Author’s Note: Sorry this took so long, but I did work on it every single day! There’s lore in the image, by the way. It’s not well done, but it doesn’t matter.

Light. Tickling. Arms. Legs. Hard. Back. Upright. Green. Brown. Trees. Forest.

You blink, then blink again. Why am I outside my lab? you think as you look around. Where are my defenses? Why does the foliage look different? Where am I?! Why the hell am I not in my lab?! You rack your brain for possible answers, but absolutely nothing comes to mind because there’s absolutely no possible way you could have gotten here without something going horribly wrong. All of your stasis tanks are in your lab, and your lab is secured inside and out by your seiðjárns and traps. If your system detected an intruder, the soul transfer would have been halted and reversed so that you could attend to the problem. No one could have possibly taken you from your lab after the procedure except one of your seiðjárns or…

Of course… Loki… This type of scheme was her forte, after all. Your hands clench, veins burning hot, and your nails begin to draw blood from your palms. “That… harlot!” you spit. Your arms fly up, each finger clenched into a hook. “That meddling WHORE!” Your mind goes through all the ways you’re going to make her pay, but you can’t imagine anything coming of it other than her impudent smile deepening. “Okay… No time for…” You stop. That’s… not right. You put a hand on your throat. “Testing, testing.” Your voice is not the low timbre of a male’s as it’s supposed to be, but that of a female’s. You look down at your body. You’re wearing a near-black shirt with an image you can’t decipher upside down, a skirt deliberately made of denim scraps, a red and black flannel tied around your waist, uncomfortable flat black and white shoes, a thick leather bracelet on your left wrist, and three thinner bracelets on your right. Your hair is long, cinnamon brown, and slightly wavy. Some of it cuts off your peripheral vision in your right eye. “THAT BITCH!” Your anger spikes and recedes once more before you begin pacing. I am not suffering yet another lifetime of menstrual cycles! “Fix this… How do I fix this…? Okay, first is to figure out where I am and how to get back to the lab.”

You rub your temples, trying to draw on what survival knowledge you might have when you hear the underbrush rustling. Turning toward the sound gives way to the sight of a large wolf stalking toward you and growling. “Brokkr,” you call, then point at the animal. “Dispose of this pest.” The familiar chirping of your master seiðjárn acknowledging your order does not come; only the continued growling of the animal. Looking around for the machine avails you nothing. Disappointing, but neither surprising nor overly concerning. Without your seiðjárn to delegate to, you take the matter into your own hands and reach out to the thaumaturgical energies, single out electricity, and command it to make this thing regret ever baring its fangs at you. Nothing happens. You look down at your hand, then up at the wolf. Dread starts to grip your heart. You reflexively take a step back.

A voice calls out, “Mastaaah… SPAAAAAHK!!!” then you’re blinded and deafened. When your senses have recovered enough, you see that the wolf and much of the forest are gone, replaced with a deep gouge in the earth. Your ears are still ringing, and your vision is still spotty when a girl jumps in front of you and starts speaking. You clench your eyes shut in hopes that your senses will return to acceptable levels sooner if you do. It’s likely the placebo effect, but it appears to work, as when you open them, you can see the girl much more clearly. She has an average build, is perhaps a little short, has orpiment-colored, almond-shaped eyes, long blonde hair with a braid on the left side of her face ending with a white bow, wears a white undershirt, a black skirt, a black vest, a white waist apron, and a black witch’s hat decorated with frills underneath the brim and a white ribbon tied in a bow around the base of the cone. She’s staring at you with a somewhat impatient look on her face. When you blink owlishly at her, she cocks her head and says something in a language you don’t speak. It’s been a while since you’ve heard it, but you believe it may be Hoshidan or Chon’sese.

You press down your mounting anxiety and say, “I’m… sorry; I didn’t catch that.”

The girl puts a hand on her chin and mutters something. You spy a broom in the crook of her elbow that she’s pretending to hang from for some reason. She slaps her chest and says, “My name is Kirisame Marisa! What is yours?” You blink at her again, trying to understand the words under her accent. She hums, then positions her broom between her legs. You don’t understand why until it clicks that she’s a witch. But the leaves on the trees are still green. You pray you haven’t gone back in time, too—no one casts anti-gravity spells on brooms anymore outside the harvest festivals. The girl slaps the open space behind her. “Come! I take you to… eto…” She puts her hands over her head in a triangular shape. “House! Many house! Safe!” She slaps the broom again. “Come, come!” Well! If this girl intends to take you to civilization, then who are you to say no? You sit down behind her, riding side saddle and gripping the broom with a satisfied smile. “No, no!” the girl admonishes you. Before you can ask her what’s wrong, she grabs your hands and pulls them around her waist. “Grip tight! Tight!” With that, she kicks off the ground, knocking you two up above the trees faster than expected to ascend. She then leans forward, dragging you along with her, and the broom rockets forward at dangerous speeds.

