AuthorSME
patreon
Her Light - Chapter 4
🕑 Added 2025-01-12 03:58:48 +0000 UTC------------------
The rhythmic jostling of something, pulled Kaela’s consciousness out of the hazy abyss, bright light and warmth cascading over her. Her body ached like she’d been thrown into a cement mixer and spat back out. Her throat burned raw, her lungs constricting as she gasped for air, her chest rising and falling in panicked rhythm.
Her pulse roared in her ears as her eyes flew open. The sky above was bluer than it had any right to be, too deep, too rich. Sunlight streamed down, painting everything in an unnatural golden hue. No…there was no sun in the sky that met her.
Her fingers twitched against something coarse beneath her, the sensation too real, too solid. The creak of wooden wheels against perfectly smoothed roads. She cast her gaze around, blurry shapes putting ideas in her mind.
The heavy clomp of massive hooves pounding against the earth. The sound was wrong, too uniform, too precise, like someone had engineered the ground itself to perfection. She sucked in a breath, her gaze snapping to the horizon, blood going cold, despite the heat radiating from the sunless sky.
What the hell?! I was in my dorm…the bathroom…
Massive walls, towering structures of white stone and gilded inscriptions, loomed in the far distance. It wasn’t just a city—it was a fortress the size of a country. The gates—colossal things that looked like they could withstand a nuclear blast—stood open.
Beside the wagon she was in marching figures in polished armor moved in lockstep, smiles on their faces as they talked to one another. Massive horses were gilded in metal, mounted knights sitting tall atop them.
Where the hell am I?!
The grasslands stretched around them, an endless sea of rolling emerald untouched by decay or pollution, vibrant in a way she had never seen. It was almost offensively beautiful, and yet, the sheer wrongness of it made her stomach twist.
This isn’t home. This isn’t real. It can’t be real… Dad had a rotten finger… Did I…die?
Her hands scrambled at her chest, feeling for the rapid drum of her heart beneath her skin. She was still herself—wasn’t she? A cold sweat clinging to her back. She let out a sharp, uneven breath, pushing herself up onto her elbows. The movement made her head swim.
There were people with her.
The first one she noticed was a woman, golden-haired and clad in armor that shimmered faintly, as if it held its own inner light. She was kneeling at Kaela’s side, her gaze sharp but not unkind while observing her wild eyes.
“Easy,” the woman soothed, pressing a steadying hand against her shoulder. “You’re safe. I’m Isolde. Can you speak?”
Safe. The word rang hollow.
Kaela lurched back, scrambling against the wooden floor of the wagon until her spine hit the side railing. “Where—where the hell am I? What—” Her voice cracked, too raw, too real. Her hands gripped the fabric of her unfamiliar clothes. They weren’t the ones she’d been wearing but some kind of dress. “What is this? What’s going on?”
Isolde’s expression didn’t waver, though a flicker of concern passed over her features. “You’re in the Dominion. I don’t expect you to trust us yet. But I’m here for you, whatever you need. You were…brought here, through means we do not fully understand as of yet. Perhaps…you could help us grasp your current situation?”
“Yeah, that means nothing to me! Dominion? The hell kind of name is that?”
Kaela’s breathing hitched, her fingers pressing against her temples as she tried to force some kind of logic into the situation. “I…I was at school. I stole something in my dad’s briefcase…and opened it. A finger. A rotten finger, and…then darkness?”
Her breath came faster, chest tightening like a vice.
“Breathe,” Isolde instructed, her voice steady. “Follow my lead: In Altheria I trust… In Altheria, I trust…”
“Panic? Aww, hell no!” Kaela choked out a bitter laugh, half-wild. “You think this is panic? I woke up in a freaking medieval horse-drawn wagon with knights and giant walls like something out of a fantasy novel, and you’re telling me not to panic? I’ve been kidnapped!”
Isolde exhaled through her nose but didn’t seem that alarmed by her accusation. “I…do not understand some of those words you used. I apologize. Fantasy? Kidnapped? Eh…medieval?
She shifted slightly, glancing toward a rather large and holy-looking paladin, seated at the front of the wagon. “Gideon, what should we do?”
