For several long moments, nothing happens. I open my eyes, realizing I’ve screwed them shut, only to see my familiar apartment. Did I do something wrong? Or is it a prank after all? No one’s jumped out from behind the door to laugh in my face and film my reaction, but maybe it hasn’t been long enough yet.

  Then, as if it just needed a bit of time to get going, I feel the emblem heat up, almost burning my palm. The world lurches sickeningly around me, and I feel my stomach crawl into my mouth as I hear the rushing of a great wind. I close my eyes again in a desperate attempt to quell my motion sickness and only open them again when the rushing wind calms down. What meets my gaze is completely different from anything I was expecting. My mouth hangs open, and I lose the battle with my stomach and, unimpressively, empty it all over the surface on which I stand.

  When my stomach is finally empty and beginning to feel settled again, I look around, hoping that my initial impressions were wrong. Unfortunately, it doesn’t appear to be that way; if anything, it’s worse. I don’t know why, but when I imagined where I would be taken, I’d always envisioned a city, or a manor house, or even a palace. The “lord” in the letter must have been what gave me that idea, I realize. This … It’s not a city. It’s not even a village, let alone anything more palatial. Instead, it looks like there are no signs of civilization in sight.

  I’m standing on the upper slopes of a mountain, a rocky area covered only in a thin layer of hardy grass. Above me on one side towers a great snow-covered peak; on the other side lies a vast valley full of trees. It’s cradled between mountain peaks and disappears into the distance; my eyes are unable to even make out the mountains at its end. The humid mistiness to the air above the trees doesn’t help in that respect. Otherwise, as far as my eye can see, there is a sea of other mountain peaks stretching out from the mountain on which I stand. They, too, are obscured by mist when my gaze travels too far. I’ve never been anywhere with such untouched nature; there’s not a human construction in sight. It’s intimidating and yet, at the same time, almost exhilarating. To think that I might be the first person to see this view …

  The temperature itself is actually rather pleasant, perhaps on the slightly chilly side when the wind blows. The air is crisp and fresh. Too fresh. There’s not a hint of the polluting smells of human presence—not fire, nor petrol. It truly appears to be a paradise for the intrepid backpacker.

  Unfortunately, I’ve never been into the whole backpacking thing, and I don’t think anyone would label me as “intrepid.” Heck, I don’t even go on camping trips! I hated them as a child, and then there were no more childhood holidays after … the incident. As an adult, holidays to me meant relaxing in whatever luxury I could afford. I always chose to stay at a hotel, either picking a warm place for a sojourn to the beach or a cold place for skiing. A nice convenient location, some fun or relaxing activities during the day, good food cooked by someone else in the evening … That’s what I call enjoyable.

  The only reason I own the massive backpack I’m currently wearing is that I was convinced to take part in a “team building” exercise soon after being hired by a previous employer. Instead of being some fun, well-organized time for us to get to know each other and improve our working relationships, it was a week’s camping trip in the wilds of the Brecon Beacons. Apparently, going hungry, cold, wet, and miserable for a week with a whole load of co-workers who barely knew each other was supposed to help team spirit. And the reason I’d bought a whole new fancy backpack was because I was trying to impress my new colleagues.

  Spoiler alert: it didn’t work. Perhaps it would have if my sturdy, practical backpack had been accompanied by a sturdy, practical man, but, as I’ve already established, camping isn’t my thing. Which is why I’m currently desperately hoping that this is some sort of a joke and Lord Nicholas is about to jump out from behind a rock or something. Or that there might be some well-hidden palace just around the corner.

  As I think that, the emblem in my hand warms up again. Hope and nerves both rise inside of me again. What if, despite what the letter said, I’m actually about to be transported back? Honestly, I don’t really know how to feel about that. As it happens, I don’t have the time to do any deep soul-searching, as that apparently isn’t the reason for the emblem’s reaction. Instead, it crumbles into glowing motes of dust, which easily fall out of my hand.

  The motes drift down, but instead of coating the ground as normal, they take shape in the air. Under my disbelieving gaze, a wooden table comes into existence, rather incongruously placed in this completely natural landscape. It’s a good solid-looking piece of furniture, though the slightly rough ground means that it doesn’t look completely stable.

  I rub my eyes, I’ll admit it. My mouth might also be hanging open. I touch the table tentatively, wondering if it will just shatter into dust again before my fingertips can come into contact. It doesn’t, of course, and I just spend a few moments marveling at my first experience with magic. To create something solid from nothing? Amazing!

  Once I manage to get past my amazement at how the table appeared, I start to explore what is actually on it. At least, I try to, but the gloves I’m wearing rather impede my ability to pick things up. Cursing softly, I strip them off and shrug off about three extra layers of clothes while I’m at it—I’m hot!

  Now more comfortable, I turn back to the table. There are a number of items. Some of them are recognizable, if a little alarming in what they imply; others just look like strangely glowing stones of different shades and sizes. Right in the center is another piece of paper; however, it’s a scroll rather than a folded piece of parchment. It’s rolled up with a blue ribbon and sealed with black wax, indented with the same heraldry that had been on the emblem. Picking up the scroll, I crack the wax reluctantly, briefly admiring the way it looks like something out of the medieval era.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Greetings,

  You have taken the first step. You are an unusual person indeed to have dared the unknown in search of a fleeting greatness. However, greatness requires a proof of worthiness, and the price for transporting you from your world to mine is not small. Thus, for the purpose of efficiency, the task for the two aims shall be one and the same. Your objectives in this task are twofold. First, survival: you must survive in your current world for a year. However, you must do more than just survive to achieve your second objective: collecting enough Energy to pay for your passage to my world. I am sure that you will be confused about this last point, so let me explain.

