The TV murmured in the background as I stepped into my apartment. I must've forgotten to turn it off before leaving for work. The door slammed shut behind me—harder than I meant it to. "What a jerk," I muttered, still seething from earlier.
I kicked off my shoes without bothering to untie them. My boss had been on a rampage all day—his wife left him, and now the rest of us were his emotional punching bags.
Still in my shirt and jeans, I collapsed face-first onto the bed.
"Shit..." I sighed into the mattress.
The TV droned on in the background. I caught the tail end of the evening news:
"—police remain puzzled by a recent string of disappearances. In each case, victims vanished from their locked homes, with no sign of forced entry. Authorities have yet to confirm any connection between the incidents. More updates to follow."
I frowned but dismissed it just as quickly. Another weird headline.
"Why the hell did my life turn out like this?" I mumbled. "I could've been something else… something more."
The words hit harder than I expected.
Because I knew they were true.
I'm over thirty now. No wife. No kids. No ambition burning in my chest. Just… loneliness.
"Just end me…" I whispered, half-joking, half-hoping the universe might actually be listening.
I stared up at the ceiling, my thoughts spiraling—regrets, missed chances, paths never taken. The schools I didn't go to. The women I never had the guts to talk to. Every "what if" added another stone to the weight in my chest.
I sighed again and rolled onto my side.
"Forget it," I muttered. "Leave those thoughts for another day."
My eyelids felt heavy, the stress of the day finally catching up to me. I fell asleep.
Later something woke me.
A deep, vibrating hum—low and steady, unnatural.
Groggy, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. "What the hell is that sound?"
I reached for my phone. Midnight. I'd been out for six hours.
I sat up, yawning, but then froze.
The floor was glowing.
"…What?" I whispered.
A dim purple light pulsed beneath me, swirling with patterns I couldn't recognize. I blinked hard, thinking I was still dreaming, but no—it was real. And it was getting brighter.
The soft pulse suddenly surged, flaring outward in a perfect circle glowing with symbols and runes. My legs locked up. I couldn't move.
"What's going on?!" I shouted, panic rising.
The center of the circle darkened—turned pitch black. Like a hole in reality. And it was pulling me in.
"Help!!" I grabbed the edge of the bed, desperate to resist, but the force yanked harder. I didn't stand a chance.
The void swallowed me..
Darkness was all around me.
I wasn't falling. I wasn't flying. I was just… drifting, in the nothingness.
It felt like sinking in deep water, only without the pressure or pain. Just silence. A vast, cold vacuum.
Was this death?
I couldn't breathe.
"This is it," I thought. "I'm going to die like this…"
Then, far ahead, I saw a light.
The same purple glow from my bedroom. Faint at first, but growing quickly, pulling me toward it like a magnet.
The pressure in my chest intensified. Something strange was happening inside me, it felt like something was being altered, at the very core of my being. But I couldn't focus on that now, I needed air!
Flying quickly toward the purple light, I braced for impact—clenched my teeth, shut my eyes—
But no collision came.
No pain.
Instead… I could breathe.
Light surrounded me. Not the cold purple glow anymore—but pure, white light. Like an endless plane of light.
"Where am I?" I whispered hoarsely. "Am I… dead?"
The moment I spoke, I felt it.
A presence.
Massive. Powerful. Ancient.
I froze, afraid to even blink.
"H-Hello?" I managed, voice barely above a whisper. "Is someone there?"
Then the voice came. When it spoke, it was echoed like thunder.
"You do not belong here."
The words gave me no comfort, I felt terrified. A sensation that it wanted to get rid of me.
Everything became silent for a moment, but soon the voice returned. Softer this time, like it had decided that I didn't need to be terminated.
"I have searched your heart… and found no evil within it."
"Therefore, I grant you a blessing, to be able to survive and overcome in this world. But mark my words: let your righteous deeds outweigh your wicked."
"Harm my servants, and I will curse you. Stray from my path, and you will feel my judgment. Go now… and stay true."
Then, like thunder rolling away across the mountains, the voice faded—its final echoes swallowed by silence.
I stood alone in the white void, trembling. Had I just been… judged?
No. That wasn't judgment. That was mercy!
The light faded. And darkness returned.
But this time, not endless. This time, it came with sound.
The gentle crackle of fire. The sharp nip of cold air. The scent of pine and damp earth.
My senses returned all at once.
And so did pain.
I groaned, my body aching as I stirred.
Above me, the sky stretched wide and black, dotted with unfamiliar stars. A cold breeze cut across my skin, and nearby, firelight flickered.
I wasn't alone.
A figure stood over me—tall, robed in black, with a faintly glowing green skull stitched across his chest. His long, greasy blond hair framed a pale, tired face. Hollow eyes stared down at me, ringed with deep shadows. He looked young, but worn—like something had eaten away at his soul.
