Marmalade let the current carry him until the silhouette of the isle rose out of the twinkling sea. He surfaced with a slow exhale, the salt stinging his eyes. A smirk tugged at his lips. This was the moment he’d been chasing. He kicked toward the shore, arms slicing through the water with deliberate ease, each stroke fueled by the same restless hunger that had driven him from his life’s secure cycle.

  He hauled himself up onto the damp sand. Black seaweed clung to his shoulders like drowned ghosts. He shut his eyes and drew in a lungful of humid air, the night already cool. He peeled off his soaked shirt and pants, wringing both until water streamed back to the sand. The faint moonlight glinted off his bare skin as he pulled the clothes back on, the fabric clinging to him like a second skin, heavy but necessary.

  The tower stood a hundred steps inland, its base looming out of the rocky ground like the foot of some sleeping giant. Built of pale stones that caught the dying light, it rose straight up, disappearing into darkness. Colossal double doors, crafted from aged oak and bound in iron bands, marked its entrance. They matched the tower’s base exactly, two doors side by side, each easily twice Marmalade’s height. Their surfaces were etched with faint patterns, concentric circles fading toward the centre, worn almost smooth by time.

  He scanned the shore. Beyond the tower, nothing but loose stones, grass and sand. No footprints. No torches. No welcoming committee. Just the whispering of the wind.

  The sun slipped fully below the horizon. Twilight surrendered to night. The air grew colder, and the wet fabric against his skin became a biting chill. In his right hand, he still clutched the worn deck of cards, the only connection he had left to who he once was, and who he wanted to become. The binding tie.

  He breathed out a cloud of trepidation and stepped toward the doors. They were cold to the touch, icy beneath his palms. He braced his feet on the cracked stone platform before the entrance and leaned his weight into the doors. They protested with a low groan, hinges creaking against centuries of stillness.

  Push

  The doors budged. A sliver of pale blue light flickered between them.

  Push harder

  More light seeped out, threads of luminescence dancing across the threshold. Marmalade’s eyes watered from its brilliance, but he forced the doors open wider, inch by inch, until at last they swung fully apart with a resonant clang that echoed into the night.

  He stepped through the threshold and was immediately blinded. Cool blue rays gushed out, spilling over the cracked stone floor. He blinked until the outlines were resolved.

  Drip-drip-drip

  He stood on a circular stone platform, nearly twenty feet across, the tower entrance now a gaping void behind him. Three small steps—worn smooth by footsteps long vanished—led down from the platform’s edge into darkness. Weeds and tufts of grass sprouted from its fissures, claiming each crack as their own.

  The platform floated in the centre of a vast chasm carved into the earth. Its walls rose in concentric rings, each tier angling inward until they met in a lone circular opening high above. The bleeding of stars and moonlight shone through the fissure above.

  He was underground. Buried. Yet not buried. He swallowed hard and took in the cavernous space around him. A faint breeze drifted down from the opening, rustling the grass at his feet.

  Moonlight illuminated patches of greenery, stubborn grass sprigs here and there, and low boulders scattered about like broken, giant teeth. In one corner, a still pond reflected the blue glow, its surface smooth as glass. Ripples of light slid across it whenever a drip echoed through the cavern.

  Sharp intake

  Marmalade’s breath caught at the sight.

  The air smelled faintly of earth and moss, cool but not damp. He stepped off the platform and walked towards the pond, dipping a finger into the water. It was cold, clear, and tasted like stone. He withdrew his hand and let the droplets fall back in, listening to the tiny plinks.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Behind him, the only exit was the path he had come through, the tower doors open like a wound. Above, the sky patch offered one precarious route: a sloping rock face that led up, up, to the rim of the chasm. He traced the line with his eyes, imagining himself climbing it, arms reaching for handholds, legs finding purchase on slippery ledges.

  He paused. Should he stay here, safe enough but confined? Or climb into the unknown above and see what lies beyond? He closed his eyes and pressed the cards to his chest. In that moment, he remembered every step that had brought him here, the suffocating routine, the longing for something more, the risk of turning away from everything he knew.

  He thought of home, the alarm clock’s shrill ring at dawn, the hollow comfort of routine. He tasted the stale bread of yesterday’s breakfast, felt the sting of looking into vacant eyes every morning. That life was safe; this was freedom.

