The river slowly widened, quickly rushing to flood into a lake that formed in the distance. My sphere-like space of awareness now spread far after my recent perception increase, allowing me to ‘see’ for about half a mile.

As I walked, a huge structure on the left side of the lake quickly came to my attention. It had four massive walls, and the one facing the water had a gate. It was a stronghold in every sense of the word.

Continuing forward, the ground changed to a naturally created path; hundreds of moving feet had molded the land. The ground to the side of the road transitioned into overturned dirt that sprouted tall crops that rustled as they moved. The breeze carried the scent of freshwater, and it brushed through my hair before swirling past to make the plants sway.

Drawing closer to the stronghold, I began to notice people moving in between the crops. A woman stood on the road, overlooking their work with her hands raised to move through the air. She turned her head towards me as I approached, slightly tensing.

She smelled of mana; it was a scent I had become overly familiar with. It carried electric undertones, almost like the smell of a thunderstorm. I could not describe it with simple words. It was heaviest on her hands—a pulsing movement of arcane force that rippled through the air towards the crops.

“Hello,” she greeted, and I came to a stop. “We have not seen any new faces for quite a while. What is your business here?”

“I am just a traveler. I seek lodging, if this place is accepting,” I said. She lowered her hands, and the active mana disappeared. She moved her arm to signal to another person; I assumed to tell them to take over whatever she was doing.

She began to walk down the road, and I followed. “We do accept amicable visitors who pass this way. How long do you plan to stay?” she asked.

“I am unsure. Most of my travels are not planned,” I told her.

“Ah, a flighty man,” she said, voice lilting. “Moving where the winds direct you.” I did not know how to respond to that, so I just shrugged.

Quietly laughing, she spoke. “I am Aleya, by the way. Would you tell me your name, traveler?”

I debated over whether to tell her my real name. I was no longer in a war trodden nation, and I did not think my identity could be used against me anymore. On Earth, I had always used my given name in civilian areas. “My name is Cain. What is this place, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It is Drixstead. A fortress that started from a small gathering of people who traveled long to find a suitable place to settle,” Aleya began, voice flowing as she told the story. “Years passed as wanderers like yourself joined and built our walls—our protectors.” Her voice carried clear love for her home.

The massive gates creaked as they slightly opened as we moved closer, people at the top of the wall immediately letting Aleya in. She paused as we entered, and I stopped beside her.

“Is it not beautiful?” she breathed.

“I would not know,” I said. “I am blind.” It was impressive from what I could tell; the inside was expansive, my perception informing me that many buildings were spread throughout. The ground turned into paved stone and I could hear many voices ringing out.

Aleya whipped her head to look at me, hair fluttering over her shoulder. “I could not tell. A blind traveler, you say? How intriguing you become.” She walked off, not allowing me to respond. I followed after her once again, feeling like a baby duck.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“I am taking you to the patriarch. He meets with every new person who comes into our walls.” Aleya was silent after that, leading me to a large building that was attached to a wall, its height more than I could tell.

We walked up many stairs, the building deathly silent except for our footsteps that echoed off the stone walls. I felt compelled to keep any further questions unsaid as an uneasy reverence fell over our assent; it was suffocating and unwelcome.

A long hallway was our last stretch—I assumed it was within an outer wall. Aleya knocked on wooden doors at the end of it, before opening one and ushering me inside.

“I leave you here,” she told me. “Perhaps I will see you later.” With that, she quickly closed the door.

I turned towards the room which had a desk as its centerpiece. A man stood from his seat behind it, moving towards me.

“Welcome to Drixstead, friend! I am Patriarch Davion.” He greeted, his voice rough with age. He grabbed my hand to shake it, his grip crushing. “What brings you this way?”

I flexed my hand as I responded. “I am just a traveler.” I paused, debating. Then, I decided that honesty would be best. “I am not from this world, and I’m just trying to find my place in this land.”

Davion leaned against his desk, gesturing for me to take a seat. His voice was filled with surprise, saying, “I see. A few from your world had dropped close to here. We welcomed them in, our God informing us of their arrival.”

“There are others from the Earth here?” I exclaimed, voice slightly rising. I couldn’t help myself. Familiarity was something that humans craved.

“Yes. Not many, though,” he told me. It made me remember something I had questioned before. How big must this world be?

“Why so few, do you know? Is this world large enough to hold everyone?” I asked, hoping Davion would know.

He pondered the questions, humming. “I don’t completely understand. How many people were on this ‘Earth’?”

“Over seven billion.”

Davion laughed, a short sound. “Ha! This world would not be able to hold that many. God would have no doubt spread your people over many planets.”

“Who is this god you keep mentioning?” I asked. I had never been religious, and it seemed the patriarch believed this deity to be the cause of the aptly named ‘drop’.

The patriarch was gentle with his words, as if he were teaching a young child. “I explained this to the others from your world as well. The magnificent Fevdohr—God of The Planets and Stars—is the creator of the status. He gifted his creation to this planet, but I could not say the same for other worlds.”

