The world changed.
The stale air of the ruined castle vanished.
In its place came the scent of earth, fresh grass, and ripening crops.
Warm sunlight washed over him.
A soft breeze touched his face.
Harold stood at the edge of the oil fruit orchard, surrounded by orderly fields and rows of slaves seated in neat lines, practicing their letters under Mirella's instruction.
For the first time in two days, the iron knot around his heart loosened.
Mirella was the first to notice him.
Her eyes widened.
Then her face broke into a brilliant smile.
"Harold, you're back!"
Harold turned to her, but his gaze kept drifting over the impossible landscape. "What… What is this place?" he asked, his voice rough with astonishment.
Mirella smiled as if she had been waiting for this moment. "This is the young miss's space," she said. "The place where the magic radishes she gave you were grown."
Before Harold could speak again, the door of the thatched hut flew open.
