chapter 1: Terrible luck

Ren Castor sat at the dinner table, the warmth of home wrapping around him like a familiar blanket. A faint smell of garlic and roasted tomatoes wafted through the air as his mother served up plates of pasta. His father stirred a glass of wine, scrolling absently through something on his tablet. Across the table, his sister giggled over some joke that had completely escaped Ren.

It was all just so normal.

He twirled his fork through the noodles, enjoying the simple comfort of being home. The instant the noodles touched his lips, a sharp, abrupt pain pierced through his chest. His fingers constricted reflexively, the tines of his fork clanking against his plate before falling on the floor. The world wavered in front of Ren, and only for a microsecond could he gasp with the increased crushing sensation in the vice of a heart.

His mother's voice sounded worried, though distant, as he fell forward, knocking the water glass over. Cold liquid drenched his sleeve, yet he hardly felt it.

"Ren!" his father boomed, but it was muffled, as though somebody was calling from underwater. His vision blurred. He saw his sister's wide, teary eyes and then the world turned white.

The last thing he had heard before the darkness swallowed him whole was his mother's scream.

And then, nothing.

Ren woke into unnatural stillness. His eyes flashed open, but there was no ceiling, no floor-just an endless swirling void of black dotted with faint pulses of light, like dying stars. He tried to stand, but the surface beneath him wasn't solid. It shifted beneath his weight, yet he didn't fall.

Slowly, breathing came, the air thick and strange, as if it wasn't meant for him. Ren's eyes darted around while his heart pounded hard against his chest. Where am I? his voice echoed, swallowed by the vast emptiness around him.

Then, ahead, there was a stir of light, and something came out-a figure that was lounging in the air as if it were resting on an invisible throne. Its skin shone like the night sky, with constellations forming and fading across its body. Its eyes glowed white as they fixed on him, unblinking, while a permanent grin stretched across its face.

"Welcome," the figure said cheerfully. Its voice wasn't loud, but it filled every corner of the space.

Ren stumbled back, his pulse quickening. "Who—what are you?"

The figure didn't answer right away. Instead, it tilted its head, as if inspecting him. Then, it leaned forward, legs crossed casually. "I'm the Overseer of Realms. But that's not important right now. What's important is you, Ren Castor."

Ren's mouth went dry. "How do you know my name?"

The Overseer chuckled, the sound vibrating through the void like distant thunder. "I know everything about you. I know you died suddenly. I know you didn't see it coming."

The words hit him like a gut punch. Ren's knees buckled and he collapsed onto the shifting ground. "No," he whispered, shaking his head violently. "That's not true. I was just at dinner. My family—

"They're still at the table," the Overseer interrupted. "Holding your body, crying over you." Its voice softened, but the smile never wavered. "You've died, Ren. A stroke, sudden and irreversible. There was nothing anyone could have done."

Ren's breath caught. His fingers clawed at the invisible ground beneath him as a wave of nausea hit. "No," he choked out. "I don't—I can't be dead. I was fine. I was just—"

His voice cracked as tears spilled down his cheeks.

"They need me," he whimpered. "Send me back."

The Overseer's gaze didn't falter. "I'm afraid that's not possible."

Ren shook, his sobs loud across the void. The stars around him flickered faintly, like they pitied him but couldn't help. His mind hurled itself against every memory in desperation: his mom's laugh teasing him over his unruly tufts of hair, his father's proud nod when he brought home good grades, his sister's snarky comments during movie night.

I didn't even get to say goodbye.

Ren gritted his teeth, rubbing his face against the back of his hand. "You don't understand," he said voice raw. "I have to go back. My family—they need me. They won't be okay without me."

The Overseer stayed silent, continuing to watch him with the infinite patience of someone who had overseen countless beggars before this one.

"I'm not dead!" Ren shouted, punching his fists into the strange surface beneath him. His knuckles throbbed but barely hurt at all. "I was just fine a second ago. You have to send me back!"

The Overseer sighed quietly. "I understand your pain," it said. "But it is what it is. Nobody ever goes back."

Ren struggled to his feet, his breathing heavy. "No! You don't get to decide that. You're some-some freak sitting on your throne, acting like this is normal!" His voice cracked again, frustration mixing with panic. "They're waiting for me. I can't leave them like this!"

The Overseer's glowing eyes dimmed slightly. "You didn't leave them by choice, Ren.

Ren clench his fists until his nails dug into his palm. His chest heaved while he fought to dam up the dam once more, useless against the wave of tears that fell again. He fell to his knees once more, hands trembling.

"I didn't get to say goodbye," he whispered, barely audible.

The silence between them grew, and the only thing Ren could hear was the shaking of his breath. The stars around him pulsed softly, their coldness taunting him.

"I know this isn't fair," the Overseer finally said. Its voice wasn't sympathetic, but neither was it cruel. "But life rarely is."

Ren stared into the vacant air before him, his mind a blank. For the first time, he could think of nothing that would get him out. He couldn't strategize or plot a course. There was nothing to fight. There was no argument to win.

Ren sat without moving; the fight had been siphoned out of him. His fingers relaxed, lying limply at his sides.

"What happens now?" he asked quietly, his voice hollow.

The Overseer leaned forward. "You move forward. You'll be sent to a new world where your life will go on, though it won't be the one you lost."

Ren shut his eyes, swallowing the lump in his throat. He didn't want to go anywhere. But sitting here in the void meant nothing. Staying meant fading.

"And what if I don't want that?

"Then you can sit here," the Overseer said, "until you forget why you were even sad."

Ren's lips shook. He wiped his face once more and then looked up. "I don't care about any of this. Just do it. Send me wherever you want."

The Overseer smiled wider. "Good." The stars around them pulsed with a sudden burst of brightness. "Your journey begins now."

The last thing Ren saw was the blinding light before the void shattered, taking him with it.