Elias Verdan had never believed in gods.
So when he awoke on a bed softer than any he'd ever known, draped in silks that shimmered like water, and surrounded by strangers dressed like they'd walked out of an ancient painting, his first instinct was not awe—it was disbelief.
He sat up too fast.
Pain lanced through his ribs, and he let out a sharp breath.
The chamber he was in was vast and circular, the walls carved from white stone and inlaid with silver runes. An open window let in a breeze that smelled like roses and something faintly citrus. Beyond it, he could see towers, spires, and gardens far below—a view fit for a fantasy novel.
“This is not a hospital,” he muttered.
He looked around in growing panic. “Where the hell am I? Is this some kind of resort? A hallucination?”
He pinched his arm, hard. The sting was real. “Definitely not a dream.”
The door creaked open.
A young man with neatly trimmed hair and a sleeveless royal blue robe entered, carrying a bowl of warm water and clean linens.
“You’re awake, my lord!” the servant exclaimed, almost dropping the bowl. “I must inform Her Majesty at once!”
“My what now?” Elias tried to stand, but the world swayed.
“Please don’t move too quickly. The Queen has ordered you to rest.”
Elias narrowed his eyes. “Queen?”
Within minutes, Queen Seraphina entered, flanked by the high priest and several guards. Her gown flowed like a river of gold, and her expression was regal but cautious.
“We welcome you to Virelia,” she said. “You are safe now.”
Elias blinked at her. “Virelia? What is that, a country? A planet? Is this a movie set?”
The Queen frowned slightly. “It is the capital of our kingdom.”
“I was just walking home. Someone stabbed me. And now I’m—here? With you? I think you’ve got the wrong guy.”
“The shaman believes you are a deity sent from above,” the Queen said.
Elias choked on his breath. “I’m a what?”
“The vessel of balance,” the high priest echoed. “The one who will calm the prince’s wild soul and drive the evil out.”
“I teach ethics,” Elias muttered. “Not demonology.”
The Queen raised an eyebrow. “What is your name?”
“Elias Verdan. Professor of ethics, not a prophet. I give exams. I do not exorcise spirits.”
She exchanged a glance with the priest. “Perhaps you were sent in human form to test us.”
“Test you?” Elias rubbed his temple. “Look, I think you’re all very nice and very... sparkly. But this is a mistake. I have a job, an apartment, a cat named Seneca, and I am pretty sure none of this is on the syllabus.”
Just then, a clatter of footsteps rang down the corridor.
“Make way for His Highness!” a voice called.
Prince Renard entered with the dramatic flair of someone entirely used to being announced. He wore a smirk and clothes that said “fashionably rebellious.”
He took one look at Elias—still dressed in his bloodstained button-up shirt, slacks, and now half-untucked tie—and burst out laughing. “Seriously, this is the guy who’s supposed to fix me?”
He strode in casually, circling Elias like a curious cat.
“You look like someone who yells at people for not returning library books on time.”
Elias sighed. “And you look like detention incarnate.”
Renard grinned. “He talks back. I like him.”
“He is not here to be liked,” the Queen said firmly. “He is here to help you.”
“I don’t need help.”
“Yes, you do,” Elias muttered under his breath.
Renard tilted his head. “What was that?”
“I said clearly, you do.”
“Oh really? And what makes you think you know anything about me, professor fancy-pants?”
“I don’t. But I do recognize a brat when I see one.”
“You think you’re better than me just because you fell from the sky in your office clothes?” Renard snapped.
Elias adjusted his bent tie. “I was literally minding my own business before I got stabbed and kidnapped into this cosplay kingdom.”
The Queen raised a hand before Renard could retort. “You will be his companion for the time being, Renard. Learn from him. Obey him.”
“Obey?” Renard laughed. “That’s new.”
“You’ve tried everything else, Your Highness,” she said coolly. “Now you will try this.”
Renard scowled but relented. “Fine. But don’t blame me when he runs off screaming.”
Elias threw up his hands. “Fantastic. I get stabbed and now I’m trapped in a royal babysitting gig.”
As Renard exited the room, Elias groaned softly and laid back.
He stared at the ornate ceiling, carved with constellations he didn’t recognize. The guards, the priest, the queen—all gone now. Only the wind remained.
A thousand questions stirred in his mind. Where exactly was he? Why did they think he was divine? Was there any way back?
And most of all—who had stabbed him? And had they sent him here on purpose?
Somewhere, far beneath the palace walls, in the hushed shadows where secrets festered, a figure watched a glowing orb flicker with light. A slow smile stretched across their face.
The professor was in place.
The game had truly begun.