Hunter only had a moment to stare dumbly at the notification before a pure white illumination covered him, and the entire world shrank to that single flash of light. When it cleared, he found that he was no longer on Snodgrass.

He was in a place that looked remarkably like what he imagined heaven. Underneath his feet a semi-transparent bridge composed of rainbow-hued light stretched into the distance. Peering through the bridge, Hunter saw an infinite abyss filled with galaxies, nebula, and brilliant flaming stars. The sight made him woozy, so he quickly turned his gaze upward.

On either side of the bridge, gigantic white statues stood like watchful sentinels. The humanoid effigies were garbed in brilliant robes and carried long golden swords clasped in two hands. The blades faced downward, and Hunter detected an intimidating power radiating from their lengths. The figures themselves were uncanny. They rode the line between humanity and….something else. They were bald and had no discerning features. They looked like the lay figures he had seen in his art classes. Brilliant shards of golden metal revolved behind their heads like synthetic sunbursts.

Hunter was so distracted by the figures that it took him a moment to look beyond them. When he did, his breath caught in his chest. In the far distance, a magnificent city thrust into the sky. It looked like a god had reached down to earth and plucked up a stretch of its surface. Verdant life graced every square inch of the structure. Hunter could see rushing waterfalls that fell into the cosmos below.

The city matched the same material as the statues, but each building had an iridescent shimmer that spoke to concealed power. There were so many structures that it looked several times larger than any city he had ever seen. In the most prominent location, a central tower dominated the skyline. It comprised a hundred gleaming spires that reminded him of something between a fantasy castle and a church organ.

“I must’ve died,” he whispered.

“No, you’re quite alive,” a rasping voice answered him.

Startled, Hunter spun around to face the source of the response. The owner of the voice made him stagger back in sudden fear.

Before him, a strange creature with the same visage as the statues studied him. Hunter wasn’t sure how he knew it was watching, for the figure had no discerning features. There were no eyes, mouth, or ears. The shapes were all there but smoothed over like unfinished clay. The creature's skin appeared translucent, and underneath its thin exterior, nebula swirled around solar systems in every color of the rainbow.

Contrary to its stone doppelgängers, the entity wore clothing spun of shimmering silver. Instead of a sword, it carried a beaten leather book. Hunter couldn’t take his eyes away from the tome for some reason. It had a heaviness to it that resonated throughout his entire being. It felt like a tuning fork calibrated to Hunter’s soul.

He pulled his eyes from the leather book and looked at the being with great effort.

“W-Who are you?” He hated how his voice trembled in fear, wishing it held the same confidence as the heroes from his stories.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

The creature tilted its head like it was studying a fascinating insect.

“I am the Archivist.”

“What am I doing here?” Hunter wondered as he glanced around. Everything was starting to feel overwhelming. If he wasn’t dead, he had no idea what was happening.

“You are a strange subject, Hunter Gold. You have been proficient in nearly every task you’ve attempted to perform. Yet, you still haven’t found a Path. You wander, aimless and unguided, buffeted by the winds of chance. Fret not. The Celestial Archive rests upon Paths, requiring each sentient to pursue them. If you cannot find purpose, I will thrust it upon you.”

The creature spread its arms, and Hunter noticed only three fingers and a thumb on each hand.

“We cannot force you upon a Path. “The Architect of the Universe granted you Free Will. You have its spark of divinity resting within you. Yet, I can set your first steps.”

The Archivist leaned in closer as if to get a better look.

“Who is it that you want to be, Hunter Gold?”

Hunter immediately felt a burning shame come over him. It was the same question that his mom had asked. The same question that his teachers and coaches had asked. It was the same question he asked himself before arriving in this mystical realm. The answer then was the same now. He felt incapable of lying to the being in front of him.

“I-I don’t know,” he said. Embarrassment laced his every word. He felt like he was shrinking as the silence between the two grew longer.

“I see,” the Archivist acknowledged with a nod. “In that case, I have no regrets about using you for my own purpose. The Architect has been silent for too long, and the Enemy grows in power.”

The creature gracefully began to stroke his chin in deep thought. Hunter couldn’t help but feel he had failed some indiscernible test.

“Does this mean I have to die now?” Hunter said morosely.

“Don’t be foolish. The Architect wouldn’t allow it, and your species does well enough of that to itself. No, I have a different plan in mind. You’ll be a seed, one of many, that may bear fruit in the right conditions.”

The Archivist opened the leatherbound book in its hand. Scintillating light shone from the pages as they carelessly flipped through them.

“Let’s see,” it muttered as it paged back and forth. “Ah, this will do.”

It hummed pleasantly as it traced a thin finger down the page. “This has a certain symmetry that I admire.”

The Archivist abruptly looked up. “You will either find your Path, or die trying. Those who fail to find a Path inevitably fall to darkness, so it’s fitting that you’ll find one here.”

It raised a finger and began to trace glittering silver glyphs in the air. “I’ll even drop you close to where I found you.” The ancient voice sounded almost cheerful. Hunter wasn’t sure if dying or returning to see his grandparents was worse.

A beautiful inscription hung in the air when the Archivist sketched the last glyph. Hunter watched it with a small amount of trepidation.

“Good luck,” The Archivist said at last.

Hunter felt a twisting in his gut that wrenched through his whole body. He felt like the Archivist had gripped his soul and twisted it before tearing it apart into a thousand pieces.

Error….System recalibrating…

Congratulations on passing your first….error….

…Revelation not detected…

…Welcome to the Snodgrass Rift!