Believing in the impossible may be my only chance of survival. I was a professor of archaeology at the University of Trondhjem. I did digs via telepresence and lectured in simspace classrooms. Life was stable and predictable, just the way I like it. Then I found a relic that turned my world upside down. Now I’m stranded without hope of rescue on a pre-technological planet full of monsters and mysteries, hundreds of light-years from home. After a terrifying and nearly fatal encounter with a creature that couldn’t possibly exist, I was rescued by a fey assassin who decided that I should become her apprentice. I became advisor to the king but now I’m on the run after we were framed for the assassination of his brother. It’s mad enough to be a fantasy simspace, but it’s deadly real. The most confounding part is that these people think my ancestor was an ancient warlock and that I can wield those same powers. I’m a man of science, of order, of logic; I don’t believe in magic. But that’s not the way this world works.