Julian woke choking, his stomach turning as the smell of blood and ash reached him.
He rolled to his side vomiting onto the stone floor and the bile burning through his throat.
His body felt strange, small and weak and not his own. He occupied a boy's frame no older than thirteen with bruised arms and wrists raw from ropes now removed.
Intense and constant pain stabbed through his ribs. He wiped his mouth with a shaking hand while breathing in quick and shallow gasps.
Torchlight flickered across the chamber revealing the scene of death around him.
Twelve bodies lay scattered across the floor; young men and women with cut throats and their blood spread across the stone.
Two guards in bronze armor sat slumped against the wall, their bodies burned black.
A man in silk robes lay in the center, his face locked in a scream with eyes wide and empty.
Julian didn't recognize him, but the man's expensive clothing marked him as someone important; his master, Julian realized suddenly.
Confusion filled his mind as he tried to understand what had happened.
He was Julian Carter, twenty-six and a data analyst from Chicago.
His last memory involved fire and smoke filling his apartment, heat surrounding him and his breathing failing.
He had died, hadn't he? But this wasn't Earth.
The stone walls with dragon carvings and the heavy air reminded him of Game of Thrones, which he'd watched through Season 4, the rest yet to be aired.
Perhaps Meereen, or another city in Slaver's Bay. He couldn't be certain. The details seemed unclear as the show is a distant memory compared to the reality of blood beneath his feet.
He touched his arm feeling the rough scar of a slave brand on his wrist. A slave. The cold and unwelcome realization settled into him.
He was a slave, and his master now lay dead. Fear rushed through him. In this world, a slave found with a dead master wouldn't receive questions, only punishment, death, or worse.
A faint light caught his attention. A fist-sized orb made of obsidian and crimson glass floated above the bodies, its light pulsing slowly and steadily.
It wasn't natural. It seemed alive, aware, and focused on him.
Julian's breathing stopped momentarily. He moved backward, his hands sliding in blood until he reached the wall. "What are you?" he asked, his voice unsteady and high-pitched, certainly not his own.
The orb silently moved closer ignoring his question.
"Get away," he said louder, his voice breaking.
It continued approaching.
He shouted, "Leave me alone!"
The orb kept advancing, its light unchanging.
With shaking hands, he grabbed a piece of broken pottery from the floor and threw it. The shard passed through the orb, hitting the stone with a quiet sound.
The orb showed no reaction, just floated nearer.
He wasn't brave or special. He was someone who worked with spreadsheets, who enjoyed quiet evenings with beer and books.
He didn't belong in this blood-covered room, with this object that wouldn't leave him alone. "Please," he said, his voice becoming a plea. "I don't want this. Just go."
The orb paused, its light flickering but didn't retreat.
He remained seated with his back against the wall and breathing unevenly.
Dead bodies surrounded him with their blood drying on his skin.
He couldn't stay. Someone would arrive; guards or other slaves and discover him. He needed to escape, even without knowing where to go.
But the orb remained watching him.
He stood up, his legs unsteady and body hurting.
And the orb followed while staying a few feet away.
"Damn it," he said quietly and wiping his eyes.
He didn't understand it and didn't want it, but it gave him no choice.
He stepped toward it with hand trembling. "What do you want from me?" he asked, expecting no answer.
He reached out, paused, then touched it.
The light disappeared and the orb fell into his hand, heavy and cold, its surface marked with faint lines.
Before he could react it warmed, becoming soft like wax and sank into his palm.
He gasped and stepped backward feeling it move through his skin, into his chest and settling like a weight behind his ribs.
Though now invisible he still felt it, a steady pulse, cold yet alive, inside him.
He held his chest, his heart beating rapidly. "What did you do?" he whispered with fear increasing.
No mark appeared and no visible sign, just the constant and disturbing pulse.
He couldn't think about it now. The chamber represented danger, and he remained a slave with a dead master.
He needed to leave.
He moved toward the exit, a narrow stairwell leading upward. His bare feet left bloody prints as he walked, the orb's pulse reminding him of what had happened.
He didn't know his destination, hell he wasn't even sure what this world is.
But Julian had always been stubborn. He had survived a fire and survived this strange event.
He would continue moving forward one step at a time, because no other option existed.