The trip is short, mercifully, but nothing resembling pleasant. Even landing is awful, as the girl tips the broom back, pretending it’s a violently-tempered stallion rather than an enchanted item she has complete control of. You eagerly fall from the broom and take a few steps on shaky legs before turning toward her, blood boiling. You point at her. “Don’t you ever… EVER!—do that again! Do you understand me?!”

She gestures at you to calm down, making your already high blood pressure rise even higher. Before you can truly start lashing out, however, she points to your left. “Look! Safe!” You turn and see the walls and open gate of a village, unmistakably Hoshidan in architecture and minuscule in growth. Has this kingdom really not made any progress? Actually, there are so many worlds that this one’s time is likely so vastly behind that they are still in the age of swords and spears. Regardless, you’re here now, you can get a map, find the gateway to Askr, and then you won’t have to worry about anything thanks to all their peace treaties. You start walking down the main road, but that girl grabs your wrist and starts dragging you along behind her. “We go to cane-eh. She help. Good English!” You’re rather surprised she’s still going to help you, but you could do without her brutish nature. You have a vague recognition of the word ‘English.’ It must be the language she’s speaking, but, of course, you know it as Askran. Well, for now, you’re content to just go along with this ride. After all, it’s much better than the last one.

Wait a minute. This girl looks more Nohrian than Hoshidan. The shape of her eyes is the only thing that indicates she has any Hoshidan blood at all. Perhaps, in this world, Hoshido assimilated Nohr after the war. Or maybe they opened their borders to each other. Well, it’s not like it matters.

She takes you to a structure whose unfamiliar architecture makes it difficult to ascertain its use, and slides open one of the wall panels. You don’t think you’ll ever understand the design philosophy of peoples with almond-shaped eyes. She calls out, “Cane-eh!” as she leads you down a corridor. She opens a screen, calling out again, then makes a surprised noise. Looking past her, you see what must be a classroom, judging by the children kneeling at small, low tables facing a woman who kneels at a larger low table facing them. The woman has an average build, long, straight, silver hair with some powder-blue strands, deep brown eyes, and wears a blue dress with white sleeves, frills, and a red ribbon hanging from the collar. Strangest of all, though, is what she has on her head: A piece of headwear that’s designed to look like what you can only guess is meant to be a temple with another red ribbon protruding from its apex, likely meant to represent the sun. Perhaps “design philosophy” was too strong a phrase. No, it must be something one places on their head to maintain good posture. Yes, that must be it.

The woman admonishes the girl, but she defends herself animatedly, first by raising her hands, then by shrugging, and finally by pointing her thumb over her shoulder at you. The woman looks past her, and the two of you make eye contact. She looks up at the wall above the door, then lowers her head and sighs before announcing something to the class. The students stand up and move toward you and the girl in a tidal wave of children eager to escape the tedium of lecture-based learning. Some run past you, but many crowd around you, trying to ask you questions until their teacher sends them on their way. You’re not sure what that was about; maybe it’s a small village and nothing interesting has happened as of late. Oh, right, you’re wearing weird clothes.

The teacher murmurs something and starts gathering up a handful of papers. She then stands up and says, in near-perfect Askran, “Hello. My name is Kamishirasawa Keine. Marisa here tells me you’re an outsider.”

You blink, wondering why she would use the word ‘outsider’ instead of ‘foreigner.’ “Uh, yes, I am. My name is…” Wait. You’re in a new body now, so you should be careful what you say. Fuck! You need a new name! You’re a woman again… What’s a common female name? “Phan… treis…”

“‘Phantreis?’ That’s a rather unique name.” It is? Fuck! “But it’s nice. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Phantreis.”

