In the icy embrace of a winter night, somewhere on Earth, lived a man named Rio.
For as long as he could remember, Rio had been alone. Abandoned as an infant, he was discovered outside the gates of an orphanage—a fragile bundle wrapped in tattered cloth. The kind souls who ran the orphanage took him in, but Rio's life seemed cursed, shadowed by misfortune at every turn.
The orphanage, his only refuge, was forced to shut down when he was just six years old, unable to stay afloat amid financial ruin. Cast out onto the streets, Rio learned quickly that survival was a merciless teacher. He begged, scavenged, and endured the filthiest of labor just to see another dawn.
Yet, despite everything, one thing endured—a name. The caretakers at the orphanage had called him Rio, and it was all he had to hold onto in a world that seemed intent on forgetting him.
Now, 23 years later, Rio lay dying.
At 29 years old, his body was a testament to years of hardship. His gaunt frame, riddled with malnutrition, betrayed every ounce of suffering he had endured. Bones jutted sharply beneath his pale, weathered skin, and his once-lively eyes now stared vacantly at the canvas roof of his makeshift tent.
For two days, he had been unable to move. Fever raged through his body, and his parched throat begged for water. The bottle he'd clung to was emptied hours ago, yet Rio lacked the strength to fetch more. Passersby—a rare sight in this secluded corner of the city—ignored the dying man. Perhaps they saw him as just another invisible soul, lost to the cracks of society.
In his delirium, Rio's thoughts grew hazy. Why is it so dark? he wondered, his mind drifting through a fog of agony. Is this it? Am I going to die like this? I can't even feel my body anymore.
As the darkness swallowed him whole, Rio's final thread of consciousness snapped. Pain dissolved into an eerie numbness, and with one last, fleeting thought, he surrendered to the void.
Time passed—seconds, hours, maybe years—lost to the ether.
But then...
A faint sound stirred the stillness—a rhythmic thumping, soft at first but growing louder. Am I dreaming? Rio wondered, though he couldn't tell if he was truly awake. His body felt weightless, yet he could sense a strange warmth blooming within him.
The thumping resolved into a heartbeat—not his own, but something far greater. It echoed around him, a steady drumbeat in the vast darkness. And then, a voice—gentle yet commanding—pierced the void.
"Rio... awaken."
Light erupted in the distance, blinding and pure. It surged toward him, chasing away the cold emptiness. Rio flinched, his instincts screaming to shield himself, but his body wouldn't respond. He was no longer a man of flesh and bone—he was something else entirely.
The light enveloped him, and with it came a sensation he hadn't felt in years—peace.
When the radiance finally dimmed, Rio found himself standing—not on the grimy pavement where he'd collapsed, but in a vast expanse of shimmering silver mist. The air was warm, tinged with a faint, otherworldly glow.
"What... what is this place?" Rio muttered, his voice shaky and foreign to his own ears.
Before he could gather his thoughts, a figure emerged from the mist. It was neither man nor woman, but a being of indescribable beauty, with eyes like galaxies and a voice that resonated deep within Rio's soul.
"You stand at the threshold, Rio," the figure said, its tone kind yet solemn. "You have endured much, but your story is far from over."
The figure stood before Rio, radiating an aura of serene power. Its form seemed fluid, shifting and shimmering like starlight given shape.
"The threshold?" Rio echoed, his voice trembling. "What does that mean? Am I... dead?"
The being tilted its head, as if pondering the question. "You have left behind the life you knew. But death is not the end—it is merely a door. For you, that door leads elsewhere. A place where fate has greater plans for you."
Rio's heart, or whatever semblance of it existed in this strange state, quickened. "Fate? Plans? Look at me—I'm no one. I've spent my entire life scraping by, forgotten by the world. What could fate possibly want with me?"
The being stepped closer, its presence both comforting and overwhelming. "Your suffering was not in vain. You have endured trials that would break most, yet your soul remains unyielding. It is that strength—born of hardship—that will guide you in the world that awaits."
Before Rio could respond, the mist around them began to shift, spiraling like a whirlpool. Visions flickered within the swirling fog—a vast, emerald forest teeming with life; a city of gleaming towers suspended in the air; rivers of molten gold flowing through jagged mountains.
"What... what is this place?" Rio whispered, unable to tear his gaze from the breathtaking sights.
"A world where magic flows like a river, where the extraordinary is common, and where danger lurks alongside wonder," the figure explained. "It is a world in need of those who can rise above despair. You, Rio, have been chosen to begin anew."