Kaela hadn’t noticed him at first. He sat with his massive war mace resting against his knee, his golden eyes fixed on the road ahead. His presence had been commanding when she had first seen him in the light—but now? Now he seemed distant. Withdrawn. He hadn’t said a word since she woke up.
Something passed between Isolde and Gideon, a silent exchange, before the woman turned back to her. “You’re right, she’s from a totally different culture. I know this is overwhelming, but listen to me. You were saved from something beyond your comprehension. Altheria marked you. That means you have a purpose here. We are here to protect and help you.”
Kaela let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh as the name sparked an image of some glorious figure who had split the darkness that swallowed her. “You’re saying…some goddess dropped me here? You expect me to just—what? Accept that? Fat chance!”
Isolde’s lips pressed together. “Not just any goddess. Altheria. She intervened to protect you from the corruption that sprouted from within you. That is why we are taking you to the Prophetess.”
Kaela’s head spun. None of this made sense. She pressed her palms against her face, willing herself to wake up from whatever sick, twisted dream this was. But the warmth of the sunless sky on her skin, the weight of her body against the wooden planks—it was all too real.
She wasn’t waking up.
The panic returned in full force. “No—no, no, no. I need to go home. I can’t be here. This isn’t—I don’t belong in this—this—” Her voice cracked, and her chest hitched with the weight of it all. “I didn’t ask for this!”
For the first time, Gideon spoke.
“As I understand it. From what you have told us…did you not?” His voice was quiet, heavy. “You stole something from your father that was a part of the Shadowlands and unsealed it. It then wrapped you in its hand and brought you to its realm… As it has done to all things who come into contact with it.”
Kaela jerked her gaze toward him, startled by the unexpected sorrow in his tone. He hadn’t looked at her yet, his expression carved from stone, but there was something hollow in his posture. The concerned look on Isolde’s face deepened while glancing at him. It was subtle, the way she shifted slightly toward the paladin, the crease between her brows tightening.
She latched onto that, pulling further away and deflecting. “Yeah, I don’t know bud… Eh, is something wrong with him? Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m scared. Okay?”
Isolde hesitated before answering. “Gideon, even the Outworlder can see you have been distant since confronting the Abyssal Reaper. Since Captain-General spoke to you, you’ve been…unusually quiet after the battle.”
Kaela’s gaze darted between places, pop culture references, memes, and many other short conversations she’d heard at school swirling in her brain. Super hot blonde chick—scratch that, super hot everyone, she internally grumbled, focus snapping between faces, and fantasy themes everywhere… Have I really been transported to another world?!
Okay, details! Details. Lock-in, girl…
Gideon looked to be in his early thirties and Isolde in her mid to late twenties. Every soldier, mounted or marching, appeared to be extremely healthy. Not a fat person or wimpy frame among them as if none of them skipped gym day. Holy symbols of some kind adorned their battle mail or plate armor.
Did I…fall into a religious, fanatical cult world? Great…
A beat of silence passed before Kaela spoke again, interrupting Gideon as he seemed to consider how to respond to the blonde. “You guys seem pretty sure about this goddess thing. Umm… How can we even talk to each other if you’re from another world?”
Isolde gave a small, almost sad smile but her clenched fingers against her mail and plate-themed battle robes. “Faith in Her is all that keeps us sane when the darkness creeps in.”
Kaela’s hands tightened into fists. This was too much. Too fast. She didn’t believe in gods, in divine intervention, in fate. But none of this was normal. None of this was explainable.
She let out a slow breath, her voice unsteady. “And what if I don’t want to be part of your little divine plan? Can I just…go home? Can this alien lady in the sky magic me a portal? Wait, what did I say?” she mumbled, shrinking a little as a few nearby soldiers gave her sharp looks.
Gideon finally turned his gaze toward her, golden eyes unreadable as he held up a hand to draw their scowls. “I know this is hard for you to accept and it will take some time. You come from a totally different world…and we must understand that. But you must also understand you are not in your old world or its culture. We cannot be sure of anything until we meet with High Sister Serelith Veylora.”
Kaela swallowed, throat dry. The wagon continued its steady pace toward the looming gates, toward the unknown. And for the first time, she truly understood—she probably wasn’t going home. Tears welled up in her eyes.
Daddy… Did I…did I mess up?
-------------------
