[POV Ryan First-Person] [Tense: Present]
06:00 p.m. - At Inn, Eryndral Village, Aurelthorn. (11 September 2025)
As the sun sank beyond the horizon, smearing the sky with deep streaks of amber and rose, I stepped into the modest inn of Eryndral Village. Laughter and easy conversation drifted through the room, a warm, living noise that felt almost unreal after the sterile quiet of the digital world I'd grown used to. I moved up to the counter, where a stocky man with a thick beard and a genuinely friendly smile greeted me.
"Good evening! What can I do for you?" he asked, wiping his hands on his apron.
"I'd like a room for the night," I said, intent on keeping my expenses squared away.
"20 copper coins for a night's stay," the innkeeper stated, counting the coins from a small wooden bowl behind the counter. Ryan handed over the coins, feeling both relief and excitement at the prospect of experiencing village life.
I think staying in Eryndral Village for too long might not be safe for me. Since it's close to the border between the Kingdom of Aurelthorn and the Drakensvale Empire, I should find a city far from all the hustle and bustle.
Once that was done, my stomach growled loudly enough to be embarrassing, reminding me I hadn't eaten properly since earlier. "Do you serve food?" I asked.
"We do indeed!" he replied, face brightening. "Whatever you're in the mood for."
"Could I see a menu?" I asked, curious.
"Of course, of course. Here you go!" he said eagerly. "We've got corn soup, bread, and—"
I cut in quickly, "What's your best dish? What tastes really good?"
He leaned in, eyes shining with pride. "Well now, the corn soup is a crowd favorite—"
"Then I'll have the corn soup," I decided on the spot, keen to try something local.
I chose a sturdy wooden table and sat down, taking in the simple, homey atmosphere of the common room. After what felt longer than it probably was, the innkeeper came back with a steaming bowl of corn soup, the rising scent promising warmth and comfort.
I lifted a spoonful to my mouth, paused, then stared at the innkeeper.
"Yuck! Is this meant for humans?" I blurted, stunned by the taste.
The flavor clashed with everything I expected—odd sweetness, a strange texture that made it hard to enjoy. I forced down a few more mouthfuls before giving up and sighing.
"I don't think I can finish this," I admitted, thinking of the 3 copper coins I'd just spent on it.
After waging a very one-sided struggle with the bowl, I finally pushed it away, feeling oddly defeated by soup of all things. I stood and headed for my room, thankful for the experience but already craving something that actually suited my taste—like some bacon and a fried egg.
Inside my room, I unbuckled my bag, stuffed full of gadgets and fragments from the life I'd left behind. "This is the burger I brought with me when I first landed in this world," I murmured, fishing out the cold, slightly squashed burger still wrapped in foil. I drew in its faint, lingering scent of seasoned meat, oddly comforting against the earthy smell of the wooden room.
Without making a big production of it, I took a careful bite. The flavor was duller than I remembered, but the familiarity was a relief. It still beat the corn soup I'd just suffered through. I finished it off, savoring every bite, and chased it down with the last of the soda I'd been hoarding from my earlier meals.
Satisfied at last, I leaned back on the inn's narrow cot, wrapped in a sense of calm that hinted at the adventures waiting ahead. As I organized my thoughts, I found myself planning my next steps, trying to make sense of these peculiar powers I had in this world.
The first part was straightforward and powerful—I could recharge electronic devices. I'd already confirmed it with my phone and laptop.
The second part felt more like a restriction—I couldn't bring anything from this fantasy world back with me. All the tempting magical items and resources were off-limits in that sense, and the limit pressed on me more than I liked.
I remembered my experiment with trying to transfer juice from here into my bag. Nothing new had appeared; only the old tech I'd had on me when I arrived remained. I scribbled these observations into my notebook, gathering my thoughts the way a light breeze gathers fallen leaves into one place.
Once everything was written down and the day's weight settled on me, my eyes began to droop. I slid the notebook under my pillow, letting my mind wander to memories of home—my hectic, tech-saturated life—intertwined with images of the roads and choices now stretching ahead of me.
As night wrapped itself around Eryndral Village outside, I drifted into heavy sleep, the far-off murmur of laughter slowly dissolving into soft, indistinct dreams. Somewhere in those wavering shadows of possibility and wonder, my real journey was only just beginning.
