To our surprise, the main drawing room wasn’t a room like what you would expect on earth, it was both familiar and otherworldly.

  It opened into a wide terrace, its ceiling held up by slender pillars carved with vines twisting and coiling around them. The main drawing room, if one can call it that, was walled on three sides with polished white stone. But the fourth wall was made entirely of glass, held together by thin metal frames, some of which were already open, letting in the cool air that brushed softly against our skin.

  Ornate chairs and sofas lined the area, each upholstered with thick velvety cushions that looked almost too luxurious to sit on. Round marble tables dotted the space between them, their surfaces neatly polished.

  On top of the tables, instead of candles, elegant silver candlesticks held up small glowing crystals—their lights soft and steady.

  Beyond the room was the terrace and a sprawling garden, as if the room itself was meant to spill naturally into the outdoors. Soft grass, pale stone paths, and trees with leaves that shimmered faintly, as if reflecting starlight even where no stars touched.

  It was the kind of room meant to impress guests—not with gold or excess, there’s plenty of that when we walked here, but with quiet, deliberate beauty.

  And then we looked up.

  The number of stars was dazzling, more so than the milky way.

  Two moons hung in the night sky.

  They were larger than the moon we knew—close enough that their shapes were crisp, almost detailed. One was higher than the other and glowed a bluish white, it was gentle and familiar. The other radiated a faint greenish white, an unearthly cool glow, pale yet vibrant at the same time. Where their lights met, the world was washed in a soft teal hue.

  Not evenly. Not uniformly. But shifting across everything the light touches.

  Different surfaces caught the light differently—the white stone pillars shimmered faint blue on one side and pale green on the other. The leaves of the garden trees reflected stripes of color as the wind stirred them. Even our faces were tinted slightly differently depending on how we turned.

  The colors from the twin moons danced across the marble tables, shifting faintly whenever the breeze stirred the sheer curtains hanging near the open panels.

  Trayn let out a low whistle. “That’s quite a sight.”

  “What a world,” I managed breathlessly. My voice came out softer than I intended, almost reverent. My companions murmured their agreement, nodding slowly, small smiles appearing despite everything. Even the adults, still stiff with anxiety, seemed momentarily entranced.

  Some of the guards and even Celestia, who had been sitting quietly to catch her breath, looked pleased and visibly brightened at our reactions.

  It was beautiful.

  Quietly, and impossibly beautiful.

  For a moment, even the guards seemed to pause, letting us take it in.

  I breathed out slowly, my earlier exhaustion forgotten.

  “Yep, a good view,” Arthur agreed in a near whisper. “But that means, we’re really not on Earth.”

  No one argued.

  Even the adults, who had been clinging stubbornly to denial, could only stare up at the sky—caught between fear and wonder.

  Celestia finally managed to stand straight, still winded but smiling faintly. “Please. Everyone,” she said, gesturing toward a cluster of cushioned seats arranged near the edge of the terrace, “make yourselves comfortable.”

  She turned to the guards who had dutifully escorted us and were now standing at rigid attention. “Arrange some of the chairs so that they face where His Majesty will be sitting. The heroes will need to be comfortable. After that, inform the kitchens to hurry with their meals.”

  Again, the guards saluted and set to work, lifting sofas and chairs with precise, almost reverent movements. The space was slowly turning into something resembling an overly luxurious lecture room. Is this how royalty studied back on Earth?

  Arthur nudged Trayn, and the two, along with the other boys, began helping move furniture. The guards watched in awe, clearly unaccustomed to seeing the people they revere handle such ornate furnishings.

  While they worked, I walked towards one of the open glass panels at the terrace’s edge and lifted my gaze back up to the night sky, letting the twin moons wash their unfamiliar teal light over me. The world stretched endlessly before me. A breeze teased the leaves of the garden below, carrying a faint, unfamiliar but pleasant scent.

  It really was quite a sight. This world I mean.

  What is this world? I was tempted, tempted to simply fly off into the distance and go exploring.