“L-likewise…”

“Follow me, and I’ll take you to my home.” You agree, and the three of you leave this building for a smaller one close by. Why the girl is coming along, you have no idea. You enter the house, and the woman instructs you to replace your shoes with a pair of slippers while inside. It’s a rather respectable idea to minimize dirt in the home. She sits you down at a low table with cushions instead of chairs while she goes to prepare tea. You glance at the girl, and she gives you a wide smile that you don’t mirror. When Ms. Keine returns, she sets down a kettle and three cups (without handles for some reason), pours tea for each of you, and sits down at her spot. Your eyes scan the table for cream but find none. You find that it’s not the type of tea you are used to, however, when you look down at your cup, so you let the matter go, intending to sample the beverage by itself first. You carefully press your hand against the cup and find that it is not as hot as you expect. You should have known; this type of teacup is much thicker in make than yours. You blow on the steaming beverage before pressing the cup to your lips. The taste is much more subtle than black tea, but not at all unpalatable. Acceptable.

“Allow me to introduce myself properly,” the woman says. “I am Kamishirasawa Keine, the history teacher at the Hieda Temple School. I also act as the Human Village’s guardian in times of crisis and caretaker of outsiders like you who find themselves in this land of Gensokyo, a place where fantastical creatures are just as real as you and I.” You blink, unsure of what to make of that last part. “I know this may seem very confusing, so allow me to explain. Since before history was even first recorded, creatures called youkai roamed Japan freely, hunting humans to menace, kill, or eat. So the humans begged the gods for help, and the gods provided them with the knowledge and tools to fight back against the youkai. Soon, the conflict became a close stalemate in which only particularly strong or foolish youkai would attack humans, and the humans, of course, would exterminate said youkai. While at peace, the humans increased their knowledge and understanding of the world and began to lose their fear of the youkai and their faith in the gods, even going so far as to explain them away as non-existent through science.

“In the 15th century, however, someone who did not want to see the gods and the youkai go extinct began laying the groundwork for a sanctuary where they could continue to live. It was comprised of three groups: The youkai, the gods, and the humans, each playing an important role in maintaining the sanctuary, now known as Gensokyo. The youkai’s job was, of course, to threaten the lives of the humans; the gods’ job was to protect the humans and help them fight back against the youkai; and the humans had the most important job of all: Fearing the youkai and worshipping the gods. Only through this delicate balance could the youkai and the gods be preserved.

“Eventually, in the 18th century, a barrier was erected around Gensokyo by the gods, most importantly the Hakurei god of barriers and sealing, with help from their priests. Thanks to this barrier, Gensokyo remains hidden, ensuring that the Outside World can’t threaten the youkai and gods by once again using science to explain them away. This barrier was and still is known as the Great Hakurei Barrier. The day it was completed marks the first day of the Gensokyo calendar and is still maintained by the priests and priestesses of the Hakurei Shrine.

“Today, however, the barrier has weakened enough that some things slip through, such as technology and people like yourself. We call these people outsiders. It’s not a term of disrespect, merely a label to quickly say that someone might not understand how things work here in Gensokyo. Don’t worry, though; just because you’ve found yourself here doesn’t mean you can’t get out. The priests and priestesses of the Hakurei Shrine have the ability to open the barrier enough to let you out. Or, if you’d like to stay, I can help you make a life here.”

You blink owlishly at her. Is this woman insane? Even if anything she said was true, from her tale, it’s clear that the era of youkai and gods was over, just as it had been so long ago in your world. If only Loki had gone with them. Wait a minute… You’ve heard this story before… Suddenly, you realize why the word ‘Gensokyo’ sounds somewhat familiar: Gensokyo is the name of Loki’s pet project. You curse internally. If you had paid more attention to her droning at you while you were working, you might already know some things about this place. The only things you know about it are that she used the words ‘incidents,’ ‘fairies,’ and ‘danmaku’ while she spoke of it.

“I know it’s a lot to take in; please, take as much time as you need to process it.”

You nod absentmindedly. Anxiety creeps up your spine. Not only are you in a foreign world, but you’re in a world of Loki’s designs. Absolutely nothing good can come of that. No, there’s no need to panic yet; not every one of Loki’s experiments involves her tearing the world apart or combining it with another. Ah. You’re the test subject. You put your face in your hands, and the woman rubs your back and says in a voice intended to be soothing, “Hey, it’s okay; I’m sure everything will be just fine. I’ll do everything I can to help you, whatever you decide to do.” You’re not going to cry; you want to break something. Every bone in Loki’s body. …Yes, that’s what you’ll do.

