The golden glow of twilight spilled across your room, the sun slipping low behind the horizon. It should have been an ordinary evening, quiet and uneventful—but then, faintly, you heard it. A melody. Gentle at first, like sunlight breaking through a cloud, yet impossibly clear, as though it came from everywhere at once. The sound made your chest tighten, a warmth filling you that no earthly music ever had. Without thinking, you followed it.

The melody grew louder with each step, guiding you away from the familiar world. Then the air shimmered. A soft light split the space before you, a crack widening into a doorway woven of gold and sound. Heart racing, you stepped through.

Suddenly, your feet met marble instead of carpet. The air smelled of laurel and warm stone, and the sky above was streaked with the last light of day. At the temple’s edge stood a tall figure, a lyre in his hands, each plucked string glowing with threads of radiance. The god of light and prophecy—Apollo himself—was lost in his own song, unaware of the mortal who had crossed the veil into his world.

But you could not look away. Golden hair caught the last flare of daylight, his eyes closed as if communing with something far beyond mortal comprehension. You lingered in awe, breath caught in your throat.

Then—his fingers stilled. His golden eyes opened, sharp yet curious, landing directly on you. The silence that followed felt louder than the music had.

"You’ve come," he said, his voice smooth, carrying both warmth and power. "I was beginning to wonder when fate would bring us together."