It was a hot summer night, at least, that was how Aren remembered it, the night he was abducted by a dragon from another world.

  The Last Chapter bookstore stayed open far too late for the number of customers it received.

  That was precisely why he liked it. He always came here, when the summer heat refused to let him sleep and his room felt too small to contain his thoughts.

  It was a narrow shop, wedged between a closed café and a still-running pharmacy. The lights were dim, the shelves overcrowded, the air thick with the scent of old paper and dust. It was the kind of place that felt forgotten by time.

  But there were three things Aren liked most about it: its owner, a mostly mute, retired teacher. The wall-mounted air conditioner humming faithfully at twenty degrees Celsius, and the novel in his hands.

  He stood in the fantasy aisle, book in hand, flipping pages without really reading. Dragons. Magic academies. Other worlds.

  Escapism, the expensive kind.

  ‘Wouldn’t it be nice if this actually happened?’

  A stupid, half-formed wish, born from exhaustion and an unguarded mind.

  That was when the lights flickered.

  Once. Twice.

  The hum of the air conditioner faltered, then fell silent.

  “Damn this store,” he cursed.

  He hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud until the owner glanced up at him.

  “Eh! Time to go.”

  Aren paid for the book and slipped it into a paper bag. On his way home, he passed through a park still lively with children and their mothers, deeply absorbed in conversation with the noble pretense of watching their kids. And, of course, lovers.

  Aren frowned as a couple walked past him, hands intertwined.

  ‘Bastards. Trying to make me jealous, are you? I’ll have a girlfriend before summer ends. You’ll see.’

  Once he crossed the park, the rest of the route was mostly empty, a narrow road between houses. Finally, something he liked even more than fantasy books.

  Just him, the streetlights, and silence.

  Then he felt something behind him.

  He turned sharply and caught sight of a shadow flying past, cast briefly by the moonlight. He looked up, but the sky was empty.

  “A bird,” he muttered.

  The streetlights flickered again, just like they had in the bookstore.

  This time, Aren felt uneasy. His fingers tightened around the paper bag as he swallowed hard.

  Power cuts weren’t rare, but this felt… different.

  The air grew heavy, like the moment before a storm breaks. His ears popped slightly, the pressure shifting too fast. A sudden wave of unease spread through his chest.

  The bag in his hand trembled, not from his grip, but on its own.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  All around him, the ground began to shiver.

  “Earthquake!”

  Then the lights returned, flickering wildly before bursting with a sharp crack.

  His heart slammed against his ribs.

  “This isn’t funny,” he muttered, though no one was there to hear him.

  As if to mock him, something vast moved between the houses. In the reflections of closed windows, he saw something impossible.

  He stepped back.

  The bag slipped from his fingers and hit the street, the sound swallowed by the night.

  Slowly and unnaturally, the shadow shifted.

  An eye appeared.

  Luminous and pale, like a frozen star. Patterns moved within it, rings, sigils, depths without bottom.

  Aren’s legs refused to move. His breathing turned shallow, sharp in his chest. Every instinct screamed the same warning,

  It sees you.

  The thing before him was without mistakes a dragon, like in his novels. He read it too many times to be mistaken.

  The dragon lowered its head as it drew closer.

  White scales reflected the dim moonlight, each etched with faint, glowing lines like distant constellations. Its horns curved backward, regal and terrifying.

  Aren’s mouth opened, but no sound emerged.

  The dragon’s gaze locked onto him and the world stopped.

  The air froze. Dust hung motionless. Even his pulse seemed to hesitate, caught between beats.

  The dragon raised a foreleg. The creature was only a handful larger than himself, but for someone who had only ever seen animals behind the prison of zoos, it was massive. Its claws were far too close for him not to scream.

  But before he could, the dragon drove its limb into Aren’s chest.

  ‘Agr!! I am going to die.’ That was the only thought in his mind.

  He saw the dragon withdraw its claw. But before he could process the condition of his chest, the creature bit into his back and flapped its massive wings.

  Wind tore past Aren’s ears, roaring so loud it swallowed every thought. His stomach lurched as the ground vanished beneath him, replaced by an endless black sky.

  The city lights shrank rapidly below, scattering like dying embers.

  His body screamed in protest.

  The dragon’s jaws were locked around his back, not painfully, but firmly, like a predator carrying prey it had already claimed. Its wings beat with terrifying power, each flap sending violent tremors through his bones.

  He dared to glance downward. The houses were no longer houses, but tiny blocks of light. The park had disappeared entirely. Even the street he had walked moments ago was gone, erased by distance.

  The hot summer soon turned cold. His fingers went numb. His breath came out in ragged gasps, instantly stolen by the wind.

  His body refused him, locked in terror and disbelief.

  This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.

  He wanted to run. His neck felt cold. He wanted to argue, to demand answers, to ask why me, to insist that this had to be a dream brought on by heat and exhaustion and too many worthless fantasy novels.

  But the dragon climbed higher.

  The sky darkened, thinning into something vast and empty. The moon loomed overhead, growing larger and brighter, its pale light washing over the dragon’s white scales until they gleamed like carved ivory.

  Then, the moon vanished.

  Not hidden by clouds, not it was eclipsed. It simply ceased to exist.

  Darkness swallowed the sky whole. The wind stopped. The sound disappeared. Aren felt weightless. And in that absolute silence, something unseen pulled.

  The stars twisted. Space folded inward like a closing eye. His vision fractured, stretched, then collapsed into blinding white.

  The last thing Aren felt was the dragon loosening its grip.

  And the last thing he heard was a voice, not spoken aloud, but etched directly into his mind,

  “Chosen.”

  *****

  Aren didn’t remember how long he had been passed out. When his consciousness returned, he found himself in a narrow alleyway. His head throbbed. When he opened his eyes, he saw people walking by in casual clothes, cell phones in some of their hands.

  For a moment, he thought the dragon had dropped him somewhere while flying.

  There must have been blood everywhere. His chest must have had a gaping hole. His neck must have been bleeding like a fountain. He was going to die at this rate, and those bastards on the street didn’t even spare him a passing glance.

  That was his first impression of this world, before it shattered instantly.

  When he looked up at the sky, following a melodic roar, he saw a ship. Not the kind of military vessels used in his world, nor the transport ships he knew. It was a ship straight out of fantasy.

  It was decorated with jewelry, every color of the rainbow shattering from its surface.

  But it was not on water.

  It was floating in the air, no, being pulled by a dragon larger than the nearby buildings.

  The huge creature soared upward toward something far too massive to be called a moon. It resembled a planet hanging in the sky.

  That was when he realized what this new world truly was. That was the last thing he remembered before passing out again, most likely from shock.

  Later, when he woke up, he found himself in a comfortable bed, a cup of hot chocolate in his hands.

  He had been rescued by a kind woman who introduced herself as Mira.

  Aren gulped down the hot chocolate in a single breath. His gaze lingered on the dark, empty cup as he whispered,

  “Damn it. I really am in another world.”