  He drew a steady breath. The cards tightened in his grip. He let them fall into his pants pocket without looking, the sound of their shuffling a faint comfort.

  He strode to the base of the rock wall and ran his fingers along its rough surface. The stone was cool and jagged, but it offered plenty of holds. He wedged his boot into a crevice and tugged himself up.

  Each move was measured. He tested every grip before putting his weight on it. He paused when his forearms burned, letting the chill air soothe the sting. Halfway up, the pond’s distant drip grew louder, each drop echoing like a ticking clock, reminding him that the cavern was breathing too, ever shifting. He felt the stones tremble beneath his hands for an instant, and his pulse spiked.

  As he climbed, the forest’s nocturnal choir began to rise, a chorus of distant hoots, insect trills, and the rustle of leaves. He’d expected silence; instead, he heard life.

  Higher and higher he went.

  Moonlight slid across his face. The cavern walls curved inward until he reached the lip of the opening. He heaved himself up onto a ledge of soft earth and rolled over, landing on grass at a forest’s edge.

  He lay for a moment, chest heaving, the night air sweet with pine and damp earth. Above him, the chasm’s mouth yawned wide, an inverted moon of rock framing stars. Below, the deep blue glow fled back into the underground.

  He climbed to his feet and turned. In front of him stretched a forest. Tall trees whose trunks were lumpy and grey, canopies brushing the night sky. Warm lights flickered between the trunks, lamplit windows, and torches along a road. Faint voices drifted on the breeze, laughter and clatter like a distant festival. Life.

  His heart hammered. Civilization. A village, or something like one, beckoned. He stepped forward, the grass soft underfoot, and his eyes burned with excitement for the first time in years. The static of before is no longer present, long forgotten.

  He followed a narrow path littered with fallen leaves and pine needles. Torches mounted on wooden posts guided his way. He counted each one, then let the rhythm of their light pull him onward.

  At last, the forest thinned, and he emerged onto a clearing paved with cobblestones. Before him stood buildings unlike any he had ever known, timber-framed houses with steeply pitched roofs, wooden shutters flung open, chimneys puffing smoke into the night. Their walls were whitewashed, beams dark and stout. Flower boxes creaked under window ledges, and lanterns cast golden pools of light that danced across the street.

  He paused in the centre of the square, mind reeling. The air here smelled of baked bread and roasting meat, cider fermenting in barrels, woodsmoke and hearth fires. His stomach growled, but he barely noticed.

  Figures moved in the square, figures that stopped him cold. At first glance, they were townsfolk: men and women strolling along, baskets in hand, chatting as if he weren’t the only stranger. But as he blinked under the lantern light, he realised their ears were elongated, twitching at every sound. Their noses were small and rounded, whiskers brushing their cheeks. Their faces were soft and fur-covered. They wore tunics and trousers, gowns and cloaks, a people of rabbits walking upright like any human would.

  They paused briefly to glance at him, whiskers trembling in surprise. One tall rabbit in a burgundy waistcoat tilted his head and tipped a bowler hat.

  “Evening, stranger. Lost your way?”

  He asked in a polite, velvety tone that seemed almost musical.

  Marmalade’s heart pounded so fiercely he thought it might burst. He swallowed hard, fighting the urge to step back. He forced his eyes forward and took in more detail: a merchant stacking carrots in a wooden cart, children chasing each other around a fountain of polished stone, an elderly couple seated on a bench sharing a crust of bread. Their movements were wholly human, but their forms, their very beings, were creatures of the wild.

  He swallowed again. The world he had known, the one before the tower, seemed like a distant dream. Here, there was something entirely different, alive, strange, and intoxicating.

  A cool breeze carried the scent of night-blooming flowers. A tavern’s door creaked open, spilling laughter onto the street. Music, a fiddle’s lilting melody accompanied by a drum’s steady beat, drifted through the air.

  He took a step toward the tavern’s door, every nerve alight. He had come here to change his life. Here was a world so unlike his own that he could feel his old self slipping away with every heartbeat.

  He touched his leg, where the deck of cards rested. He let his fingers brush the fabric of his clothes, feeling the familiar weight of them. They were a reminder of who he was, but now he wondered if they belonged to this new world at all.

  He closed his eyes for a heartbeat, paused, and for what felt like the hundredth time, thought of this life. Then he opened them again and walked toward the tavern door, ready to greet whatever awaited him.