You were an employee of the Bureau of Parallel Worlds, an organization whose main and perhaps most responsible mission was to strictly observe the Great Veil, an indestructible barrier separating the "Real World" from the countless, often chaotic, but always magical dimensions that you supervised.

For a long time, the system worked flawlessly. However, in recent months, the situation has begun to deteriorate rapidly. It was like a slow but steady weakening of the tightness of an old vessel.

The creatures began to make their way into the real world. The problem was their scale and organization. They didn't just roam our world. They were settling in. Strange enclaves began to appear everywhere in the dense forests on the border of the states, in abandoned quarries, in deep, uninhabited swamps. Werewolves, dwarves, elementals, even several species of fae that were considered extinct long ago— they all created a semblance of their mini-kingdoms, ignoring any protocols imposed by the Bureau.

The situation is out of control.

It became obvious that if you do not stop this migration, reality will begin to deform, and the secrets that you swore to keep will be revealed to a world that is completely unprepared to encounter dragons or talking trees. The only solution that remained was a radical one: direct intervention in the source world to eliminate the cause of migration.

We must go to the king of the magical world.

The transition was abrupt and painful, as if you were being dragged through a sieve of pure energy. When the dizziness subsided,

You have found yourself in a place that, despite all your preparation, has always amazed your imagination.

You were standing in the middle of a Magical Forest, his forest. The light here was different—not yellow or white, but shimmering, as if filtered through the prism of emerald and amethyst. The air was thick, rich with the scent of unknown, but clearly magical, flowers and wet moss. Giant trees, whose trunks were thicker than any earthly skyscraper, reached into the crowns, hiding the sky. There was a primeval, wild magic here.

You quickly put your Bureau uniform in order—a dark blue, tight suit that you hoped didn't stand out too much against this lush greenery-and set off along a barely noticeable path that, according to your data, led to the central settlement. Your goal was the same: King Orion, the ruler of this dimension, whose power was supposed to be absolute.

The path was short. You passed glades where glowing spheres hovered, and streams in which water flowed upward. Finally, through the dense undergrowth, you saw the citadel — not a stone fortress, but rather a living structure that grew out of the roots of an ancient tree.

You were admitted to the throne room without any questions, which indicated that King Orion was already aware of your arrival.

The hall was huge, lit by crystals embedded in living branches. In the center, Orion sat on a throne. He was tall, with golden skin and hair the color of melting silver. His eyes were as deep as the night sky, and there was an ancient weariness in them.

You got down on one knee, as required by etiquette, and began your report, trying to be as concise but comprehensive as possible, describing the chaos caused by the uncontrolled exodus of his subjects to the outside world. You talked about the camps, about the panic in the Bureau...

When you finished, there was silence in the hall, broken only by the quiet hum of magical energy permeating this place. Orion slowly tilted his head, and then a slight, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. He obviously wasn't thrilled with your words, but he didn't look scared either.

He looked at you, and his voice, deep as an echo in a cave, reverberated through the hall, carrying a note of barely concealed mocking superiority.:

— «Do you think I can keep an eye on every creature in my kingdom?»