He froze, eyes wide with disbelief.
What… is this? A new world?
Through the window, he saw unfamiliar carriages rolling along the stone-paved street—some drawn by horses, some with four wheels, others with just two—heading toward unknown destinations.
Seyla's mouth hung open as his gaze shifted to the people passing by.
"The hell…?" he muttered under his breath.
The women wore long, flowing layered skirts and light, wrap-style blouses. Their wide sleeves were delicately embroidered with shimmering thread and petal-like designs. A braided sash, decorated with ribbons and beads, cinched their waists. Their hair was tied back with brightly dyed scarves that fluttered in the breeze.
The men, on the other hand, dressed in soft, earth-toned tunics, gathered at the waist with vine-woven belts. Their loose trousers tapered at the ankles, and simple headbands stitched with family crests adorned their heads. Copper charms jingled softly on their wrists as they walked, their sandals making barely a sound on the cobblestone path.
Seyla slammed the door shut, eyes wide, his heart pounding.
"What the fuck is happening?!" he exclaimed, his voice cracking with nervous laughter. "What are they living in some ancient era with no technology? And carriages? Seriously?!" He let out a disbelieving chuckle, then took a deep breath. "Alright… inhale… exhale… once I open this door again, everything will be back to normal… no weird clothes, no carriages… just... normal."
But when he opened the door again, the same scene greeted him.
"W-what the hell… is h-happening…" Seyla stammered, his body trembling. "This… this doesn't feel like a dream…"
Shutting the door again, he stumbled to the couch and collapsed onto it, frozen in place, his mind racing.
Minutes passed.
Then… knock knock knock.
Seyla's eyes snapped to the door, every muscle tensing.
"Who… who are you?" he called out, cautious.
A calm voice replied, "I'm aware of your situation."
Seyla frowned. "What… what situation?"
"I'll explain everything," the voice said. "But only if you let me in."
Seyla hesitated. "Do you think I'm a fool? How do I know you're not lying?"
Suddenly, the stranger uttered a strange string of syllables:
"€¶®°|×`×π…."
Seyla's breath caught. Something about those words… A memory flickered; he had seen those symbols before… etched faintly on the surface of the three large moons in the sky…
The stranger spoke again. More symbols.
"×π|^£{....."
A strange, familiar sensation stirred within Seyla. Why… why does that feel so familiar…? His chest tightened, the memory hovering just beyond reach.
"Before I open the door… tell me your name," Seyla demanded.
A pause. Then the voice answered,"My name is… Maerin Sorenn."
"Maerin Sorenn…" Seyla repeated under his breath, still cautious. Finally, he opened the door.
Standing before him was a tall, well-built man with brown skin, wearing a soft, blue-toned tunic cinched with a silvery bronze belt. A headband bearing a family crest rested on his brow. Golden charms dangled from his wrists, and black shoes completed the look.
His dark brown hair framed sharp features. Despite his handsome face, his black eyes looked weary, as if sleep had eluded him for days.
Seyla's gaze flicked over his outfit. Same style as the men I saw outside… and… he's handsome too, Seyla noted to himself.
The man's lips curved in a polite smile. "May I know your name, young one?"
"…Seyla. Seyla Veyl," he replied, cautiously stepping aside. "Come in."
Maerin entered, sitting on the couch as Seyla fetched him a glass of water.
As Seyla handed it over, Maerin glanced around the house. "This place… it's very different from what's outside."
"What do you mean?" Seyla asked.
"You haven't checked?"
"No…" Seyla admitted.
"That's fine," Maerin chuckled. "There's still time. You'll see for yourself later."
Seyla crossed his arms. "Alright… so, you said you came to deliver a letter?"
A faint smile curled Maerin's lips. "I am the letter."
"…What?" Seyla blinked. "What do you mean, you are the letter?"
"You'll understand," Maerin assured him. "But first, there's something you need to know… You're special."
"Special?" Seyla echoed. "What do you mean by that?"
"That… even my Lord doesn't know exactly," Maerin admitted. "But two things are clear. First, my Lord can sense it. Second… 'She' can't see through you."
"'She'…?" Seyla narrowed his eyes. "Is your Lord a god or something?"
"Not entirely," Maerin replied. "But 'She' is powerful. Powerful enough to notice your existence."
Seyla hesitated, the pieces of this puzzle swirling in his head. "Why do you keep calling her 'She'?"
"That's where this conversation is headed," Maerin said. "First, I'll tell you about this world."
Seyla nodded, leaning in. "Alright. I'm listening."
"Good." Maerin's gaze sharpened. "We start with the Five Gods."
Seyla tilted his head. Five gods? That's… a lot, he thought, but he said nothing and listened.
"The first," Maerin began, "is Auraleth, God of Light or called 'The Dawn Mind.' He governs light, memory, and new beginnings."
"Next, Nerathul, God of Death or called 'A Whisper Below.' He holds dominion over death, secrets, and silence."
"Then comes Vaelira, Goddess of Wind, Song, and the Soul or 'The Voice Between Worlds.'"
"Korveth, the Goddess of Fire, Oath, and Justiceor 'The Bound Flame.'"
"And finally, Myraen, God of Water, Time, and Dreamsor 'The Mirror Tides.'"
Maerin's eyes locked onto Seyla. "Those are the Five Gods. The most influential beings in this world."
Seyla nodded slowly, repeating their names in his mind. Auraleth… Nerathul… Vaelira… Korveth… Myraen…
"Any questions so far?" Maerin asked.
Seyla shook his head. "I'll ask once you're done."
Maerin's lips curled faintly. "Very decisive."
He leaned back. "Next, Mystic Theory."
"Mystic Theory?" Seyla asked, raising an eyebrow. "You mean… magic?"
"Yes," Maerin confirmed. "Magic exists here. Many types. You've already been exposed to it—twice now."
"Exposed…?" Seyla frowned. "When?"
"You should've realized by now," Maerin replied calmly.
Realized…? Seyla's mind raced. Then it hit him. His eyes widened. "The language…?"
Maerin smiled, pleased. "Very observant. You'd make a fine Runebound on the Seer Path."
Runebound… Seer Path… another thing to ask later, Seyla noted, then asked, "The language… what do you mean?"
"Think about it," Maerin replied. "You, an Otherworlder, shouldn't understand our words. Yet… you do."
Seyla's mouth opened slightly. He had a point…
"And as for your other question," Maerin continued, "yes, magic often requires incantations. But… I already cast a spell when I knocked on your door."
"…What?" Seyla's jaw dropped. "I didn't hear anything… just the knock…"
Maerin shrugged. "That's how fast it was. And as for your first exposure… I don't know. I'm not a Seer—I can't look into your past. My Lord told me."
Seyla muttered under his breath. His Lord again… Then he spoke, "Alright. Please… continue."
"Gladly," Maerin said.
"The Mystic Theory," he began, "explains the fourteen types of magic, and their seven forms."
"Fourteen types… seven forms…" Seyla echoed, absorbing the words.
"But not everyone wields magic," Maerin added. "Only about ten to twenty percent of humanity has the potential."
"Wait… not everyone?" Seyla frowned. "Then how does it work?"
"That's where Runes come in," Maerin explained. "Stones that hold power. We call them Magic Runes."
Runes… Magic Runes… Seyla repeated in his mind. His curiosity burned.
"And what exactly are Runes…?" Seyla asked.