Dragged Into Another World By The Obsessive Villain

Elara woke the next morning more tired than before she'd fallen asleep. In fact, she was convinced she might have felt less tired if she'd just stayed up all night. But still, she dragged herself through the motions of getting ready for work, all the while her mind was still on The Day of Eternal Night and the odd dream she'd had last night.

She'd like to say she was incredibly imaginative, and she often connected with characters on a deep level, even to the point of dreaming about them when they were killed off, but that wasn't the case. She'd read countless books, consumed endless media, and adored hundreds of hunky white-haired male leads, but she'd never harbored a fixation quite so serious before.

Hell, she even remembered her dream from last night. Since when had she ever been able to do that? Usually, when she slept, it was dreamless, and on the occasions when she did dream, it was all indistinct, like squinting your eyes to see into the bottom of an ocean. 

But she remembered every detail of last night's dream. The floor beneath her bare feet had felt so eerily real. The marble had been cold, the throne room had been drafty and smelled distinctly of salt and brine like the sea. The author had mentioned something about that in the books, in the first one. Behind the throne room sat the Ashwellyian Sea.

She was dead set on convincing herself she was too into the world of The Day of Eternal Night, and she needed to take a step away from it all because, surely, this kind of fixation wasn't healthy. On the metro ride to the inner city, she came up with all kinds of reasons why she might've had such a dream. 

She was overworked. 

She was stressed.

She was painfully bored with what her life had become; the incessant coasting through with no one to truly lean on. She was far too hard for people to get along with for friends and far too proud to lean on her family when she needed someone.

When she got off at her stop, she stopped by the cafe as she always did every morning and when she'd scooped up her iced Americano, she walked the familiar path to the office building she worked at.

The whole way, she could hear the velvety cadences of Caspian Isyndor's voice in her ears.

I found you.

Was her imagination truly that good? Because she was sure when he'd said it, he was smiling even with the odd blur blocking out his features. That was the true crime in Elara's eyes. If she had to have such an odd dream, the least the dreams gods could do was let her see him. 

From the sound of his voice alone, it's pretty clear he was probably a real looker. Guess my imagination isn't good enough to come up with faces.

When she walked in Carmille who had the desk next to Elara, waved her over with a hurried flurry of her hands. Elara warily made her way over. Carmille wasn't the talkative type. She was the type to bury her head in the sand and work furiously without paying any attention to anyone around her until she was done. Usually, when she sought Elara out, it was because the Manager was on his high horse.

As Elara was setting her things down at her desk, Carmille said, "Thought I'd warn you that Mr. Stultus is super unhappy. The higher-ups are eating him alive because of something that went wrong with the report from yesterday."

"The one Aidan wrote."

"Yeah, apparently he tried to take credit for it but they said something about it not being done properly or whatever bullshit upper management uses to as an excuse to chew him out. Serves him right, though. Always making us do all the work just so he can take all the credit." She shrugged.

Elara sighed, turning her computer on. "Just another excuse for him to rip into me. Again."

Carmille's lacquered dark eyes got a far-off look as she thought for a moment. "Now that you mention it, he does rip into you with special care." She grinned, exposing a row of perfectly white teeth against her brown skin. "Probably cause you're so pretty."

Elara rolled her eyes. "I doubt that."

Carmille gave her a look that seemed to question Elara's sanity, then she asked, "Were you able to get that book you wanted? The one you were saying you were gonna throttle Mr. Stultus if you couldn't get it."

Elara grimaced. "I did."

Carmille laughed. "That bad?"

"It's less about the book itself and more about the ending. It was really good up until the end."

"Most things are like that. You should just do what I do. I watch a show all the way up until I get to the final episode and then I just stop. That way, there's no disappointments if the ending is shit."

Elara rolled her eyes. "I'd rather not edge myself thank you very much."

Carmille laughed again.

Mr. Stultus came in right at that moment and Elara immediately felt her mood sour further. He was making a beeline straight for them, reprimanding some poor temp to the point where the poor boy looked close to tears as he came toward them.

"--and for God's sake, take those to the development department and have them fax it down. You've been here two weeks now. Are you completely dense? You should have this down."

After the poor temp had scurried of Mr. Stultus turned his attention to Elara and Carmille. 

"I see the two of you are sharing a joke. You have that much free time? Then do your jobs. I want a five-page report on the company's analytics by three from you Elara and Carmille, I want you to finish the document I gave to you yesterday." 

Before either of them could say anything else, he was already gone. Elara shot the finger at his retreating figure and Carmille cackled out loud before throwing her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.

"No rest for the wicked, eh, Elara?"

Elara shook her head. "Apparently not."

