Dark had finally fallen, and Tom let out a sigh, no longer having to squint through the glare in order to see the screen in front of him. The soft sounds of music from Terraria filled the air as he blithely passed the time at work, quite bored out of his mind as he counted the minutes down until he got off of his shift.

In the corner of his eyes, he saw a tab blinked in his browser, hinting that something had occurred. Was that his email?

Frowning for a quick moment, Tom paused the game and minimized it, wondering what e-mail he’d received this time. It seemed that nine of ten of them were utterly useless, a quick glance to mark it as read before moving on, he thought to himself as he scanned the page.

The email had no from address, and the timestamp was set two years in the future. It read simply, 'Where do you wish to be?'

Tom moved to close the window to get back to his game before pausing, looking at the date once again. He’d seen errors that caused timestamps from before the internet existed, but this was the first time he’d seen something from ‘the future.’ Clicking on the reply button, Tom began quickly typing.

‘Anywhere but here right now… work is boring as hell.’

The reply came almost instantly, 'You can only bring one thing with you, what you're wearing at this instant doesn't count. Pick one thing.'

Staring at the screen, Tom thought that his boring job was starting to get to him. Either that, or the IT department had finally figured out that the security guards they hired were using their network and had remoted in. Either way, Tom simply blinked a few times before his fingers were furiously moving once more.

‘This has to be a joke, who is it? This you, Charles?’

'This is not he. Select your one item.'

Frowning, Tom crooked his head slightly as he replied once more. ‘So, you’re saying I could leave here, and take one item with me? Any one item, and whatever I’m wearing doesn’t count? Kind of an odd offer, not one I’d think up anyways.’

'Any one item. What you are holding or wearing does not count. Do not try to pick up more things.'

Tom’s hand moved to his left waist, where his gun was holstered. I must be out of my mind, but why not… ‘Okay then, if I can have any one thing, then I’d bring my house. All the comforts of home, but without all of the other mess life brings with it.’

'Your home will be sealed away, but you can bring it out whenever you please. Once it is placed, it cannot be moved again, at least not with my help. Since you have chosen something extravagant, your starting position will be penalized. Good luck,'

Before the meaning of the words could be considered for very long, Tom found himself in an inky void, falling for a brief moment before he came out onto rough grass. A small rubber ball fell on his belly afterwards, holding his entire house like a fly in amber.

His back against the ground, Tom lay there for a few moments blinking as his vision cleared. “What the hell?” he softly uttered, lifting his head before spotting the rubber ball. Squinting, he could make out all of the details of his home, just like the odd text in his screen had mentioned. But, if this was real, then what did the words mean by penalized, and starting position?

It was a bit chilly, and looking around Tom could quickly see why. There was snow everywhere except the circle immediately around himself. The protected area seemed to be contracting rapidly, allowing the cold and snow to reclaim the lost ground as whatever blessing that kept the cold at bay eroded rapidly.

Scrambling to his feet, Tom cursed under his breath. It was the height of summer, and the thin pants and short sleeved uniform shirt he wore did little to aid in keeping one warm. Scanning the horizon, he remained within that rapidly shrinking bubble, trying to find something or someplace to run to for shelter from the snow and cold. He was still in shock over finding himself elsewhere, but he had no time to stop and think, not yet.

The terrain was far from even. He appeared to be in some kind of ravine, with rough platforms extending along with the promise of a severely steep decline towards whatever dark bottom awaited. But further into the ravine, below Tom, he could see a faint glimmer down there, hiding in the depths of the crease of the earth.

“Penalized… more like screwed,” Tom whined to the air, already hugging his arms to his chest as the chill grew. He was a bit out of shape and tad overweight, so needless to say survival situations were not his forte. Noticing a glimmer of something deeper in the ravine, and reasoning that if it was this cold, it would be even worse above, he started descending, muttering curses under his breath as he carefully watched his steps.

Each platform was about six feet from the one below it, requiring some climbing and dropping to get to the next one, but they seemed secure enough, until his foot hit a slick patch and he went careening towards the edge on his back. With a cry of surprise, Tom scrambled to find purchase on the slick surface as he slid, scraping his arms and feeling the acute chill of ice on skin contact. He stopped right at the edge, his head hanging over thin air as he slowly turned to look below, feeling a bit sore.

