Nikolai stared at the gaping hole in the wall as Moulin dragged him to his feet. She was strong—far stronger than she looked—and being “dragged up” was as literal as the phrase implied.

  He looked from her to the hole, then back again. With a stuttering voice he asked, “Wa… was that magic?”

  She grinned a sharp-toothed grin, forcing him to suppress a shudder. “That it was. What else would it be?”

  Nikolai forced a brittle smile onto his face. “Right, what else would it be. Right, right…”

  Inwardly he was screaming, Magic!? What the bloody hell is going on!?

  She patted his arm and let go once he seemed steady on his feet. Then she gestured toward the still-open door, which hung crookedly on its hinges from the sheer force it had been opened with. “Come along, dear. I always feel better after something warm to drink.”

  Nikolai followed dazedly, still staring at the hole. He heard muted cursing from somewhere in the rubble—apparently the old creature that had tortured him was still alive somehow. Had it been him, he would’ve been nothing but a slimy stain, he imagined.

  “Uh, how did he survive that?” Nikolai asked, before immediately knocking his head against the top of the doorframe. “Argh!”

  He rubbed his forehead, glaring at the low door, then bent through it—ignoring Moulin’s muted giggling. She was holding two paws over her mouth, trying not to laugh, and failing spectacularly. “C-careful now, dear…” she managed before resolutely turning away. Her shoulders shook with mirth, and strange as it was, Nikolai couldn’t help but chuckle himself. The whole thing was simply too ridiculous.

  They walked down a long hallway lined with doors. The dark floorboards were incredibly smooth and gave off a subtle warmth beneath his shoes, which clicked loudly as he followed her. At the end was a spacious room with an oval dining table. It was a bit low for him, but he sat and looked around.

  Everything around him was built from smooth, dark wood, with lighter wood acting as contrast along the shelves and window frames. Through the large windows at the far end, he saw flowery rolling hills bathed in warm sunlight. For a long minute he stared at a swarm of butterflies drifting around a flowerbed near the window, and without realizing it, a calm smile crept onto his face.

  It was strange—five minutes ago he had been screaming in agony, tortured by a malicious rat-man. Now he was quietly enjoying a peaceful scene outside a window. Why was he so calm? Why didn’t he…

  His thoughts were interrupted by the gentle sound of porcelain being placed before him. The white cup, intricately painted, steamed with fragrant tea that smelled absolutely divine. Without thinking, he reached for it, but then frowned. “Excuse me, Miss Moulin, you got some milk?”

  Moulin returned with a tray of what looked like freshly baked cookies and a small pitcher of milk. “Of course, dear—and sugar, should you wish it. Also, have a cookie; they’re Vitzer’s favorites.”

  Nikolai nodded, added a dash of milk, and took a sip. His eyes widened—it was the best tea he’d ever had: flowery and sweet, perfectly complemented by the milk’s soft, creamy texture. He hummed. “This is amazing, Miss Moulin. Thank you.”

  He blinked, then frowned slightly. No, this is wrong. It’s all wrong. I should be panicking. I should be afraid. Why am I not afraid!?

  Moulin saw his expression change and smiled gently. “Don’t fight the spell, dear. It’s not a malicious one.”

  Spell? What had happened? Back in the room? After? “You cast a spell on me?” he asked, shocked and more than a little affronted. He felt pretty damn violated.

  Moulin nodded. “A spell, yes—Soothe. It lets you think about things calmly but doesn’t alter your actual thoughts. It should also ease the pain in your shoulder.”

  Nikolai glanced down—and she was right, he barely felt the dull ache anymore. “When? I didn’t see or notice anything.”

  She smiled. “When I helped you up, dear. The spell takes touch, you see.”

  Nikolai nodded slowly, then asked without thinking, “Can you teach me?”

  Moulin was surprised, then chuckled with delight. “Oh, you want to learn? That’s not exactly what I expected you to say—but yes, perhaps that could be a start. I’m truly sorry, dear, for that old fool bringing you here. Perhaps we should talk about that first, eh?”