---
06:00 a.m. - At Inn, Eryndral Village, Aurelthorn. (12 September 2025)
At first light in Eryndral Village, pale gold sunbeams slipped through the window shutters, casting a soft glow over the modest room. I woke feeling surprisingly rested, last night's corn soup and cold burger already giving way to the quiet buzz of anticipation for the day ahead. After washing up, I pulled on the new tunic I'd bought and stepped out of the inn.
I drew in a long breath, letting the chill of the morning fill my chest, laced with the scent of damp earth, dew-slick grass, and warm bread drifting from nearby homes. All around, the village was slowly waking, human voices blending with birdsong and the rustle of leaves.
For the first time, my breathing felt easier, and my sense of taste was sharper. I felt better than I ever had. Maybe it was the power—Safe from Wounds—it made my lungs itch for a moment—but look at me now. Unfortunately, the first thing I ate smelled delicious but tasted like spoiled food.
That was when I noticed Rowan sprinting toward me, arm raised, waving like mad. "Ryan! Over here!" he shouted, his tone bright and eager.
I walked over to meet him. "Morning. What's going on?"
"Could you come to the central square? Everyone's waiting for you!" Rowan said, practically vibrating with enthusiasm.
"Oh? What's going on?" I asked, my interest instantly sharpening.
---
08:00 a.m. - At Central Square, Eryndral Village, Aurelthorn. (12 September 2025)
Rowan did not respond verbally but instead led the way, his feet quickly carrying us along the cobblestone streets. As we approached the central square, an unexpected sight met my eyes. The villagers were gathered together, chatting animatedly, with smiles and glances aimed in my direction. It felt as if the whole village was conspiring to welcome me.
Upon our arrival, the crowd grew silent, and the villagers turned to face me, a wave of warmth washing over me.
"We heard you were leaving soon!" one villager called out, stepping forward. "Before you go, we want to express our gratitude!"
One by one, people came closer, offering their greetings, congratulations, and heartfelt words. The scene, moved by the spirit of compassion and friendship, created an overwhelming sense of belonging in me.
As I scanned the familiar faces, my gaze locked onto a bright spark among the crowd—little Aelric, the son of Jonas Dawnstar. The boy stood shyly, clutching a small bouquet of wildflowers he must have picked that morning.
My heart warmed at the sight. Gathering my courage, I knelt to meet Aelric's eye level. "Hey, Aelric. How are you holding up?" I asked, my voice soft.
"I'm… I'm okay," the boy replied, his voice trembling slightly. "I miss my dad."
A pang of sorrow cut through me. Though I hadn't known Jonas for long, I had learned much from the herbalist during our brief encounters. "Yeah," I said quietly. "I miss him too. He was brave. And kind. He'd want you to keep going. To be strong. To take care of your mum… and the village, one day."
Aelric bit his lip and nodded, eyes glistening.
In a moment of impulse, I reached into my bag, rummaging for the treats I had brought from my world. I produced a neatly wrapped bag of snacks, the familiar branding of my old life a stark contrast to the natural surroundings of Eryndral.
"Here," I said, offering it to him. "A bit of… weird food from where I come from. Might be terrible. Might be great. Only one way to find out."
To my surprise, the boy beamed at the snack. He opened the bag, took a cautious bite, then screwed up his face as the unfamiliar flavour hit him.
"This is weird!" he blurted out—then a giggle burst forth as he looked up at me, eyes sparkling with sudden joy.
His laughter rippled out, loosening the air. Some of the villagers chuckled; even Rowan let out a low, amused snort behind me. Amidst the laughter and chatter, my spirit soared. For a brief moment, the grief hanging over the village felt lighter. I could almost hear Jonas' voice resonating through the laughter, reminding me of the beauty that still persisted amid tragedy.
As the noise settled into an easy hum of conversation, an idea struck me.
"Alright, everyone," I called out, raising my voice just enough to carry across the square. "There's something I want to do before I go."
Curious eyes turned toward me. I walked to the edge of the central well and pulled out my phone, setting it carefully on the stone rim and angling the camera toward the gathered crowd.
Rowan eyed the device with a crooked grin. "What's that little box going to do?" he asked, half-teasing, half-genuinely curious.
"It steals your souls," I said solemnly, then smirked when a few villagers stiffened. "Kidding. It takes a picture. It… keeps a moment so I don't forget it."
