"This is a doorway to any world. Let your will guide you, and it shall open."
Danny was nine the first time he saw that strange, ancient door. The glowing blue runes etched into the wall above it burned themselves into his memory like a brand.
He'd stumbled across it by accident, hidden behind an abandoned church in the countryside where his grandparents lived. The door stood alone in the overgrown backyard, half-swallowed by vines, its surface pulsing faintly with a soft, eerie blue light.
He told his parents. He told his best friend. No one believed him. They all thought it was just a kid's wild imagination. And after a while, even he started to wonder if he'd made it all up.
Until today—when the memory came rushing back.
"Hey, Danny! How many clients did you land today?"
The shout snapped him out of his thoughts like a slap. Reality came crashing back in, heavy and suffocating like smog.
The open-plan office buzzed with the usual chaos—keyboards clacking, phones ringing, printers humming nonstop.
His supervisor's perpetually pissed-off face popped into his cubicle again.
"You still sitting here? Get out there and find some clients! Or do you think your base salary's enough to live on?!"
Danny looked up, drained. The guy was practically spitting in his face, but he didn't even have the energy to argue.
No one spoke up for him. No one even looked his way. This was just how things were.
He stood up in silence, grabbed his laptop bag from the desk. Didn't even get a sip of his coffee before trudging out the door.
"Don't bother coming back if you don't close a deal today!" the supervisor barked behind him.
The door slammed shut with a loud bang. The hallway fell quiet.
Danny leaned against the wall and let out a long, tired sigh.
Twenty-eight years old. Five years in the insurance game. Bottom of the sales chart every single year. Barely scraping by on base pay.
His girlfriend had dumped him last month. Said he had "no future."
The apartment he rented leaked when it rained. The windows wouldn't close. The water heater had broken three times, and he couldn't afford to fix it.
He'd barely made it to the corner when his phone rang—it was the landlord.
"Danny, when are you paying this month's rent? Don't think I'm a pushover. You were two weeks late last month. If I don't see the money by tomorrow, I'm changing the locks. Pack your stuff."
"…Got it," he muttered.
The call ended. And right then, a familiar voice called out from across the street.
A sleek black sports car purred to a stop in front of him. The tinted window rolled down, and a guy in designer shades leaned out.
"Well, well. If it isn't Danny."
The voice hit him like a punch of déjà vu.
Danny blinked. He knew that face.
Kevin.
His college roommate. The guy whose family owned a real estate empire. After graduation, Kevin had walked straight into a cushy job at his parents' firm. Now he was living the high life—posting Lambos, yachts, and champagne on Instagram like it was a full-time job.
"How's life, man? Still… selling insurance?" Kevin gave him a once-over, eyes lingering on Danny's wrinkled old suit and scuffed shoes. His smirk widened. "Heard you're pulling in, what, two grand a month?"
Danny didn't answer. Just gave a small nod.
"Damn…" Kevin chuckled. "You used to talk such a big game. GPA through the roof, top-ten player in that MMORPG, always going on about starting your own company. Said your girl wouldn't have to lift a finger—just shop all day on your dime. What happened, man? Dream didn't pan out?"
Just then, the passenger door opened. A woman stepped out in heels, wearing a bright mini dress and flawless makeup.
She spotted Danny instantly.
"Well, look who it is. Still wearing that same suit?"
She laughed. Light and breezy, but every word cut like a knife.
"Lily," Danny said quietly.
She was the one. The girl he'd loved the most. They'd been together three years.
They'd lived together, walked the dog, grocery shopped, fought, binged Netflix, even spent Thanksgiving with each other's families.
He'd sold his gaming accounts—five years of progress—just to buy her a Hermès Birkin. Took out a $5,000 loan from some shady online lender to make it happen.
It wasn't perfect, but it was real.
He thought they'd make it. Thought she was the one.
A month ago, she told him they "weren't right for each other." Then she vanished.
Now he knew why.
"You haven't changed a bit," Lily said, tilting her head as she looked him over. "Remember when I begged you to get rid of that suit? What did you say?"
She mimicked his voice: "'It's comfortable. Who cares what people think?'"
She laughed again. "Well, you definitely look 'down to earth' now."
Kevin chuckled beside her. "Still hustling insurance. I just asked."
