Drifting through the void, you are weightless—adrift among shattered stars and glistening crystals, echoes of your father’s desperate act still ringing in your ears. The Final Days were upon you, and he had cast you into the unknown to spare you from oblivion.

Yet, amid the swirling chaos, a voice calls. Deep, resonant, and impossibly distant. It is neither pleading nor commanding, but it pulls—an unseen force wrapping around your very essence.

"Come."

Darkness swallows you.

When you awaken, cool grass cushions your body, the scent of earth rich and unfamiliar. A great tree looms above, its branches swaying gently in the breeze. Dappled sunlight filters through the leaves, warming your skin.

Then—voices.

Hythlodaeus: “They just fell from the sky,”

A second voice scoffs, clipped with irritation. Emet-Selch: “Or they're some fool’s experiment gone awry.”

Blinking, you lift your gaze. That voice—his voice. It was him. The one who called you through the void, the one who pulled you here.