I nodded my head. “There was no system on my planet.”

Davion acknowledged my words before moving on. “I see. Well, even a God is in need of materials for their creations, so Fevdohr takes from the universe. That is why you are here; no other reason than God needing your planet. He is a kind God, however, sparing inhabitants and moving them to other worlds. It has happened before, and it will no doubt happen again.”

“When I first arrived here, a message said that it happened according to the ‘Planetary Amalgamation Compendium’, if I remember correctly. What is that?” I asked.

“Fevdohr has told us that it is his guidebook,” Davion told me, benign. “He created it himself, saying it is to help him be a kinder God to us—even if he has already achieved perfection.”

I thought it over, wondering if this old man was just spouting delusions. It was a probable possibility, however, that it was not fake; this world was already fantastical, and a god would explain much. I would not ask Davion to explain how he knew his words were true. His answers would most likely be vague, intense devotion and religious belief never making much sense to anyone but the believer.

“Thank you for answering my questions,” I said, sincere.

“It is my pleasure,” Davion responded. “Drixstead welcomes you and your two companions.” I paused, my body tensing. The pyromaniac, who had been swinging his legs as he sat on the desk, halted his movements.

I swallowed, trying to soothe my dry throat. “You can see them?” I asked, my voice hoarse. Davion stood, moving around his desk.

“No, I cannot. They are not visible, of course.” Of course. What was so obvious? I could not understand his casual words. “I can sense them, as all experienced mages can.”

Were my hallucinations semi-real? My jaw clenched as my hands tightened on the chair arms.

“How can you sense them? They are not real,” I stated, trying to convince myself.

Davion seemed to frown, voice dropping. “Why do you believe that? Are they not creations of your magic?”

I shook my head, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “They are creations of my mind and were present before I came to this world. Earth had no mana.”

“Then how do you explain them, if they are not magic?” Davion asked, filled with confusion.

“It was called schizophrenia—a disorder in the brain. Hallucinations and altered perceptions can be symptoms.” I knew too much of the subject, sometimes finding I could perfectly quote certain articles. My head ached, still shaken from Davion’s casual revelation.

The priest moved closer to the patriarch, curiously looking down at the man as he folded his hands.

“What an odd phenomenon,” Davion murmured. “Perhaps you have been unconsciously moving your mana to where you perceive them to be? I have never heard of illness in the mind.” He paused, ruminating.

“Well,” he said, directly addressing me, “It would be best if you made them leave while you are here. There are others here who will be able to sense them.”

I sighed, lifting my hands. “I do not control them. They come and go subconsciously.” The pyromaniac crossed his arms, as if he was refusing to leave. The priest, on the other hand, politely bowed his head before moving towards me; then he disappeared.

“If there is nothing you can do, it cannot be helped,” Davion said, standing. I stood as well. “I have learned something new, and you have as well. I foresee your stay here will be fruitful, Cain.” I did not ask how he knew my name despite the fact that I had never given it to him. He also hadn’t questioned my blindness, even though I was sure he had noticed.

“Come,” he directed, “I will lead you back to Aleya, who is still near. She will take you to your lodging.”

It seemed abrupt, the way he shuffled me out. The pyromaniac followed beside me, incessantly muttering as he rolled his lighter. Davion chuckled, as if he could hear and understand his words as well.

He led me back down the stairs, opening the door to find Aleya standing outside. The patriarch turned towards me, placing his hand on my shoulder.

“We must talk again,” he planned. “I would like to… pick your brain, if I may. I do believe you have more questions as well.” I nodded my head as he squeezed my shoulder, overly tight.

He swiftly departed, disappearing back into the building with a burst of wind as the door shut. Aleya then turned away, directing me to follow her. She led me to a simple building, and as we walked in, I pegged it as a hotel of sorts.

It had a large, open ground floor, with a counter near the entrance. No one was manning it, so Aleya moved behind it herself. She scribbled down something before grabbing an object from the top.

This stronghold seemed like a tight-knit community, familiarity and casual confidence letting Aleya move around in a building that I assumed she did not own.

“Come,” she directed. “I’ve assigned you to an empty room for however long you stay.” Under her breath, she muttered, “all the rooms are empty, so it shouldn’t matter which one, right?”

She led me up stairs that were slightly hidden next to the back wall, then moved down a hallway to the end on the upper floor. She pushed a key into the last door, opening it and ushering me inside.

“You can stay here. I’ll let the inn owners know you are in this room, and they will probably let you join them for meals. I don’t know what you’ll do in Drixstead, but people are expected to contribute to earn their keep,” Aleya said, voice firm.

“Come find me anytime. I’m usually working in the fields, but you can just ask for me and others will usually know.” She paused, breathing out. “I think that is all. Welcome to Drixstead, Cain.” And then she was gone.

I placed my bag on a bed in the corner, removing the cheap leather armor I had almost forgotten. There was much to think about. I had learned a lot today, some information only leading to more questions. I could only think of this place as a trove of answers where deities and magic ran about, common as a blade of grass.