A Continuation to Chapter 4
A mysterious woman stepped forward from the shadows, her presence commanding yet strangely gentle. Her long silver hair shimmered under the faint light, and her cloak billowed like mist.
"I am Victoria Ashcroft," she said, her voice echoing softly, though her lips moved in a language Jack had never heard before.
Yet, somehow, he understood her.
Jack blinked. "Wait… how can I understand you?"
Victoria smiled. "A gift of mine," she replied. "Ancient magic. It allows me to speak with anyone, no matter their tongue—or their world."
"You… know I'm not from here," Jack said cautiously, his heartbeat quickening.
"Of course I do," Victoria nodded. "Your mana gave you away. You don't even know how to use it, yet it radiates from you—ten times stronger than anyone I've seen. That kind of power doesn't come from this world."
Jack looked down at his hands. "Mana? I didn't even know magic existed until yesterday."
"It does here," she said. "And you're not the only one from your world to end up in Eldoria… but most don't survive long."
Suddenly, the air shifted as a regal figure strode into the clearing—Lady Beatrice, flanked by guards in dark armor. Her presence was sharp and commanding, every step radiating authority.
"Take him to the healer. Now," she said firmly, her voice brooking no argument as she pointed at Jack. "He's no use to anyone dead."
The guards moved swiftly, lifting Jack to his feet with surprising care. As they began to lead him away, Victoria stepped forward one last time. Her eyes, filled with something like sorrow—or warning—met his.
She pressed a small, glittering amulet into his hand. "Keep this safe," she whispered, her tone low and urgent. "It may save your life… or someone else's."
Jack stared at the jewel, cold and pulsing faintly in his palm. He didn't understand its power or purpose, but something in her voice told him this wouldn't be the last time he'd need it. As the guards pulled him away, he tightened his grip on the amulet, the weight of uncertainty settling heavy in his chest.
This world, he realized, was only beginning to show its teeth.
The healer, a kindly old woman with eyes that held the wisdom of ages, examined Jack's wounds. They were deep, but not life-threatening. "You're lucky," she said, applying soothing balms. "Your body heals remarkably fast. It's… unusual." She paused, studying him intently. "Your mana… it's like a river flowing through you, strong and pure."
After tending to his wounds, the healer noticed the amulet clutched in Jack's hand.
Intrigued, she carefully examined it. "This is an ancient artifact," she whispered, her eyes widening. "It's a conduit, a key… but a key to what, I don't know."
She explained that the amulet pulsed faintly with mana, resonating with Jack's own powerful energy. It was clearly connected to him in some profound way.
That night, alone in his room in the camp, Jack held the amulet. A faint warmth spread through him as he touched it.
He felt a strange pull, a connection to something… vast. Suddenly, the amulet glowed brightly, and a vision flooded his mind: a swirling vortex of colors, a glimpse of a world both familiar and alien, and a single, haunting word whispered on the wind: "Aethelred."
The vision vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving Jack breathless and more confused than ever. What did it all mean? And who, or what, was Aethelred?
Lady Beatrice entered Jack's room with the kind of grace that made even the silence stand at attention. Though her posture was regal, her eyes shimmered with curiosity.
To Jack's surprise, he understood her perfectly—just like he had with the healer. Somehow, this strange world was making its language more… accessible.
"So," she said, her voice smooth as silk with a hint of mischief, "the healer tells me you're not exactly… ordinary."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Understatement of the century, Your Ladyship. I'm practically a legend in the making. All I need now is a scribe and a dramatic soundtrack."
Beatrice chuckled, the sound unexpectedly warm. "Ambitious. I like that. But legends are rarely written without a few battles first." She paused, her gaze narrowing. "Victoria Ashcroft says your mana levels are… unprecedented."
"Unusual?" Jack shrugged with a smirk. "I prefer 'dangerously impressive.'" He gestured to the fresh bandages. "Still figuring out the interdimensional part. Portals don't exactly come with manuals."
Beatrice stepped closer, her tone dipping into something more serious. "Victoria believes you come from a world without mana. Is that true?"
Jack tilted his head. "Let's just say my last zip code didn't include 'magic rivers' on the map."
Her lips quirked upward. "And the amulet? The healer said it responded to you. That's no ordinary trinket."
Jack held it up, the soft glow pulsing in his palm. "Gift from Victoria. It gave me… a vision. A vortex. Another world. And a name: Aethelred."
The light in Beatrice's eyes dimmed. "Aethelred…" she echoed. "That name isn't just a name. It's a title. One that hasn't been spoken aloud in centuries."
She hesitated, then added, "We should speak more. In a quieter place. With fewer bandages and a bit more tea."
