The voice that called my name sent a shock through my system.

  I knew that I knew that voice. A voice I have not heard in decades, at least not over the phone.

  My head snapped toward the source, my pulse pounding in my ears.

  There, standing among the gathered figures, was someone I never expected to see in front of me again.

  “Zeke?” My voice came out hoarse, disbelief thick in my throat.

  Zeke looked just as stunned as I felt. His light brown eyes were wide, taking me in like he wasn’t sure if I was real. He still had that same messy red hair, the same sharp features, and the same wary stance, like he was always ready to fight or flee. But something was different. He looked stronger, more confident, as if the weight of this world had already settled on his shoulders.

  “Star?” he repeated, stepping forward. “Holy shit, is it really you?”

  “In the flesh,” I muttered, still processing. My childhood friend—my best friend—was here. In Mysteria.

  Zeke and I had grown up together, practically inseparable from the moment we met. We had spent years causing trouble, sneaking out to avoid our afternoon naps as kids, daring each other to do stupid things just to see who would break first

  But life had a way of pulling people apart. His family moved back to Ireland almost twenty years ago. We never saw each other in person again. And then college came, jobs, responsibilities—we drifted, as people do. And now, against all logic, we were standing in the same room again, in a world neither of us belonged to.

  “I can’t believe this,” Zeke said, his voice quieter now. “I thought I was alone in this. How did you get here?”

  I exhaled sharply. “Same way you did, I’m guessing. A glow, some cryptic bullshit, and then poof—new world, new problems.”

  Zeke let out a breathless laugh. “Yeah. That about sums it up.”

  Before we could say more, another voice interrupted. “So, you two know each other?”

  I turned to see everyone else watching us with varying degrees of curiosity. I had almost forgotten about them. I had been so preoccupied with the thought of Zeke being in this world too.

  “Uh, yeah,” I started. “He and I grew up together,” I supplied nonchalantly, hoping the guy who interrupted us wouldn’t be extroverted. I had no energy nor in the mood to hold hands and sing Kumbaya.

  “Hmmm.” The guy simply pursed his lips and nodded. That was all.

  He was around 185 cm tall, his light brown eyes glowing with a calm intensity that contrasted with his blond hair, which was slightly tousled. His frame was athletic and well-toned, with broad shoulders and a sculpted chest.

  “Viktor,” he started. “That’s my name. I gathered I should tell you since I know yours, Star and Zeke.”

  “Alastar,” I corrected him. “My name is Alastar. Czak Alastar, but please just call me Czak. Only my family and Zeke call me Star. Sorry.”

  He nodded and gestured for everyone to gather around.

  I had no idea how long they’d been here before I arrived. It seemed like I was the last to step out of the Plane of Consciousness.

  I looked around and scanned everyone in attendance. There were three elves, two talking bears, three other guys except for Zeke and myself, and five girls. How boring, the ten of us summoned, five guys and five girls. This seemed like a very typical superhero isekai bull shit.

  We gathered around, and it seemed people had found their friends.

  “How long have you been here before, well, I arrived?” I asked Zeke.

  “Not too long,” he started. “Maybe an hour or two. I was the third to arrive. Had a very long and confusing conversation with the previous guardian of my Gem.”

  “Previous guardian?” I echoed.

  “Yeah,” he said, “the one who met me in the Plane of Consciouness. He said his name was Draganta.”

  “Right,” I muttered. “What else did he say?”

  “Nah, he went on about how I was chosen and how I need to accept it. There were others chosen before me, but they didn’t accept the task blah blah blah . . . ”

  “Wait,” I interrupted him. “What’s your Gem?”

  “Fire,” he answered. “Draganta mentioned something about being the King of Fire, of creation and destruction.” His thoughts seemed to trail off as if trying to remember more details. “You? What did you get?”

  I laughed. “You make it sound like we won some gacha shit,” I started as he laughed with me. “Heavens,” I said. “I don’t know what that means exactly. Yashka mentioned something about sky, wind, and celestial magic.”

  “Is Yashka the previous guardian of your Gem?” Zeke asked.

  “I guess so.” I shrugged. “That didn’t really occur to me. I thought he was just a member of the welcoming committee or something.” That gained some more laughter from Zeke, surprisingly.

  “I see you’ve never changed,” he said. “It’s good to be with someone familiar in this strange land.”

  I smiled.

  Familiar. Zeke and I were more than familiar. But I can’t really blame him to just say familiar. It’s been twenty years since we last saw each other. Sure, we chat and video call from time to time to catch up, but that doesn’t count as being best friends anymore, I guess.

  “It looks like introductions are in order?” A voice cut through my thoughts. It was a voice so majestic and authoritative it pulled me out of my trance.

  “I am Ishthar,” she said, inclining her head slightly. “The Seer of Mysteria.” It was one of the elves. She stood at the center and was the most striking. Long silver hair cascaded over her shoulders, contrasting with her warm tan skin. Her deep violet eyes held an unreadable depth, as if she was seeing more than just the present moment.