  Nikolai took a cookie and bit into it, savoring the delightful crumble. Then he nodded. “I suppose we should. I’m not quite sure what to say, though.”

  Moulin shrugged. “Whatever comes to mind, dear. Better get it out.”

  Nikolai smiled. “Alright, well—first of all, you and Vitzer are pretty damn terrifying to me, and honestly, I can’t express how insane it is that we’re quietly having tea together right now.”

  Moulin blinked, then burst out laughing. “Haha! That Soothe spell is working wonders, I see. Tell me, have you never met a Gravling before?”

  Nikolai took a sip of tea and shook his head. “No, miss, of course not. Nothing like you exists where I’m from, so it’ll take a bit of getting used to, for sure.”

  She pursed her lips. “I see. So not from our world after all—that complicates things.”

  Nikolai frowned slightly. “Not too much, I hope. I’m still hoping I can go home sooner rather than later.”

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  Moulin patted his hand. “I won’t lie to you, dear. If Vitzer says he cannot, then I certainly can’t. You’ll likely need to accept that, for now.”

  Nikolai’s mind whirled. The information was disheartening and frightening, but the spell still tempered his emotions. He felt the fear, the apprehension, and the anger—yes, quite a lot of anger—but his mind remained calm. He examined each emotion, understood what it represented, and pushed it aside. Rational thought was the way forward.

  It wouldn’t help to rage at Moulin; she was being kind, at least on the surface. Punching Vitzer would likely only earn him another round of agony. No, he needed a path forward—a way to live.

  Magic. There was magic in this place—this world, dimension, wherever it was. Wouldn’t it make sense to learn it, to take advantage of this opportunity? Honestly, had he not been given a chance for a new beginning? Did he even want to go back?

  In his heart of hearts, was this not perhaps better—a chance to start fresh? Granted, he had no idea where he was, who these Gravlings truly were, or how dangerous they might be.

  A plan began to form in his mind, and Moulin watched him patiently, a small smile playing on her lips. Soothe was truly a useful spell indeed.

  Nikolai blinked and turned to her. “I’m sorry, miss. I got a bit caught up in my thoughts. It’s regrettable that I can’t return home, but… well, I hesitate to ask, but perhaps you could teach me—as a sort of apology.”

  Moulin raised an eyebrow. “You’re taking this rather well, dear. Are you sure that’s all you want?”

  Nikolai opened his mouth to answer when a cranky-looking Vitzer walked in. “Absolutely not! Moulin, you will not be teaching this thing anything! We aren’t even sure that—” He stopped abruptly, eyes narrowing. “Is that my cookies?” His tone was deadly calm.

  Nikolai, still under the spell’s influence, looked at the cookie he was holding, popped it into his mouth, and began chewing. “I think so, yeah.”

  Vitzer’s eyes flashed with outrage, but Moulin gestured toward a chair opposite her. “Oh, sit down, Vitzer. There are plenty to go around. You want some tea?”

  Vitzer looked from the cookie to Nikolai to Moulin, then grudgingly sat, brushing dust off his robe. He snatched the plate of cookies close, just out of Nikolai’s reach. “Tea would be lovely, yes.”

  For long minutes they sat in silence, Vitzer glaring at Nikolai between bites of cookie dipped in tea. Nikolai ignored him, though the furry lunatic still frightened him.

  Moulin sighed. “Alright, now that everyone’s calm, perhaps we should discuss things, eh?”

  Vitzer rolled his eyes but didn’t respond, instead settling into a scowl. A long minute passed before Nikolai’s eyes wandered to a large map hanging on the wall. It showed part of a continent—one unfamiliar to him. At the top was a title: The Salct Empyrium.

  He frowned slightly. Though his feelings were still muted by the spell, fear began to bubble up again. Steeling himself, he asked, “Is that where we are?”

  Both Vitzer and Moulin glanced at the map. Vitzer narrowed his eyes. “Yes—but I’m more interested in where you’re from.”

