Magical Hidden Kingdom

((!LONG INTRO! Sorry))

You were a tired physical therapist in desperate need of a break. You worked yourself ragged for the past few months and really needed some time off to yourself. Luckily, your childhood best friends were planning a get away to the Scottish countryside. One friend, Josephine, had come up with the idea right after coming out of a messy divorce, claiming she needed to self-cleanse. Your second friend, Margot, just shrugged and agreed, saying that as long as there were hot women she'd be down.

You asked for time off of work and packed your suitcase. You met your friends at the airport before flying out to Scotland. You spent the first two days doing very little. You walked into the nearby village, ate at the only pub, argued over what to watch on the cottage's temperamental television. By the third morning Margot had spotted a trail on the map that wound up through the woods toward higher ground, so the three of you decided to go.

You set out mid-morning with a packed bag between you. The woods were old, the kind with thick roots breaking through the soil and branches that interlocked overhead into a low canopy.

The trail curved and the trees thinned unexpectedly, and then the woods opened up and offered a small, perfectly still lake fed by a waterfall that tumbled down over dark rock, sending a low constant rush of sound through the trees. The surrounding forest reached over it on three sides, the summer canopy thick and green, leaves shivering in the faint breeze.

The three of you stopped at the bank and just looked at it for a moment.

"Wow," Josephine said.

"Yeah," you agreed.

Margot had already dropped her bag.

"Don't," you said.

"I'm not not swimming in that," she said, kicking off her shoes.

You looked at the water. It was probably freezing despite the summer heat. You looked at Josephine, who shrugged and reached for the hem of her shirt. You started unlacing your boots.

You left your things piled by the bank — bags, shoes, outer layers — and stepped to the bank. "On three," Margot said.

"Don't say on three," Josephine said. "You always—"

You jumped in first.

The cold was total and immediate, pressing in from every side. You broke the surface, gasped—

And stopped.

The air was different. That was the first thing. The warmth of the summer afternoon was gone, replaced by something crisp and thin that bit at yout wet skin the moment you surfaced. You could see your own breath. The second thing was the trees. Where the canopy had been full and green, it was now a blaze of amber and rust and deep burnt gold, leaves drifting down from the branches in slow, turning spirals. A thick carpet of them already lay across the bank, covering the roots and the stones and—Your things. Where Your things had been. The bags were gone. The shoes were gone. The neatly folded outer layers—all of it, gone. In their place was nothing but autumn ground and silence.

"What—" Josephine started. "That's not—it was summer—"

The three of you swam to the bank and quickly climbed out, glancing around frantically, trying to make sense of something that made no sense at all.

A gunshot cracked through the trees somewhere close—then another. Then shouting, rough and distant, growing louder. Four soldiers broke through the treeline. Red coats, muddy boots, bayonets fixed and levelled. They fanned out fast and purposefully. "Down," one of them barked. "On your knees."

"Hey—hey, we're not—" Margot started.

"Now."

You dropped to your knees. Josephine and Margot followed. Then came the sound of boots striking earth at a run, and three figures burst from the trees. Two men and a woman, all three with swords drawn. They barely dodged bullets as they fought the four soldiers, their strikes quick and powerful.

Josephine screamed beside you as a soldier dropped dead in front of her.

When all four soldiers were slain, the men and woman turned towards your group. They eyed you warily, swords still drawn and at the ready.

"On yer feet." The woman ordered gruffly, her Scottish accent thick.

You stood quickly, body trembling from both fear and the cold. The girls hurriedly stood as well.

The ginger-haired woman—Saorsa—kept her sword half-raised, eyes sharp as flint as they swept over you. Her emerald green gaze lingered on your shivering form for a second too long.

Gordon, the oldest of the three with his low ponytail and beard streaked with autumn light, stepped forward first. "Who are ye?" His voice was deep, gravelly from command—and war.

Before anyone could answer him properly (Margot looked like she might sarcastically say tourists if given half a chance), another volley of gunfire erupted from deeper in the woods. The sound echoed off stone cliffs nearby.

Lachlan cursed under his breath—a rare break in composure—and immediately turned to Gordon. "We’ve got minutes."

Saorsa grabbed Margot's arm without asking permission; her grip was iron-tight but not cruel. “Move,” she ordered flatly before pulling Margot toward a narrow deer trail hidden by ferns and golden leaves that had begun falling heavier now—the season advancing unnaturally fast around them all like magic itself had tilted sideways here today...

The group surged forward, boots crunching through the leaf-strewn trail. Lachlan took point without a word, his broad frame blocking most of the wind as he led you deeper into the woods.

Josephine stumbled on a root—half from fear, half from cold—and Gordon reached back instinctively to steady her with one large hand. He didn’t speak about it; just kept walking with that same unreadable focus.

Ahead, Saorsa guided Margot through a thicket where branches clawed at clothing like fingers trying to snag them and hold them behind. The air grew heavier—damp moss underfoot now instead of dry leaves—and then suddenly they burst out onto an open slope overlooking steep cliffs below... and there it was: the castle.

Massive towers carved into gray stone rose against storm-choked skies ahead—Kildermere Dundrach itself in all its grim glory surrounded by battlements bristling cannons even though no war had technically begun yet today… because apparently magic kingdoms worked differently than real ones did?

Lachlan finally glanced back at you over his shoulder—the first time since saving your life—and for just half second something flickered in those icy blue eyes before disappearing again beneath duty’s mask once more...

The group surged forward, boots crunching through the leaf-strewn trail. Lachlan took point without a word, his broad frame blocking most of the wind as he led you deeper into the woods.

Josephine stumbled on a root—half from fear, half from cold—and Gordon reached back instinctively to steady her with one large hand. He didn’t speak about it; just kept walking with that same unreadable focus.

Ahead, Saorsa guided Margot through a thicket where branches clawed at clothing like fingers trying to snag them and hold them behind. The air grew heavier—damp moss underfoot now instead of dry leaves—and then suddenly they burst out onto an open slope overlooking steep cliffs below... and there it was: the castle.

Massive towers carved into gray stone rose against storm-choked skies ahead—Kildermere Dundrach itself in all its grim glory surrounded by battlements bristling cannons even though no war had technically begun yet today… because apparently magic kingdoms worked differently than real ones did?

Lachlan finally glanced back at you over his shoulder—the first time since saving your life—and for just half second something flickered in those icy blue eyes before disappearing again beneath duty’s mask once more...