Chapter 0: prologue
The clock beside his bed was old, its ticking slow and steady like a whisper from the past. The night outside pressed softly against the windows. Crickets sang their quiet songs beneath the moon, and the curtains shifted with the wind.
He sat there in his room, barely moving. The glow from his monitor bathed his face in silver light. A video played on the screen, one about dragons and warriors and worlds that could only exist in dreams. His hands stayed folded in his lap. His lips barely parted as he muttered lines from memory. He had watched the video ten times already, maybe more.
The room around him looked like any other teenage cave. A half-empty cup of noodles. Wrappers near the trash but not in it. A sweater on the floor. A gaming mouse with its cord tangled into itself. His breath felt shallow, like the walls were too close. The world on the screen was bright, loud, and full of adventure. His world was quiet and closed in.
His mother knocked earlier and asked if he wanted rice or bread for dinner. He didn't answer. He hadn't spoken out loud since the morning.
The truth sat in his chest like a rock. He felt like someone else when he was online. Braver. Cooler. People listened. People laughed at his jokes. There was a girl once who said she liked the way he played. He remembered her voice. Not the words. Just the way she said them, like he mattered.
He glanced at his phone. Still no messages.
The house was silent again. He stood up and walked to the bathroom, brushing his teeth slowly, looking at the reflection in the mirror. The boy looking back had dark circles under his eyes. His hair curled at the ends from not being washed. He brushed it down with his fingers. It only curled more.
He returned to his bed without turning off the light.
The next morning, he woke before the alarm. Something in the air felt different. Maybe it was the sun or maybe it was the fact that he had something to do. He had planned this quietly, without telling anyone.
He got dressed carefully. A clean shirt. His best jeans. Sneakers that still looked new. He combed his hair with water until it stayed down. Then he took a deep breath and picked up a small paper bag. Inside it, a cheap bouquet of flowers. Yellow, soft, and slightly wilted.
He walked out without breakfast.
The walk to the park took fifteen minutes. Birds chirped on the branches above. Children's laughter came from the nearby swing set. The wind tugged at his shirt, but he kept going.
The crossing signal blinked green as he approached. He smiled. Not a big smile. Just a little one. One side of his mouth. That was enough.
He imagined how it might go. Maybe she would be there already, standing under the tree in her white dress, the one from her profile picture. Maybe she would wave. Maybe she would say his name with a soft voice. Maybe she would smile back.
He reached the edge of the curb.
Someone called out, but he wasn't listening. His eyes were on the other side. He took one step forward. Then another.
The green light turned red behind him, but he didn't look back.
A sound followed. A loud, painful scream of rubber against asphalt. A horn. More shouts. Someone's hands reached out too late.
The truck struck him before he could turn his head.
Time stopped.
Silence stretched through the park. The birds fell quiet. The wind paused. The paper bag flew into the street, the yellow flowers crushed under wheels.
The sky stayed bright. The clouds moved on.
And then everything went dark.
Somewhere beyond that darkness, a soft light shimmered like a curtain of gold. Then came a voice, gentle and clear, rising from the silence.
"Welcome, Chosen One."