Life is fragile.
Fragile like the flicker of a candle in a storm, fragile like a bubble drifting carelessly on the wind, fragile like the trust we place in others, knowing it can shatter in an instant.
Why is it so fragile?
Perhaps because it is precious; perhaps because it is cruel; perhaps both.
I have watched life crumble around me more times than I care to count, and yet I have always survived.
I was born into a family far from wealthy, yet I was loved. My mother, frail and gentle, carried sickness like a shadow, but never let it touch the warmth she gave me. She whispered stories of courage and kindness even when her body failed her, and I clung to every word as if it were a shield. My father, rough around the edges, stumbled through life with clumsy humor and stubborn pride. He drank too much, cursed the world, yet in rare moments of clarity he gave me protection, fleeting but real. I had a younger sister, bright and small, who tugged at my sleeve with laughter that made the streets I wandered feel less harsh. I adored her. She was my anchor, my little flame in a world that often felt cold and indifferent.
We were ordinary. We had little, yet we had each other. And for a while, that was enough.
But life has a way of testing even those who cling to it most desperately.
I spent my youth learning, observing, calculating. I absorbed knowledge like a sponge, passing every exam, solving every puzzle, mastering every strategy I could find. I thought cleverness could shield me from cruelty. I thought understanding the world could matter.
Perhaps I was naive. Perhaps it was not enough.
Then the light came.
A sudden brilliance lifted me from the streets I knew, from the quiet of night and the familiarity of my small, imperfect home. Weightless, suspended between two worlds, I felt both fear and exhilaration, though my mind refused to settle on either.
When I opened my eyes, I was somewhere I could never have imagined. Marble stretched farther than I could see, polished until it reflected the light like water. Pillars climbed toward a ceiling so high it seemed endless. Candles flickered in gilded holders, their flames dancing against walls painted with scenes I could not name. Every surface gleamed with gold or polished stone. The scent of incense hung heavy, curling around me like a living thing.
I stumbled, boots awkward against the smooth floor, pulse quickening. This was not a home; this was a fortress of grandeur; a theater of power, and I was its unwilling audience. The scale of it made me feel small, almost fragile, yet my mind raced to measure, to catalog, to understand.
The crowd knelt before the obvious royal family infront of me, faces alight with awe. Mothers lifted children; merchants whispered blessings; artisans bowed low. Their devotion pressed against me like a current in the air. Every movement, every bow, every expression seemed rehearsed, a performance of loyalty.
The king was enormous, sweat gleaming on his jowls beneath layers of finery, his grin broad and practiced. The queen glittered with jewels, each reflecting the crowd's admiration. Behind them, the princess lingered, pale and still, her eyes sharp and calculating.
A royal court so called sage stepped forward, robes whispering across the marble. He bowed low, then lifted his eyes to meet mine, filled with respect and apology. "Hero of Light", he said, "the prophecy foretells a calamity that approaches humanity. You are the one chosen to save us. Forgive the abruptness of your summoning. You cannot return to your world, nor reclaim the life you have left behind. But in return, all that you desire power, knowledge, respect, riches shall be yours."
I stepped into the glowing runes. The light pressed against me, brilliant and searing. Air felt heavy, thick with energy. The runes burned warmth into my feet, threads of power crawling up my legs. My head spun with the magnitude of it. I should have felt awe. I should have felt hope.
Instead, I felt clarity.
The air pressed harder, thick with the pulse of magic, with the weight of expectation. Memories of cruelty, survival, and human folly pressed against my mind, mingling with the brilliance around me.
The summoning did not merely move me;
It tore open my thoughts, stretched them, and left me aware of how fragile everything truly is.
Do they understand what they have summoned, I wondered.
Do they understand what I have endured?
What I have seen?
What I have done?
Life is fragile.
But why? Why does it shatter so easily, like glass caught in a storm? How far can it endure before it breaks? A cut, a betrayal, a single cruel twist of fate, and it snaps. I have seen it happen countless times, to people who believe themselves strong, to those who believe they are safe. And I have wondered: when the breaking comes, when the world finally bends, will it reveal truth, or only more weakness?
I can feel it stirring within me, a question that has taken root deeper than thought or reason.
What if the breaking is necessary? What if life, all of it, must be tested, crushed, and rebuilt? Perhaps it is not enough for humans to endure suffering by accident, by chance. Perhaps they must face the deliberate weight of it, the cold truth of their own fragility.
And if I am the one to deliver that test, to push the world past the edge of endurance, to see who will rise and who will shatter… then I will know. I will know who is strong enough to survive, and who is weak enough to be consumed.
I smiled, calm and unreadable, as the brilliance of the runes seared my senses. The crowd below me could not know the thoughts that had begun to settle in my mind, the dark curiosity that had awakened.
They could not know that their savior, their Hero of Light, was already considering how far he could bend the fragile threads of life before they finally broke completely.
Beneath that calm, the storm waited. And soon, it would be unleashed.