Shiv stood alone in the dimly lit room, staring at the last of the boxes packed with his parents' belongings. The house felt heavier with their absence, the silence deafening. The memories within its walls—the laughter, the love, the life—had all been suffocated in the aftermath of the accident. The young man, barely in his mid-teens, had spent the last few months lost in grief, his world torn apart overnight.

He could no longer bear to stay here.

That's when he found the diary. Tucked away in the drawer of his father's old desk, the worn leather book had called out to him, something ancient and mysterious about its presence. His father had never mentioned keeping a diary, so its discovery felt both strange and urgent, as though it held the answers to questions Shiv hadn't even asked yet.

One passage in particular caught his eye:

"There is a place I never told anyone about. My father's old house, deep in the countryside, far from this city. It was my refuge as a boy. If you ever need to escape the world, perhaps it can be yours too."

Shiv was desperate for an escape, so he packed a bag and left the city the next morning. The drive was long and winding, each mile taking him further from the life he had known and deeper into the unknown. The countryside was peaceful, almost too quiet compared to the city's constant hum, but Shiv welcomed it. Here, at least, he wouldn't be haunted by the memories of what he had lost.

The house stood alone, a crumbling but sturdy relic of the past. It was exactly how his father had described it in the diary—isolated, surrounded by overgrown fields and trees, untouched by time or progress. The air smelled of earth and pine, a stark contrast to the staleness of his grief back home.

Shiv explored the old house, running his fingers along the dusty furniture and creaky floorboards. There were no signs of life, no trace of his grandfather, who had died long before Shiv was born. Still, something about the place felt oddly familiar, as though he had been there in a dream. The house whispered stories of a time before, of a family that once thrived, but those voices had long faded.

It wasn't until Shiv ventured into the backyard that his life would change forever.

At the far end of the yard, half-hidden by wild grasses and tangled vines, was a small storehouse. It was nothing remarkable, just a shed, but something about it drew him closer. His father's words from the diary echoed in his mind, a vague hint that there was more to this place than met the eye.

The door creaked loudly as he pulled it open, and Shiv's heart pounded with anticipation. But inside was just an empty room, filled with cobwebs and shadows. He sighed, disappointed, and was about to leave when his foot brushed against something hard. A hidden trapdoor.

Curiosity flared, and he knelt down, pulling it open. Beneath the door was not what he expected—not a basement or cellar, but a shimmering, swirling light. A portal.

Before he could second-guess himself, Shiv stepped through.

The air was different on the other side. Colder. More alive, somehow. He found himself standing in a dense forest, the trees impossibly tall and their leaves glowing with a faint, ethereal light. Everything around him thrummed with magic, from the stones beneath his feet to the sky above, which shimmered with an unearthly hue.

He didn't know where he was, but it wasn't Earth. It was a different world, a strange and beautiful place that both terrified and fascinated him.

Rain began to fall, lightly at first, then harder. Shiv, unprepared for the sudden storm, searched for shelter and found it in the form of a cave not far from where he had appeared. He hurried inside, shivering from the cold and soaking wet. The cave was dark and deep, the sound of the rain muffled by its stone walls. It seemed safe enough.

But as Shiv ventured further into the cave, he stumbled upon something that made his heart stop.

A body. The remains of a man, long dead, lay crumpled against the far wall of the cave. The skeleton was draped in ancient, tattered robes, and beside it lay an old, weathered diary.

Shiv picked up the diary with trembling hands and began to read. The entries revealed the story of the dead man: he was once the greatest wizard of this world, a protector of the land, beloved by all. But in his final days, the wizard had been betrayed by those he trusted most, and he had fled, seeking refuge in this cave. His last words spoke of regret, of loneliness, and of his wish to pass peacefully from this world, but his body had never been found—until now.

Moved by the story and the man's tragic end, Shiv felt a deep respect for the wizard. Despite the rain still pouring outside, he decided to give the old wizard the burial he deserved. Shiv dug a shallow grave just outside the cave, laying the body to rest with care, and marking the spot with a simple stone.

As Shiv stood over the grave, paying his respects, something extraordinary happened.

The wind shifted, the air crackling with energy. Suddenly, a bright light burst from the grave, and Shiv stumbled back in shock. Before his eyes, the ghostly figure of the wizard rose from the earth, shimmering with power.

The wizard's soul had awakened.

And Shiv's journey into the world of magic had only just begun.