Andrew clutched his head, which was still throbbing with pain. Slowly blinking his eyes open, he tried to sit up, waiting for his blurred vision to snap into focus.

A gentle breeze brushed against his face. Andrew blinked a few more times until the world around him finally became sharp and clear. He scanned his surroundings, his brow furrowing deeply.

The sky above was a brilliant, cloudless blue. The sun shone brightly, casting its warmth over a vast expanse of tall wild grass that swayed lazily in the wind. 

There were no paved roads. No towering skyscrapers. Not even a trace of his car. All he could see was an endless, rolling meadow.

"What happened? Wasn't it pouring rain last night?" Andrew muttered to himself.

He scrambled to his feet, trying to piece together the events of the previous night before everything had gone black.

The torrential rain. The slick road. His car fishtailing and spinning violently out of control. The blinding, searing glare of the container truck's headlights. And then, the sickening, crushing impact as his car smashed into the guardrail.

After that collision, everything had instantly vanished into darkness. No dreams. No sound. Just a cold, heavy void—like drowning without the ability to thrash.

Andrew looked down at his hands. He clenched them into tight fists, then slowly unfurled his fingers.

"This is impossible..." he whispered.

He ran his hands over his head and face; there were no cuts, no bruises, not even a bump. He checked the rest of his body. Everything felt completely intact.

"Did I actually survive that crash?" Andrew asked aloud, utterly bewildered.

He remembered how violent the impact had been. Even if by some miracle he had survived, he should be hooked up to a machine in a hospital bed right now—not standing in the middle of nowhere.

"Where the hell am I?"

Andrew shoved his hands into his pockets to look for his phone, but his fingers met nothing but fabric.

He looked down, his frown deepening as he realized his clothes were entirely different.

The jacket he wore last night was gone. In its place was a stiff, coarse tunic made of a light-brown cloth. His jeans had been replaced by incredibly loose, baggy trousers. 

A simple leather belt was tied tightly around his waist with a dead knot. Even his sneakers were gone, replaced by a pair of worn, rugged leather boots.

Andrew gripped the strange fabric of his clothes, his hands trembling. "What kind of sick joke is this?"

Panic setting in, he began pacing around the meadow, wildly scanning the horizon.

"Hey! Is anyone out there?!" Andrew screamed at the top of his lungs.

No answer. The landscape remained agonizingly still.

He tried again, screaming into the void, "Hello?!"

Andrew ran his fingers through his hair in sheer frustration.

"Dammit... shit!" he cursed under his breath.

With no other options, he began walking aimlessly through the endless grass.

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. Sweat began to slick his skin, and his pace slowed as something finally caught his eye in the distance.

At the far edge of the meadow stood a colossal stone wall. It stretched out so far in either direction that it was impossible to see where it ended.

"What is that place?" Andrew whispered, narrowing his eyes.

He picked up his pace, heading straight for the massive structure. But before he could get very far, a sound echoed from behind him.

Andrew whirled around. A man clad in gleaming iron armor was racing past on horseback, kicking up dust as he rode hard toward the wall. A long sword hung sheathed at the rider's hip.

Andrew desperately threw his hands in the air. "Hey! Help me!"

The armored man merely spared Andrew a fleeting glance before galloping right past him without slowing down.

Andrew followed the path of the horse with his eyes. In the center of the massive stone wall was a pair of towering gates. Several figures stood guard both along the ramparts and in front of the entrance.

The gates groaned open as the rider approached, letting him slip inside before slamming shut once more.

"I need to get in there," Andrew muttered.

He hurried toward the gates. The closer he got, the more intimidating the wall became. It loomed several stories high—easily dwarfing his family's luxury two-story home.

Andrew stared up at it for a long moment. "This has got to be a movie set. Some historical epic."

He let out a nervous chuckle, trying to soothe his rising anxiety.

"Yeah... that's it. Has to be."

Andrew stopped just outside the entrance. Two guards stood on either side of the gate, gripping long iron spears. They wore the exact same armor as the rider from before.

"Excuse me," Andrew said tentatively.

Both guards snapped their attention toward him.

"I need to ask you guys something," Andrew continued.

The guards scanned him from head to toe, their expressions blank.

"What is this place, exactly?" Andrew asked.

One of the guards knit his brows in confusion. "What do you mean by that, young man?"

Andrew gestured to the massive structure and the land around them. "I mean, what's the name of this place?"

The guards exchanged a puzzled look before turning back to Andrew. "A strange question indeed. You speak as though you've just crawled out from a cave."

"I'm lost, and I'm just looking for the way home," Andrew said, offering a tense, awkward smile.

The guard let out a sigh and pushed one of the heavy gates open a crack. "Just get inside. Move along, don't stand around blocking the gate."

Andrew nodded, a knot of hesitation tightening in his chest as he stepped through.

But after only a few paces past the threshold, he froze.

His eyes widened in sheer disbelief at the sight before him. A wide, cobblestone street stretched out into the distance, lined tightly on both sides by ancient buildings crafted from rough stone and timber.

Merchants were boisterously shouting, hawking all sorts of bizarre wares from their storefronts. Horse-drawn carts rattled and pushed through the dense crowds.

To his right, Andrew spotted a middle-aged blacksmith swinging a heavy hammer down onto a piece of glowing, red-hot iron. Women strolled past carrying woven baskets filled with vegetables, while young children played tag, weaving through the bustling crowd.

And every single person there was dressed in the exact same primitive clothing he was wearing.

Andrew stood paralyzed in the middle of the street. His heart hammered violently against his ribs, and the color drained completely from his face.

"Where on earth am I?" he breathed.