The carriage moved.
That alone was enough to make Neria's heart jump.
She hovered stiffly inside the enclosed space, her translucent form pressed as close to the side as possible, as though the polished wood might somehow absorb her existence. The rhythmic clatter of wheels against stone echoed beneath her, steady and grounding...and yet, everything about this situation felt unreal.
I'm inside a carriage, she thought incredulously.
With a gothic mansion lord. In a medieval fantasy world. As a ghost.
She exhaled slowly, then laughed under her breath.
"If Mira could see me now," she muttered, "she'd say I finally lost my mind."
Ravon sat opposite her.
Composed. Still. Impossibly calm.
He didn't look out the window. Didn't shift in his seat. His long coat draped neatly around him, his dark hair falling straight over his shoulders like a curtain of night. His expression was unreadable, carved in stone and shadow.
Neria tilted her head slightly, studying him with open curiosity.
"Does he ever blink?" she whispered. "Or does he just… exist ominously?"
The carriage rolled past the mansion gates, iron bars opening wide before them. Morning sunlight spilled in, illuminating the road ahead.
And Eldoria revealed itself.
Neria drifted closer to the window, her earlier tension forgotten.
"Oh."
That was all she could say at first.
Beyond the mansion stretched a vast, bustling city....far larger than she had imagined. Stone roads branched outward like veins, lined with tall buildings crafted from pale sandstone and dark marble. Towers rose high into the sky, banners fluttering in the breeze, each marked with sigils and crests she didn't recognize.
Merchants filled the streets.
Carts loaded with fruits, fabrics, metals, glowing crystals. People walked freely, dressed in rich colors.....deep blues, emerald greens, gold-threaded cloaks. Some wore armor polished to a gleam; others carried staffs humming faintly with lights.
"This place is…" Neria's voice softened. "…prosperous."
The word surprised her.
She had expected ruins. Poverty. Something grim and medieval.
But Eldoria was alive.
Thriving.
"This is like if history and fantasy had a rich baby," she murmured. "Back home, this would've been a tourist hotspot."
She watched children run past a fountain shaped like a coiled dragon. Vendors shouted cheerfully, advertising their goods. A group of performers danced in the square, magic sparks flaring harmlessly above their heads.
Neria chuckled quietly.
"Okay, city comparison time," she said to herself. "Traffic? Less honking. Pollution? Zero. Fashion? Dramatic but functional. Street food?" Her eyes followed a vendor flipping something golden and steaming. "…I miss street food."
She leaned her head against the window, watching the world glide by.
"In my city, everyone's always rushing," she continued softly. "Phones in hand. Deadlines. Bills. Here… people rush too, but it feels different. Like they're running toward something, not away from it."
She paused.
"…Am I romanticizing this because I'm dead?"
Ravon remained silent.
Unmoving.
Unaware.
The carriage slowed slightly as they entered a wider avenue. Guards lined the streets, standing straighter as the carriage passed. Some bowed. Others pressed fists to their chests in respect.
Neria blinked.
"Whoa," she whispered. "He's important-important."
She glanced back at Ravon.
Still calm. Still distant.
Still terrifyingly handsome.
She sighed dramatically. "I hate how unfairly attractive powerful men are in fantasy worlds."
The carriage rolled onward.
Then.....
Ravon lifted his hand.
Just slightly.
Neria's glow flickered in confusion. "What are you....."
Snap.
The sound was sharp.
Clean.
And the air inside the carriage distorted.
Neria yelped, instinctively flying backward.
"What.....WHAT WAS THAT?!"
The space beside Ravon rippled like water.
Then a man appeared.
Just like that.
One moment, the carriage held only Ravon and an extremely shocked ghost.
The next.....a tall man dressed in dark robes stood kneeling on one knee, head bowed.
"Lord Ravon," the man said respectfully.
Neria screamed.
Not aloud..because apparently she couldn't....but internally, violently, with enough intensity to shake her sense of reality.
HE JUST SUMMONED A MAN.
Her eyes widened until she was sure they would fall out of her translucent face.
"NOPE," she whispered. "Absolutely not. That's not normal. That's not human. That's not....."
Her mind scrambled for explanations.
"…Okay," she said weakly, "maybe he's not a demon."
She stared at Ravon with newfound awe.
"He's a wizard," she whispered reverently. "A real one."
The summoned man lifted his head slightly. "You called, my lord?"
"Yes," Ravon replied.
Neria froze.
Her entire being stilled.
He spoke.
Not a single word this time.
A full sentence.
His voice was low. Deep. Smooth like cold velvet drawn over steel.
Neria's glow brightened involuntarily.
"That's… that's his voice?" she whispered. "Why does he sound like he could narrate the end of the world?"
Ravon's eyes glinted faintly as he continued, tone calm but commanding.
"Begin the preparations," he said. "Ensure everything is ready. This will be… large."
The man nodded immediately. "As you wish, my lord. All arrangements will be made."
Neria's breath caught.
Large?
Her imagination ran wild.
"Preparations for what?" she whispered. "A war? A ritual? A party? Please let it be a party."
Ravon's lips curved.
Not into a smile.
Into something sharper.
Something dangerous.
Neria shivered.
"Okay, never mind," she muttered. "That is not a party face."
The man bowed deeply.
And then....
He vanished.
Just… vanished.
No smoke. No flash.
Gone.
Neria recoiled so hard she nearly phased through the carriage wall.
"WHAT IS HAPPENING TODAY?!" she whispered fiercely. "Does everyone here just appear and disappear like notifications?!"
She clutched her head.
"Okay. I'm dead. I accept that. I woke up in a another ancient world. Fine. But THIS...this is too much. This has crossed from 'interesting dream' to 'very vivid nightmare.'"
She floated to the corner of the carriage, hugging herself.
"I need to go home," she murmured. "This needs to stop. Mira is probably wondering where I am. My phone battery is probably dead. My landlord..."
She stopped.
Her chest tightened.
"…I'm dead."
The realization hit again, heavy and unwelcome.
"This isn't a dream," she whispered shakily. "This is real. I died. I'm stuck here. And I'm riding in a carriage with a wizard lord who summons people like errands."
Her glow dimmed slightly.
"No," she said firmly, shaking her head. "Nope. I refuse. I need to wake up. Any moment now."
The carriage slowed.
Neria fell silent.
The wheels came to a halt.
She floated closer to the door, heart racing, curiosity overpowering her panic once more.
Ravon stood, his movements fluid and precise. He stepped out of the carriage without looking back.
Neria followed....slipping effortlessly through the door, hovering beside him.
She looked up.
And up.
And up.
A gigantic building loomed before them.
Tall. Ancient. Carved from pale stone that glowed faintly in the sunlight. Stained-glass windows lined its sides, depicting symbols and figures she didn't recognize. Bells hung high above, silent but imposing.
It wasn't just a tower.
It was a cathedral.
Her brows furrowed deeply.
She stared at Ravon.
Then at the tower.
Then back at Ravon.
"…A praying wizard?" she murmured slowly.