Charlie looked forward to these nights like they were holidays. Astrid had promised, and promises were currency in their house.

  Their mum had blown through her paycheck—again. Groceries were running low. Bills were piling up. It wasn't new. It was just normal. Astrid cleaned this school five nights a week, brought in what money she could, and made sure Charlie got to school with her lunch packed and her hair brushed.

  She hadn't gone to college. Never had the time. Never had the money. It didn't matter anymore. This was her life.

  This was enough.

  She headed toward the last room, keys jangling at her side.

  But as she passed the stairwell that led down to the storage level, something strange caught her eye.

  There was water on the floor.

  Not a leak. Not a spill.

  A perfect circle. Still. Reflective.

  Like a puddle that didn't belong.

  She blinked. Frowned. Took a step toward it.

  The air around it felt... wrong. Heavy. The world seemed to hold its breath.

  Her phone buzzed again in her hand. But before she could look at it—before she could take a breath—

  The puddle moved.

  Not just rippled. It reached.

  Astrid didn't have time to scream.

  The last thing she saw was her own reflection looking back at her—

  —and then everything shattered.

  It felt like falling, but not downward—more like inward. Her stomach twisted. Light burst behind her eyes. The air was sucked from her lungs like she'd stepped into a vacuum. There was no sound. No wind. No up or down. Just the cold drag of space folding around her like a second skin.

  Then—

  Impact.

  She hit the ground hard, rolling across soft moss and leaves that glowed faintly under her weight.

  Astrid gasped, clutching her chest, her whole body trembling. Her lungs stuttered as air slammed back into them, like she'd been held underwater for minutes.

  She coughed and pushed herself upright, blinking fast.

  Her breath caught again—but this time, it wasn't from fear.

  It was from wonder.

  The forest around her shimmered in hues she didn't have names for. Trees soared into a sky she couldn't see, their trunks twisted and etched with glowing veins of light. Giant flowers pulsed with soft luminescence, and insect-like creatures with stained-glass wings hovered silently in the air.

  It was beautiful.

  It was wrong.

  It was impossible.

  She spun around. The puddle—the mirror—the whatever it had been—was gone. No shimmering portal. No way back.

  Just trees. And silence.

  Astrid staggered backward and grabbed her phone with shaking hands.

  No signal. No data. No location.

  Just Charlie's lock screen photo, smiling like nothing had happened.

  What the hell is going on?

  Her breath hitched. Logic screamed at her to wake up, to rationalize—but nothing made sense.

  The silence pressed in.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Fear slid into her chest like ice.

  This isn't real. This isn't real. It's some kind of dream, or hallucination, or—

  But the moss that had been under her fingers felt real. The air was thick with unfamiliar scents—sweet, earthy, electric. Her heart thundered in her ears.

  She was here. Wherever here was.

  And Charlie wasn't.

  The silence was the first thing she noticed.

  Not the silence of emptiness—but the kind that listened back.

  Astrid turned slowly, her breath shallow. The forest stretched endlessly in all directions. Towering trees arched into the sky, their trunks impossibly wide—ancient, almost alien. Their bark shimmered faintly with golden veins that pulsed like heartbeats.

  Were they... breathing?

  Light filtered down through the canopy in strange hues—blue, gold, violet—and somewhere in the distance, something shimmered.

  Tiny glowing specks hovered above the ground like dancing embers. Lights? Insects? Magic? They flitted away as she moved, vanishing between the trees like they had somewhere to be.

  The hallway, fluorescent lights and the dull hum from the vending machine was gone.

  "Okay," Astrid muttered, voice barely above a whisper. "Giant trees. Glowing mushrooms. Maybe this is a hallucination brought on by floor cleaner fumes. Maybe I hit my head.", she spoke aloud, her voice echoed slightly. Too loud in this not-quite-right place. Not that anyone was here to hear her, but its easier to work things out when said aloud.

  She took a shaky step forward—and the moss beneath her boot lit up.

  Not brightly. Not harshly.

  Just a soft glow, like moonlight trapped in the earth, blooming outward from her touch. Her skin prickled. The air felt electric, charged—like walking through static, but softer. Alive.

  A low mist was creeping along the ground, pale and swirling, brushing against her legs like it had intent. It wasn't cold. If anything, it was warm. Too warm.

  The fog curled and parted, letting her pass.

  Astrid swallowed, pulse climbing.

  Shapes moved in the distance—some tall, some low to the ground. She heard chirps, rustles, something that sounded like a musical hum... and something else. A call that echoed too long. Deep and low and not quite animal.

  She was surrounded by life.

  But she felt tiny.

  And very, very alone.

  She backed up slowly, turning in a circle, trying to spot something familiar. A landmark. A direction. Anything.

  Nothing.

  Just the endless rhythm of a forest that didn't feel like it wanted her here—or maybe worse... like it did.

  Just could see a faint light in the distance. What's that? People?

  She made her way over like a moth to a flame.