The echo of a howl came from above, joined in a chorus with friends. Glowing red eyes peered down from the lip of the ravine, as if challenging the human to come up and greet them. They didn't approach, at least for the moment.

Turning back to look up above, Tom’s hand shot to his gun as he gulped, the cold chill forgotten for a moment. He only had fourteen shots, and while he was a pretty sure shot, the pairs of eyes peering down at him made what he needed to do extremely clear. Trying his best to take the ice into account, Tom got back to his feet rather unsteadily, slowly shuffling to the next platform below, shaking a bit from both the chill and the fear. Wolves unnerved him, there was just… something about them in person.

As Tom got closer to the light, it resolved into a stone archway set in the snowy side of the ravine. It wasn't at the bottom, if there was a bottom to that ravine. No matter how hard Tom squinted, he could see no proof of that. The archway was decorated with pictures chiseled into the stone, but they weren't humans, or even tribal animals or religious looking iconography. Instead they were ponies, some with wings, some with horns, and some with neither of the accessories. It seemed to tell a story, but what story it was remained beyond his ability to translate from the pictures. The light that illuminated the arch were a pair of torches that let off no smoke, held in sconces at either side of the entryway.

Walking through the archway, Tom started examining the pictures even as he reached a hand out to one of the torches, hoping that it would give off heat. The slide on ice and the subsequent climb down was leaving him quite chilly, not to the point of teeth chattering just yet, but it wasn’t far off. “Feels like something straight outta Indiana Jones… where’s the evil Nazis?” Tom weakly joked as he attempted to make light of his current situation.

Alas, along with no smoke, the torches gave no heat. They were like flashlights with a fancy special effect that looked like flame. The one Tom played with at least came out of the sconce with a good tug, becoming a portable light source if nothing else.

The torch that wasn’t truly a torch now in his right hand, Tom took one last look at the pictures before turning towards the torch towards the passageway, slowly heading deeper inside. He wasn’t sure just why unicorns and pegasi and horses were chiseled into the stone, but deeper inside might mean more warmth. At least, the few times he’d been on cave tours, they seemed to get pretty warm the further in you got. He kept his eyes peeled for anything that stood out, goosebumps standing out on his slightly scraped arms.

This didn't prove to be wrong, as the wind was left behind, the air felt faintly warmer with every step. It was also darker, save for the light that he had brought with him. The pictures on the walls kept on telling their stories, with the ponies having wars, crowning kings or queens, and doing other things that seemed proper for medieval… ponies… to be doing. As fascinating as the pictures might have been, the soft sound of breathing from further ahead seemed more pressing.

At the sound of… something up ahead breathing, Tom froze, no longer looking at the pictures. They were definitely fascinating to look at, even if it began to create a thought in the back of his mind… one that stated that he clearly wasn’t anywhere on Earth. But, there were more pressing matters to be concerned about as he slowly crept forward, trying to figure out just where the hell that breathing was coming from, and what it was. Tom didn’t even notice that his left hand had drifted downwards until the cold feeling of metal hit his palm, the gun quite freezing from the earlier cold air.

Creeping up to a T-intersection in the hallway, Tom took a careful peek to the left and right. To the left the hallway extended into darkness, to the right things got lighter as it entered a chamber lit with a pool of magma. Also present in that room were small heaps of riches and wealth, and a clearly dragon-like creature with brown scales guarding it, slumbering on one of the piles with lazy wisps of smoke escaping its snout.

Tom’s heart began to wildly pace out of control as his breathing quickened, eyes frozen on a creature straight out of legend and myth. Impossible… he thought to himself, unable to move for what felt like a minor eternity as he stared at what he had only previously read about. The dragon yawned widely, pink tongue curling before it sat up and stretched for the sky and spread its leathery wings out. Fully awake, it began to plod towards the entrance of the place, and Tom.

Torch still in hand, Tom’s mind jumped back to life from the shock of the first step the dragon took, realizing rather quickly that it was indeed coming his way. Dropping the torch to the ground, Tom darted left, hoping that the darkness would hide him, and that the dragon would decide to head outside, rather than down the same passage he hoped to hide in.

A soft click was the last thing Tom heard as the floor gave way beneath him, and he plunged into a chute into the depths of whatever place that was. The dragon looked up at the noise, but found nothing but a discarded torch. It soon lost interest in it, and casually picked it up to put back where it belonged. Next Chapter: 2 - Making Waves Estimated time remaining: 5 Hours, 37 Minutes