Rio woke up.
Or at least, he thought he did.
There was no pain. No weight. No sense of lying down or standing up. He opened his eyes, yet nothing changed. Darkness stretched endlessly in every direction—thick, absolute, and silent.
There was no floor beneath him.
No sky above.
No walls. No wind. No sound.
Just nothing.
The realization came slowly, creeping into his thoughts like cold water. This wasn't a room. It wasn't a cave. It wasn't even darkness in the normal sense.
It was an absence.
A void without distance or direction, where concepts like up and down felt meaningless. The lack of form pressed against his mind, evoking a terrifying thought he didn't want to face.
Am I… dead?
His breathing quickened—though he wasn't sure he was even breathing.
Then he saw it.
Far away, impossibly distant yet unmistakable, stood a single figure. A shape outlined faintly against the darkness. It didn't move, but its presence alone anchored his thoughts, giving the void something to revolve around.
"Hello?" Rio called out.
His voice echoed—not outward, but inward, as if the sound existed only in his mind.
He willed himself forward.
There was no sensation of walking, yet the distance closed. The void responded not to motion, but to intent, as though this place obeyed thought rather than physical law.
As he drew closer, the figure sharpened.
"…Filip?"
The moment he recognized him, panic surged through Rio's chest.
Filip was floating—unmoving, eyes closed, expression eerily calm.
"No. No, no, no…" Rio reached out, grabbing his shoulders. "Filip! Wake up!"
For a horrible second, nothing happened.
Rio's thoughts spiraled. He's dead. I killed him. The temple— the statue—
Then Filip's eyes snapped open.
"Ow," he muttered. "Okay, note to self… don't touch ancient cursed jewelry again."
Rio froze.
"…You're alive?"
Filip blinked, then squinted at him. "Define 'alive.'"
The weak joke hit Rio like a lifeline. His legs—if he had legs—gave out, and he laughed shakily, half on the edge of tears.
"Don't do that," Rio said. "I thought you were—"
"Yeah," Filip interrupted softly. "Me too."
They both fell silent, the joke fading as the reality of the place settled in.
Only then did Rio truly look around.
There was nothing. No ground, no horizon. No sense of space at all.
"We're not in the temple," Rio said. "We're not… anywhere."
Filip nodded slowly. "This isn't physical. It's like—" He hesitated. "Like we're inside a thought."
"…Or a dream," Rio said desperately. "Maybe we passed out. Maybe this is just our brains freaking out."
Filip frowned. "I remember the medallion."
The word sent a chill through the void.
"The moment you touched it," Filip continued. "The runes. The light. And then—nothing."
Before Rio could respond, a sound echoed through the emptiness.
Not from above.
Not from below.
Not from any direction at all.
A voice.
It was neither loud nor quiet, yet it filled everything.
"You are awake sooner than expected."
Rio's heart slammed against his ribs. He turned in place, but there was nothing to see.
"Who said that?" Filip demanded. "Show yourself!"
A pause followed—long enough to feel deliberate.
"I have no form here," the voice replied. "Nor do I require one."
Filip clenched his fists. "That's convenient. Hiding in the dark while messing with people's lives."
"Your anger is understandable."
"Are you a god?" Filip snapped. "Because you sound like one."
"In your terms," the voice said calmly, "yes."
Filip scoffed. "I don't buy it."
To Rio's surprise, the voice sighed.
"Then allow me to apologize."
The words stunned them both.
"What happened was not meant for you."
Rio swallowed. "Then… then send us back. Please."
The darkness seemed to tighten.
"I cannot."
Rio's breath caught. "Why?"
The answer came without hesitation.
"Because you died."
The words shattered something inside him.
"No," Rio whispered. "No, that's not—"
His thoughts collapsed into static. The void spun, his sense of self unraveling as the meaning sank in. His hands shook. His mind rejected the truth with everything it had.
Filip shook his head violently. "That's impossible. We were just standing there."
"The amulet was a ritual object," the voice continued. "It required a living sacrifice."
Rio felt sick.
"You became that sacrifice."
Filip's voice cracked. "So we just… died? For nothing?"
"Not nothing," the god replied. "But not for yourselves."
Tears streamed down Rio's face. Their deaths hadn't been heroic. They hadn't saved anyone. They were accidents—meaningless offerings to a forgotten ritual.
"I don't want this," Rio said brokenly.
"Which is why you are given a choice."
The darkness shifted, subtly.
"Your souls cannot return without consequence."
Two paths unfolded—not visually, but conceptually, as understanding pressed into their minds.
"First: rebirth. You will live again in your world… but without memory of this life."
Rio flinched.
"Second: a new existence in another world. Magic. Danger. Purpose."
Rio couldn't speak. His thoughts were drowning beneath grief and fear.
Filip looked at him.
He didn't rush. He didn't argue. He simply stayed by Rio's side, silent and steady.
"We decide together," Filip said quietly.
And in the endless darkness, the choice waited.