Lament of the Slave

Chapter 1: Escape

[Edit 4.2.2023: I edited and polished the chapter to the current vision of the story - if you don't find a note about it here for other chapters, expect a drop in quality. Thanks for your understanding :)]

To me, other worlds were mythical places that existed only in books and in the minds of theoretical physicists. And of course, as a little girl, I dreamed of visiting such worlds. Who didn't, right? I longed for my own adventure in such a world, for you to be the heroine of my own story - one who would stand up to every wrongdoing in the land and eradicate it. Nothing and no one would be able to stand in my way, and all the villains would tremble at the sight of me.

Well, we won't always get what we wished for, and now that I was all grown up, it wasn't just the villains who trembled at the sight of me.

The other worlds. There were many ways to get to them, some pleasant, some not, some I would prefer, some I would rather not even think about.

I dreamed of a king or his daughter summoning me to save their kingdom from the demon king; of my ability I would use it to cut my way through demon armies to his castle. I thought of all sorts of mysterious ways I could get to another world, wild magic gone awry, mere chance, or maybe a once-in-a-millennium cosmic convergence that would open portals to other worlds. That would be nice, too, but that childhood dream didn't come true either.

Frankly, I'd be okay with reincarnation, too. While living as a child would be challenging, I would manage; after all, I would have parents, friends, and a mostly normal life here. Reincarnation had one catch, though, and that was the need to die first. I never did. Twenty-eight was too young to die of old age, and I was too healthy to be struck down by a stroke. Not even an accident met my fate. No loose brick fell on my head, no truck with broken brakes smashed me to pieces.

I actually wished that had happened.

But no, I encountered something else, something far worse and more sinister.

Tired after an extremely long day at work - the sixteen-hour shift wasn't standard, but everyone in the flower shop was needed on Valentine's Day - I was returning home. Seeing myself in bed as a normal person would, I made a half-asleep stop at the supermarket to buy some food before continuing with my plan to get home as quickly as possible. I never made it there.

Taking a shortcut through that back alley - not the typical urine-smelling, garbage-strewn one, but a clean and widely used shortcut during the day, unfortunately unlit at night - was the biggest mistake of my life.

I was fearless when I should have given in to my fear. I should have avoided it, not thinking I could handle anyone who dared to jump me. Big mistake. Sure, I took a few self-defense classes, but how to neutralize a twenty-centimeter-tall creature with wings hovering in front of you was not something they taught. And yes, that was what I encountered.

When I saw the creature, I was confused, thinking that my own brain was playing tricks on me out of exhaustion. Yet no matter what I did, massaging my temples, rubbing my eyes, the creature would not go away. The realization hit me, and with it, a thousand questions. What was the appropriate action to take in a situation like this? Stay still, run away, scream, or shake its hand? I never got a chance to find out.

The small flying creature reached out, not to shake my hand, which was in my purse in search of pepper spray, but to attack me. Before I knew it, I was engulfed in a blinding white light, ripped from my world, my friends, and my family.

The next thing I remembered, after I came to, was standing in a dark cellar behind bars, through which a man with a broad grin looked at me, sizing me up, assessing me. It wasn't the pleasant smile of someone with good intentions, someone who wanted to help me. Little did I know at the time that it was someone who was excited about his new experimental subject.