The summoning did not feel like violence.
That was the first thing Jake noticed.
There was no pressure, no tearing sensation, no sudden displacement that made his stomach lurch or his mana flare in defense. Instead, the world softened. The air around him grew still, as if time itself had paused to take a breath.
Then reality folded.
Not inward.
Not outward.
Sideways.
Jake's surroundings thinned, colors fading into muted echoes before reforming with unsettling smoothness. One moment he was standing in the quiet aftermath of a long, uncomfortable day—muscles sore, thoughts heavier than any wound—and the next, his feet touched solid ground that was not where he had been standing before.
He staggered once, more from surprise than imbalance.
The space was vast but contained. Circular, with no visible walls, yet clearly defined. Pale light drifted from no discernible source, illuminating the floor in soft gradients rather than harsh lines. There were no sigils. No chains. No barriers he could feel.
That alone made his skin prickle.
Jake instinctively checked his mana.
It was untouched.
Free.
Untested.
That was wrong. Every powerful being he had encountered—every rumor, every legend—used force as the opening statement. Restraint. Pressure. Proof of dominance.
This place did none of that.
"You may relax," a voice said.
Jake turned sharply.
She stood several paces away.
Not seated. Not elevated. Just… present.
Jake had never seen her before, but recognition hit him anyway, sharp and immediate. Not because of appearance, but because the space seemed to acknowledge her existence in subtle ways. The light bent closer to her silhouette. The air around her felt heavier—not oppressive, but weighted with intent.
Dark Death.
The name surfaced unbidden.
He had heard it on the road. In taverns spoken quietly. In warnings passed between merchants and guards who thought they weren't being overheard. A ruler whose shadow stretched further than her territory. A figure blamed for wars that never officially named her.
And yet—
She wasn't monstrous.
She wasn't cold.
She wasn't even threatening.
Her gaze rested on him with calm curiosity, as though he were a variable she had finally decided to examine personally.
"You were summoned without force," she said evenly. "That is not an accident."
Jake swallowed, keeping his hands loose at his sides.
"So this isn't a trap," he said.
"If it were," she replied, "you would already know."
That answer did not comfort him nearly as much as it should have.
He took a slow breath. "You know who I am."
"Yes."
"You didn't ask permission."
"No."
Jake nodded once. "At least you're honest."
A faint shift passed across her expression—not quite a smile, not quite approval.
"You have heard my names," she said.
He didn't hesitate. "Enough."
"Good," she replied. "Then I will not repeat them."
She gestured—not commandingly, but invitingly—and the space responded. The pale light widened, revealing the suggestion of a vast opening beyond the chamber. Far below, a city stretched outward, quiet and distant, unaware of the attention placed upon it.
Jake's chest tightened.
"You rule all this," he said.
"I oversee it," she corrected. "Rule implies proximity. I prefer distance."
He glanced back at her. "That's not what the stories say."
"No," she agreed calmly. "Stories prefer fear. Fear travels faster."
Silence settled between them, thick but not hostile.
Jake's instincts urged him to speak, to assert something—anything—but he forced himself to remain still. This wasn't a confrontation. Not yet.
Finally, he asked the question sitting heaviest in his chest.
"Why me?"
The Queen's gaze sharpened—not dangerously, but with focus.
"Because you are succeeding without understanding why," she said. "And because power without comprehension destabilizes systems far older than you realize."
Jake's jaw tightened.
"You've been watching."
"Yes."
"And you decided to summon me instead of… whoever it is people like you usually send."
"Because force would teach you nothing," she said. "And you are not someone who learns well under coercion."
That landed harder than any threat could have.
Jake exhaled slowly.
"So what is this?" he asked. "A warning?"
"A conversation," she replied. "One that does not require obedience."
He studied her carefully now.
She did not posture.
She did not demand.
She did not lie.
That, more than anything, unsettled him.
Outside, the city remained unaware.
Inside, the bell of reality rang softly—without chains, without violence.
And Jake understood that whatever came next would change more than just him.