It felt like stepping into a different world entirely. Not in the "dimension-hopping, everything's on fire" kind of way, but in a quiet, disarming way that left both Darius and me completely stunned.

The group led us to their camp—or settlement, or whatever you want to call it—and, honestly, I expected something out of a post-apocalyptic movie: blood-stained weapons, rough tents, maybe a few people growling for good measure. You know, the "bloodthirsty barbarian" vibe Darius kept warning me about.

What we got instead? Warm smiles. Children laughing. Actual, functioning homes built into the sand and stone like this place had been thriving for centuries.

"Okay, I'm just gonna say it," I muttered to Darius as we passed a group of women weaving baskets and chatting like they were at a neighborhood potluck. "If these are your bloodthirsty barbarians, I need you to explain who's been writing your history books, because this? This is not it."

Darius didn't respond. He was too busy gawking like a tourist who just realized the tour guide was speaking a different language. His brow furrowed, and I could practically hear the gears in his head grinding as he tried to reconcile everything he was seeing with what he thought he knew.

"They're... not what I expected," he finally admitted, his voice low.

"Gee, you think?" I shot back, but my usual sass was dampened by the sheer weirdness of the situation.

We were led to a central building—a large, open structure with intricate carvings etched into the sandstone walls. It looked ancient, like it had been standing there long before either of us was even a thought in the universe. Inside, a long table was set up, covered with food. Real food. Not the dry rations or weird desert plants we'd been surviving on.

My stomach growled so loudly that the leader, who had been walking ahead of us, actually turned around with a faint smile. "You must be hungry," they said, gesturing toward the table. "Please, eat. You are our honored guests."

"Honored guests," I repeated under my breath. "Sure. Why not? Add that to the list of things that make no sense."

Darius, on the other hand, was still stuck in a loop of disbelief. "I don't understand," he said, more to himself than anyone else. "I was taught that your people were... were savages. Violent. Dangerous. But this..." He trailed off, his eyes scanning the room like he was expecting someone to leap out and yell "gotcha!"

The leader turned to him, their expression calm but pointed. "Perhaps what you were taught was not the truth," they said simply.

Darius flinched like they'd just slapped him, and honestly? Good. He needed a little wake-up call.

Meanwhile, I was already halfway to the table because, priorities. The food looked amazing—fresh bread, roasted meat, fruits that I didn't even recognize but smelled incredible. I grabbed a plate and loaded it up like I was at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

"Alexia," Darius hissed, clearly scandalized by my lack of decorum.

"What?" I said around a mouthful of bread. "They said we're honored guests. I'm honoring their hospitality by not starving to death."

He sighed and reluctantly followed my lead, though he took about a tenth of what I did. I guess royal manners die hard, even when you're in exile.

As we ate, people started gathering around, curious but not hostile. They asked questions—where we were from, how we got here, what we were doing. Darius answered most of them, his tone cautious but respectful, while I mostly nodded and tried not to choke on the ridiculously delicious food.

The more we talked, the more it became clear that these people weren't just welcoming—they were genuinely kind. There was no malice in their questions, no suspicion in their eyes. They didn't see us as enemies or intruders. They saw us as... people.

Which was weird, considering Darius's entire worldview had just been shattered.

"These people," he said quietly to me as the conversation around us buzzed, "they've been fighting my kingdom for as long as anyone can remember. My father always called them savages, said they wanted to destroy everything we've built. But look at them." He gestured subtly to the group around us. "They're not what I was told. Not at all."

"Yeah, no kidding," I said, wiping my hands on a napkin and leaning closer. "Makes you wonder who's been spinning the stories, huh?"

He didn't respond, but the look on his face said everything. This wasn't just a revelation for him—it was a full-on identity crisis.

Before I could press further, the leader returned, their calm presence cutting through the noise like a blade. "We are glad to have you here," they said, their gaze settling on me. "The gatekeeper's presence is a sign. A turning point."

"Yeah, about that," I said, putting my plate down and sitting back. "I'm gonna need a little more clarification on this whole 'gatekeeper' thing, because so far, it just feels like a cosmic joke at my expense."

The leader smiled faintly, but there was a weight to their expression. "All will become clear in time," they said. "For now, rest. You are safe here."

