New Place?

Upon waking, I realized I wasn’t in the same bed, nor wearing the same shabby clothes.

I seemed to have slept on the floor with only a brown blanket. The room was small, like a guest room, tight enough that only four people side by side could fit inside.

The floor was hard, coffee-colored wood, fresh-looking as if it had just been cut and laid.

The walls, in contrast, were rough and almost beaten, made of bare concrete with half-finished paint.

“Why have I never seen this church?” I muttered to myself.

Then I remembered, the day my house burned was the day I moved to the far side of Koburn.

“What have I really not known about this world?”

I felt foolish. Twenty-nine years in this world, and what had I done? Worked, lived, and quietly wished that something supernatural would suddenly appear before me. When it didn’t, I lost hope, and my life had dulled.

Slowly, I got up.

A mirror caught my eye. Walking toward it, I studied my reflection. My face was rounder, my skin paler than usual, with dull brown hair and sad gray eyes.

I wore a brown poncho with unique woven patterns of tan, white, and black.

It draped over my shirt and nearly covered my pants.

Looking around the room, I noticed some furniture. To the right stood an old brown desk, cluttered with paper, a pen, and a small bottle of ink.

A gas lamp rested beside it, its metal worn with use. Opposite the desk was a plain, white wooden shelf, dull and empty.

I pulled the chair back and sat down. If this was a new path, I had to start somewhere. Picking up the pen, I dipped it lightly into the ink and began to write at the top of the paper:

Questions about this world.

I now knew that whatever past I had experienced was not the same world I had lived in for twenty-nine years. This place felt different—alien, yet familiar.

Speaking of that, how old had I been when I died? How old was I back on Earth?

A cold drop of dread sank into my chest. I realized I had completely forgotten who I was

before transmigrating here.

What was my name?

What had I done before?

What had I lost?

I only remembered fragments, novels I had read, and the tragedy of my passing.

I forced those thoughts aside and pressed the pen to the page again.

How do I return to Earth? What are the events of this place? Which gods are worshiped here? Why was I sent twenty-nine years back?

As I raised the pen for one last question, a flicker of happiness stirred in me.

How does this world’s magic work?

The memory of the priest and the figure who had wielded holy light rushed back to me. Magic did exist.

But that thought was tainted by rage. I remembered the demon, that thing I was powerless against. The weakness in my chest burned. I ground my teeth.

I wanted to kill any creature that stood in my path.

I wanted to return home, back to Earth.

“I really want to learn magic!”

The words escaped in a high-pitched voice, startling me. I sounded like a child. A ten-year-old’s mentality hiding in my adult body.

Before I could dwell on it, the door creaked open.

A girl walked in. She wore a clean white blouse and a white pollera with black trim that reached her ankles, along with simple brown sandals. Her pale skin was freckled, her long curly brown hair half-covering her face. Amber eyes, wide and warm, met mine. She looked sixteen, maybe seventeen.

She smiled at me.

“Seems you’re awake.”

She slowly approached me.

“I know you might feel scared, but trust me, it’ll be okay.”

Her smile was warm and steady as she placed a hand on her chest.

“My name is Janie Vilca. Nice to meet you. Now, do you remember your name?”

I looked down, nervous.

“U-Um… I’m Vince Huamán.”

I forced a grin, trying to hide my unease.

“I have a question!” I blurted, unable to keep the excitement bottled up.

Janie tilted her head, curious. “What is it?”

“H-How do I learn magic? Or whatever that was!”

She froze, almost coughing on her own breath. For a moment her big amber eyes

widened before she quickly looked away, forcing a light laugh.

“Magic? You must still be half-dreaming. What makes you say that?”

I stared at her flatly, my voice dropping. “I know what I saw.”

Her smile faltered for just a second, then returned brighter, almost too bright. “Well, since you’re awake, you should speak with Father.

He’ll explain everything much better than I ever could.”

Before I could push further, she slipped her hand around mine and tugged me toward the door.

The hallway stretched long.

On my right were three wooden doors, on my left four more, each marked with a different drawing or carved pattern.

At the far end I glimpsed what looked like a kitchen, though Janie gave me no chance to slow down.

We turned right, stepping into the main area of the church. The same rough walls and polished wood covered everything.

Two massive wooden doors loomed ahead, sunlight leaking faintly through their cracks. Above them hung a wide stained-glass window colored deep green.

Rows of benches filled the space in perfect lines.

To the left, three tall stained windows glowed faintly: the far left a dark green, the middle a heavy brown, and the last a pale gray. Beneath them stood a stone statue.

The figure carved there was a man standing atop a mountain of rock, robed in layered garments.

His hair was short, cut to the ears, and his frame was tall and lean.

Was this their god? Oeus?

I wasn’t given long to think. Another figure was already kneeling before the statue, watching it with calm devotion.

The man who had saved me.

“Father.”