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The end of her shift couldn't have come soon enough. She added the last finishing touches to yet another document Mr. Stultus had tacked onto her right after she'd handed him the proposal he'd asked her to finish and pressed send. Before he could send her anything else and demand for her to stay any later, she logged out and shut down her computer, stretching away the stiffness in her back and shoulders.

Next to her Carmille already had her coat on and her purse on her forearm. Grinning at Elara she said, "See you tomorrow to do it all over again?"

Elara sighed. "Unfortunately."

Carmille grinned and left. Not wanting to tarry any longer--because once Mr. Stultus realized he couldn't get through to her via computer he'd come out looking for her--Elara scooped up her coat and purse and beelined for the elevator. Only once she was outside and was passing the cafe across the street that she visited every morning did she let herself relax.

The late evening air was chilly but Elara found that she didn't mind it very much. It felt like that sharp chill was all that was keeping her sane. She had been so overloaded with work today that she rarely had time to think of Caspian Isyndor or The Day of Eternal Night but in the few moments when she did, she felt this odd chilling feel that prickled from the base of her spine to the crown of her head. The more she stewed on the subject, the less sense it made. 

A dream wasn't supposed to be that realistic. Elara wasn't so imaginative that she had been able to imagine the throne room so clearly when it was described in the novel. And Caspian's voice...

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As she was drying the rest of her hair after her shower, Elara plopped down on her couch, reaching for the remote to turn on Netflix. She was planning to mindlessly scroll through their catalog until she found something worth watching, but as soon as it loaded, a banner showing the new adaptation of The Day of Eternal Night's new series coming in October jumped out at her.

She glanced over at the book where it had been sitting on her coffee table since the shock of last night. She reached for it, skipping to the last chapter. There was no need to read it again. She'd read it countless times already last night but she couldn't help it.

Elara's fingers traced over the final lines, her thumb tracing a spot left by the tea she'd spilled on the book after her surprise at Caspian's death. As her eyes skimmed the final line again and again, as if she were hoping against hope the words would revise themselves into something else, the words pulsed softly, like a heartbeat.

Elara blinked a few times, trying to right her vision, but then the words began to glow. Faintly at first but steadily growing brighter, like embers stoked by an unseen wind.

What the hell? she thought, dropping the book in surprise.

The light grew brighter still, radiating out and filling the room until it blocked out everything--her couch, her coffee table--and covered her entire apartment until it vanished into blinding whiteness. She squinted, hands going up to shield her face but it was no use. The brightness swallowed everything.

And then--silence.

When she peeked through her eyelashes, curious if the light was still there, it was gone. She dropped her hands, looking around in confusion. She wasn't in her living room anymore. Her heart raced against her ribs as she took in her surroundings, a shiver running down her spine.

She was surrounded by eight men dressed in white robes, all looking down at her as if they were just as confused to see her as she was to see them. The air smelled of damp earth, but she was lying on a gray slab of stone. One quick look around told her she was in some kind of gazebo or something. Whatever it was, it had thick columns and a high ceiling, but there were no walls.

She swallowed hard right as someone approached her. If she was confused before, she was certain she was having some kind of comprehension deficit now as she stared at the man in front of her. 

A tall figure, backlit by the falling sun that gleamed off of his armor, stood in front of her. His silver eyes, more piercing and real than any author's description could capture, regarded her with a mix of curiosity and something darker. It was as if those eyes knew all her secrets.

"Elara, I presume," he murmured, her name rolling off his tongue as thick and velvety as molasses. There was familiarity in his voice and he spoke in a tone that seemed to imply they were old friends.

She opened her mouth, but when no words came out, she shut it again. Her mind raced, grasping for straws of the reality she seemed to have left behind. "This...this can't be happening," she breathed. "You're not real."

His eyebrows rose, shooting to his pale hairline. "And yet, here we are," was his smooth reply. He gestured around them--at the expanse of trees and the cluster of carriages, at the old men in white robes who were still gawking at her in surprise. "Reality is merely a matter of perception, Elara." He smiled and there was something bitter in its depths. 

She swallowed hard, but her throat had gone so dry it made a painful clicking sound. She was terrified. She had just been in her living room a second ago, and now she was here, staring up at Caspian Isyndor. And there was no doubt that's who was in front of her. No one else could be quite so handsome with a voice quite so deep and silky and soft. The man in front of her was one she'd spent two years thinking of, analyzing, obsessing over and then pitying after his death in the recent installment. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to feel about all of this. The reality of him was overwhelming.

"Where am I?" she asked finally when her voice returned to her.

Caspian smiled, but it had no warmth in it, and he took a step closer so that he was leaning over her. "You're in the kingdom of Isyndor. To be specific, you're in the southern province where I rule." His voice was cool, and he cut a look over to the old men in robes who were still staring at them and leaned down so his lips were at her ear. "There is much I've been wanting to say to you. There is much we must discuss."