He clicked his tongue in irritation. "All that effort to conjure something, and I get… this?" he muttered. "You're definitely not the Ash Spawn I was going for. So… jautwhat in Oblivion are you?"
I blinked, disoriented. "Um… sorry?"
He didn't answer. Just narrowed his eyes, lifted his left hand in a tight, clawed gesture, and drew a dagger from his belt with the other.
"Are you Daedra? Or mortal?" he asked flatly.
I scrambled to my feet, heart racing. "What?! No—human! I'm human! Where the hell am I?!"
His eyes sharpened. For a second, I thought I saw disappointment flicker across his face. "You're really just a human, then… Strange. I've never heard of conjuration pulling someone like you."
"What are you talking about?" I asked, confused and increasingly panicked. "Conjuration? You mean like summoning monsters or something?"
He ignored the question. Instead, he raised his hand again—and this time, it pulsed with dark energy. A sickly, violet aura began to coil around his palm.
"A human with no magic… worthless," he sneered. "I suppose I'll just turn you into a zombie."
"Wait—what?!"
He slammed his hand against the ground. Dark energy burst outward, spreading into a warped, circular glyph. Then he repeated the motion—two times, two glyphs.
Two shapes began to rise.
From each portal, a skeleton stepped forward—gaunt, clattering, with eyeless sockets glowing faint green. Each wielded a rusted iron sword.
My stomach dropped. "What the hell are those?!"
"Minions," the necromancer said simply. "I need bodies. Yours will do."
The skeletons hissed, stepping toward me, blades raised.
"Wait, no—don't do this! I haven't done anything to you!"
The necromancer chuckled coldly. "Exactly. Which makes you easy to kill."
He pointed at me. "End him."
The skeletons surged forward.
And just then—a flash of light.
A glowing screen materialized in front of me, like a transparent hologram, suspended in midair.
Quest Started: The Necromancer
Objective: Defeat the necromancer
I blinked. What the—?
The moment I read it, the screen vanished—and the skeletons lunged.
My instincts kicked in, I turned and ran.
Branches clawed at my face as I tore through the pine forest.
"Kill them? There's no way I can defeat them!" I shouted, more to myself than anyone. Whoever—or whatever—sent that message clearly didn't know what I was or wasn't capable of!
The trees blurred past as I sprinted, ducking under low branches, stumbling over roots and rocks. Behind me, I could hear the skeletons—bones rattling. They were right behind me.
"Shit, shit, shit!" I gasped, my legs already starting to burn.
I didn't know where I was. I didn't know where I was going. All I knew was that stopping meant death.
After what felt like forever, my legs began to give out. I stumbled, caught myself on the trunk of a massive pine, and bent over, gasping.
Then I heard it—rushing water.
A river. Nearby. Loud and violent.
I turned toward the sound, weaving between the trees until the foliage broke—and there it was.
A steep drop, maybe ten feet down. Below, a river roared through a bed of jagged rocks, white foam churning across its surface. The current looked brutal.
But it was the only shot I had.
I glanced behind me. The skeletons had broken through the trees, blades gleaming in the moonlight.
"No time!" I shouted to myself, and jumped.
The cold water hit like a hammer.
The moment I struck the water, everything became chaos. I plunged deep, spinning wildly, bubbles exploding around me. The current seized me and dragged me under, slamming me against the bottom and rocks.
I couldn't breathe. I kicked, clawed upward, broke the surface for a single gasp of air—then the current yanked me back under again.
I fought with everything I had, barely keeping my head above water for more than a second at a time. My limbs felt like lead. My lungs burned.
I don't know how long I was in that river.
But finally—the current began to slow.
The river grew wider, and the current became calm. And with the last of my strength, I clawed my way toward the muddy bank.
I collapsed onto it, coughing up river water, my entire body trembling. Scraped. Bruised. Frozen.
But alive.
I lay there for a moment, face down in the mud, trying to convince my muscles to keep moving. If I stopped now, I knew the cold would finish what the river started.
Gritting my teeth, I forced myself up.
What I saw filled me with hope.
A cluster of buildings. A wooden waterwheel turning lazily in the river. Stacked lumber beside a mill. Candlelight glowing in distant windows.
A town.
"Come on… please be friendly," I mumbled as I stumbled forward.
A narrow wooden bridge led across a split in the river. The architecture was rustic—nothing like the modern world I knew. And standing silently by one of the houses… was a forge.
No. It couldn't be.
I crossed the bridge and climbed the steps to the nearest house, soaked and shivering, then collapsed right in front of the forge. The wood beneath me felt like heaven compared to the freezing mud.
Moments later, I heard the creak of a door opening behind me.
A large man stepped into the firelight, holding a smithing hammer. He had broad shoulders, a thick brown beard, and the wary eyes of someone ready to defend his home.
He squinted down at me. "By the Eight… you alright, stranger?"
