Michael stared up at the radiant figure before him, his voice finally breaking through the haze. “Where… where am I?”

  The goddess smiled softly, folding her wings around herself like a silken cloak. “You are between realms. A threshold few ever reach—where the soul lingers before being scattered into the Void. You are here because I called you, Michael.”

  He sat up slowly. The grass beneath him shimmered like woven emerald threads, soft and cool. The sky above stretched into an eternal twilight, stars blooming like flowers across the heavens, slowly turning in a majestic spiral.

  “Is this… heaven?” he asked.

  She chuckled, the sound ethereal. “No. Nor is it hell. This is the divine veil. My sanctuary.”

  “Why me?” he whispered. “I’m nobody. I’ve done nothing but… suffer.”

  Her expression dimmed, sadness in her starlit eyes. “Exactly why I chose you.”

  She stood and gestured, the air parting before them like silk curtains. Beyond lay a world unlike anything Michael had ever seen.

  Vast mountain ranges floated in the sky, held aloft by shimmering crystals that pulsed with mana. Airships, shaped like gothic cathedrals with wings, sailed gracefully through the air. Cities of spired towers and intricate bridges clung to these skylands, glowing with magical fire and life. Dragons flew in the distance—some radiant and majestic, others skeletal and wreathed in shadow. Forests of crystal trees stretched endlessly, and beneath them prowled creatures of legend—horned beasts, spirit wolves, armored insects the size of horses. Rivers of liquid light carved paths through obsidian valleys.

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  “This is Aerithrael,” she said. “A world reborn from the ruins of ancient war. A world of powerful magic, of sprawling cities and warring kingdoms. Beastkin, elves, dwarves, humans—all dwell here under fractured peace. Monsters roam the wilds, dungeons bloom like wounds in the earth, and ancient gods sleep beneath mountains. Magic flows through the air, drawn into devices and spells, shaping the very world itself.”

  Michael’s breath caught.

  “You would be born into this world,” Elyndra said. “A new life. You may retain your appearance or reshape it, if you wish. Your soul would be placed into a family that suits the form you choose—be it human, beastkin, elven, or otherwise. You would begin again, in a world that does not hate you from the start.”

  He swallowed. “And if I say no?”

  Elyndra turned to him fully, her wings shifting with a sorrowful grace.

  “Then your soul fades. No rebirth. No afterlife. No more pain, but… no more anything. You would simply cease. Like smoke on the wind.”

  Michael looked down at his hands. For a moment, the weight of everything—the years of misery, the hopelessness, the loneliness—hung in his chest like lead.

  “And if I say yes?”

  She stepped closer. “Then you are reborn anew. And more than that, you will be granted power.”

  She waved her hand, and glowing icons appeared in the air—floating glyphs, intricate runes that shimmered with potential.

  “You will be allowed to choose a class from a vast spectrum—warrior, mage, assassin, summoner… even rare ones like Soulforged or Lifeweaver. And with your class, I will bestow upon you a Unique Trait—personalized for you alone, based on your heart, your choices, and the class you choose. No one else in my world will have it.”

  The glyphs shifted, revealing weapons—blades crackling with lightning, staves with burning eyes, grim tomes bound in living leather.

  “You will also be given the chance to choose one or more Unique Items—rare relics that would otherwise require lifetimes to earn. These are yours… if you choose to begin anew.”

  Michael stared at the gifts before him. A slow, unfamiliar feeling crept into his chest—hope.

  Elyndra knelt beside him once more, extending her hand again. Her eyes locked to his, full of quiet power and gentle kindness.

  “So, Michael… what will you choose?”