You push yourself up and begin pacing back and forth, going over what you know: Loki tampered with your soul transfer, putting you in the wrong body, then left you here in her pet project world, with which you are wholly unfamiliar. Brokkr is nowhere to be found, and when you tried to use magic, it failed you. You don’t speak the local language, and assuming it’s at least close to Hoshidan, it’s been a long time since you’ve studied its written form, either. Ms. Keine is willing to aid you as best she can, but you don’t know how much aid that means.

Your main goal is to get back to familiar territory, return to your lab, and make Loki pay. To achieve that, you need to find a gateway. If you’re unable to find one quickly, you’ll likely need to learn the language and figure out how to make magic respond to you again.

Likely possibilities include being stuck here for an extended period of time, being completely magicless, and being unable to leave.

You turn to Ms. Keine, opening your mouth to speak, but before you do, you remember that you’re in a new body. You need to be careful with your choice of words, lest you reveal things you’d rather keep hidden. “Is… Do you… have a map?”

The woman nods. “Certainly; let me get it for you.” She stands up and once again leaves you with the girl. You have absolutely no idea what she’s still doing here; she had been playing with her cup during that entire explanation, and now she looks like she’s anticipating something. Ms. Keine returns with three large, rolled-up papers. She lays them on the table, then spreads one open. It looks to be a topographical map of what is likely the current region. “I’m afraid this is the best one I have of Gensokyo, but it’s very old; the youkai make it very difficult to make a new one, and the tengu, who do still make paper maps from time to time, are very secretive of theirs.” You can only read the numbers on the map, but Ms. Keine is ready to guide you to understanding. She points to the map’s center, an area at the median elevation. “This is where the Human Village is,” she points to an eastern point on a large hill or small mountain, “and this is where the Hakurei shrine is. It’s a… thirty-minute walk, I believe?”

The girl points to various spots and says things like ‘Forest of Magicu,’ ‘Scarleto Devil Mansion,’ and ‘Youkai Mountain.’”

Ignoring her, you nod thoughtfully. “I see. And what are those other maps?”

Ms. Keine spreads out the next one, revealing an archipelago. “This is a map of Japan, where Gensokyo is. Once again, however, it’s outdated. All three of these are.” The scale tells you that islands make up an area that creates a country that is somewhat smaller than the countries with which you’re familiar. “Gensokyo is around here, between Nagano and Yamanashi prefectures,” she says, pointing to the near-direct center of the archipelago. “And for the sake of completion, here is the map of the world that I have.” Yes, you’re certainly not in any world you’ve ever known. According to the printed date, the world was likely in a time between eras—many countries still had colonies, but few were labeled as empires. In fact, there was a large one called ‘United States’ which, based on the name, you guessed was using the farcical system of voting the state leader into power.

While you’re distracted analyzing the map, Ms. Keine asks, “So, where are you from?”

The girl blurts out, “United Stateso!”

“Huh? Oh, uh…” You return your attention to the map, searching for any place with a familiar-feeling name. Eventually, you do: The word ‘Reykjavík.’ You point to it. “H-here.”

Ms. Keine turns her head to get a better look. “Iceland? My, you are far from home.” You find Japan and believe you may have made the wrong choice.

“So I’m… stuck here… then.”

She once again tries to soothe you. “It will be alright. As I said before, I’ll do my best to help you get home if that’s what you choose to do, though I’m afraid I can only take you to the shrine and provide you with some traveling money. I still have a duty to the village, after all.”

You nod absentmindedly as you plan how you’ll find the gateway. Finding it would be exactly like… what did the peasants say…? ‘Finding a thread in a hay pile?’ Regardless, it would be a nigh impossible task. Your best chances would be to find a grand library and scour it for a lead. Or, if you were lucky, this world may have already invented a terminal-accessible interconnected information database that held what you needed. However…

Every time Loki pulled the Great Hero or one of his bloodline from their world and placed them in another, it was always in or on the border of the epicenter of the events she desired to see them suffer. Not to mention, there was a chance, no matter the size, that the gateway was closer than you thought.

[] Leave. Knowledge is an invaluable asset, and you won’t find it here in this backwater.
[] Stay. You won’t know if you don’t look. The gateway could be right behind you, for all you know.

It is 7:29 PM CST. Voting closes in 24 hours.