---
Beatrice's chambers were as lavish as a royal vault—marble floors, silk drapes, gold-trimmed everything. A delicate tea set sat between them, steaming gently, at odds with the weight of their conversation.
"Aethelred," Beatrice said, "was the name tied to an old prophecy. One that speaks of an outsider—marked by immense mana—who would bring salvation… or ruin."
Jack swirled his tea. "Let me guess—I'm the wildcard."
Beatrice nodded. "Victoria believes you're the one. But not everyone agrees. Some see your power as something to be controlled, twisted. Used."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess again—evil secret society with spooky robes and dramatic lighting?"
Beatrice didn't smile this time. "Something like that. A cabal. Hidden in the shadows of the kingdom. They want control of the ley lines—our world's magical arteries. With your mana, they could tip the balance of power and reshape the realm."
Jack leaned back, expression unreadable. "So I'm basically the nuclear warhead in someone else's game of magical chess."
"More like the king, Jack. And they're setting the board."
He met her gaze. "And you?"
"I'm trying to keep the board from burning."
Silence fell, heavy and loaded.
Then Beatrice leaned in, her voice firm. "This isn't just politics. It's war. And you're at the center of it. Question is—are you in?"
Jack finished his tea, set the cup down with deliberate calm, and smirked.
"Hell no," he said flatly. "I just watched a girl I barely knew throw herself in front of a blade for me, and now you want me to play magical bodyguard for your kingdom? Seriously?"
Beatrice arched an eyebrow, clearly unshaken. "Oh, spare me the martyr act. You're already knee-deep in this magical mess whether you like it or not. And let's be honest—'magical bodyguard' sounds way cooler than 'guy who stood around while the world burned.'"
Jack leaned forward, voice biting. "And you're what? Some pampered princess looking for a shiny new knight to save her from the big, bad sorcerer?"
Beatrice let out a laugh—sharp, amused, a little dangerous. "Princess? Please. I'm Lady Beatrice. I outmaneuver princesses before breakfast. I have power, I have influence, and unfortunately, I have a major problem I can't fix alone."
She leaned closer, her tone shifting from mocking to measured. "You're not just some lost boy with a glowing trinket. You've got mana pouring out of you like a damn river. That makes you useful. To them, and to me. Think of this as a high-stakes consulting job—great perks, no desk."
She narrowed her eyes. "So what's it gonna be? Help me stop a kingdom from collapsing… or sulk your way back to obscurity?"
Jack stood, tossing the covers aside. "Thanks for the tea. And the bandages. Maybe someday I'll send a thank-you card. But right now? I'm finding a way back to my world. I miss my bed, my friends… and yeah, my cellphone."
Beatrice blinked, baffled. "Cell… phone? What in the seven hells is that?"
Jack didn't elaborate. He headed for the tent flap, his mind already racing. He needed to find a way back, to escape this strange, magical world that had suddenly become far too complicated.
"Hey! I'm not done talking to you!" Beatrice's voice rang out, cutting through the evening air—sharp, commanding, and laced with disbelief. She was clearly not used to being brushed off.
She stormed after him, her composure cracking as her boots struck the dirt with undignified urgency. "Get back here, you absolute infuriating—"
Jack disappeared into the bustling camp, weaving through soldiers and civilians like a man on a mission. Beatrice muttered under her breath as she pursued him, her tone torn between outrage and reluctant intrigue.
"Why in the world am I chasing this... man-child? I'm Lady Beatrice, damn it!"
But her feet didn't stop.
Jack reached the stables, spotted a strong-looking horse, and—after a moment's pause—clumsily swung himself into the saddle. The horse didn't move. It just blinked at him. Unimpressed.
Beatrice arrived just in time to witness the spectacle. She crossed her arms, one brow arching as a smirk crept onto her lips. "Oh, this is delightful," she said. "Never ridden before, have you?"
Jack gave a shrug, unfazed. "Nope. But I've driven vehicles ten times faster than this thing. With cup holders."
Beatrice snorted. "Well, your 'vehicle' isn't going anywhere. You've got no plan, no map, and no idea where you even are."
She took a step closer, voice low but firm. "You've seen a fraction of what this world holds. You've barely scratched the surface of your own power. And whether you like it or not, you're at the center of something massive."
Jack stayed silent, still seated awkwardly on the unmoving horse.
Beatrice's tone softened just slightly. "Stay. Let me help you. But understand this—there's a condition."
Jack glanced down at her, one eyebrow raised. "Oh yeah? What kind of condition?"
Beatrice's smile was sharp, calculating. "You accompany me to Porthaven. That's all. What we do there… well, that remains to be seen." She waited, her gaze unwavering, the challenge hanging heavy in the air. The fate of a kingdom, and perhaps Jack's own peculiar journey home, rested on his answer.
