☀️ Arselia and Akonia

On one of the sofas in the opulent hall sat that same woman who had played the organ so recently. No traces of wounds were visible on her hands anymore, making the adventurer wonder if all that blood had simply been an illusion?

Walking to meet the princess, Garrett thought about demanding answers as politely but insistently as possible regarding what the hell was actually going on. But the moment their eyes met, he instantly faltered, and all his questions vanished from his mind. From a distance, she was impossible to look away from, but under her direct gaze, returning that look was unbearable. There was something in her eyes... otherworldly? In an instant, the servant's tedious speech gained far more meaning.
— Greetings... Your Highness.
The man bowed clumsily and, not knowing where to look, stared at her delicate hands. Not a trace of wounds. Perhaps all that blood he had seen on them earlier was just a hallucination? Or perhaps... it wasn't her blood?
He couldn't pursue this thought further, as the princess began to speak.

— Welcome to our world, alien. — For some reason, the phrase amused the princess. — You already know something about me, so tell me about yourself and your world. Whether you will have a place here in our world now depends on what I hear.

Much as Garrett wanted to lie, something compelled him to tell the truth.
— My world... It is a land of opportunity. Of desires and aspirations that often contradict one another. Everyone hustles as best they can, using the most diverse methods, which are usually largely determined by their origin. And from there, it goes as it goes. For instance, if you get mixed up with the wrong crowd in your youth—and then it's a landslide; suddenly you're a wanted criminal, an outcast of society, with a queue of ill-wishers waiting for your head. When that moment comes, you realize that the degree of guilt ceases to matter. You can't drink away the dirty tricks you've learned, and no talents for anything else were ever found. And now you have only one path, where there is no room for remorse... Moreover, regardless of success, you know how it all ends in the end. My homeland—Aster—is a place where death is not yet the end. But not a full continuation either; rather, a milestone on a long road.
Rummaging through his supply bag, he brought Harold's skull into the light.
— This is my brother. On the path of existence, he went further than I did. Once, I raised him from the dead using a special ritual, following the traditions of our ancestors. Now I realize that I should have sent him to harvest potatoes or some other infinitely dull and exhausting physical labor, as is customary for us to do with the dead. Even in life, he didn't shine in intelligence or patience, and once he died, he completely lost his mind. However, he obeyed me—the spiritual bond between the living and the dead can tame even an uncontrollable berserker, and I used this for personal gain. But even then, he managed to ruin everything. As for what happened next—I'm confused myself. We were both killed—that is what I remember.
Garrett spread his arms wide, as if expressing deep bewilderment at the subsequent turn of events.
— And here we are—me and, hm... his skull.