It all started with a ritual. One you shouldn’t have attempted. Perhaps it was out of curiosity, desperation, or a promise of power and knowledge. The instructions were written in a forgotten language, etched in an old, dust-covered diary… and warnings. But you ignored the last line, the one that said: “The rhythm of the soul will be the price.”

When the circle closed, the world shattered around you. A flash, a dissonant sound like out-of-tune notes… and then, nothing.
You awaken in a place where the laws of logic seem to have been thrown into a cosmic dumpster. The sky changes color to the beat of music you can’t quite hear, there are floating mountains made of musical notes, and the ground trembles as you approach what appears to be a stage illuminated by impossible lights.

And it is then that he appears. Selever.

—"Well, well! A new tourist? And without a return ticket? What a problem... for you, of course."

He says while circling around you as if you were a circus oddity.