They exchanged puzzled, amused looks, but no one moved away.
"I'll show you," I added, thumbing the screen. "I'm setting a timer. When I shout, you just smile, wave, do whatever feels right. Ready?"
Rowan folded his arms, still grinning. "If this is some kind of strange city magic, Ryan, I expect you to explain it after."
"Deal," I said. "Okay! Everyone—come in closer!"
The villagers shuffled forward, bunching up around me. Shoulders pressed together, arms brushed; Aelric squeezed in beside my leg, still clutching his flowers in one hand and the snack in the other. Rowan took his place at my other side, big and solid, like the village itself standing next to me.
"Alright!" I called. "Three… two… one—smile!"
The timer flashed its final seconds.
Click.
The phone captured the vibrant moment—faces beaming with laughter and warmth: soot-stained farmers, tired mothers, eager children, the weathered lines of elders who had seen too much war and not enough peace. A village that had somehow become my anchor in a world I didn't belong to.
I snatched up the phone and glanced at the screen. The image was slightly crooked, a chaotic mess of smiling faces and raised hands—and it was perfect.
I turned the screen so Rowan could see. "See? No souls stolen. Just memories."
He stared at the tiny image, his expression softening in a way I hadn't seen before. "Hells," he murmured. "That's… us."
"Yeah," I said quietly. "That's you. That's Eryndral."
Once the villagers concluded their greetings and began to drift back to their daily tasks, I slipped the phone into my pocket, suddenly aware of how precious that single captured moment had become.
It was a moment unlike anything I, once a solitary soul, had ever experienced. In my previous life I had only a small circle of friends—never many—and I had always been the quiet, introverted type. But in this life, within this vast and wondrous fantasy world, I found myself longing for something more: a purpose that would give meaning to my days, a reason to seek happiness not just in surviving, but in truly living.
And for the first time, as the light filtered through the enchanted trees and warm laughter echoed around me, I felt that perhaps—just perhaps—I was beginning to find it.
---
12:00 a.m. - At The Antlersteed Stable, Eryndral Village, Aurelthorn. (12 September 2025)
By the time the sun had climbed higher, the square had mostly emptied, life slowly returning to its usual rhythm. When the moment felt right, I said my final goodbyes.
"I'll walk you to the stable," Rowan offered. His tone was light, but there was a weight beneath it.
"Yeah," I replied. "I'd like that."
We left the central square behind—villagers still waving from a distance, some calling last words of blessing or warning—until even their voices faded. The path to the stable was quieter, lined with the familiar shapes of barns and storage sheds. The smell of hay and animals thickened in the air.
My newly acquired Antlersteed awaited us there, towering and majestic, its antlers catching the light with a faint, otherworldly shimmer. The stable was calm; no crowd, no noise—just the soft shuffle of hooves and the rustle of straw.
I stepped closer and laid a hand on the creature's powerful flank, feeling the warmth of its body, the steady rise and fall of its breath. A surge of anticipation—and something like fear—coursed through me.
Rowan lingered near the doorway, watching. "Still think you can handle that beast?" he asked, a faint smile touching his lips.
"I think I can handle a very fancy moose-horse," I said.
He huffed a quiet laugh. "Antlersteed," he corrected. "Try not to insult the pride of Aurelthorn on your first proper ride out of here."
"Right. Antlersteed. National treasure. Don't crash it. Got it."
"Oh—and what will you name that Antlersteed?"
I looked up at the sky, where the air was getting colder, and I said, "Snowball."
"That's a good name."
I nodded.
I tightened the reins and adjusted the saddle, fingers moving with more confidence than I actually felt. The creature snorted softly, as if sensing my nerves.
"Hey," I murmured to it under my breath. "Alright, partner. Let's go see what adventures wait for us beyond Eryndral."
Behind me, Rowan's voice grew quieter, more serious. "You know… the village won't forget what you did. What you risked."
I only waved.
He studied me for a moment, then nodded. "All the same. You've got a place here. If you ever come back."
The words lodged somewhere uncomfortably deep in my chest.
"I've got proof now, you know," I said, forcing a small smile. "A picture. So I can't pretend I dreamed this."
Rowan grinned. "Good. Then you'll have no excuse to forget our faces."
