Jonathan woke up in a room that defied easy description. Divine—that was the only word that came close. Everything shimmered with an elegance that felt impossible to place, like it belonged in a dream too perfect to be real. He stretched his limbs, slow and cautious, then reached for his head. The last thing he remembered was the car barreling toward him—he had pushed his little sister out of the way. At least… he hoped he had.
His gaze drifted across the room. On a beautifully crafted desk—tall and adorned with carvings that shimmered faintly—lay a fresh set of clothes, neatly folded. That’s when he realized: the bed he’d just risen from wasn’t touching the ground. It hovered gently above a raised dais, floating quietly like it was made of light.
He pinched himself. Then again. No change. Was this a coma? A hallucination? He didn’t know.
What unsettled Jonathan more was the calm. He didn’t feel fear. If anything, the room gave him a strange comfort—familiar, almost nostalgic. Like something he’d once doodled in the margarita s of a high school notebook, bored during class. He laughed under his breath at the thought. A high school sketch come to life? No way.
Seeing no harm in putting the clothes on, he stood—only to realize, quite suddenly, that he was completely naked.
“Well,” he muttered, glancing around, “I hope whoever undressed me was cute.”
He got dressed right there on the bed. The fabric felt soft—cool to the touch but somehow warming as it settled against his skin. As he moved to step down, the bed lowered smoothly on its own, gliding toward the floor like it had been waiting for him. His bare feet hovered just above the surface until he noticed—thankfully—he was wearing socks. Whether he’d put them on or they’d appeared on their own, he wasn’t sure. But with how cold the marble (or was it marble?) floor looked, he wasn’t about to complain.
Then he spotted the sandals. They weren’t there before—he could swear they weren’t—but there they were now, neatly placed near the base of the bed. They looked a little strange paired with socks, but the moment he slipped them on, they shifted, adjusted, and molded to his feet like they’d been custom-made. And weirdly enough… they looked good with his outfit. Or at least he was convincing himself it did.
Jonathan turned toward the massive mirror along the wall—at least fifteen feet tall and just as wide. His reflection caught him off guard. The red and white robe draped elegantly over him, layered over shorts that moved with a quiet fluidity. His dark hair looked a little fuller. His brown eyes sharper. He wasn’t movie-star handsome by any means, but there was a new clarity to his features. Like someone had turned the resolution up on his whole existence.
His build hadn’t changed much, still lean—thanks in part to those random gym phases he went through—but there was something about him now that looked… better. More refined. More deliberate.
He wanted to explore more. Every time he looked around, the room shifted—slightly, subtly—almost like it was responding to him. Reacting to his curiosity. Just as he was about to test the limits of that, a knock echoed from the door.
His breath caught.
His heart picked up.
But then he reasoned—if someone knocked, how bad could they be? At least they had manners.
He tiptoed toward the door—not out of fear, really, but more out of instinct. Then he paused mid-step.
They probably had cameras in this magical scribble-realm. Floating bed, morphing sandals, mood-reactive walls? Yeah, someone was definitely watching.
Still… he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had some say here. Like the room wasn’t just alive—it was listening.
He reached the towering double doors, ornate and impossibly well-crafted, and studied them for a moment. It took him a second to figure out what was actually a handle and what was just there to look fancy. As his hand hovered over the right piece, he hesitated.
Then, trying to sound smooth—and failing—he blurted, “Umm… who is it?”
Seriously? That’s what he went with?
He winced at himself.
Then a voice answered, soft and melodic, like sunlight through silk.
“My lord, I have come to help you settle in.”
Beautiful. And clearly a girl.
Damnit, he mouthed.
“…My lord?” he repeated out loud before he could stop himself, the words tasting foreign and far too dramatic on his tongue.
No response.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, bracing himself. Then, with one last deep breath, he opened the door.
A woman stood before him. No—a vision stood before him.
