functional_fork

Alex and Guy spent years building a fantasy world. They didn’t care if it was messy, it was for their own harmless fun after all. Late-night calls, scribbled notes, arguments about magic systems and maps. It was something to hold onto.

Then they both died.

Guy wakes up in a place that shouldn’t exist, in a body that isn’t his. As he explores more of the world, the more familiar it looks. It’s the one they made. Only now it’s real, brutal, and far less forgiving than it was on paper.

He’s Fenrir now. A demi-human nobody, stuck in the slums of a kingdom that looks down on his kind. He doesn’t know why he’s here or what’s coming, only that he has to deal with it.

and deal with it he will, tag along as Fenrir makes friends and figures out the mysteries of the world

Born of Ink and Blood

Clothes were strewn across the floor like casualties of war. Empty cans of soda sat proudly on the desk, and a crumpled wrapper balanced precariously on top of an old textbook that hadn't been opened in months. On the bed lay a beaten-up notebook, filled to the brim with amateur sketches and lore notes scribbled in atrocious handwriting. Somewhere in there was a map with too many rivers and a city that didn't even have a name yet.

At the desk, a black-haired young man in glasses hunched over his PC. Tabs lined the top of his screen, worldbuilding articles, mythological wiki pages, fantasy forums, and a half-written Google Doc. His name was Alex.

Phone pressed to his ear, Alex gestured wildly as he spoke, "Okay, okay, listen. What if the Kingdom of Rold had a civil war with- well, I haven't named it yet- but like, they split, right? And the river from the Frostspine Mountains becomes the natural border."

On the other end of the call, Guy groaned audibly. "I don't care about that useless crap. Focus on the important stuff, man. Magic. Powers. Explosions. That's what people wanna see."

Alex rolled his eyes. "Yeah I'll build up to that after I figure it which cultures use which magic and why-"

"Nah, nah, nah," Guy interrupted. "I've already got ideas. I sent 'em to you on Discord."

"You're supposed to use the Google Doc!" Alex snapped.

Guy scoffed, "Says the guy who sends me lore dumps on Instagram and WhatsApp. Don't even start."

They kept going. Rambling, bickering, swerving off-topic. Arguing about world maps, arguing about magic types, arguing about whether a fireball should melt a rock wall or explode on impact. Somewhere in there, they looped back to boons.

"This system I made? It's tight," Guy said, clearly proud. "Boon of the Iron Will. Boon of Reversal. Boon of Blood Debt. Makes everyone unique as hell. We can throw in some weird me I got a list going."

Alex paused, "...Alright, that is pretty cool."

A rare moment of silence passed between them. Then Guy spoke again, casually: "We should add racism."

Alex laughed. "Of course you'd say that."

Guy didn't elaborate, but in his head, he thought about making demi-humans the oppressed class. It'd give some edge to the world.

Alex, meanwhile, had a moment. Just a flicker. A flash of something grotesque, the reason for the racism. He shook his head, pushed it away.

"Anyway," Alex said, stretching in his chair, "it's getting late. I'm heading to bed."

"Lazy bum," Guy muttered. "We could've fleshed out the divine hierarchy tonight."

Neither of them knew that tonight would be the last night they'd ever spend on their own Earth. The last night their story would belong solely to them.

Chapter 1; Torn Pages