A Beautiful Way to Die

Silas rolled over in bed, his arm dangling off the mattress. The pillow was warm, the room dark, his breathing steady. It had been a day like any other: school, soccer practice, math homework that had made him huff and puff until late. He had turned off his phone at two in the morning, thinking he would finally sleep without interruptions. Then the silence arrived. Not the normal silence of his bedroom. An absolute silence. No hum of the refrigerator, no distant cars, no ticking of the clock. Just… nothing. Silas eyes snapped open. There was no ceiling above him. Between the treetops, cold, sharp stars glittered like shards of glass. The air was damp, thick with the scent of moss, wet earth, and resin. He sat up abruptly, heart hammering in his chest. “What the…?” He was barefoot. Wearing only his gray pajama pants and a black T-shirt with the faded logo of some band. The ground under his feet was cold, covered in damp leaves and knotted roots. All around him the forest was dense, ancient, almost alive. The trees were enormous, their twisted trunks looking like claws ready to seize him. “I’m dreaming. Yeah, it’s a dream. I just need to wake up.” He pinched his arm hard. The pain was real, sharp. His breath caught in his throat. He started walking, slowly at first, then faster and faster, stumbling over roots and stones. Leaves scraped at his ankles. “Mom? Dad? Is anyone there?!” His voice vanished among the trees. No answer. Only the distant cry of an animal he didn’t recognize a low, guttural howl, far too close for comfort. Panic crashed over him like a freezing wave. He ran. He ran without direction, breathless, eyes burning from the tears he tried to hold back. He was seventeen, no longer a child, yet in that moment he felt tiny and alone. After what felt like an eternity he saw a light. Weak, flickering, but steady. Artificial light? No… the glow of torches. And behind the torches, imposing silhouettes. A castle. Massive gray stone walls rose against the night sky, dotted with lit windows. Battlemented towers stretched toward the stars. A dry moat surrounded the structure, and a great drawbridge was lowered. Silas didn’t think twice. He ran toward that enormous gate, legs trembling from exhaustion and fear. “Help! Please!” He reached the wooden gate reinforced with iron studs. He pounded with open hands, the dull sound echoing through the night’s silence. No answer. He pounded harder, using his fists. “Is anyone there? Please, I’m… I’m lost! Help me!” The gate creaked. It opened a few centimeters. Two girls appeared on the threshold. They looked about his age, maybe a little older. They wore classic but elegant maid uniforms: black dresses with white aprons, little caps over their tied-up hair. They were incredibly pretty one with wavy chestnut hair and green eyes, the other blonde with freckles and a sharper gaze. But their expressions were anything but welcoming. “Who the hell are you, ragamuffin?” the chestnut-haired one snapped, looking him up and down. Silas tried to smile, even though he was terrified. “I… my name is Silas. I don’t know how I got here. I woke up in the forest and… please, can you tell me where I am? I’m trying to figure—” He didn’t finish the sentence. The blonde grabbed his arm with surprising strength. Her body was slender, delicate, with soft curves and a doll-like face, yet her grip felt like that of a professional athlete. “Get away from the castle!” she growled. They shoved him out. Silas staggered backward and landed on his ass. The gate began to close. “Wait! Please!” He scrambled up and pounded again, harder. The gate flew open. This time the two maids didn’t hold back. They seized his arms and dragged him away. Silas struggled, but it was useless. A firm kick to the side, then another to the leg. He fell again. “Get lost, vagrant!” From a second-floor window a slender figure watched the scene. Long mahogany hair gleaming in the torchlight, a light dress with wide sleeves. Sylwen. An amused smile curved her lips as she watched the unknown boy getting kicked by Lira and Mira, her personal maids. She shook her head slightly, giggling softly, then stepped away from the window. Silas didn’t see her. He stood up, aching, cheeks burning with shame and anger. “Sorry… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb anyone. I… I’ll leave.” He turned and limped away. The forest terrified him too much. Every shadow seemed to hide something hostile. After a few minutes he circled back cautiously and took refuge in the side garden of the castle, behind some well trimmed hedges. He curled up under a tree, using large leaves as a makeshift blanket. He trembled from cold and fear. Silent tears fell. “What the hell is happening to me…” The night dragged on slowly, filled with nightmares and sudden awakenings. Dawn light filtered through the leaves. Silas jerked awake at the sound of footsteps. The two maids stood in front of him again. This time they didn’t look angry, just tired and a little annoyed, as if they already had too much to do. Silas scrambled backward, hands raised. “No, please! No kicking! I’m really sorry about last night!” A third figure appeared behind them. A girl of about sixteen or seventeen, long mahogany hair cascading over her shoulders in soft waves. She wore an ivory colored dress with golden embroidery, simple but