Lukas had always been invisible. Not in the magical sense he simply blended into the gray backdrop of a world that never seemed to care.
Born into poverty in a crumbling tenement on the outskirts of the city, he grew up scraping through days with an aching stomach and hollow dreams. His father vanished when he was five. His mother, dulled by years of factory fumes and exhaustion, barely noticed when Lukas stopped speaking much at all.
School was no escape. Bullied, mocked, and always one step behind, he dropped out at sixteen and took whatever jobs he could find janitor, dishwasher, garbage hauler. Each one ended the same: overlooked, underpaid, discarded.
By the time he turned 28, Lukas was living in a rusted van parked behind an abandoned warehouse. Rain tapped on the roof like a reminder that even the sky was too far away.
He often wondered if he was cursed. Was this all there was?
One winter night, colder than most, Lukas wandered the streets hoping for warmth anywhere. The city lights blurred in his eyes, not from tears, but from sheer exhaustion. He slumped to the ground near a subway grate, where warm air hissed upward from below. His coat was thin, and his fingers were numb. He looked up at the dark sky, wishing, "If there's another chance… let me start over. Let me matter."
His eyes closed slowly, gently, like falling into water. His breath slowed. People passed by, not noticing.
And as the cold seeped into his bones, the world began to fade.
But just before everything turned black, he felt it.
A warmth. Gentle, pulsing like the heartbeat of something ancient and alive. Then, a voice, not spoken, but felt deep within:
"This time, you will remember."
And the darkness took him.