  Moulin sighed but looked equally curious. Nikolai hesitated but saw no harm in telling them; Vitzer had, after all, summoned him here.

  “My world is called Earth. I’m from a place called the United Kingdom,” he said.

  Vitzer and Moulin exchanged a look. Moulin began, “That is—”

  “That is a stupid name for a world,” Vitzer interrupted. “Have you no seas, or are you simply unimaginative?”

  Nikolai smiled faintly. He’d thought the same thing himself. “Not sure. The name comes from an older word, Gaia, which refers to the spirit of the earth—a sort of mother of all things.”

  Moulin’s smile returned. “Now that is much more interesting—to refer to your world as the mother of all. I like it very much.”

  Vitzer huffed. “Of course you would. You mentioned a kingdom. What can you share about that?”

  Nikolai shrugged. “Not much. It’s one of the oldest nations in our world but has shrunk significantly. There’s plenty of history, of course, but—”

  “Not that!” Vitzer snapped. “I’m interested in your power structure—magics, monsters. Tell me about those!”

  Nikolai stared at him. “We have nothing like that. Our society’s built on technology, not magic.”

  Vitzer sighed. “Barbarians… Any interesting monsters, at least?”

  Nikolai shook his head. “Nothing like that. Most of what I’d call monsters died out long ago. Only humans are left. There are animals, of course, but we’re well on our way to ridding the world of those too.”

  Both of them stared at him for a moment, then said in unison, “Humans…”

  Nikolai shrugged again. He couldn’t really disagree—his race was pretty idiotic.

  Silence stretched. Vitzer looked disappointed, while Moulin seemed deep in thought. Finally, she spoke. “So you say there’s no magic in your world. Does that mean you have no affinity?”

  Nikolai blinked. “Come again? Affinity for what?”

  Vitzer rolled his eyes. “Magic, you dolt! Moulin, how could he not have an affinity? Everyone’s born with one.”

  Moulin’s gaze never left Nikolai. “And what if he does not? It’s well known that your environment shapes your affinity. If he was born in a place bereft of magical energy…”

  Vitzer opened his mouth, then stopped—understanding dawning. He grinned. Nikolai remained in the dark, and whatever Moulin had done was beginning to fade. Fear bubbled up again.

  Vitzer leaned forward. “Are you thinking that perhaps…?”

  Moulin nodded. “It might be worth a try, no?”

  Vitzer nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, my darling Moulin, that’s why I married you!”

  Both turned to Nikolai abruptly. Vitzer spoke. “We have an offer, boy. You wanted Moulin to teach you—well, we’ll both teach you. In return, you’ll participate in a little experiment.”

  Nikolai leaned back, his chair almost tipping over. “I, uh… what kind of experiment?” He didn’t like where this was going.

  Moulin smiled. “It’s simple, really. Affinity determines how well certain magics or abilities work for you. Most people have one affinity, a rare few have two—but always complementary ones. We want to try something different—something we’ve only theorized about.”

  Nikolai hesitated. “Which is?”

  Vitzer’s grin widened, showing sharp teeth. “To combine opposites—in this case, shadow and light. Our affinities.”

  Nikolai’s heart began to race, anxiety spiking. Moulin reached for him, but he pulled away, backing up. “Is it dangerous?”

  Vitzer shrugged. “All magic’s dangerous, so of course it is. But if we succeed, we’ll create something new—something powerful.” His voice darkened with ambition. Moulin’s eyes mirrored the same fervor, and Nikolai realized, finally, that they were both mad.

  “I… I’m not sure I want to do that. Can’t I just—”

  He didn’t finish. Moulin’s spell broke, and every bottled-up emotion slammed into him at once.

  Everything he’d suppressed came roaring back—anger, fear, hope, pain—all warring for dominance. His breath came fast and shallow. Moulin stood, but he stumbled back, panic overtaking him. Darkness closed in on his vision, and finally, mercifully, he passed out.