Beastbound: The Gryphon Tamer

Benjamin was just another guy. He worked at a bookstore, spent his days shelving paperbacks and recommending thrillers to customers who couldn't decide. His real passion, though, came after hours. At night, when the world was quiet, Benjamin escaped into his own mind. He would close his eyes and imagine vivid, fantastical worlds—places where he wasn't just an ordinary guy stuck in the grind.

Then, one night, something changed.

It started like a headache, sharp and sudden. He staggered to his couch, clutching his head as the pain intensified. His apartment blurred, the walls bending and twisting as if they were made of liquid. Then, without warning, the world snapped apart like shattered glass.

When Benjamin opened his eyes, he wasn't in his apartment anymore.

He stood in the middle of a small stone sanctuary. The walls were smooth and unbroken, as if they had been carved from a single block of ancient rock. There were no windows, no doors—just the dim, flickering light of blue flames in sconces along the walls. The fire burned unnaturally, with no smoke and no sign of exhaustion.

Books filled the room, stacked on stone shelves that lined every wall. These weren't ordinary books; their leather bindings were cracked and aged, and glowing arcane symbols shimmered faintly on their spines. They seemed to hum softly, a vibration Benjamin could feel in his chest, as if they were alive.

At the center of the room, a circular platform stood out, raised slightly from the floor. Runes, faintly glowing and intricate, spiraled outward from its edges. This was where he had landed—or rather, where he had been thrown. A moment ago, there had been a swirling portal of light in its center, but now it was gone, leaving only the solid, cold stone beneath his feet.

Benjamin stared at the platform, his heart pounding. "What... what just happened?" he whispered. His voice echoed faintly in the room, but there was no answer. The only sound was the hum of the books and the faint crackle of the blue flames.

He took a shaky step forward, his eyes darting around the sanctuary. No exits, no portal, no way back. He was completely alone, trapped in a place that shouldn't exist.

And yet, here he was.

Benjamin's breathing quickened as he scanned the room. The flickering blue flames cast long shadows that seemed to stretch and twist, making the sanctuary feel even more suffocating. The books on the shelves, though silent, seemed to watch him. Their glowing symbols pulsed faintly, almost like heartbeats.

"No exits… no way out…" he muttered, stumbling toward the nearest shelf. His hands trembled as his gaze darted across the tomes. They weren't like anything he'd ever seen. Some looked ancient, their covers worn and cracked, while others seemed almost alive, with shifting patterns and symbols that made his eyes ache if he stared too long.

"What is this place?" he whispered, his voice cracking. He reached out toward one of the books, his hand hovering over its spine. It vibrated slightly, sending an unnatural sensation up his arm. He snatched his hand back, his chest heaving.

The room felt smaller now, like the walls were closing in. The weight of it all hit him at once. He was alone. He didn't know where he was. No portal, no door, nothing familiar. Panic set in. His vision blurred, and his knees threatened to buckle as his breath came in shallow gasps.

"Calm down. Just breathe," he told himself, but his body refused to listen. He stumbled, his back hitting the bookshelf as he tried to steady himself. One hand shot out to support his weight, landing on the spine of a large, dark tome.

The moment his palm touched the book, a searing pain shot through his body. It was like his nerves were on fire, a white-hot surge that sent him crumpling to his knees. He let out a strangled cry, his hand frozen in place, unable to pull away.

Images flooded his mind. Plants with glowing veins that pulsed like living creatures. Forests teeming with beasts, their eyes shining like lanterns in the dark. Towering mountains that breathed mist into the sky. The word "Khial" echoed in his head, accompanied by fragments of knowledge—scraps of information about the world he was in.

It wasn't enough to make sense of everything, but he understood one thing: Khial was unlike anything he'd ever imagined. It was wild, ancient, and dangerous. The creatures weren't just animals; they were something more, something primal. The plants, the landscapes—they were alive in ways his world couldn't comprehend.

The pain subsided, and Benjamin collapsed to the ground, his chest heaving. His hand still tingled where it had touched the book, and the faint hum of the sanctuary seemed louder now, like it was responding to what had happened.

He sat there for a moment, clutching his head, trying to sort through the influx of knowledge. "Khial…" he whispered. The name felt foreign but familiar, like it had always been waiting for him.

He looked back at the tome, still glowing faintly on the shelf. Whatever this place was, whatever these books were, they held the answers he needed. But right now, the only thing he could focus on was the overwhelming reality that he was no longer in his world—and he had no idea how to survive in this one.

Benjamin sat on the cold stone floor, his chest heaving as the torrent of strange knowledge settled into his mind. Khial. The name echoed again, more like a whisper now. The fragments of information—the glowing plants, the beasts, the living landscapes—had planted a seed of familiarity. It didn't make sense, but it was enough to dull the sharp edge of his panic.

"This... has to be a dream," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "A really vivid, messed-up hallucination." He forced himself to breathe deeply, focusing on the thought. Dreams didn't last forever. Maybe if he played along, he'd wake up in his apartment soon enough.

As his eyes wandered, he noticed something new: a massive wooden door on the far side of the sanctuary. It hadn't been there before—or maybe he just hadn't noticed it in his panic. It was old, with deep carvings etched into its surface, depicting strange symbols and scenes he couldn't decipher. A faint glow traced the edges, almost like it was inviting him.

