Morning came. The boy was hungry and thirsty, but everything in the forest looked poisonous. By afternoon, he heard voices. He crept toward a rocky slope and peered through the trees. The ship was still anchored. Pirates moving on deck.
Then he saw them bringing the kids up. 'They didn't find me. I escaped. But those other kids are still trapped. I can't help them. Not alone. Not yet.' He turned away.
As the sun dipped lower, the boy found a cave entrance hidden by vines. He listened. No footsteps. No voices. He crawled inside. The air was cool and smelled like damp stone. He moved deeper, then pressed himself against the wall.
Voices outside. Pirates.
"Check all the rocks around here!"
The boy froze. Footsteps approached. One of them kicked at the vines. "Nothing here. Kid probably drowned."
They moved on. The boy stayed pressed against the wall until exhaustion won and he fell asleep on the cold stone. When he woke, morning light was creeping in.
He peered out. The ship was leaving. On the deck, he could see the small shapes of the kids. He watched until the ship disappeared.
Silence. Complete silence. He was alone.
He couldn't find food outside, so he went deeper into the cave. The tunnels sloped downward. After maybe half an hour, he felt a breeze. The cave opened into a wider passage. He could hear running water ahead. He followed the sound.
The passage led into a large chamber. The boy stopped dead.
A wooden hut. Right there in the center of the chamber. Actual walls and a roof and a door.
"That's not possible," the boy whispered.
But it was there. He approached slowly. Knocked on the door, then felt stupid for it. No answer. He tried the handle. It opened with a soft creak.
Inside, dust floating in dim light. A small wooden table. And sitting at that table was an old man.
He looked up and smiled, calm as could be. "You're late," he said, like the boy was a student who'd missed class.
The boy's heart slammed against his ribs. "Who are you?" he managed to get out, his voice rough and shaky.
The old man leaned back in his chair, looking as relaxed as someone sitting on a beach. "Sit down first, boy. You've been running for days. You look like you're about to collapse."
The boy didn't sit down. Didn't move. He just stared at this impossible old man in his impossible hut in an impossible cave. 'Have I finally lost my mind completely?'
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Someone who has waited a very long time."
"Waited for me?"
The old man nodded. "Of course you didn't know. That's the point."
Prince took a step inside. The hut was sparse. Table. Two chairs. Empty shelves. A lantern that wasn't lit, but he could still see.
"Why is there a hut inside a cave?" he asked.
The old man smiled wider. "You're asking the right questions."
"Stop talking to me like I'm your student," the boy snapped. He was tired. Hungry. His parents were dead. He'd been running for his life. He wanted answers.
The old man pointed to the chair. "Sit."
But Prince stayed standing.
"Fine. Then listen." The old man looked toward the doorway. "What is this place?"
The old man answered with something completely ridiculous. "There is no forest outside this cave."
The boy stared at him. "...What?"
"There is no forest outside this cave," he repeated calmly. "Not here, anyway."
"You're lying."
"Am I?" The old man didn't sound offended. "Think about it. You crawled into a hole in the rock on a small island. You walked downward for quite some time. You followed the sound of water. You found this chamber." He tapped the wooden arm of his chair. "This chamber is not inside that island you escaped to. It's somewhere else entirely."
The boy's mouth went dry. "That's impossible."
"Most things are impossible until you're standing in the middle of them," the old man replied. "Then they become merely improbable."
Prince looked around the chamber again, really looked this time. It was too big. Wrong-big. Like the space had been stretched beyond what should fit inside a normal cave.
"So where am I?" he asked quietly.
The old man lifted his hand and made a small motion in the air. "A pocket. A dimensional space, if you prefer words that sound more educated."
A laugh bubbled up from the boy's chest, dry and ugly and a little bit insane. "Great. Of course. Perfect." He rubbed his face with his dirty, scratched hands. "I get killed by fate four different times. I get kidnapped by fake pirates working for the Navy. I lose my parents. I watch them die right in front of me. And now I'm trapped in a secret dimensional pocket cave talking to an old man who probably isn't even real."
The old man's smile softened into something that might have been sympathy. "I know you've suffered," he said gently.
Prince froze. "You don't know anything about me."
The old man looked at him for a long moment, his eyes seeming to see right through his skin and into all the broken parts inside. Then he said something that made every hair on the boy's arms stand up. "Prince."
The boy's stomach dropped like he'd been pushed off a cliff.
The old man didn't look surprised or concerned. "Your parents did well," he said quietly.
Prince's breath caught in his throat. "Navy," he repeated, the word tasting like poison. "You know about them. About what they do."
The old man nodded like he was confirming a simple, boring fact. "You're quick to understand. I appreciate that. Yes, I know about the Navy's recruitment methods. Using fake pirates to destroy towns and kidnap children. It's been going on for quite some time now."
"I overheard them talking," the boy said, his voice cracking. "On the ship. About buying kids. About using towns like farms to harvest soldiers." His throat threatened to close up completely. "My parents died for that. My whole town. Everyone I knew. All for that."
The old man tilted his head slightly. "Yes," he said simply. "And you have every right to hate them for it."
'I want to make the Navy bleed,' Prince thought. 'Make them pay. Destroy them so completely that no one would ever have to suffer the way I have.'
"So why am I here?" he asked, forcing the words out. "In this impossible place. Talking to you. What's the point of all this?"
The old man folded his hands neatly on his lap. "Because someone left something here a very long time ago," he said. "And you qualify to receive it."
"Qualify," Prince repeated bitterly. "Like this is some kind of job interview."
"More like a lock searching for the right key," the old man replied. "My master came to this world roughly one thousand years ago."
The boy blinked. "A thousand... years?"
"Give or take a few decades," he confirmed casually. "Time is somewhat flexible when you're dealing with dimensional pockets."
"Your master?" Prince asked. "Who was he?"
"The one who built this space. The one who built what you will inherit, if you choose to accept it."
The boy laughed again, and this time it shook his whole body. "And who was this master of yours? Some ancient king? Some god walking among mortals? Some legendary wizard?"
The old man paused, then said something the boy didn't expect. "Human."
Prince stared at him. "Human? Just... human?"
"From another world," the old man added.