Worlds Across

Chapter 2: We made it.. I think.

As we’re cruising along—smooth sailing, no turbulence—everything starts to twist and distort, like the universe is doing a really bad magic trick. You know, the kind where you’re not quite sure if the magician is going to pull a rabbit out of a hat or accidentally reveal his deep-seated insecurities? Suddenly, everyone in the van looks outside, and it’s as if someone hit the "weird" button on reality. Trees are growing upside down, clouds are doing somersaults, and I swear I just saw a squirrel wearing a tiny top hat and monocle. Classy little fella.

We drive a bit further and spot a sign that says, “Welcome to Aetheris.” It looks like it was hand-painted by a committee of enthusiastic interns who just discovered glitter. Now, let me just say, everyone’s staring at our van like it’s a giant metal crab that just ate their grandma. And honestly? Can you blame them? Picture it: our old, rusty van, sputtering and wheezing like it’s auditioning for a role in a horror movie. If I were them, I’d be wondering if we were the next installment of Aetheris: The Return of the Cursed Van.

We finally roll up to this surreal destination, hop out of the van, and the villagers collectively sigh in relief like they just escaped a really awkward family reunion. You know, the kind where Uncle Bob keeps bringing up his “big win” in the local bingo tournament and Aunt Edna won’t stop asking when you’re getting married. But then, they spot Tony’s phone and gasp like it’s the Holy Grail, cradling it like it’s the last slice of pizza at a party. Seriously, you’d think it was a golden retriever puppy instead of a device that’s probably more obsolete than dial-up internet.

At this point, Sage and I—who, let’s be honest, are the only two who didn’t skip class on dimensional travel—understand that we’ve landed in another realm. Meanwhile, the other three brainiacs are still looking around like they’ve just solved a Rubik’s Cube while blindfolded. You can practically see the smoke pouring out of their ears as they try to process what’s happening. They look as lost as someone trying to find a bathroom in an IKEA.

So, these villagers start giving us a TED Talk on their town’s history. And wow, it’s surprisingly impressive. They have this tower called the Tower of Aetherfall, which supposedly holds the fabric of all magic and reality together. You know, your average Tuesday for a magical tower. It’s like if the Empire State Building had a baby with Hogwarts and then threw in a dash of existential dread for good measure. But here’s the kicker: it’s ancient and has been getting a little out of control lately. If it breaks, Ragnillon goes boom, and we’ll all be flung into a different realm. I mean, no pressure, right? It’s like being told you’re the designated driver on prom night—except the prom is the fate of the universe.

As this guy is pouring out the riveting saga of his town like a Netflix documentary, suddenly, we get yanked off the ground and zoomed to the tower of Aetheris at light speed—because apparently, this is the universe’s version of an express elevator. I can’t help but wonder if this is how they get their cardio in this realm. “Hey, want to go for a jog? Let’s get sucked into a magical vortex instead!”

We stop just inches from the surface, and I can’t help but quip, “Well, this has been quite the road trip, don’t ya think?” Everyone stares at me like I just recited the entire script of Hamlet backwards while juggling flaming swords. Then, they walk inside the tower without even a chuckle. Classic. I’m starting to think my sense of humor is on a different wavelength—like trying to stream a movie on dial-up while the rest of the world is on fiber optics.

Once inside, we trudge up the stairs, which are more like a spiral of existential dread than actual steps. I mean, seriously, who designed this place? It’s like a funhouse, but instead of mirrors, it’s all about illusions and deep philosophical questions about the nature of existence. We finally reach a landing, only to get split into five separate rooms, each with an assortment of artifacts that look like they came straight out of a yard sale from a wizard’s estate. You know the type: dusty, bizarre, and definitely not from IKEA.

As we step into our respective rooms, I can’t help but notice how each artifact looks more ridiculous than the last. There’s a glowing crystal orb that looks like it could belong to a gypsy fortune teller and a sword that’s way too big for anyone here, probably left over from some epic game of Dungeons & Dragons that got a little out of hand. Meanwhile, I’m just standing there, wondering if I should touch something or run away screaming.

At the same time, we all reach out and touch the artifacts, and—bam—a bright light erupts from the top of the tower, conjuring visions of five brave warriors! That’s right, folks: us.  The light envelops us, and I feel like I’m in one of those cheesy superhero movies where the main character finally discovers their powers, complete with slow-motion effects and dramatic music that was definitely not in the budget.

“Look at us!” I exclaim, feeling pretty heroic. “We’re like the Avengers, but with less budget and more existential crisis!”

But as the blinding light dims, I quickly realize that my heroic fantasy might have been a bit too optimistic. We’re not exactly dressed for battle—more like a mismatched group of tourists who accidentally stumbled into a fantasy world and forgot to read the dress code. The villagers stare at us with a mix of awe and confusion, probably wondering if they should bow down to us or just give us directions to the nearest coffee shop.

So there we are, five “brave warriors” standing in this ornate hall, looking like we just stepped out of a low-budget RPG. And what do we do next? Absolutely nothing. Because guess what? Saving Ragnillon? Spoiler alert: We totally don’t.

Instead, we stand around awkwardly, trying to figure out what to do next, while the villagers look on with bated breath, expecting us to save the day. It’s like we’re the world’s worst superheroes—“Behold our powers of indecision!” Sage finally breaks the silence, saying, “So, uh, what’s the plan?” And I’m over here thinking, “Right, the plan! We definitely had a plan before we got sucked into this whole mess. Just need to remember…maybe it involved snacks?”

But while we’re busy contemplating our next move—or lack thereof—the tower starts shaking ominously, like it’s had too much coffee and is about to spill the beans on all its secrets. The villagers gasp collectively, and for a moment, I think they might actually start chanting our names like we’re the saviors they’ve been waiting for. “Oh great, now they think we’re heroes,” I mutter to Sage. “If only they knew we were just a bunch of clueless idiots from Earth.”

The ground trembles, and the tower’s walls begin to shimmer like they’re trying to tell us something. Sage nudges me, whispering, “Do you think we should do something?” I shrug, my brain spinning faster than a hamster on a wheel. “Maybe? Or we could just stand here and hope it all magically resolves itself. I mean, that’s worked out great for us so far, right?”

As if on cue, a booming voice resonates throughout the tower, echoing like a bad special effect in a B-movie. “Brave warriors! Your destiny awaits! You must unite and save Ragnillon!”

“Sure, sounds simple enough!” I yell back, feeling a little too much like I’m in a video game tutorial. “But first, where do we sign up? Is there a form? Maybe a FAQ sheet?” The voice falls silent, and I can almost hear the collective facepalms of my companions.

Moments later, a portal opens above us, swirling with colors that look like a toddler’s finger-painting gone wrong. “Right, guess we’re doing this!” I exclaim, trying to muster up some enthusiasm. “Onward to destiny, or whatever! Just don’t touch anything that looks important, okay?”

We reluctantly step toward the portal, feeling like we’re about to jump off a diving board for the first time. It’s either going to be a glorious cannonball into the unknown or a spectacular belly flop into chaos.

And as we leap through, I can’t help but shout, “Next stop: saving Ragnillon! Or maybe just finding a nice café—definitely in need of caffeine after this!”

As we plunge into the vibrant unknown, I realize this might just be the wildest road trip of our lives. Spoiler alert: It’s going to get crazier from here. Who knew being “heroes” would involve so much running around and trying to remember what we were supposed to do in the first place?