Safe. That was a word I hadn't heard in... well, ever, really. But for the first time since this whole nightmare started, I actually believed it.

As the evening went on, the warmth of the people around us started to chip away at my skepticism. They weren't what I expected either. 

.

.

.

The morning came with an eerie calmness, the kind that makes you question if everything from the day before was a fever dream. But nope, the pendant was still around my neck, and I was still very much stuck in this mess of magic, history, and people bowing to me like I was some kind of divine miracle. Which, by the way, I am not.

Darius and I met the leader after breakfast, which, by the way, was also amazing. These people knew how to eat, which was the only thing grounding me at this point. We were brought to what I can only describe as their equivalent of a council room. Simple, practical, but with this quiet kind of authority in every detail—kinda like the leader themselves.

They gestured for us to sit, their expression serious but not unkind. "I imagine you have many questions," they began, their voice calm but weighted.

"Understatement of the century," I muttered, earning a quick side-eye from Darius, who was already in "royalty mode" and sitting up straighter than a ruler.

The leader ignored my sass and continued. "Before we begin, you must understand something fundamental. History is not what you believe it to be. It is fragile, malleable. Generations can pass, and the truth can remain hidden beneath layers of lies. All it takes is one decision, one person, to erase the truth and replace it with something new. The generations that follow will never know the difference. To them, the lie will be the truth."

I blinked. "Okay, that's a bit heavy for before lunch."

Darius shot me another warning look, but I was too tired to care. The leader didn't seem offended, though. If anything, they looked... amused?

"You wear the pendant," they said, looking directly at me. "And so you are owed the truth. The truth of our history, your history, and the connection between our worlds."

I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hand. "Alright, hit me with it."

They nodded. "The pendant you carry is the relic of the Gatekeeper—a role that has existed for as long as the connection between our world and Earth has. The Gatekeeper is not a hero or a warrior. They are simply a bridge, a person who holds the ability to open and close the gate between our worlds."

Darius shifted beside me, his brows furrowed. "But why? Why is the gate so important?"

"Because without it," the leader explained, "our world would die."

Cue dramatic silence.

I sat up straighter, my sarcasm slipping for a moment. "What do you mean, die?"

"Our world and Earth are twins," they said, their voice steady but grave. "Two sides of the same coin, connected in ways that are difficult to fully understand. It is through this connection that we can use magic. The dreams and imagination from Earth fuel the energy that sustains us. Without the gate, that connection would sever, and our world would wither."

My brain was officially fried. "Wait, wait, wait," I said, holding up a hand. "Are you telling me that Earth's daydreams and creative energy are the reason you guys have magic?"

"Precisely."

I let out a low whistle. "Well, that's... a lot."

Darius, for once, seemed just as lost as I was. "But what does the Gatekeeper have to do with all of this?"

The leader turned their gaze back to me. "The Gatekeeper is the one who ensures the connection remains intact. The pendant, your relic, is more than just a tool. It is a protector, bound to its wearer. It will shield you, guide you, and if necessary, sacrifice itself to ensure the survival of the connection."

I swallowed hard, my fingers instinctively clutching the pendant around my neck. "Okay, but... why me? I didn't ask for this. I didn't even know about any of this until, like, a week ago."

The leader's expression softened. "The relic chooses its wearer. Why it chose you, I cannot say. But it is no coincidence. You are here for a reason, even if that reason is not yet clear."

"Great," I said, leaning back in my chair. "So I'm a magical babysitter for a door between worlds. Awesome. Love that for me."

The leader chuckled softly. "It is not a role to be taken lightly, Alexia. The gate is a blessing, but it is also a burden. There are those who would use it for their own gain, who would seek to exploit the connection for power. That is why the Gatekeeper is so important—to protect the gate and, in turn, protect both worlds."

IProtecting the connection between two worlds? Stopping power-hungry lunatics from messing everything up? I was barely managing to keep myself alive, and now I was supposed to save two planets?

"Alright," I said after a long pause. "If this is my job now, then I need to know everything. No more vague explanations. No more half-truths. I want to know exactly what I'm dealing with."

The leader nodded, their gaze steady. "Then we shall tell you everything. If you want to understand what's at stake, you need to hear the entire truth. All of it."

Oh, fantastic. More truth bombs. As if my brain wasn't already on the verge of short-circuiting. I crossed my arms, leaning back against the chair. "Alright, let's hear it. Hit me with the worst of it."