Jack considered this, his gaze flitting from Beatrice's confident façade to the stubbornly unmoving horse. The idea of a journey to some unknown city, with a sassy noblewoman who was clearly lying through her teeth, was… intriguing. More intriguing than the prospect of being stuck in this world indefinitely.
"So, you're saying… if I go to this Porthaven with you, you'll help me get back to my world?" he asked, testing the waters.
Beatrice's smile didn't waver, though a flicker of something akin to nervousness crossed her eyes. "Yes," she said, her voice firm. "I'll do everything in my power to help you return home." The lie felt slick on her tongue, but the need for Jack's unique abilities in Porthaven outweighed any qualms she might have had about deceiving him. The city was crawling with those who sought her demise, and two royal guards simply wouldn't be enough.
"And what kind of 'help' are we talking about?" Jack pressed, suspicion coloring his tone. "Because if this involves any more prophecies or magical shenanigans…"
Beatrice chuckled, a sharp, brittle sound. "Let's just say it involves a lot less mystical mumbo-jumbo and a lot more… strategic maneuvering. Think of it as a high-stakes game of chess, with your life and mine as the pawns. And I assure you, I'm a formidable player." She paused, her gaze intense. "So, are you in?" The decision, she knew, was a gamble for both of them. But for Beatrice, it was a gamble she was willing to take. The alternative was far too bleak to contemplate.
Jack scoffed, crossing his arms. "So, you're saying… I'm your bodyguard? Excuse me, Miss… Princess… whatever, but I'm not exactly your knight in shining armor. I don't even know how to fight! How am I supposed to protect you?"
Beatrice, unfazed, leaned back with a smirk. "Victoria mentioned something about… a rather substantial amount of mana you possess."
Jack rolled his eyes. "Yeah, apparently I'm a human battery. Doesn't mean I can shoot lasers out of my—"
He stopped. Frowned.
Then, on a whim, he raised his hand toward the sky.
With a deafening whoosh, a massive fireball roared to life from his palm, shooting into the air like a meteor. The sky lit up with searing orange and gold, casting wild shadows over the camp. A nearby horse neighed in terror. Beatrice ducked, shielding her face. Jack stood frozen, staring at his hand in horror.
Beatrice, fighting back a grin, leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "I believe," she said, her voice laced with a playful lilt, "that's what we in the magical professions call a 'minor demonstration of latent power.' You might have a little more potential than you initially thought."
"…What the hell was that?" he whispered, more to himself than anyone.
Beatrice's lips parted in astonishment, but her shock quickly melted into something else. Triumph.
"Well," she said, brushing soot from her sleeve, "looks like we've just upgraded our odds."
Jack blinked, still processing the event. "A minor demonstration? That thing nearly lit the sky on fire! I didn't even try to do that! I just… put my hand up."
He looked at his hand as if expecting another fireball to spontaneously erupt. "So, uh… what now? Do I have other, uh… 'minor demonstrations' I should be aware of? Like, maybe spontaneous levitation or something?"
Beatrice chuckled, a sharp, bright sound. "I wouldn't rule it out. But for now, let's focus on the immediate problem: getting me to Porthaven in one piece. And hopefully, without accidentally incinerating the entire countryside along the way."
She paused, a thoughtful expression settling on her face. "Perhaps some… controlled practice sessions would be in order before we leave? I do have a rather extensive collection of training dummies…" Her eyes twinkled mischievously. "Though I suspect you might prefer something a little less… flammable."
Jack shuddered, still processing the fact that his hand had just gone full Dragon Ball Z with zero warning. He flexed his fingers cautiously, as if they might suddenly shoot lasers next.
Jack, still slightly shaken from his accidental pyrotechnics display, blurted out, "So… do you like me? Because it feels like you are interested in me or some shi-".
Beatrice froze mid-step, turned slowly, and fixed him with a stare that could've iced over a volcano. Her eyebrow arched with lethal elegance.
"Oh, sweet stars," she said, her voice dripping with mockery. "Is that what you think this is? Darling, I don't chase men—men chases me. If I wanted you, you wouldn't be standing there wondering about it. You'd be unconscious in a gilded cage somewhere, being fed grapes and told how pretty you look when you don't talk."
Jack blinked. "...Kinda into that, not gonna lie."
She sighed dramatically and muttered, "Why is every powerful man I meet either evil, taken, or a complete idiot with a god complex and an allergy to shirts?"
Then, louder, "Dumbass," she snapped, turning on her heel. "Try not to blow yourself up before we reach Porthaven. I refuse to explain your existence twice."
As she stormed off, cloak fluttering behind her like she was leading a fashion show for battle mages, Jack just stared, then let out a breathless laugh.
"Yeah. I think I'm in love."