  A gentle tug at my sleeve pulled me back slightly.

  “You okay?” I asked without turning, still looking up, mesmerized by the sky.

  “Yeah,” Reika replied, her tone soft and calm.

  “You know, I was looking forward to a good vacation but—” I said, letting my sentence hang.

  “Another world not to your preference?” she teased gently, sidling up beside me.

  “Hardly,” I said with a small chuckle.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Two moons, a garden, and a palace terrace open to the night. Whatever we had been dragged into. This world wasn’t hiding its otherness anymore or its wonder. I thought this as the guards gave us a near-synchronized bow before leaving.

  Then we all gathered together with Celestia taking her place near the front, beside the chair meant for the king. She exhaled softly and smiled, still recovering from the climb. My mother sat with my father on her left and Reika on her right. My brother sat together with Arthur and company while I chose to sit on the floor, in front of Nana baa-san.

  “Everyone, let me welcome you to the world of Ardea,” Celestia began, her voice calm and bright, but was also steady. “You are in the Kingdom of Aravan, located on the continent of Eldamar. His Majesty will join us shortly. In the meantime, if anyone has questions, I will do my best to answer them.”

  She barely finished before the adults immediately spoke up, their expressions tight with a mixture of skepticism, urgency and fear.

  “What is the purpose of this summoning?” Arthur’s teacher demanded, her voice sharp. “Why were we brought here?”

  “To save this world,” Celestia replied without hesitation. “The one who called you here was our god. It was their will that all of you were summoned here.”

  Murmurs rippled through the group, disbelief mingling with dread, confusion and the gravity of the statement. Except for the boys who looked even more excited now.

  “I’m sorry,” Trayn’s father cut in, frowning deeply and his brows furrowed. “But how do you even know this?”

  “From our priests,” Celestia explained. “Our high pontiff—the pope—and eleven others received visions detailing the summoning. It was commanded because of the threat in the south of our continent. The demons.”

  “This is absurd!” Arthur’s teacher snapped, rising to her feet. “You cannot expect children to fight in a war! Do you understand what you’re suggesting!?”

  It can’t be helped. Without anyone’s parents around, the responsibility for most of the students fell to her. Despite how she presented herself, I could see it in her eyes, her fear and dread.

  “Yes—yes we do,” Celestia stammered, trying to maintain her composure. “But all of you were chosen as heroes. All of you were called because they possess the potential to—”

  “Potential be damned!” Arthur’s father exploded and took a step forward. “They’re barely out of high school! You expect them to risk their lives in a war that could destroy this world? How can you believe we would ever allow that!?”

  My mother pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, trying to keep herself steady. My father’s fists tightened at his sides, jaw clenched. Trayn’s father raised his voice too, fear bleeding into anger.

  “Do you even understand the stakes!?” he said, his voice rising as he pointed a shaking finger at Celestia. “These demons you speak of—they’re not some fantasy novel monsters! If our children are in danger, there’s no universe in which we agree to this!”

  My father finally spoke up as well, directing his words towards the girl like a sharp knife. “You said your god summoned us. Not you. So what exactly is your role in all this? How did you pull us from our world?”

  Celestia turned towards him, her expression softening. “I had prepared the summoning circle according to texts left behind by our ancestors. They documented the method long ago, in hopes that heroes like you might be summoned when the world needed them most.”

  She swallowed, her voice trembling just slightly.

  “I understand your fear. Truly, I do,” she said gently, but I could see she was trying to remain composed. I think she was close to tears now with how her voice sounded. “But all of you were chosen because you have the ability to face what others, what we ourselves cannot. This world as it stands will not survive without intervention.”

  Her words did nothing to calm the adults. If anything, the tension spiked even higher.

  My mother clutched Reika’s hand, pale and shaking. Trayn’s father was red with fury. Arthur’s father was pacing. Even my own father looked ready to bite through steel.

  Nana Baa-san remained still and silent—the only adult not on the verge of either shouting or fainting.