The leader didn't even blink. "The royals—the rulers of your kingdom,—don't know the full truth of our history anymore. Generations of lies have twisted it, turned it into something unrecognizable. But we do. We've kept it alive, even when it meant being branded as traitors and barbarians."

Darius straightened, his voice tight. "What are you saying?"

The leader turned their gaze to him, and for the first time, their tone carried a hint of sadness. "I'm saying your father isn't the man you think he is."

Darius's face went pale. "That's impossible. My father—he's strict, yes, but he's a good king. Everything he does, he does for the kingdom."

"Is that what he told you?" the leader asked softly. "Or is that what you've been led to believe?"

Darius opened his mouth to argue but stopped. His hands curled into fists, his knuckles white. "You're wrong," he said, but his voice wavered.

The leader sighed. "We have a spy within the royal guard. Someone close to your father, someone who's seen the truth of his actions. Your father isn't poisoned, Darius. He's very much alive and well."

"What?" Darius's eyes widened. "That's not possible. I saw him—I saw the guards—"

"All part of his plan," the leader interrupted. "Your father staged his own poisoning to frame Alexia. He needed an excuse to rally the kingdom, to turn everyone against her and the relic she carries. Because that relic—" they pointed at the pendant around my neck, "—is the key to everything."

I shifted uncomfortably, the pendant suddenly feeling a hundred times heavier. "Define 'key to everything,'" I said cautiously.

"The relic represents our world," the leader explained. "Its wearer is the Gatekeeper, the bridge between our worlds. But it also represents balance. Whoever holds it controls the connection between the two worlds."

"And let me guess," I said dryly, "your king doesn't want balance. He wants power."

The leader nodded. "Exactly. With the relic, your father would have the means to sever the connection between our worlds—or dominate it. Either way, it would mean the destruction of both our world and Earth as we know it."

Darius was shaking his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "No. No, this—this can't be true. My father wouldn't... he wouldn't do that. He's not evil."

The leader's expression hardened. "Your father may not see himself as evil, but his actions speak otherwise. And it's not just about the relic, Darius. There's something else you need to know."

Darius looked up, his eyes blazing with defiance. "What else? What more could you possibly say to tear my life apart?"

The leader hesitated, their gaze flickering to me before settling back on Darius. "Your father is not your father."

The room went dead silent. I'm pretty sure you could've heard a pin drop.

Darius froze, his breath hitching. "What... what are you talking about?"

"Your uncle," the leader said slowly, "is your real father."

I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep from gasping. Darius, meanwhile, looked like he'd been hit by a truck.

"That's... that's impossible," he stammered. "You're lying."

"We have no reason to lie," the leader said firmly. "Your uncle and your mother—" they hesitated, as if choosing their words carefully, "—had an affair. When your father found out, he swore to destroy them both. Your mother fled, but your uncle... she stayed. And he kept the truth hidden to protect you."

Darius stumbled back, his face pale as a sheet. "No... no, that's not true. My mother would never—my father—"

"Your father has been plotting against you and your uncle for years," the leader said. "He's been waiting for the right moment to eliminate both of you and secure his control over the kingdom—and the relic."

I stepped forward, placing a hand on Darius's shoulder. "Hey," I said softly. "I know this is a lot. But we're in this together, okay? We'll figure it out.... you said it to me and I am sticking with it too."

He didn't respond at first, his gaze fixed on the floor. Then, slowly, he looked up at me, his eyes filled with a mix of anger, betrayal, and desperation. "If this is true," he said quietly, "then I've been fighting for the wrong side my entire life."

"You haven't been fighting for the wrong side," the leader said gently. "You've been fighting for what you believed was right. But now you know the truth. And you have a choice to make."

Darius swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. "I don't even know who I am anymore."

"You're Darius," I said firmly. "The guy who helped me when I didn't know what the hell was going on. The guy who risked everything to stand by me. That's who you are. And that's who you're going to keep being, no matter what your so-called father has done."

For a moment, he just stared at me. Then, finally, he nodded, a small spark of determination returning to his eyes. "Alright," he said. "Let's figure out how to stop him."

"That's the spirit," I said, forcing a grin. "Now let's go take down a king."