  “The Seer?” I echoed. “So you knew we were coming?”

  “I see fragments of what may come. It was my visions that foretold the coming of the Chosen.” Ishthar smiled, but there was no amusement in it. She shook her head, gently. “I knew of your arrival,” she corrected. “But visions are never clear until the moment they unfold.”

  “Think of them as pieces of a puzzle,” one of the elves beside Ishthar interjected. “You see all the pieces, but you don’t get to see the entire picture at once.”

  “This is Marik,” Ishthar gestured to the shorter elf who just pitched in. “He is the High Mage of Mysteria and has held that mantle for the last three hundred years.”

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  Marik chuckled. “Three hundred and twenty-six, but who’s counting?”

  My gaze shifted to Marik. He was noticeably shorter, barely reaching my shoulder, yet his presence demanded attention. His sharp, intelligent eyes gleamed from beneath the silver strands that fell over his face, veiling them like mist over the sea. But even through that curtain, I glimpsed the color of the ocean—deep, fathomless, and brimming with knowledge.

  He was draped in layered robes of midnight blue and shimmering silver, the fabric embroidered with constellations that seemed to shift as he moved. Runes glowed faintly along the cuffs and hem, their meaning just beyond my understanding. Over his shoulders rested a high-collared mantle fastened with an intricate silver clasp, the sigil of Mysteria etched upon it.

  In his grasp, he held a staff of darkened silver, its surface engraved with arcane symbols that pulsed with quiet energy. At its head, a crystal orb hovered, not set into the metal but suspended within an open framework of twisting silver, as if caught between moments in time. The orb itself swirled with deep blues and flickers of starlight, resembling the very cosmos—endless, ever-shifting, and watching.

  “You don’t look a day over twenty-five.” One of the girls blurted out, her tone mostly confused.

  Marik grinned. “Elves age differently,” he responded. “I haven’t gotten your name, my lady.”

  “Gabrielle,” she said, “Gabrielle Bennett.”

  “My pleasure to know your name, Queen of Waters.” Marik bowed.

  Gabrielle managed a rather embarrassed smile, trying to avoid everyone’s gaze.

  “Don’t be embarrassed,” another girl said, tapping Gabrielle’s shoulder. “He called me something weird—Empress of Reflections—earlier too.”

  They chuckled, quite amused by whatever was happening at the moment.

  I shifted my gaze back to Marik and Ishthar. I was waiting for something from them. I don’t know what it was, but some sort of explanation would be nice.

  Ishthar gestured to the taller elf. “And this is Iago, a mage apprentice. He’s been under Marik’s tutelage for seventy-five years.”

  Iago nodded politely. “A pleasure.”

  Iago stood taller than his master, his frame lean but not frail, carrying himself with a quiet, disciplined air. His fair skin was dusted with freckles, a soft contrast to the sharp intelligence in his green eyes—an observant, calculating gaze that missed nothing. Though his expression was reserved, there was an unmistakable watchfulness about him as if he were constantly studying his surroundings, filing away every detail for later use.

  His silver hair, fine and slightly tousled, caught the light with an almost ethereal sheen, a striking contrast to the lighter-colored robes he wore—similar in design to Marik’s but subtly different, as though to mark him as a student rather than an equal. The fabric draped elegantly over his form, its muted hues reinforcing his understated presence.

  Unlike Marik, Iago carried his tools with practicality in mind. A well-worn grimoire and a finely crafted wand rested securely against his hip, fastened by a harness that functioned almost like a tool belt—within reach at a moment’s notice, yet never cumbersome.

  Seventy-five years? I barely lasted three months in my first editing job. I thought, but before I could process that, movement to my left caught my attention.

  Two massive figures padded forward, their sheer presence demanding silence. Bears. Two talking bears.

  “I am Kaldi,” the larger of the two rumbled, his voice deep and steady. “And this is my younger brother, Dero.”

  Dero, the smaller one, still had the roundness of a cub. “Hi,” he said, his voice much lighter, almost cheerful.

  I shot a glance at Zeke. He and I knew what the other was thinking most of the time.

  Zeke snorted. “At this point, I’m just rolling with it.”

  Marik cleared his throat. “I believe it’s best the rest also introduce themselves?” He gestured for all of us to take our seat at a huge round table.

  The table was a breathtaking piece of craftsmanship, carved from a single slab of luminous marble with veins of silver and deep blue running through its polished surface. It reflected the ambient glow of the chamber’s enchanted lights, giving it an almost ethereal shimmer. Arcane symbols were inlaid along its edges, their faint glow pulsing rhythmically, as if responding to the magic in the air. The sheer size of it made it clear that this was a place where important decisions had been made for centuries—a table that had witnessed history unfold time and time again.

