Chapter 1: Awakening on Mushēški

An impossible color flooded Zadie’s vision. It refracted and splintered like sunlight through shattered glass, a hue that defied the limits of her perception. She rubbed her eyes, squeezing them shut before reopening them. But it stubbornly persisted. Her throat tightened, a nervous laugh faltering before it could escape. Okay, this is ridiculous.

“Uncle Ahmed? Is this a prank…?”

No one answered.

Heart thudding, she sat up, dark wisps of hair clinging to her flushed cheeks. The surface under her shifted, rising to support her back and neck in an oddly perfect position. The otherworldly color settled—becoming just another shade, as if it had always belonged there. She blinked hard, expecting to see the stone walls of the chamber beneath Qal’at al-Bahrain. Instead, a strange room lay before her, stealing her focus from the color that shouldn’t exist.  

She glanced around the minimalist space. The walls bore the rough, weathered character of ancient limestone. Soft ambient lighting accentuated intricate geometric patterns carved into the surface. A wide window framed an unfamiliar coastline, the sea churning under a pale sky. Below the window was a sleek gray desk with a chair tucked under it. A few familiar academic textbooks lay scattered across the desk, their spines cracked and worn. A faint scent of old paper lingered, mixing with the salt-tinged air that drifted in, tugging at her like a half-forgotten memory. She subconsciously cataloged the details, just as she always did.

Her fingers brushed over foreign dark blue fabric, now clinging to her curvy frame like a second skin. The thought of someone stripping off her clothes while she was unconscious made her stomach twist with violation. Her attention moved to a peculiar bracelet coiled around her wrist, its surface rippling through a kaleidoscope of colors, the indescribable one bleeding through the mix. She tugged at it, but it tightened, gripping her skin until she let go. You’ve got to be kidding me.

Unease propelled her to her feet. Shifting her weight, she expected the firm resistance of ceramic tiles, but felt an unexpected softness underfoot. The edges of her vision blurred. She inhaled deeply, fighting to steady herself.

Her eyes scanned the room, looking for an exit. No door. There has to be a door. She traced her hand along a wall. What she had assumed to be rough stone surprised her with its smoothness. No cracks, no seams, nothing to suggest a way out. She edged toward the window. The ground below looked close enough.

Without a second thought, she grabbed the desk chair and hurled it at the window. The chair slammed into the glass, making it wobble like jelly. The coastline blurred and rippled before snapping back into focus. Panic flooded her senses as she realized - it's not a window! The illusion shattered.

A scream ripped from her throat, raw and uncontrolled. Her legs trembled, and she staggered backward, collapsing onto the floor. Her hands flew to her face, pressing hard against her cheeks. This has to be a dream. She needed to regain control, to force the world to make sense.

Out of the corner of her eye, something shifted. A section of wall rippled like a pond disturbed, before becoming transparent and dissolving. A humanoid figure emerged from the opening. Every instinct screamed at her to flee, but there was no escape. 

She bolted to the side of the bed, her movements frantic, hands gripping the edge. The figure stepped across the threshold and stopped, as if giving her a moment to process its presence. She crouched, frozen, every nerve tingling, her senses heightened. 

Her eyes darted over it. It wore a jumpsuit similar to hers, but in white. Its smooth, warm brown skin, free of blemishes, stretched taut over high cheekbones and sculpted jawline. The absence of hair on its head only sharpened the ambiguity of its age or gender. But its eyes were extraordinarily clear and deep, hinting at abilities that transcended human limitations.

It regarded her with a penetrating and emotionless stare, as if assessing her character. She searched its eyes for any hint of intention, while the silence threatened to overwhelm her. Time seemed suspended, trapping her between the unknown and the unimaginable. 

“Welcome to Mushēški, Zadie,” the being’s voice blended the warmth of human timbre with the clarity of synthesized speech. “Shall I procure some water for your refreshment?”

Water? The absurdity of it struck Zadie like a punch to the gut. Her throat was raw, parched from the panic still clawing at her. But the question itself... it was a mockery, a cruel joke in the face of her terror.