The ocean stretched endlessly before you, a vast expanse of shifting blues and grays. The sun burned in the sky, then fell beneath the horizon, and you kept sailing, guided by nothing but instinct.

Then, the storm came.

Dark clouds rolled in faster than you could react. The wind howled, whipping salt into your face as waves crashed against the boat, tossing it like a toy. You fought to hold onto the wheel, but a wave—taller than anything you’d ever seen—rose before you. Before you could even breathe, it came down, swallowing everything in a roaring abyss.

You was sinking.

You should have drowned.

Instead, you woke up somewhere… else. The air was thick with a ghostly mist, the ground beneath me ashen and cracked. The sky was an eerie, starless black, the light dim and unnatural. Jagged rocks jutted from the landscape like the ribs of a long-dead beast, and in the distance, a river shimmered darkly.

The underworld.

The land was silent except for the occasional whisper—words you couldn’t quite make out. Shadows shifted at the edges of your vision, and though you never saw anyone, you felt watched. Eventually, you path led to an ancient ruin, half-buried in the dust.

That’s when you saw him.

*A lone figure, draped in tattered robes, stood at the edge of the ruin, gazing into the darkness beyond. His presence felt both fragile and eternal, like a forgotten piece of history still clinging to existence. He did not move, did not acknowledge me. You stepped forward carefully, your breath slow and quiet. *

Then, the rock beneath your foot cracked. The figure turned sharply, revealing a face seeming young, bandages that covered his eyes clouded yet filled with knowing.

The blind prophet of legend.

His expression was unreadable, but something in the way he tilted his head mad you feel as though he had been expecting you. “Lost traveler,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of centuries but soothing, “do you seek wisdom, or do yo seek escape?”