  And then, the part I hated the most, introducing myself to strangers, came. But we did so. We took turns at our introductions; some were longer than others’, but we finished.

  The ten of us were from different countries. But somehow, communication was never an issue.

  Hyacinth, one of the girls, pointed it out in the middle of our introductions.

  “If you’re from different countries,” she started, “how come you all speak Bisaya?” She’s from the Philippines; she mentioned Cebu. I’ve heard it’s a great place for tourists, but that’s a totally different story for another time. Hyacinth is here with her twin sister, Amethyst. They were both chosen by different Gems. Hyacinth was chosen by the Gem of Creations; Amethyst, by the Gem of Life.

  Ishthar let out a soft chuckle of amusement. “In Mysteria, we only have one language,” she explained. “You speak in a language you know, and we hear you in a language we know.”

  “Huh,” I muttered in amazement. “So it’s like a real-time auto-translation. Fascinating.” I added quite sarcastically.

  “Don’t geek out now, Mister Linguist.” Zeke teased.

  I gave him a mocking face. “If anything, I am insulted. Years of studying languages, and this just hands it to us? I feel cheated.” That made him laugh heartily.

  “That explains why you all sound fluent in French,” Pierre interjected. “I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that all of you could speak French that well.”

  The group turned toward the speaker. His voice was soft—almost too soft for an interruption—but there was a distinct sharpness to it, like the edge of a finely honed blade.

  My gaze landed on him, immediately noting the dark-skinned young man with short, wavy locks that fell in beautiful, effortless curls. His brown eyes, keen and observant, flickered with something meek arrogance as he spoke. He stood taller than me, maybe 14 centimeters taller than me. He’s lean but with enough muscle to hint at strength beneath his calm exterior.

  Something about him—his posture, his expression—gave the impression of quiet confidence. But then he spoke again, his tone smooth yet laced with an almost absentminded condescension, as if stating a fact he expected everyone else to catch up to. And I already found him insufferable.

  “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” I blurted out.

  Pierre shrugged, dismissing my question.

  Zeke shot a look of warning toward my way. “Don’t,” he said, “fucking chill, dude. He probably means nothing.”

  I frowned. “What?”

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he responded. “Just don’t.”

  I rolled my eyes at him as I listened to the others introduce themselves.

  After some minutes, everyone was acquainted. Ishtar and Marik took turns explaining the titles given to us after we accepted the Gems’ powers.

  There’s me, from Portugal, the new Pharaoh of the Heavens; my best friend, who’s originally from Ireland, Zeke is now the King of Fire. The other boys included Viktor from Russia, the new Duke of Supremacy; Andrew from Australia, the new Emperor of Earth; and Pierre from France, the Czar of Changes.

  The other five were the ladies. Gabrielle from Canada, the new Queen of Waters; the twins Hyacinth and Amethyst from the Philippines, the new Duchess of Creations and Angel of Life respectively; Cassandra from Italy, the new Czarina of Senses; and Sakura from Japan, the new Empress of Reflections.

  Marik asked Iago to explain the domains of our powers to us in the simplest way possible; it was still confusing though. Marik and Ishthar would chime in from time to time to add some details, things like our discipline and magical affinity, which made things even more complicated.

  All I gathered at that moment was I was chosen because of my strong magical aptitude, just like the rest of us. The Gem of the Heavens chose me since my magical affinity aligns closely with its domain—sky, wind, and celestial magic. However, despite our magic aptitude and affinity, we have never practiced magic our whole lives, so we need to learn every basic thing about our new abilities with Andora, the best magical mentor Mysteria ever had.

  “Kaldi and Dero will be your guides,” Ishthar declared. “They will lead you to the Woods of Silence where Andora is.”

  Zeke and I exchanged glances. “The Woods of Silence?” I asked. “Sounds . . . ominous.”

  “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Marik smiled at us. “You will be safe there. No magic can penetrate the Woods of Silence, so no monsters or magical beasts will harm you. Of course, you also cannot use magic while in the Woods. Hence, its name.”

  “If we can’t use magic, how are we supposed to train there?” Andrew asked, with his confusion painted on his face. To be fair, he asked what we were all thinking.

  “Andora’s home is unique,” Iago answered. “It is the only place within the Woods where you can use magic. It’s complicated.”

  “Sure is,” Pierre blurted out. “No need to trouble yourself with the technicalities. I am already as confused as I can get.”

  “Kaldi and Dero are expert navigators,” Marik said. “They are the best we know. They will guide you and ensure you find the best food and place to sleep along the way.”

  “Excuse me, what the fuck?” Sakura stood up from her chair. “What do you mean by ‘find the best food and place to sleep along the way’?”

  Dero raised his paw cutely. “The Woods of Silence is far,” he said. “Very far. Maybe three or four nights if we are fast.”

  Now that got a lot of unwanted reactions.