Dara, Page, and the Secrets of the Multiverse

▷ 12.5

Page's breaths were erratic in his ears. His legs ached from running for as long as he did, and the ground wasn't even either. The word hanging on his belt floundered uselessly against his thigh as he tore through the thick forest in the middle of the night. The party leader would kill him even if he survived this ordeal. That was just the way of life in this not-so-fictional world.

Over the course of his stay here, he signed up in a military academy as a way to not get killed and also learn cool things like archery and magic. He was trapped here in exchange for Dara's contract, so might as well make the most of it. The dark academia arc was a lot like his university days, which induced another worry in him. Finals must have come and gone, and with him getting a little preoccupied at the moment, he might have just flunked all of them. The news he'd bring home...would be insane.

He spent a week thinking about his chances of salvaging his GPA and still graduating on time. Not much choice. Without the finals, he would have to settle with a mediocre grade from the midterms and his performance so far. Nope. Not going to happen. He was a university student and proudly so. He wasn't a knight.

That was why he decided to stay lowkey and hid at the back for every assessment and selection in the academy. It must have been his main character vibes that got him assigned to the most deadly dungeon in the middle of nowhere with a couple of knights who couldn't be bothered to kill stuff without being compensated.

The quest was going well, until Page ventured too far into the woods and his companions abandoned him with the assumption that he must have been mauled at this point. He wasn't, unfortunately. Still alive. And now, a hungry shadow wolf bounded after him dab smack inside the forest of horrors, one that made it to the legends and folktales and whatnot.

His boot snagged on an exposed root, throwing his entire momentum forward. Oh, no. He surged face-first towards the carpet of dried leaves on the forest floor. A weight crashed on his back followed by a deep, throaty growl tearing towards his ears. Was this the end? Could contracted souls die inside a book? No idea. He didn't want to test the theory either.

He twisted his neck just to see the shadow wolf draw its head back, open its bloody snout, and dived down for a bite. A sheet of white light dropped from the heavens like a fishing net, rushing towards him and the wolf. With a silent roar, it raged and burned Page's vision until his brain melted off. At least, it felt like it.

When the light faded and the black spots in his vision stopped acting out, he felt wood under his hands and legs. Not grass. Wooden floorboards...and dust. Where—

"Get up," a stern voice ripped through his confusion. He remembered that voice. It was something he shouldn't be hearing in this reality. Slowly, he raised his eyes towards the owner of the shadow looming over him. Red hair, tall, and...a sword dripping with bright crimson liquid at the tip. Dara.

Page groaned, massaging the side of his head. "What happened?"

He opened his eyes fully to survey the scene. Iris lay sprawled on eroded towers of books, hair all over her face. Her glasses lay lenses first on a puddle of wine-like liquid seeping through the floorboards. It was unmistakable. Blood.

"What did you do?" He whirled to Dara who stepped back to reveal her face tainted with the same shade of red. "You killed her?"

Dara hefted her sword, and Page noticed it glowed with a faint sheen. His gaze happened to wander to her back. Only one translucent wing was there when there should have been a pair. Did she...?

"She is not the witch's daughter as she claimed," Dara explained. "She is the witch, and she schemed to get you into one of her contracts by using me."

"Why?" Page demanded. "What could she possibly want with me?"

Dara shrugged. "Witches trade souls for a living," she said. "It's either she wanted to devour you in a century or so, or she wanted to bait someone stronger, say, an enchantress."

His head swirled with this knowledge, but what was the point of applying logic to all of this? "What happened to your wing?"

She didn't spare a glance in her back as she crouched in front of him. "I traded it for this enchanted sword," she said. "Witches must be stopped at all costs, but I made a mistake a hundred years ago and ended up trapped by one. You didn't need to be involved in my mess, and yet, here you are."

"Is that why you saved me?" Page asked.

"I can't have an innocent pay the price for my error," she said. "So, I had to."

He jerked a chin at her wing. "Would you want to get it back? I can help you," he said. "Consider it as my debt paid."

Dara glanced at Iris' body. Dark smoke curled from the librarian's limbs as she began combusting. Were those fumes even good for the environment? "The witch is dead. You are free to do whatever you want with no strings to hold you back," Dara said. "Why would you want to go with me?"

"It's not everyday I meet magical fairies who have magic swords," Page said. "No one had to sacrifice their wings either just to save me. I have to repay that debt. I insist."

She stood up and offered him her hand. He took it, and she helped him up. A bit of a stagger, but otherwise, he was fine. "Are you certain?" she asked. "The journey is nothing short of complicated and arduous."

Page shrugged. "I've heard that before," he said with a dismissive wave of a hand. "I want to learn more about this fairytale world hiding in plain sight. Who knew? I might find myself in one as well."

"And with the witch gone," he continued, bracing his hips and giving Dara a small smile. "We're free to write our own tales. From here on out. So, let me."

Dara returned his smile, her blue eyes sparkling. "Alright," she said. "Let us start, then."