  The treeline thinned suddenly—and before Astrid even realized she was holding her breath, she stumbled into a clearing.

  It was a village. Sort of.

  She pushed her way through the trees, tripping over a root and nearly fell straight into a booth of glowing, corked bottles.

  She froze.

  It was a market.

  A vibrant, humming bazaar, stretched through the forest like someone had tried to hold a flea market in an enchanted greenhouse. Stalls were set into the roots of massive trees. Ropes of moss and luminescent vines hung from branches overhead, swaying gently like streamers.

  Stone buildings jutted from hillsides and trunks, their walls carved with twisting runes and window panes made of crystalized leaves. Lanterns bobbed on strings, casting golden light that flickered like fireflies.

  And people—beings—moved between them, bargaining and chatting in a dozen unfamiliar tongues. Cloaked elves with sharp eyes and long braids. Dwarves with soot-stained aprons and tools clanking from their belts. Others she couldn't categorize—creatures with antlers and glowing tattoos, or eyes that shimmered like galaxies.

  A trio of tiny, winged figures zipped past her head with giggles like windchimes—faries?—leaving a trail of sparkling dust in the air.

  Astrid's heart was thundering.

  It smelled like spiced smoke, sap, and something floral she couldn't name. One booth had a performing mage juggling tiny orbs of fire, while another boasted a cage full of chirping, two-headed birds.

  It was incredible.

  And completely terrifying.

  She stood out like a stain on silk. Her scuffed boots and hoodie, her old band tee—none of it belonged here. Conversations quieted as she passed. One stallholder stopped mid-sale. A young child tugged at their mother's sleeve and whispered something, pointing at her.

  This is like a hipster's dream, she thought, dazed. A fantasy-world farmer's market. And I'm the only one dressed like I just crawled out of a discount bin.

  She stepped deeper into the market, eyes wide. It was like walking straight into a fairy tale—glowing bottles, hovering lights, creatures she couldn't name.

  Charlie would love this.

  Then—

  "Name."

  She turned.

  A large intimidating figure in a black cloak. Mask like bone. Silver plated armour, golden bands etched with sigils around their arms.

  This is not good.

  Her mouth opened, but her throat was dry.

  "Ummm hi, I think I'm lost. I'm just—"

  Astrid's voice cracked. Her heart thudding in her ears.

  The figure didn't flinch, just stepped closer, mask expressionless. "Where is your brand?"

  Brand?

  "Classification?"

  Astrid shook her head, panic rising like bile. The crowd was starting to close in, whispers rising like smoke. She took a step back. Her legs felt like lead.

  "I don't—there's been a mistake," she stammered. "Please, I—I'm not—"

  The masked figure raised a hand. Magic shimmered in his palm—an eerie, unnatural light.

  Astrid couldn't move. She could feel the heat of tears behind her eyes. She wasn't supposed to be here. She wasn't supposed to be anything.

  Then—

  "Yo! Cousin!"

  A voice rang out, cutting through the tension like a blade.

  Everyone turned.

  He stood just beyond the crowd—leaning casually against a twisted tree root like this was all one big inconvenience. His cloak was black and battered, the edges singed and frayed. Dust clung to him like a second skin.

  Tall, lean. Older than her—maybe—but not by much. His hair was dark and tousled, falling over one eye, and when he smiled, it was crooked and unapologetic.

  But it was his eyes that got her.

  Golden. Slitted like a cat's. Watching. Calculating. Amused.

  Astrid froze.

  "Finally caught up to you," he said, pushing off the root and strolling over. "Seriously, you've got to stop wandering off. You know you're not supposed to leave the outer lanes without me."

  He moved between her and the figure without hesitation, slipping into the space like he owned it.

  "Sorry about her," he added, turning to the masked figure. "She's a bit of an airhead. No offense." He threw a thumb over his shoulder at her. "You know how it is. No magic, no sense."

  Astrid's mouth dropped open. "Excuse me—?"

  The figure didn't move. He looked between them, then to her. "She has no mark. No classification."

  "Yeah," the stranger said easily. "That's kind of the point. She's not registered yet—our region's behind on the paperwork." He smiled again, sharp and lazy. "You know how backwater provinces are."

  A long, loaded pause.

  Then the figure finally stepped back. "Get her branded. Soon."

  "Of course. Right away. Thanks for the reminder," he said, his tone dripping sarcasm.

  The figure turned and vanished into the crowd, their cloak trailing like smoke.

  Astrid stared.

  "What. Just. Happened."

  The stranger didn't answer. He grabbed her wrist and tugged.

  "Come on," he muttered. "Just pretend you know me. Keep walking."

  She stumbled after him, heart still hammering.

  "I don't know you." She said sternly, in a hushed voice.

  "Shut up if you want to live to see another day" he shot back quietly, not looking at her.

  Who is this guy? Why is he helping me? What almost happened there, he's acting like they would have killed me on the spot.