She was beautiful in a way that didn’t seem fair. Her hair—long waves of red and green—flowed all the way down to the floor, shimmering faintly like molten emeralds and rubies. Her eyes were a radiant orange, sharp and serene, and she stood a few inches taller than him. The dress she wore looked like it had been stitched from actual starlight—soft, glowing threads that danced and pulsed with gentle brilliance. Not sparkly. Luminous.
She looked divine. Too divine.
He instinctively stepped back, almost tripping over his own sandals.
She tilted her head, voice calm and genuinely curious. “Does my appearance displease you, my lord?”
“W-What? No—I mean—uh…” He blinked. “You speak English. That’s… a good start.”
She nodded, hands folded gracefully in front of her. But her golden-orange eyes were still patiently waiting for an answer to her first question.
“I… just wasn’t expecting a goddess at the door,” he mumbled.
She offered the faintest smile. “Yes. I figured the young lord would speak English when they arrived.”
“You… knew I was coming?”
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She nodded again, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Yes. For some time now. I hope the room was to your liking?”
“Oh—yeah. Big fan,” he said, nodding awkwardly. “Nice touch with the, uh, living bedroom.”
“It’s not living,” she corrected gently. “It simply reacts to the mind of whoever holds authority over it.”
“Which is… me?”
Another nod. “Yes, my lord.”
“You keep calling me lord, and you knew I was coming…” he said slowly, trying to wrap his head around it. He took a breath. “Where the hel—”
He caught himself. Swearing in front of her felt wrong. Like… celestial-court-exile wrong. Whether it was the way she looked or the fact that she radiated some kind of otherworldly elegance, something in him said: don’t risk it.
“Where am I? And… who are you?”
She smiled gently, then gave a perfectly graceful bow, her starlight dress shimmering with the movement.
“I am Xizelen,” she said, “the 413th Overseer of the 23rd to the 27th Realms within the 70 million Realms under the authority of the Jafar Empire.”
He blinked. Hard.
“And you, my lord Jonathan North, are currently standing in the Southern Wing of Royal Palace Redevune O’le Tiegren.”
He stared at her, absolutely dumbfounded.
“Okay,” he muttered, “what the fuck. Where the hell are we?”
Her expression remained serene. Not offended. Not surprised. Just patient.
“You are in Requiem, my lord Jonathan North. But more specifically you are on Xunfivn”
“…Requiem and this world is Sunfin?,” he repeated, like maybe saying it himself would make it click.
Xizelen she chuckled. “Xunfivn. A world two-point-five billion times the size of Earth.”
His mouth opened. Then closed.
She continued like she was reciting a well-worn tale. “Requiem was once a dimension of gods—until The Vantis appeared. A being of singular intent. He slew the divine hosts by the thousands and enraged the Great Divine ?am? Olorun Gloruim.”
“That is… so many names.”
“They fought for seven days. The blood and energy of dead gods pooled and created planets—the world you now stand on. On the seventh day, The Vantis struck down ?am? and shattered the very structure of the dimension. Time, space, reality… all scarred.”
Jonathan tried to keep up. “So, like, primordial war turned into a planet?”
“Yes. The Vantis used the heads of Sarguln and Tilgeth as the moons for all the realms.”
“…Gross.”
“And split Rigorth into three pieces to become the suns.”
“Cool. Still gross.”
“He spared ?am? out of respect, declaring him the rightful god of this dimension—but forbade him from destroying the Vantis’ creation. He promised that in time, life would emerge… and when it did, he would return to explain their origins. Or not. He didn’t care.”
“Wow. Great guy,” Jonathan muttered. “So this is all… like, his passion project?”
Xizelen nodded solemnly. “He named it Requiem, to honor the gods whose deaths light its night sky as stars.”
Jonathan blinked, now truly overwhelmed. “That’s actually kinda poetic. In a warlord-hallucination sort of way.”
He rubbed his face. “Wait. You said realms. Plural. What’s a realm?”
