The first thing she felt was a cool breeze against her skin.

Not the stale air of an apartment, and not the distant noise of the city slipping in through the windows. There was no sound from the street. No horns. No motorcycles.

Only wind.

Soft, steady, carrying with it the scent of mint, stone, and something fresh, like grass after the rain. It was so clean it felt wrong.

Her eyes were still closed when she turned onto her side and pulled the blanket closer, wrapping it around her body.

But something did not feel right.

The bed was harder.

The blanket was rougher. Much rougher.

And then realization struck her like a slap.

The alarm.

It had not gone off.

She was late for work.

Lyra shot upright, her eyes flying open, only for the shock that followed to hit harder than the panic.

She was not in her familiar room. This was not her bed.

Her phone was not on her nightstand.

The ceiling and the floor were wooden. Beige walls crossed with wooden beams surrounded her, and across from her stood an open window with white curtains swaying gently in the breeze.

She slowly sat up, her heart pounding hard, and rubbed her eyes as if that could force reality back into place.

But the room did not change.

A small wooden table stood beside the bed, holding an earthenware pitcher of water and an oil lamp. A narrow wardrobe rested against the wall.

No outlets. No phone. Nothing modern. Nothing familiar.

Her stomach tightened as she stood. She was still wearing the same short-sleeved shirt and short shorts she always slept in, and she was barefoot.

She got to her feet, unsettled.

Was she still dreaming?

She walked toward the window and froze. The wooden floor was cold beneath her feet.

The morning sun fell over her face, warm and golden, as if it belonged to another world.

Before her stretched stone buildings, narrow cobbled streets, high walls, windmills, and flags.

And on those flags was a symbol she knew far too well.

Her breath caught.

Her gaze dropped to the center of the square below her window.

The fountain of the central plaza.

She saw it every day.

"No... that's impossible..." she whispered, and a nervous laugh slipped from her lips.

Everything was familiar.

Too familiar.

Before her stood Windstadt.

Alive.

"Very realistic dream, Lyra. Well done," she muttered, trying to mock her own fear.

She touched the windowsill, curling her fingers around it.

It was cold.

Real.

She stayed there for a moment, as if the wood could tell her something her mind refused to accept.

She frowned.

Two knocks on the bedroom door cut through her thoughts and made her jump.

Her shoulders tensed, her breath catching sharply as she turned around slowly. Behind her, from the heavy wooden door with the metal handle, the knock came again.

It was not random. It was not distant.

Someone was right outside.

And somehow... they knew she was in the room.

Before she could answer, the door opened gently.

A young red-haired woman stepped inside, carrying a bundle of clothes.

She wore the familiar green uniform of the Windward Guild. Her posture was calm, controlled.

"Oh! You're awake..." she said. "No one answered, so I came in. I brought you some clothes. You might need them."

Her voice was polite, measured, almost professional.

She did not ask who Lyra was.

It was as if she had expected to find her there.

"Um... thank you..." Lyra said hesitantly.

The girl placed the clothes on the corner of the bed.

"My name is Alfry Lance. Are you feeling all right?"

Lyra stared at her for a few seconds without answering. Her gaze slipped back toward the window, toward the city stretching outside, and then returned to Alfry, as if she were trying to find some logical explanation between the two.

Her mind was trying to weigh what she was experiencing.

She felt so confused.

Almost afraid.

"I think so..." she said at last. "I'm Lyra. I'm sorry, but... where am I?"

Her voice still betrayed her disbelief.

"You're in Windstadt. Do you remember what happened to you?" Alfry asked, looking somewhat worried.

"Um... all I know is that I woke up in this room. I don't remember anything else," Lyra answered.

A lie.

But she could not say that only a few hours ago, she had been in her apartment, staring at this exact city through her computer screen.

Alfry continued in the same calm tone.

"Last night, two friends brought you to my house. They found you unconscious by the riverbank outside the city... near the bridge. Do you remember any of that?"

There was no trace of suspicion in her voice. Only concern in her blue eyes.

Lyra slowly shook her head.

"No... nothing."

Her gaze turned back outside the window.

Now it was starting to feel more real.

They had carried her through those gates. Across that bridge.

Into this world.

And she remembered none of it.

Her hands began to tremble. Her breathing grew uneven. She was trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

"Are you all right? Do you need help?"

Alfry took a step toward her. Lyra had gone so pale she looked ready to collapse.

"No... no... I'm fine..." she said quickly, trying to take a deep breath. "Can I have a little time to get dressed? The clothes... they're for me, right?"

"Yes, of course."

Alfry smiled faintly and headed toward the door.

"When you're ready, you can come downstairs. I'll have breakfast prepared."

"Thank you, Alfry."

The door closed behind her, and as soon as Lyra was alone, her knees gave out.

She nearly collapsed onto the floor.

She stayed there for a minute, maybe two, trying to breathe. The room around her seemed to turn slowly, while a low buzzing filled her ears.

In some insane, impossible way...

She had ended up inside a world that was not supposed to exist.

She closed her eyes for a moment.

And then she made her decision.

She had to go outside. She had to see what was happening, whether she was truly here. Whether Windstadt was really a living city and not some product of her imagination.

She stood with a shaky breath and got dressed.

Alfry had brought her a soft white shirt, fitted dark brown trousers, and a vest in the same color, decorated with small silver embroidered details. The clothes fit almost perfectly, as if they had been made for her.

She splashed some water on her face, untied and brushed her long brown hair, and left the room.

She went down the stairs slowly, almost mechanically, and found herself in front of a beautiful little kitchen and a table filled with breakfast: eggs, bread, a little roasted pork, and a pitcher of apple juice.

Alfry was waiting for her, but she was not alone.

Two more young people sat at the table. They looked about sixteen or seventeen. One was a petite, sweet-looking blonde girl in a white dress with blue details. The other was a boy with brown hair, wearing simple clothes, a green cotton shirt, and a brown vest.

The girl looked familiar to her...

The suspicion woke inside her at once.

Alina?

Lyra descended the last few steps and sat with them at the table.

"Good morning. Thank you for the breakfast and the clothes..." she said softly.

Her eyes greeted them one by one.

The certainty and confidence she carried every day at work had vanished completely. Right now, she felt as if she had been thrown into deep water with nothing beneath her feet.

Alfry took over the awkward silence with her steady voice.

"Alina and Ed found you last night, as I told you."

Alina...

She knew it.

Lyra looked at the two of them with gratitude. She did not let the information swallow her whole. She had to understand what had happened to her.

"Thank you so much. My name is Lyra. Did you notice anything else when you found me? It seems I can't remember what happened..." she said.

Another lie.

"We were coming back late from Fernale. A girl there was sick, and Alina had gone to help. I was just escorting her when we found you unconscious on the road back," the boy said, glancing at the blonde girl.

"And judging by the clothes you were wearing when we found you... Maybe you were robbed?" Alina said. "You had nothing else with you. No bag... nothing."

"Hmm... Unfortunately, I don't remember anything..." Lyra said, lifting her shoulders with a troubled look.

"It would be good for you to visit my sister at the Knights' Headquarters. She'll probably be able to help you. Her name is Vienna," Alina said brightly, always eager to help.

"If you want, we can walk you there," the boy added.

"Thank you so much..." Lyra said, pausing briefly. "I really am grateful, but I think I'd like to walk around the city alone first, if you don't mind." She swallowed. "Maybe it will help me remember something."

"Of course," they answered, nodding, exchanging glances with one another.

After forcing down barely two bites of breakfast, Lyra gently rose from the table, said goodbye to the group, and stepped outside.

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Thank you for reading "Rookie of the Wind".