It had been three days since Leonidas woke up in this new world — a world strangely familiar and yet so much more real than he could have imagined. The unsettling part was, it was the world from the novel he'd written back in his previous life. Except now, he wasn't just an author watching events unfold from a distance. He was living in it.
What made things complicated was that the story's events wouldn't officially begin for another two years. That meant he was existing in a time before any of the major wars, betrayals, or legendary battles he had crafted. A strange peace settled over the land, though he knew from experience how quickly that could change.
But something gnawed at him. While the big events and key figures from his novel seemed to exist, there were far more details than he had ever written about. New towns, new people, and fragments of history he hadn't created. It felt like his fiction had evolved into a living, breathing world on its own. He couldn't even guess how much of what he remembered would still be accurate.
It was both fascinating and terrifying.
This uncertainty was why, after finishing his duties at the academy, Leonidas made a habit of visiting the library. It wasn't just a place to kill time. He needed to understand this world better — to learn what had happened before, what relics still existed, and whether the rumors he half-remembered from his own story held any truth here.
That afternoon, after dismissing his students, he stepped into the library alone. He didn't bother greeting the staff or making small talk. He wasn't here for that. He went straight to the back shelves, where the older, dustier tomes were kept — the kind most people ignored because the text was faded or the information outdated.
"Let's see what you've got for me today," he muttered under his breath, pulling out a thick leather-bound book titled Chronicles of the Demon War.
He recognized it immediately. In his old novel, this book existed as a background detail — a history text mentioned in a few chapters but never fully explained. He had never written what was inside. And now, here it was. Real. Heavy in his hands.
Leonidas found a quiet table in the corner and started to read. Hours passed unnoticed as he pored over accounts of ancient battles, long-forgotten kingdoms, and the artifacts left behind. The deeper he read, the more disturbing it became. The names of relics he had created casually as plot devices appeared here with shockingly precise descriptions. There was more, though — new relics, old bloodlines, ruins, and long-lost battles he never invented.
"This world really did fill in the blanks on its own," he murmured.
One relic caught his eye. The Ember Sigil. A name he'd only used once in a throwaway line of dialogue back in his novel, but here it had pages dedicated to it. The text spoke of its destructive power and its rumored ability to manipulate life and death through fire. According to the book, the last known location of the Sigil was somewhere in the desolate Moors — a ruined, fog-choked region north of the capital.
It wasn't much to go on, but it was something.
By the time he looked up from the book, the sun had already set. The lamps in the library glowed softly, and he was one of the few remaining inside. Leonidas stretched, his muscles stiff from sitting too long.
"I've been here longer than I thought," he muttered, closing the book and carefully returning it to its shelf.
As much as he wanted to keep reading, a new thought nagged at him. The academy library, for all its resources, was still an official institution. The kind of information he needed — hidden history, forbidden relics, black-market artifacts — wasn't likely to be found here.
Which meant it was time to head into the city.
He grabbed his cloak and left the academy grounds, walking toward the bustling city nearby. Night had fallen, but the streets were still lively. Merchants packed up their stalls while taverns and inns lit their signs. Lantern light shimmered against cobblestones slick with evening mist.
He made his way through the market district, scanning for anything unusual. Most vendors were selling ordinary goods — food, weapons, clothing — but a few stalls toward the edge caught his attention. These were less organized, more chaotic. Piles of old scrolls, rusted trinkets, and maps whose ink had long faded.
One small booth was run by an old man hunched over a table cluttered with odds and ends. Something about the way the man kept glancing around made Leonidas curious.
He approached casually.
"Looking for something in particular?" the old man rasped, his voice rough with age.
Leonidas eyed a worn map half-covered by a stack of cracked glass vials. The outline of the Moors was faintly visible.
"I'm looking for information on artifacts from the Demon War," Leonidas said quietly. "Specifically, one called the Ember Sigil."
At that, the old man's eyes sharpened. He reached beneath the table and pulled out a faded scroll, glancing around before sliding it toward Leonidas.
"Most folks know better than to chase things like that," the vendor said, his voice low. "But if you're serious… this might help."
Leonidas unrolled the scroll. It was covered in strange symbols and half-legible notes, but one thing stood out — a mark resembling a flame over an ancient ruin's outline.
"This is a lead," Leonidas said, nodding. "How much?"
"Fifty silver," the old man answered.
Leonidas handed over the coins without haggling and tucked the scroll into his cloak.
"Be careful, boy," the vendor added as Leonidas turned to leave. "Some relics don't want to be found."
He offered a quick nod and made his way back through the streets, the city growing quieter as the night deepened. He reached his quarters at the academy and unrolled the scroll on his desk, studying it under the flickering candlelight.
The symbols were old, and he didn't recognize most of them. But the location marked on the map wasn't far — a ruin called the Ebon Hollow, known in local legend as cursed ground.
"Guess I know where I'm heading next," he murmured to himself, a slow grin pulling at his lips.
Whatever this world had become, one thing was clear: it was no longer bound by the limits of the story he had written. There were secrets here even he didn't know. And Leonidas intended to uncover them all.