clearly noble. Her eyes were an intense green, bright and curious. Sylwen smiled sweetly. “Good morning, stranger. My name is Sylwen. I am… the future princess of this kingdom.” Silas stared at her for a few seconds, then blushed violently. He stood up, trying to straighten his dirty T-shirt. “I… I’m Silas. Nice to meet you, Sylwen. I mean… Your Highness? I don’t know how you’re supposed to address people here.” Sylwen immediately noticed his clothes: simple cotton pants, black T-shirt, no embroidery, no buckles, no boots. Things never seen before. “Your clothes are… unusual. Where exactly do you come from?” Silas swallowed. “What year is it?” Sylwen tilted her head. “It is the year 1274 of the Eldoria Calendar.” Silas did the math in his head. Medieval. Or something very close. His heart raced again. The maids, Lira and Mira, crossed their arms. “Your Highness, this boy tried to break into the castle last night,” said Mira, the blonde. “That’s not true!” Silas exclaimed. “I only knocked because I was terrified! I didn’t mean any harm!” Sylwen raised a hand, amused. “Where do you come from, Marco?” He tried to joke. “From my house…” The maids glared at him. Sylwen looked confused. “Speak up,” Lira ordered, giving him a light shove on the shoulder. Silas sighed, frightened, and told them everything. About his life in his original world, school, his family, the moment he fell asleep in his bed and woke up in the forest. He described cars, phones, electric lights, airplanes. He talked for several minutes in a trembling voice. Sylwen listened carefully, but it was clear those names and concepts were completely foreign to her. Lira whispered to the princess: “He could be a spy. Or a madman. Better the guillotine, Your Highness.” Silas went pale. “No! Please, don’t kill me! I’m harmless, I swear! I don’t even know where I am!” Sylwen burst out laughing, a light, crystalline laugh. “I was joking, Silas. I know how to joke too.” Silas looked at her, confused. He couldn’t tell where the line between seriousness and irony lay in this place. “Anyway… I don’t have anywhere to stay,” he admitted, lowering his gaze. Sylwen blushed slightly, toying with a lock of hair. She glanced at her maids, then back at him. “You can stay at the castle for a while. Until we figure out what to do.” Silas smiled, a big, sincere smile. “Thank you! Thank you so much, Sylwen.” The maids huffed, but obeyed. Inside the castle they led him to a side room and gave him new clothes: a dark tunic with light leather reinforcements on the shoulders, sturdy pants, soft boots, and a short cloak. It looked like the outfit of a low ranking adventurer, but it was comfortable, elegant, and distinctly fantasy. Silas looked at himself in the polished metal mirror and almost didn’t recognize himself. “Thank you so much,” he said to the three girls. Sylwen smiled at him. “Come, I’ll show you a little of the castle.” They walked together through the stone corridors, lit by torches and large arched windows. Tapestries depicting battles and mythological creatures hung from the walls. Silas stared at everything with wide eyes: ancient armor, elaborate candelabra, servants bowing as the princess passed. In a large hall they met a tall man with a well kept beard and graying hair. He wore a regal robe edged in gold. “Father,” Sylwen said, “this is Silas. He is… our guest for the moment.” Silas bowed awkwardly. “Pleasure to meet you, sir. I’m Marco.” The king (or future king, Silas wasn’t sure) studied him carefully, but his gaze was more curious than hostile. He asked several questions: where he came from, what he remembered of the previous night, whether he had seen enemy armies or symbols. Silas answered honestly, though he avoided talking too much about technology so he wouldn’t sound completely insane. The king seemed satisfied. “For now you may stay. But keep your eyes open, boy. These are dangerous times.” After the meeting, Sylwen took him for a walk in the outer gardens. The sun was high, the air fragrant with wildflowers. The girl grew more serious. “Silas… our kingdom is in a difficult situation. There has been a civil war for three years. Two noble factions are fighting for power while my father tries to keep order. In a few months a drought the mages have already predicted will arrive: the harvests will suffer, people will go hungry. And that’s not all. We have conflicts with the Kingdom of Valthar to the north and the tribes of the Black Mountains to the east. The economy is in crisis. Taxes are high, the people are tired.” Silas listened attentively, walking beside her. Despite the fear, something inside him lit up. He had ended up in a fantasy world. He had the chance to do something great. “I’ll help you,” he said on impulse. “I don’t know how yet, but I’ll help you stop all of this. The war, the drought… everything.” Sylwen looked at him in surprise, then smiled softly. A light blush colored her cheeks. “You’re brave, Silas. Or maybe just crazy. But… thank you.” The boy returned the smile, even though deep down he had no idea where to begin. His heart pounded with excitement and from the princess’s closeness. Sylwen gently took his arm. “Come. I’ll take you to the place where you can start.” As they walked toward a side tower of the castle, Silas looked up at the blue sky of that unknown world. He didn’t know if he would ever return home.