  I stop reading at that, taking a deep breath and then starting at the top again. No, I had understood what it was saying. I have to survive here. For a year. Anger rises within me, but I’m self-aware enough to recognize the fear that curdles my stomach underneath it. All my self-awareness doesn’t stop me from feeling this, though, and my thoughts are quickly overtaken by emotion.

  As the wave of heat rises within me, my hand clenches and the rustle of paper crunching sounds loudly in the still air. A small part of my mind notes how much more effort I have to use to crush the paper than I would expect, but most of my awareness is concentrating on my thoughts about what I’ve just read.

  This is completely ridiculous! What kind of “opportunity” or “new life” is this? Setting aside my worst-case scenarios of some alien version of human trafficking, if this guy Nicholas was on the level, I would expect him to at least welcome me in person! Not dump me in some deserted area and tell me to “survive”—for a year. The fear curdling in my stomach quickly turns into panic. What do I know about survival? A week in the Brecon Beacons hardly counts! I’ve never even watched those reality TV survival shows!

  I curse and kick the leg of the table making the items on it wobble alarmingly, one of the colorful stones almost rolling off completely. How the hell is this supposed to show my worthiness? By failing miserably to even set up a tent? No, that’s not referring back to an incident during my previous ill-fated expedition in the “wilds.” Really!

  I swear again and storm away from the table. My behavior can be best described as a tantrum as I shout, stamp, wave my arms in anger, and kick the ground. In reality, it’s about more than just this particular problem; I realize after a while that I’m venting all the pent-up anger and frustration and, yes, grief that has been brewing in me over the last few days. Hell, weeks. I’m crying and I don’t even realize it until my eyes blur enough that I can’t see clearly.

  This ends my tirade as I kick a hidden rock in a tussock of grass. Sharp pain shoots up my foot. Of course, when I say my tirade comes to an end, that’s only once I’ve turned the air blue while hopping on one leg. I decide to pretend that the tears are from the pain and let myself go a bit. It’s not like anyone is here to see me, after all. Slowly the pain ebbs and with it goes all the intensity of emotion that had been moving me. In its place

  I feel calmer, emptier, and ever-so-slightly more settled, like perhaps not now, and not anytime soon, but one day I might feel better. About myself. About my life. Of course, if I really have to survive in an untouched jungle by myself for a year, my life isn’t likely to last very long, but then, I’m the stupid one who decided to accept magical transportation without reading the small print. Or even having the small print to read, as a matter of fact. Maybe that should have been my first warning. Honestly, when I think about it, I’m not angry at Nicholas. Not really. I’m angry at myself. Of course it was going to turn out to be too good to be true; it always is. Anytime I’ve let myself get sucked into something that seems fantastic on the surface, it’s always turned out to be a smelly, putrid bog underneath. This is no different. And although I know I didn’t actually expect magic—or highly advanced technology capable of teleportation and materializing objects out of nothing—to be real, that’s not really an excuse. Nor is the fact that I made the decision under a sense of time pressure and while hungover. I’m better than that. Or I should be, at least.

  Contracts are kind of my day job, after all. Were. I sigh, my shoulders slumping, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. Well, I made the decision, and now I’m trapped somewhere with no way to go home, completely at the mercy of nature and whatever these items are. I suppose I’d better make sure I know everything I can about the situation in which I find myself, even if it feels a bit like locking the door after the horse has bolted. Still, I might find out that it’s not quite as bad as I think—maybe the letter will say that there’s a city beyond this valley that I need to get to or something.

  After picking up the crumpled piece of paper from where I had thrown it in my tantrum, I smooth it out once more and continue to read.

  Energy is found in all things, even on your original world. On your world, however, there was such a minimal density of it that you could not even detect its presence. On my world, Energy is an essential part of life. Relevant to you at this moment are Classes and magic. It is why the stones I have sent you are so useful: the Class stone gives you the Tamer Class and all the advantages that come with this; the knowledge stones allow you to instantly absorb knowledge of a subject, up to a certain limit; the Skill stone instantly gives you access to a Skill outside your Class set, which you can then use immediately. All of this is only possible because of our ability to use Energy. As, of course, is my ability to contact you and pull you part of the way towards my world.

  Why only part of the way?

  For one simple reason: the amount of Energy to pull you all the way is significant. Frankly, I would need to know that you were worth neglecting all my other responsibilities for the task. As I said at the beginning, it is far more efficient to combine a test of your worthiness with the practicality of paying for your journey.

  To be completely blunt, you need to collect sufficient Energy before the year is up. If you do not, the spell will take its due regardless. Given the distances involved, this would most likely cost you your life. As the anchor and initiator of the spell, I would be held partially accountable for your debt should you arrive in my world without having fully paid it, so you can see that it is also in my interest that you gain in strength.

  I stop reading for a moment, staring sightlessly over the top of the letter. Great. From bad to worse, I say to myself bitterly. Not only do I need to survive here for a year, but I can’t even plan on just finding a hiding spot and becoming a hermit. No, I actually have to do something to gather “Energy” or I’ll be signing my death warrant anyway. Feeling sick again, I look back at the letter. Better get it over and done with so at least I know what I’m dealing with.