He stood, his legs shaky but functional, and made his way to the door. His hand hesitated on the large iron handle. "It's just a dream," he told himself again, then pushed with all his strength. The door creaked open, groaning as if it hadn't been used in centuries.

Beyond it was a long, spiraling stone staircase, descending deep into the unknown. Blue flames, identical to the ones in the sanctuary, lined the walls, casting a faint glow on the narrow steps. He hesitated, but the urge to move forward tugged at him. Staying in the sanctuary wasn't an option. Not anymore.

Step by step, he descended, the cool stone rough under his fingers as he trailed one hand along the wall for balance. The air grew warmer, charged with an energy he couldn't quite place. At the bottom of the staircase, a strange sight greeted him: a shimmering hologram-like structure, floating in midair. It pulsed softly, a translucent doorway of sorts, with swirling colors that mirrored the runes he'd seen earlier.

Benjamin approached cautiously, his heart pounding again. The thing seemed alive, almost like it was waiting for him. He reached out, his fingers brushing the surface. It rippled like water, and before he could second-guess himself, he stepped through.

The shift was instantaneous. One moment he was surrounded by stone; the next, he stood in a lush forest that felt like something out of his wildest imagination. The air was thick with an earthy scent, but it carried an almost metallic tang that tickled his senses. Towering trees stretched high above, their bark textured with twisting, glowing veins of faint blue light. Their leaves were green but tinted with a shimmering blue hue, catching the light in a way that made them appear almost liquid.

The grass beneath his feet was soft, dense, and also carried that same bluish tint. It wasn't like anything he'd seen on Earth. Everything here felt... alive. Vibrantly, dangerously alive. He spun in place, taking it all in, his mind racing.

"This isn't real," he whispered, but his words lacked conviction. The cool breeze on his skin, the distant calls of strange creatures, the faint hum of the glowing flora—it was all too vivid, too tangible.

He dropped to his knees, running a hand through the grass, feeling its texture. The knowledge from the book surfaced again, a faint recognition of this world.

"I need to find out what's going on," he muttered. But for now, he could only do one thing: move forward.

Benjamin took a deep breath, steadying himself. He wasn't sure how long this strange hallucination—or whatever it was—would last, but instinct told him to leave a way to retrace his steps. Picking up a sharp stone from the forest floor, he approached the massive rock he had emerged from. With a firm hand, he etched a rough "X" into its surface. It felt reassuring, a small act of control in a world that defied everything he knew.

Curiosity tugged at him, and he pressed his palm against the rock. The surface shimmered faintly, and to his surprise, he could see the stone sanctuary on the other side. He stepped through cautiously, confirming that he could return whenever he needed to. The knowledge settled his nerves a little.

"Alright," he muttered, stepping back into the forest. "I need water, food... then I'll figure this out."

---

As he took his first real steps into the unknown, he noticed for the first time what he was wearing. The soft fabric was sturdy but lightweight, a mix of leather and cloth stitched together in a way that spoke of practicality. A simple belt carried a few pouches, and his boots felt well-worn, but they fit perfectly. He paused, running a hand over the strange attire. It wasn't his—he'd fallen asleep in sweats and a T-shirt, not this. He vaguely recalled seeing similar clothing in the fragments of knowledge he'd absorbed from the book.

"How did this happen?" he wondered aloud, but no answer came.

---

The forest around him was alive with sound—chirps, clicks, and low hums that resonated in the air. Keeping low, Benjamin moved toward the noises, careful to avoid stepping on the glowing patches of grass that seemed to pulse softly with light. His heart pounded in his chest, equal parts fear and excitement.

He stopped short when he saw the source of the noise. Ahead, in a clearing, strange creatures scuttled across the forest floor. At first glance, they looked like oversized insects, but a closer look revealed something entirely alien. Their bodies were covered in textured caps and stalks, like living fungi, and their legs moved with an unnatural rhythm. A faint, spore-like mist hung around them, shimmering faintly in the air.

Benjamin froze, crouching low behind a fallen log. The knowledge he'd absorbed from the book stirred in his mind, vague and incomplete. These creatures weren't hostile unless provoked. They were gatherers, consuming decayed plants and fungi to sustain themselves, spreading spores that rejuvenated the forest.

"Fungal insects," he whispered, the words strange on his tongue. The fragments of information were helpful but far from enough to fully understand what he was dealing with.

---

Deciding it was best to avoid the creatures, Benjamin quietly backed away and continued deeper into the forest. The sound of running water caught his attention, and he veered toward it. The sight of a crystal-clear stream brought a wave of relief. He knelt by the edge, cupping his hands to drink. The water was cool and surprisingly refreshing, leaving a faint, metallic aftertaste that wasn't unpleasant.

As he drank, he considered his next move. The sanctuary still held mysteries—books filled with knowledge he might need to survive here. If touching one book had worked, perhaps others could too. But he knew he couldn't rush. His priority was finding food and ensuring he could stay alive long enough to piece everything together.

"I'll head back after I find something edible," he decided, his voice firm. He glanced around, scanning the area for anything familiar—or at least something that wouldn't kill him if he ate it. For now, the sanctuary could wait.