The last thing Arin remembered was not pain.
There was no scream.
No sudden darkness swallowing him whole.
No dramatic moment marking the end of one world and the beginning of another.
There was only a strange, gentle sensation—
as if something had carefully loosened his grip on reality and guided him away.
When his eyes opened, the first thing he felt was peace.
Not relief.
Not exhaustion.
Peace—deep and quiet, like the stillness that came before a thought was born.
For a long while, Arin didn't move.
He lay there, breathing slowly, afraid that any movement might disturb whatever fragile balance surrounded him. The air felt warm but light, filling his lungs effortlessly. It carried no scent, yet it felt comforting, familiar in a way he couldn't explain.
He blinked once.
Then again.
The surface beneath him wasn't ground.
It wasn't stone, soil, or grass.
It felt smooth and cool, yet gentle—almost like light itself had taken form just to hold him. When he pressed his palm down, there was resistance, but no hardness.
"…This is weird," he murmured.
His voice echoed faintly, not bouncing off walls, but dissolving into the space around him before returning.
Arin slowly pushed himself up into a seated position.
His body felt normal.
No pain.
No dizziness.
No heaviness.
That alone unsettled him more than fear would have.
He lifted his head—
And froze.
The sky stretched endlessly above him, but it was unlike anything he had ever seen.
There was no blue.
No sun.
No clouds.
Instead, the heavens shimmered in shades of silver and pale gold, layered softly, as if dawn had been frozen in an eternal moment. The light had no source, yet everything was illuminated evenly, gently.
It was beautiful.
Quietly beautiful.
Arin stood up.
As he turned slowly in place, he realized there was no horizon. No edge to the world. No visible end. Just open space, glowing softly in every direction.
"This has to be a dream," he said under his breath.
But dreams never felt this stable.
This place felt… intentional.
That was when he sensed it.
Not a sound.
Not movement.
A presence.
He turned.
She stood several steps away from him.
Arin hadn't seen her appear. One moment the space had been empty—
and the next, she was simply there, as if the world had always expected her to stand in that exact spot.
She wasn't walking.
She wasn't floating.
She was existing.
Her long hair fell down her back like a dark river, gently shifting even though there was no wind. The white fabric she wore didn't look like cloth—it shimmered faintly, as if woven from light and air rather than thread.
And her face—
Arin felt his breath hitch.
She was beautiful.
Not in a way that overwhelmed the senses or demanded attention.
Her beauty was quiet.
Calm.
The kind that revealed itself slowly, the longer one looked.
What struck him most, however, was her expression.
She looked… surprised.
As though she hadn't expected this moment either.
For several heartbeats, neither of them spoke.
Arin became acutely aware of himself—of how ordinary he must look standing there. Simple clothes. Human posture. No grace, no glow, no divinity.
Just him.
Who is she? he wondered.
The answer came before logic.
A goddess.
He didn't know how he knew.
He just did.
Her eyes met his.
They were deep, their color difficult to define—like starlight reflected on still water. There was no arrogance in them. No cold superiority.
Only curiosity.
"A mortal?" she asked.
Her voice was soft, smooth, and impossibly clear, like glass touched gently by water.
Arin startled and straightened instinctively.
"Uh… yeah," he said. Then paused.
"I think."
Her gaze lingered on him, thoughtful.
"How did you come here?" she asked.
Arin looked around at the endless glowing space, then back at her.
"Honestly?" he said, letting out a small, uncertain laugh.
"I was kind of hoping you'd explain that part."
She didn't smile.
But something shifted in her eyes—subtle, like a ripple beneath a calm surface.
"This is the Realm of Goddesses," she said.
"Mortals do not enter this place."
"Oh."
The word slipped out before he could stop it.
"That's… not great."
She tilted her head slightly.
"Not great?"
"Yeah," Arin replied awkwardly. "I mean, if I wasn't invited, then… sorry?"
Silence followed.
Not heavy.
Not threatening.
Just thoughtful.
For the first time since he'd noticed her, she blinked.
"You are not afraid," she said slowly.
Arin thought about it.
"I am," he admitted.
"But you don't look like you're about to destroy me."
Her gaze softened, just a fraction.
"My name is Aelira," she said.
"I am one of the guardian goddesses of this realm."
"That explains a lot," Arin said.
"I'm Arin. Just… Arin."
She repeated it quietly.
"Just Arin."
The word just seemed unfamiliar to her.
She raised her hand slightly.
Light gathered in the air, shaping itself into a simple stone path that stretched forward into the glowing distance.
"Come," she said.
"If you remain here, the others will sense you."
"The others?" Arin echoed.
"…How many goddesses are there?"
Aelira didn't answer.
She turned and began to walk.
After a brief hesitation, Arin followed.
With each step he took, the ground beneath his feet felt warm, responsive—almost aware of him, as though the realm itself was acknowledging his presence.
"Do you… always live here?" he asked, trying to fill the silence.
"Yes."
"That sounds peaceful."
"It is."
He frowned slightly.
"It also sounds lonely."
Her steps slowed.
"We do not experience time as mortals do," she said carefully.
"This realm is eternal. Constant."
Arin thought about that.
"No beginnings," he said.
"No endings."
She stopped walking.
Then she turned fully toward him.
"You see this place clearly," she said.
"You do not worship it.
You do not fear it blindly."
He shrugged.
"I guess I just don't know what I'm supposed to feel."
Her gaze lingered on him.
"You fear this realm," she said.
"But you do not run."
He smiled faintly.
"Even if I tried," he said, glancing at the endless horizon,
"I wouldn't know where to go."
For a brief moment, something crossed her expression.
Something fragile.
Something uncertain.
A distant chime echoed through the Realm of Goddesses—soft, resonant, carrying weight without threat.
Aelira's expression returned to calm.
"I must leave," she said.
"You should remain here."
"Right," Arin replied lightly.
"Like I have a choice."
She turned away—then paused.
"Do you like this realm?" she asked.
Arin looked around once more.
The light.
The silence.
The goddess who spoke to him without judgment.
"Yes," he said honestly.
"But… it feels empty."
Aelira was quiet for a long moment.
"Tomorrow," she said softly,
"I will show you the rest of the Realm of Goddesses."
Before he could respond—
She dissolved into light, her form scattering gently into the glowing air.
Arin stood alone again.
A strange warmth settled in his chest.
He didn't know how he had arrived here.
He didn't know how long he would remain.
But for the first time—
Being lost didn't feel frightening.
It felt like the beginning of something he wasn't ready to name.