The pain came first.
A sharp, deep twinge, as if something were trying to split my head in two. I groaned, lifting a hand to my temple, and only then did I notice the absolute darkness around me. I blinked several times, hoping my eyes were simply adjusting, but nothing changed.
Instinctively, I reached out to the side, searching for the light switch that was always on the wall next to my bed. My hand found only empty air. I froze for a moment. I stretched my arm farther, and the most I could do was lift half my body without touching any wall. It felt as if the room had gotten bigger… or I had gotten smaller.
A chill ran down my spine.
"Calm down… think, think… where am I? This isn't my room…"
Slowly, I sat up. The mattress creaked as if it were old—very old. I ran my hand over the fabric and felt a rough texture, something between worn leather and cloth battered by time. My heartbeat quickened.
I tried to remember the last thing before the pain. Was I at home? At school? In Rio de Janeiro? Had someone kidnapped me? It wouldn't exactly be surprising… but who would kidnap a broke guy who barely finished high school? What kind of logic was that?
Carefully, I slid my legs off the bed. The floor was cold, made of stone. I tried to stand, but nearly tripped over some low piece of furniture. There was a crack, something rolled, and then the sound of glass shattering.
My whole body froze.
The noise echoed far too loudly. I took a silent, shaky breath, hoping—and praying—that no one had heard. But seconds later, the worst possible confirmation came:
Footsteps.
Heavy, quick, determined footsteps, approaching with urgency.
In that moment, despite always having been an atheist, I mentally prayed to any god available, from any pantheon, even inventing three on the spot.
The door burst open.
And everything I didn't expect—everything I never even imagined could exist—stood in the doorway. Tall. Very tall. Its light green skin glowed under the flaming lamp it held in its hand. Its hair was white like dirty snow. Its eyes… My God, its eyes were yellow like molten gold.
I screamed.
I screamed as if my life depended on the strength of my throat, as if sheer volume could make the monster retreat. It didn't retreat. It simply looked at me with a heavy sigh, almost relieved to see me awake.
That only terrified me more.
With trembling hands, I searched for something, anything, that could serve as a weapon. My fingers brushed against a shard of broken glass on the floor. I grabbed it without thinking, clutching it so tightly that it sliced my palm. Blood flowed, hot and throbbing—but the pain was the least of my concerns.
The creature lowered the lamp, noticed my bleeding hand, and started walking toward me.
Step by step.
I backed away, trying to press myself against a wall I couldn't even find. My heart hammered hard enough to crack bone.
Then it opened its mouth. Between large teeth and small fangs came a deep, hoarse, surprisingly gentle voice:
"I'm sorry, little one…"
Before I could react, it simply vanished—or moved so fast my eyes couldn't follow. In the blink of an eye, it was in front of me. Two enormous fingers touched my forehead.
And everything went black.
I woke up slowly—the kind of slow awakening that only comes after a nightmare so horrifying your mind needs time to accept that you're back in reality. I took a deep breath, staring at the ceiling, and tried to rationalize.
"It was just a dream. Just a nightmare. A giant green creature? Impossible."
I turned my head.
My nightmare was right there.
Sitting calmly in a wooden chair, holding the same lamp and a steaming cup. My stomach twisted.
He handed me the cup.
I tried not to tremble, but my hands refused to obey. The creature remained still, simply offering the tea as if nothing were out of the ordinary. The lamplight cast strange shadows along the angles of his jaw, his pale teeth, his yellow eyes that looked far too alive.
Carefully, I sat back on the bed.
He watched me.
I watched him.
We stayed like that for several long seconds until he finally spoke. The voice wasn't human, and the language was… but somehow, I understood every word.
"I'm sorry if I frightened you, little Stone. Please, have some tea."
"Stone?"
My name wasn't Stone. Or… was it?
Why was I small?
Had I… transmigrated? Reincarnated? Been kidnapped and drugged? Lost my mind? All of the above?
A thousand questions collided in my head.
I slowly lifted the tea. I took a sip, then another. The flavor was completely unfamiliar—bitter, sweet, and fresh all at once. Strange, but good.
"Are you calmer now?" he asked.
I swallowed hard.
"Who… who are you? Or… what are you?"
"My name is Veskor," he said. "I am a Smallfang orc."
An orc.
Like the ones in games, movies, books… but different. He didn't look like a monster—not entirely. There was something human in him, something weary, something… familiar. I couldn't quite put my finger on it.
I decided to pretend that answer was enough.
"What am I doing here?" I asked.
"This is your father's house," Veskor replied plainly.
My heart skipped a beat.
"My… father? Where is he?"
Veskor exhaled—a long, heavy sigh, weighted with sorrow. He knew something he didn't want to say.
"Follow me. All your questions will be answered."
I hesitated. But in the end, I stood up. I thought about running away, but where would I go? I didn't even know where I was. So I followed him, wary, fear gnawing at the edges of my mind.
We left the room and walked into a wide corridor lit by torches fixed to the walls. The mansion seemed abandoned for centuries, full of cobwebs and dust.
Veskor pushed open a pair of double doors, and we stepped into a massive hall. It looked like a ballroom—deserted, suffocated by time. Torn carpets, faded curtains, broken tables.
At its center stood a lone wooden pedestal. Resting atop it was a bluish, translucent crystal sphere that pulsed faintly, like a sleeping heart.
The sphere called to me.
I could feel it. As if something inside it recognized me.
"Go on," Veskor murmured. "Touch it."
My hand rose on its own, trembling. The instant my fingers brushed the crystal, a wave of light swallowed me whole.
The hall changed.
It was still there… but no longer the same. Now it was whole, clean, alive. The curtains were new and red, the tables polished, the floor immaculate. As if I had stepped backward in time, into the past of this place.
And before me stood a red-haired man—human—with green eyes and a melancholy smile. He looked about thirty. I had never seen him before… yet somehow, I felt as if I had known him since the day I was born.
He looked at me with warmth.
And he said:
"Son… if you're seeing this message, it means I failed. And I paid the price with my life."
And I realized then, at that moment, that my nightmare was just beginning.