With one last look at him and at the distant outline of the village roofs beyond the stable, I mounted the Antlersteed. The saddle creaked under my weight; the world looked different from this height—wider, more open, full of dangerous promise.
Rowan stepped back, giving me space. "Safe travels, Ryan," he said. "Try not to get yourself killed."
(I thought of the power and mystery I had gained.)
"I'll do my best."
He shook his head, still smiling.
With a gentle nudge of my heels, the Antlersteed moved, hooves thudding against packed earth. As we left the stable and passed the last of the outlying fences, I glanced back one final time.
Eryndral lay behind me—small, scarred, stubbornly alive. A phone in my pocket held the faces of the people who had welcomed a stranger from another world as one of their own.
As we galloped through the village's outskirts, I felt that familiar, conflicting rush: nostalgia and excitement twisted together—a heart forever tied to the community of Eryndral, even as I rode toward whatever waited beyond.
---
01:00 p.m. - At Outskirts, Road to Frosthaven, Aurelthorn. (12 September 2025)
Snowball shifts under me as we leave the last fences of Eryndral behind. Hills roll out ahead, the road like a brown scar cutting through green.
I pat the side of my pack, making sure the weight feels right.
"Rations, herbs, rope, knife, blanket, stupid amount of jerky. We're good, partner."
Snowball flicks an ear, antlers catching the sun. Little sparks of pale color glint along the tines, like dusted glass.
We fall into a steady rhythm. Hooves thud in a simple pattern: thud, thud, breath, thud. My thighs burn, my back aches, but the wind cools the sweat on my neck and the ache turns into something close to pride.
"Four days to Frosthaven if we don't get lost," I mutter. "Assuming no bandits, no ghosts, no random boss fights."
The road stays kind. Fields, low stone walls, a few distant farmsteads. No armies, no columns of smoke. Just normal life, which feels weirder than dragons.
Hours drip past. I shift in the saddle, loosen the reins.
"You're the real MVP here, Snowball. I just sit and complain."
He snorts, tossing his head as if he agrees.
---
07:00 p.m. - At Big Oak Tree, Road to Frosthaven, Aurelthorn. (12 September 2025)
By dusk, I look for a camp spot. Open ground, gentle slope, one big oak with roots like steps. No fresh hoofprints, no scat I don't recognize.
"This'll do."
I slide down, legs wobbling.
"Fuck," I hiss. "Okay. Horse-riding muscles unlocked."
Snowball lowers his head to crop grass. As shadows thicken, his antlers wake: a soft green shimmer creeps along each branch, like moss drinking starlight.
I just stare.
"…Alright. You're officially cooler than any pet I've ever owned."
I lead him a little off the road and tie the reins to a low branch where he can still graze. The glow washes the ground in gentle color, enough to see my hands.
"Built-in nightlight. Nice."
I gather dry twigs, a few thicker branches, kneel, and arrange a small ring of stones. The lighter from my backpack clicks; flame bites the tinder. Smoke curls up, sharp and familiar.
"Thanks, college camping trip," I murmur.
Soon the fire crackles low and steady. I rig the blanket and some cut branches into a crooked lean-to against the oak.
"Not pretty," I tell the tree, "but it's mine."
From the pack I pull dried meat. I slice pieces onto a broad leaf, add water from my flask, and balance it near the coals.
"It would be better if I could find some salt."
Steam rises, carrying that sharp, green scent. My stomach growls anyway, even knowing food tastes wrong now.
"Body needs fuel," I remind myself. "Brain needs you alive, Ryan."
I eat. Chew, swallow, ignore the off taste, focus on the heaviness fading from my limbs. Across the fire, Snowball's antlers burn their quiet green, casting long, strange shadows.
I lean back against the oak.
I pick up my notebook and write down what I need to do next, talking to myself. Snowball flicks an ear at my voice.
"We'll hit Frosthaven, find civ, guilds, maps. Figure out the rules."
"Access to the center of civilization would be best in the war-torn Middle Ages."
I tuck the phone away, pull my cloak tighter, let the fire's warmth soak into my boots. In the mix of ember-glow and antler-light, the road feels less huge.
"Keep watch with me, yeah, Snowball?"
He breathes out, slow and steady, grass tearing softly between his teeth.
I close my eyes for a moment, listening. Fire pops. Insects hum far off. No cars. No pollution. Just the quiet of a world.