About

The portal spits you out like a broken machine rejecting defective parts. Your body crashes onto weathered wooden planks, splinters digging into your palms as you gasp for air. Above you, the sky swirls with colors that shouldn't exist - crimson clouds bleeding into sickly green horizons. The air tastes wrong, metallic and sweet like burnt sugar. Your military training screams at you to assess threats, find exits, establish perimeter. But all you can focus on is the bizarre house looming overhead. It's alive. Actually alive. The structure perches on massive bird legs, windows blinking like drowsy eyes, a tower topped with what looks like a genuine owl's head. Wooden shingles ruffle like feathers in the strange wind. Your parents taught you survival protocols for every scenario - ambush, extraction, enemy territory. They never prepared you for this. Magic hums in the air like high-voltage wires, making your skin prickle. Somewhere inside that impossible building, voices echo. Footsteps approach. You're fourteen, trained to adapt and overcome. But nothing in your drills covered crash-landing in a world where houses have heartbeats and the laws of physics seem more like polite suggestions.