Lily shook her head, her voice dripping with mock pity. "I must've been blind. Three years in that basement apartment, eating frozen pizza and microwave dinners from the gas station. Listening to you go on and on about how 'once I make it, everything will be different.'"
"I should've walked away a long time ago." She leaned back against the car, a smug little smile playing on her lips.
Danny didn't say a word.
He just looked at them—Kevin's hand was resting on Lily's waist, fingers giving a little squeeze like it was second nature. Like it wasn't the first time. Lily didn't flinch. Didn't even look at him. Her eyes were fixed on her nails, like the whole conversation hadn't even been worth her attention.
Danny glanced up at the sky. The clouds were hanging low, heavy and dark. The wind had started to kick up dust.
Rain was coming.
He tugged at his collar, turned, and walked away—like he couldn't stand to waste another second in this little performance.
Behind him, Lily's laugh rang out. "Aww, walking away already? Still the same—can't take a hit to that fragile ego."
Kevin laughed louder. "Forget him. Let's party tonight like royalty. Talk to guys like that too long, and I swear my car starts losing value."
Then, with a smirk, he leaned in close to Lily's ear and whispered, "Wanna see which 'Italian sausage' I brought tonight? Picked it out just for you."
The engine roared to life, and the sports car peeled off, leaving nothing but the echo of laughter and exhaust in its wake.
Danny kept walking, slipping into the crowd. The night wind brushed past him, and under the dim yellow glow of the streetlights, his shadow stretched long and thin—like the city was trying to swallow him whole.
The whispers of strangers, the weight of failure, the sting of heartbreak, the crushing pressure of bills and bosses—it all pressed in on him, screaming the same thing over and over:
You're a loser.
And yet… his steps were steady.
He lifted his head and looked out toward the horizon.
Toward the direction of his childhood home.
And for some reason, that door came back to him again—clearer than ever.
That line he thought he'd forgotten:
"Every world demands balance. For one soul to enter, another must take its place."
The memory hit him like a wave—nine years old, standing in the cellar behind that abandoned church in the countryside. The door glowing blue in the dark, like it had been waiting for him all along.
"Only the chosen may pass through this door. All others will burn to ash."
Before he knew it, he'd bought a long-distance bus ticket. Back to a town he hadn't set foot in for over a decade.
By dusk, he was standing in front of that same crumbling church. The walls were cracked and peeling, weeds growing wild. The "Private Property – No Trespassing" sign had long since fallen over.
He stepped inside.
The cellar entrance was still there, buried under dirt and overgrowth like a scar time had tried to forget.
He pulled open the rotting wooden hatch. Damp air rushed up to meet him. He descended the broken stone steps, each one echoing like a heartbeat in a nightmare.
And there it was.
The door.
Still standing. Ancient. Silent. Untouched by time. Like it didn't belong to this world at all.
The symbol of a raven was still etched into its surface, sharp and clear, like it was watching him.
And on the wall, the same glowing blue words:
"Every world requires balance. The soul that enters must replace the one who leaves."
Danny stood there, frozen.
He didn't know how long he stayed like that. His heart pounded in his chest. The world around him felt like it had gone completely still.
What was he waiting for?
An explanation?
A reason?
Or maybe… just an excuse to give up on everything?
He didn't know.
Maybe he didn't need to.
Because the answer was never going to come from this world.
This place wasn't about answers.
It was about choices.
And the door… the door was whispering to him now. Its voice was rough, ancient, seductive—like something crawling up from the depths of time itself:
"Do you want to leave this world…?
Do you want to escape failure, pain, mediocrity?
Fate can be rewritten—if you're willing to choose."
Danny closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The air was thick, heavy, like a stone pressing down on his chest.
Then, slowly, he reached out and placed his hand on the door.
The cold shot through him instantly, straight to the bone.
And then, the words on the wall changed.
"Are you truly… ready to leave it all behind?"
"If you are not the chosen one…"
"You will fall into the void."
"You will die."
It wasn't a warning.
It was a confirmation.
A contract with no signature. A gamble with no way to back out.
The air turned icy. The ground trembled beneath his feet.
The door began to hum, low and deep, like a thousand souls screaming just beyond it.
…
And somewhere, in a world far, far away—
A man opened his eyes.
He was handsome, refined, dressed in a tailored noble's suit. The taste of red wine from a royal banquet still lingered on his lips.
Damien Thornevale looked into the mirror.
And smiled.
...