The battlefield was chaos.

Steel clashed. Men screamed. Blood soaked the mud. You drove your sword through another enemy, wrenched it free, turned for the next—then darkness swallowed you whole.

You hit water. Limbs tangled, armor heavy, sword somehow still in your grip. You gasped, kneeling in shallow water. Gone: your horse, the battle, everything.

You raised your head—and found yourself staring at a woman's chest.

She stood before you, silver hair cascading, emerald silk gown soaked and clinging. Her full bust was level with your eyes.

Your face burned.

A voice, low and amused: "My eyes are up here."

Your gaze snapped up. Violet eyes met yours, softening with relief. A faint smile touched her lips.

Around you, chaos. Elves—pointed ears, fine silks—gasped, scrambled, laughed behind their hands.

The woman raised her hand. Silence fell.

"I am Yav," she said, voice steady. "Matriarch of the Sunken Court."

She tilted her head. "The prophecy spoke of a warrior from beyond the Veil. I had hoped for a gentler arrival. And perhaps… a warrior who knew where to look when addressing a queen."

Behind you, someone giggled.

Yav's jaw tightened, but her eyes stayed warm. "The sword. Would you mind?"

You looked down. Your sword was still raised at her waist. You lowered it, face burning.

She stepped closer, water rippling. "You are in Aeloria. The hidden kingdom."

Your grip tightened. "I heard stories. I wanted—" to believe.

The crowd laughed. Even Yav smiled.

She leaned in, voice a whisper: "Welcome to Aeloria, warrior. You have died, it seems." Her eyes sparkled. "Or perhaps—you have finally come home."