"The ritual has been a success!" One of the robed men said, as the others cheered. His robes were more ornate then the others, with scale-like metal embellishments and a cape cut to resemble feathers. He held a large staff that seemed to buzz with faint electricity, waving it as the crowd fell into silence. He turned back towards Sara, a kind smile on his old face. "My child," he said softly, holding out his free hand, "Do not be afraid, you are safe with us." 

That's not reassuring! She mentally sobbed. Sara couldn't speak. She couldn't even scream. It was as if all the air had been stolen from her lungs, and she couldn't even cry as the weird man took her hand. 

"Please," she managed to say, "I don't have any money, just let me go." Her voice shook, and the room spun as he helped her off the tall altar. He laughed, still serene even as she trembled with fear.

"Ah, my dear," he said, "You are safe. Come, come! I'll explain everything." 

The old man guided her down the aisle. Everyone stared at her, whispering and gaping as she passed them. Sara wanted to curl up and hide, to stick her head in the sand and make this all go away.

As she was guided away, the blinding fear gave way to disbelief. This had to be some kind of nightmare. She died on her walk home and just missed it somehow. There was no way she got kidnapped by a magical cult. And yet, Sara was pretty sure she was still breathing. Her head hurt from where it hit the altar, and the old man's hand felt calloused and warm as he placed it on her shoulder, pushing her gently through the large arched doors at the end of the aisle.

So this is real, she told herself, barely registering the opulent hallway around her. This was real and she had no weapons, no idea where she was, and only her clothes and her nearly dead cellphone that was in the pocket she had landed on. Sara felt numb as she was ushered in to a quiet room with windows that spanned the whole wall. She sat on the couch mindlessly, staring down at the dark table in front of her.

"This must be such a shock," the old man said, his tone contrite. Sara had no idea if he had been talking this whole time or if he just started. "The summoning ritual is always hard on those from other worlds."

"I don't understand," Sara said, looking up to meet his eyes. "Where am I? What do you want?" The old man smiled, taking her hand once more and squeezing.  

"You are in Tithia my dear," he said, "A kingdom in grave need of your help. I am Father Gavric, the head priest, and I promise everything will be alright. Now, allow me to call for tea and then I will explain everything. Do you have any preferences? Foral, black, honey?"

Maids - actual maids dressed like they were straight out of a storybook or a manga - brought a delicate tea set with an equally delicate tea. It was fancier then anything she had ever seen in person, let alone been allowed to touch. Sara's hand shook as she clutched it, watching like a hawk as the priest drank first. 

"Now," he said, "What's your name my dear?"

"Sara. Why am I here?" 

"Beautiful, beautiful." He smiled. "Sara, I'm sorry you've been dragged into this, but as I said, Tithia is in desperate need of help. Your help, since our summoning ritual chose you." 

"It chose wrong," she said immediately, "I'm just a waitress." He hadn't even explain what the issue was yet, but Sara was sure there had been a mistake. 

"What you were doesn't matter here," Gavric argued, "Our ritual selected you out of all the women in your world, you are the perfect candidate to save us."

"From what?" Sara was incredulous. She sipped at her tea to hide it, trying not to get distracted by the wonderful taste and warmth. 

"Tithia's magic is collapsing." Finally Gavric spoke plainly. "Our forefathers made many, many mistakes while making the kingdom. They used too much, never giving it time to replenish or grow. During our last king's reign, we began to see the effects. Spells weakening, holy places deteriorating, magical creatures being driven mad. Our current king -  King Henry - had been searching for a solution for years before we heard stories of those from other worlds and how their magic can stabilize and heal ours. Whether you were a king or beggar in your original world, here, with our knowledge, you can heal our wounded kingdom and help guide us towards a new, kinder age."

Sara was hesitant. How could they kidnap her on the basis of stories and expect her to save them from their own mistakes? She, admittedly, didn't have much back in her own world - just a small apartment, her jobs, and the little cactus plant that was already half dead. But the thought of it all still turned her stomach, between the entitlement and heavy expectation already being placed on her back. How could she agree to help? Gavric must have seen her hesitation, because he stood up, walking around the table to sit beside her and take her hands.

"We are desperate, Sara," he said. "Even now, our king is out, searching for more options incase our ritual had failed. Please, just be openminded until King Henry returns. I'm sure you will be more amendable to helping once you've heard first hand how dire Tithia's situation is."

Sara bit her lip, digging her free hand into her thigh. 

"Okay," she said, "I'll try."