I managed to lift my head. "H-Had to… jump… river…"
He took a cautious step forward, then knelt beside me. His hand was rough and steady on my back.
"You jumped into the river?" he muttered. "By the Eight… you've got a death wish or something."
He looked toward the water, then back at me. "Come on. Inside, before the cold kills you."
He rose and called over his shoulder: "Sigrid! Blanket—quick, and something hot!"
The man helped me to my feet, keeping a strong arm around me as he guided me inside.
Warmth. A large stone hearth crackled in the center of the room. Mounted above it was the head of a massive elk.
A woman appeared, carrying a heavy blanket. She looked to be in her mid-thirties—broad-shouldered, sturdy, but still had her looks about her. Her long, braided hair shimmered with tones of gold and brown.
Without a word, she wrapped the blanket tightly around my shoulders.
Peeking out from behind her skirt was a girl—maybe ten years old—with wide, curious eyes and a messy brown braid trying to mimic her mother's.
The man gestured to a chair by the fire. "Sit. Warm yourself."
I didn't argue. I practically collapsed into the chair, the blanket already soaking through from my drenched clothes.
I could see him clearly now, sun-darkened skin, muscular. His hair was shoulder-length, coarse and brown, but was in no way feminine. And he had a beard.
"Where… am I?" I asked through chattering teeth.
"Riverwood," he said. "And you? Where do you come from, stranger?"
"Riverwood…" I muttered. "Why does that sound so familiar?"
The man gave a small, amused smile. "You've heard of us then? Not many outside Skyrim know this little village. We're just south of Whiterun."
I blinked.
"Skyrim?" I repeated, my voice barely more than a whisper.
The pieces clicked together. Magic? skeletons? Riverwood?
It made sense, but that is impossible!
"This can't be Skyrim!!" I burst out.
The little girl flinched at the sharpness of my voice, ducking behind her mother.
The woman—Sigrid, I remembered now—stepped protectively in front of the child. "Lower your voice, please," she said calmly, even if it felt like a warning.
"I'm sorry," I said quickly, holding up a hand. "I just… wasn't expecting to hear that name."
If she's Sigrid, then her husband must be Alvor! The Riverwood smith!
Alvor narrowed his eyes. "Why not? What's so strange about Skyrim?"
I hesitated.
What was I supposed to say? That Skyrim was a video game where I came from?
I couldn't share that information, I need to get my head around things before I know what is wise or not to say.
"I'm not from around here," I said slowly. "Where I come from… I've only heard about Skyrim in stories."
That got a reaction.
Both Alvor and Sigrid raised their brows.
"I was in my room. At home. Then this… this circle opened beneath me. Purple light, strange symbols—next thing I know, I'm standing in front of a guy in a black robe who tried to kill me."
Sigrid frowned. "A mage?"
"Something like that," I said. "He talked about conjuration magic—said I wasn't what he was trying to summon. Then he raised some skeletons and tried to kill me. I ran and jumped into the river to escape. That's how I ended up here."
Alvor rubbed his beard, his face unreadable. "That's… hard to believe," he admitted. "But your clothes… they're not from anywhere I've seen. Not from Cyrodiil or Morrowind."
Sigrid nodded. "But conjuration magic doesn't summon people. Only Daedra, or the undead. You should speak to a wizard, if anyone can explain this."
Alvor turned to her. "That can wait. If this necromancer is out there—near Riverwood—we need to alert someone. The Jarl needs to know. But Whiterun's a ways off, and I won't risk the roads at night."
He looked back at me, more serious now. "Can you show us where you saw him? Tomorrow, I mean."
I nodded. "I remember the way. But… I don't have the strength tonight." I said, hinting for a place to sleep.
"I figured," Alvor said. "You'll rest here. And tomorrow morning, we'll deal with this disgrace."
Sigrid laid out a bedroll near the hearth, and I all but collapsed into it.
"Thank you," I murmured. "Both of you."
Alvor grunted. "Just don't wake the house again, alright? We'll talk more in the morning."
He and his family headed to bed, the house falling into a quiet hum of settling wood and crackling fire.
I lay there, staring at the ceiling again.
Skyrim.
I used to love this game. Back home, I poured hours into it! I was the Dragonborn, I killed everything that stood in my way, and I knew magic!
But here… I can't save in case something goes wrong! No loading.
Just me. Unarmed, untrained, broke and without magic.
Now I have to survive in a world that couldn't care less whether I live or die.
God, I want to go home.
But maybe there's a way.
My mind drifted back to the necromancer. He summoned me here—on purpose or not. Which meant he might also be able to send me back.
If I can find him. If I can capture him. Then, maybe...
I thought of my family. My mother. My younger siblings. They'd miss me. Even if I didn't have much of a life back there… I had them.
Sleep crept up on me slowly, exhaustion finally catching up to me.
Tomorrow, was going to be a big day!