She straightened slightly. “Each realm is roughly the size of your universe.”
He stopped mid-breath. “So like… a multiverse?”
“No. Not in the typical sense,” she replied. “They exist within this dimension. This reality. But they do not expand the way your universe does. Their rules are fixed. Contained. Focused.”
He stared at her, brain buffering. “…You know a lot about my universe.”
“I was instructed to,” she said simply.
Jonathan squinted. “This… Jafar guy. He owns seventy million of these universe-sized realms?”
“Yes.”
He blinked again.
Xizelen offered nothing in response. Just the same graceful calm.
Jonathan ran a hand through his hair. “Okay. So either I’m dead… or this is the wildest DMT trip in history.”
She smiled at him, calm and unreadable, like she knew something he didn’t. Probably did.
Jonathan scratched the back of his neck. “So… I’m still not really sure what you want from me. Or why you keep calling me lord. I haven’t exactly done anything legendary.” He shrugged. “I mean, I won a track meet once in high school. And I’m… y’know, good at video games.”
He wasn’t sure why he was rambling. Something about her presence made his brain short-circuit. But Xizelen didn’t laugh or correct him—she simply turned toward the grand staircase ahead and gestured politely.
“Would you mind walking with me, my lord?”
Jonathan hesitated. Part of him wondered if she was just playing nice before he got sacrificed to a lightning dragon or something. Still, he nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Sure.”
They ascended the steps together—polished obsidian and white stone underfoot, lit by ethereal glow-lamps that hung suspended without chains. The architecture was elegant but exotic, almost alien. Every hallway was lined with towering stained glass, shifting slightly as though the images within were alive.
Guards stood at attention as they passed, clad in armor that shimmered like metal and mist. Servants moved silently through the halls, bowing deeply as Jonathan and Xizelen walked by.
It was enough to make him forget his question—almost.
“So…” he started, voice low. “If Requiem was just one realm… why are there multiple realms now?”
Xizelen didn’t break stride. “After the defeat of ?am? Olorun Gloruim, the foundational essence of the realm was fractured. The tears in space-time formed isolated pockets—what we now call realms. Each one vast, self-contained, yet still part of the whole.”
“Like—planets inside a bubble?”
“More like universes nestled within a higher law,” she said.
He squinted. “…That feels like a multiverse.”
“Again, not in the typical sense,” she said with a small smile. “These realms do not exist independently. They are not branching timelines or alternate realities. They are deliberate structures, crafted within a larger divine framework.”
Jonathan let out a slow breath. “Okay… so, is that ?am? guy still the top dog? Or did this Jafar dude take over?”
Xizelen paused at a landing, the corridor splitting to overlook a massive arching window. The view stole Jonathan’s breath.
Outside was a city unlike anything he’d ever seen. Towering spires curved into the clouds, entire floating districts hovered on crystal platforms, and sky-beasts the size of cruise ships drifted lazily across the atmosphere. The castle they walked in stretched so far, it looked like it covered the entire mountain range it rested on.
“This place is…” he trailed off. “How big is this castle?”
“Roughly the size of two of your Earth continents,” she replied.
He choked. “That’s… that’s not a castle.”
She returned her gaze to the skyline. “To answer your earlier question… ?am? Olorun Gloruim is still the supreme divine being. The strongest presence in Requiem. But he does not interfere with mortal affairs—not anymore. His gaze watches, but his hand is still.”
“And Jafar?”
“Jafar is one of the five strongest beings in existence across the 245 million realms. A commander. A conqueror. A lawgiver. A god. He has carved empires where others found only chaos.”
Jonathan stared out the window, heart pounding. “So let me get this straight… I died saving my sister, and now I’m in a god-war wreckage dimension with continent-sized castles, with two hundred and forty-five million realm-universes, and the most powerful people in existence know who I am?”
Xizelen turned to him, serene as ever.
“Yes,” she said. “And you haven’t even had breakfast yet.”