  It can’t be helped. It was true that despite the power they were given, the fact that the adults managed to pick up that there will still be danger is quite something. Lives could still be lost no matter how powerful you are.

  Still, it was still four adults against a twenty something, half sleep deprived for God knows how long, half exhausted from climbing eight stories, girl. This was like watching a fast-food cashier get screamed at by customers because someone in the back messed up ten orders in a row.

  It was quite funny but you still feel bad about the person manning, womaning, stationed at the register.

  But, if this kept up, we weren’t getting anywhere.

  So, I slowly raised a hand, then brought my thumb and middle finger together.

  CRACK!

  The sound echoed across the drawing room like a gunshot. Everyone jumped, heads whipping toward me.

  “That’s got to be the loudest finger snap I’ve ever heard,” Arthur muttered.

  “Ho—How did you even do that…?” Trayn asked, torn between amazement and suspicion.

  “Like this,” I said proudly, raising my fingers again.

  My father ground his teeth. “A better question is why you did it.”

  “Well, for starters,” I replied as I lowered my hand, “you’re all yelling at the wrong person.”

  I stood, brushing the dirt off my pants, and turned to the group who were now eyeing me with a bit of suspicion.

  Think about what happened. We didn’t walk through a portal. There was a flash of light then we all fell forward, remember?”

  They glanced at one another and a few managed hesitant nods.

  “I managed to give it a fair bit of thought and what probably happened is—” I brought my hands together, then slowly pulled one back like stretching elastic. “We were yanked, like this, like a rubber band from Earth to here, essentially through space. When the summoning finished, that energy had to go somewhere. So, when we snapped back into place—”

  I smacked my palms together.

  “—momentum carried us forward. Hence, why we fell forward, some of us face first.” More nods and few a look of dawning realization as they all considered my words.

  “Now, what does that have to do with her?” I asked my companions while gesturing at the mage they were ganging up on. “She said she was the one who prepared the summoning circle and from my understanding, that circle acted like a door, basically.”

  “Now, imagine for a second, what would’ve happened to us, if their god pulled us from our world, but that door wasn’t open,” I said and waited for their reactions.

  There were a few seconds of silence as the others digested my words.

  Then—

  “Oh. Splat,” Arthur said, miming a small clap, breaking the silence.

  “Exactly,” I said flatly. “So instead of getting angry at her, we should all be thankful she succeeded in her task. Or she didn’t accidentally Eiffel Tower us into cosmic paste. You know, whichever works.”

  From the corner of my eye, I caught Celestia giving me a small, relieved smile and a grateful look.

  “But—” my mother began, her voice small and quavering a bit.

  “Mother please,” I cut her off gently. “I know you’re used to worshipping one god, but the people here worship another. It’s that being you should all direct your complaints towards.”

  Then I jabbed a finger towards the mage who looked grateful, and added. “And besides, that girl barely survived eight flights of stairs. I seriously doubt she has the power to summon a person from whatever part of the cosmos to bring them here. Let alone more than two dozen individuals.”

  Celestia’s smile froze, then her expression slowly fell into a mix of gratitude and mild offense. She opened her mouth and closed it again, like she didn’t know whether to be thankful or not.

  The adults, fortunately, actually seemed mollified by my words. Not calm, not happy, but at least no longer on the verge of forming a four-person lynch mob against one exhausted mage girl.

  My father exhaled slowly, tension draining from his shoulders—if only by a fraction. Arthur’s teacher sat back down. Arthur’s father rubbed his face with both hands. Trayn’s father let out a long sigh through his nose. My mother squeezed Reika’s hand, still worried, but no longer trembling.

  Celestia, for her part, looked like she had just been handed a life preserver. Her posture softened, shoulders unclenching as she gave a tiny, shaky bow in my direction.

  “Thank you, Lord Vi,” she murmured.

  I waved a hand casually. “It’s fine, and didn’t I say, no honorifics? That means of any kind.”