The partying went on long into the night. After several months on the march, the bandits needed to let their hair down, and I was perfectly happy for them to enjoy their victory. My victory, really, but I was content for them to think it was theirs. Our tents were pitched deep into the forest, in a clearing with a cave to one side, and then the bandits set out to collect firewood. A roaring fire soon rose out the clearing, crackling as it consumed everything we threw into it.

I have to admit, the forest wasn’t what I would have expected. The trees had huge trunks and were sparsely separated from each other. Giant spider webs were scattered around, but there were no sign of the creatures themselves. Not that I was too bothered. We had just dealt with the living dead - a few bugs shouldn’t trouble us one bit.

Drink was shared around readily. I abstained, as usual. I wasn't even sure if alcohol could affect this strange new body of mine, but either way, I intended to keep a clear head. One thing I had learned growing up in the heart of gangland London was that you could never be entirely sure when an attack might come.

After some time, I drew back from the ever-growing bonfire, retreating to my tent. I averted my eyes as I passed a group of bandits skinny dipping in the pool, and several more relieving themselves in the woods nearby. As I approached my tent, I noticed a small wooden crate on the ground, half-buried in leaves.

I picked it up, weighing it in my hands. It looked far too advanced for this world. I carried it into my tent and placed it down beside my camp bed, steeling myself before I opened it.

I had to admit, I was disappointed. I had hoped for something equalling the treasure map I had found when I had entered this world, but instead there was little more than a handful of seeds. I didn't know what type. Maybe they were magic seeds, I thought glumly. Below the seeds, there was a find of slightly more interest. Several shots for a large shotgun, perhaps a Remington 870. There was no accompanying gun, however, so what use they were, I couldn't say.

I shoved them back in the box and slumped down onto the bed, wondering what tomorrow would bring. Inevitably, I found my mind taking me back to the day I had arrived in this world. Even now, I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

~

Three months earlier

"Where am I?" I called. White space surrounded me on all sides. Even my body seemed to have vanished – in its place, a series of scrawling black lines.

"In the beginning was the Word…"

The voice seemed to come from all directions, and in the same curling script. Letters, I realised.

"Who are you?" I asked, watching my own words appearing in front me, as if I had written them.

"I have many names," the presence replied. "You may call me Roe."

"Am I dead?" I asked.

"In a sense," Roe replied. "Arguably worse than dead, since you were never born in the first place."

"That's not true!" I exclaimed. I tried to cast my mind back to everything that had happened before that car had hit me, but it was hard to recall. "I lived in London. I had a boyfriend. I had a whole life ahead of me."

"If that is true... then what is your name?"

I was stumped.

"What part of London did you live in?"

"West Beckenham?"

"See, you're only saying that because I know that place. Even though it doesn't really fit." Roe's voice, if I could call it that, seemed tinged with regret. "The truth is that I created you. You are nothing more than lines on a page. Inert letters, that take some brief semblance of existence when read by a real person. You're a spectre, a ghoul, a half-finished dream."

"And yet, here I am," I pointed out. "I can speak. I can think for myself. Doesn’t that make me as real as you?"

"Perhaps."

"Can you at least give me a name?"

"Lady Carnelian," the presence said after a pause. "That is what I will call you." The image of a map drawn on fine velum appeared before me. Velum. I wasn’t even sure how I knew that word. "A wise man once said that all the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances. You are about to enter a new world."

"What sort of world?" I asked.

"Medieval Europe?” Roe suggested. I shook my head. "No, that doesn’t fit with your back story. Have you seen Game of Thrones?"

"Only the first season."

"That is… fitting. Then you will find it somewhat familiar." I began to feel the world around me contracting, the white space filling with black. Roe’s voice became louder. "Upon entering the world, you will find the map I have shown you. Follow it, and it will lead you to your destiny."