October 13, 20XX.
The sky tore open above the Pacific Coast.
A portal—no lightning, no warning—just a rip in reality itself.
And from it, something stepped through.
"Ten of you must be chosen," the being declared.
His voice did not travel through air. It simply existed—inside every mind, in every country, at the same time.
"If not… this world will be destroyed."
The broadcast ended.
The world did not.
Airports shut down. Governments collapsed into emergency sessions. Religions claimed prophecy. Social media drowned in hysteria.
One month.
One month to choose who would stand for humanity.
They called us Candidates.
And somehow… I was one of them.
When the portal reopened, ten of us stood before it.
We were seconds away from stepping through when the being returned.
The sky cracked.
The oceans rose.
Cities burned.
But by then… we were already inside.
I thought being chosen meant survival.
I was wrong.
"And that's how I ended up here," Eokimo finished.
Rye let out a breath. "You say that so casually."
"I get goosebumps every time."