The void was infinite and suffocating all at once.
I couldn't remember my name. Couldn't remember how I died. The memories were there, fragments of a life lived, shows watched, books read, choices made both good and terrible, but they felt distant, like watching someone else's home videos through frosted glass.
Time had no meaning here. Had I been floating in this darkness for days? Years? Centuries? There was no way to know, no way to measure the endless stretch of nothing. Just me and my thoughts, flipping through the same memories over and over until they began to blur together.
I thought about the last TV show I'd binged. Teen Wolf, wasn't it? The memory felt important somehow, like a lifeline in the dark. I could picture scenes, characters, and plot points. Derek Hale's perpetual scowl. Stiles's manic energy. The terror and wonder of a world where werewolves and banshees and nogitsunes walked among humans, hidden in plain sight.
Strange, that in the face of death—or whatever this was—my mind clung to fiction.
A sound shattered the silence.
It started as a whisper, then grew into a sharp crack, as if reality itself were splitting open. Brilliant white light exploded through the darkness, searing my vision even though I had no physical eyes to close. I tried to shield myself, to turn away, but I had no body to move.
"Now, this is interesting."
The voice was deep, resonant, carrying the weight of eons. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, vibrating through the very fabric of the void.
Through the spots dancing across my non-existent vision, I made out a figure. Or rather, something approximating a figure, a being of light and shadow that hurt to look at directly, as if my mind couldn't quite process what it was seeing. It shifted constantly, never settling on a single form.
"You are an anomaly," the being continued, and I could hear something like curiosity in its voice. It raised what might have been a hand to what might have been a chin, tilting its head in contemplation. "You should not exist here. This is... concerning."
"I—" My voice came out as barely a whisper, weak and uncertain. I hadn't spoken in... how long? "What do you mean?"
"You've been here for several thousand years," the being said matter-of-factly, as if discussing the weather. "Floating in the space between life and death, marinating in energies that were never meant for mortal souls. The rot has set in too deeply. I cannot send you through the normal reincarnation cycle; you'd contaminate the entire process."
Several thousand years.
The words hit me like a physical blow. Thousands of years of... nothing. Floating. Waiting. No wonder my memories felt so distant, so fragmented. I'd been slowly dissolving in the void, my sense of self eroding like sand in an endless tide.
"I'm sorry, sir," I managed, my voice growing stronger with use. "But who are you? What are you?"
The being made a sound that might have been a chuckle. "You can think of me as a random god passing by who happened to notice an irregularity in the cosmic order. I was doing my rounds, checking the usual channels, and there you were, a soul that's been lost in the cracks for millennia. Quite the oversight, really."
Despite everything, I felt a smile tugging at my consciousness. "So... a R.O.B. essentially?"
"A what?"
"Random Omnipotent Being. It's a trope from fanfiction. Someone with god-like powers who appears and sends people to other worlds, usually with wishes or special abilities."
The being's form rippled with what I took to be amusement. "Ah. Yes, I suppose that's accurate enough. Though I prefer to think of myself as more of a cosmic custodian. You're a mess I need to clean up, kid."
"So what happens to me now?" I asked, and I hated how small my voice sounded. "Am I just... deleted? Wiped from existence?"
"Nothing so dramatic." The being waved a hand—or appendage—dismissively. "Since I cannot send you through the normal process without breaking several fundamental laws of reality, I'm going to give you something better. Consider it an apology for leaving you to rot in the void for a few millennia, and a reward for not going completely insane."
Hope flared in my chest. "Better? Like... reincarnation?"
"Reincarnation with benefits," the being corrected. "I'll give you three wishes within reasonable parameters. I'm not going to make you omnipotent or anything ridiculous like that. You'll also get to choose which world you're sent to, customize your appearance, and establish your background. Think of it as a character creation screen, if that helps your mortal mind conceptualize it."
Three wishes. A new world. A second chance at life, a real life, not this endless floating in darkness.
My mind raced. I'd read enough fanfiction, watched enough isekai anime, to know that wishes could be tricky. Ask for too much and get rejected. Ask for too little and waste the opportunity. The key was finding the sweet spot, powerful enough to matter, balanced enough to be granted.
And I already knew which world I wanted.
"I want to go to the Teen Wolf universe," I said, the words coming out in a rush before I could second-guess myself.
The being tilted its head. "The television show you were thinking about earlier? Interesting choice. Why that world?"
"Because I know it," I said, feeling more confident now. "I know the threats, the timeline, the players. It's a world with supernatural creatures, which means I can be more than human, but it's not so overpowered that nothing I do will matter. There's room for me to make a difference."
"And you want power in that world," the being observed. "That's what the wishes are for, isn't it?"
"Yes," I admitted. There was no point in lying to what was essentially a god. "I've spent thousands of years as nothing. I want to be something. I want to matter."
The being was quiet for a moment, and I wondered if I'd said the wrong thing. Then it nodded slowly.
"Very well. The Teen Wolf universe it is. Now, make your wishes. And be specific, vague wishes lead to vague results."
I'd been thinking about this since the beginning, first mentioned wishes, running through possibilities and permutations. I needed to be strong enough to handle the threats that would come: the Alpha Pack, the Nogitsune, and the Dread Doctors. But I also needed to fit into the world, to have weaknesses that kept things interesting.
"For my first wish," I began carefully, "I want the powers of a primordial wolf."
"Elaborate."
"A primordial wolf is a being of pure instinct and power, an alpha without the need to kill or inherit the spark; it's intrinsic to my existence. My wolf form should be large and powerful, but not absurdly so. I'd like it to stop growing at the size of the Twilight wolves, about the size of a horse, maybe a bit larger. Imposing, but not kaiju-level. And I want my eyes to glow a brilliant silver when I shift, not red, gold, or blue. Something unique."
The being hummed thoughtfully. "A primordial wolf. You'd be significantly more powerful than the alphas in that world. Your strength, speed, and healing would far exceed theirs. Are you certain you want that level of power?"
"I've thought about it," I said. "Yes, I'll be strong, but I won't be invincible. Which brings me to my second wish: I want my weaknesses modified."
"Go on."
"Normal werewolves in that world are vulnerable to wolfsbane, mountain ash, and certain other things. I want to keep some vulnerability; a story where the protagonist can't be hurt is boring. But I want the threshold higher. Make it so only wolfsbane that's been mixed with ash from the center of the earth can truly weaken me. Everything else might slow me down or hurt, but won't incapacitate me."
"So you're not invulnerable, just resistant. Clever. That wolfsbane mixture would be incredibly rare."
"Exactly. It means I can't just bulldoze through everything, but I'm not going to be taken down by some hunter with a regular wolfsbane bullet. It creates stakes without making me helpless."
The being nodded approvingly. "And your third wish?"
This was the one I'd debated the most. I needed something versatile, something that gave me options beyond just being a strong werewolf.
"For my third wish, I want the ability to void walk."
"Void walk," the being repeated. "You'll need to be more specific."
"The ability to step into the void—the space between spaces—and travel through it. I'd be able to use it for short-range teleportation, or to temporarily phase out of reality to avoid attacks. It wouldn't be unlimited, maybe a cooldown period between uses, or it requires concentration, so I can't spam it in combat. But it would give me mobility and tactical options."
The being was quiet for a long moment, and I worried I'd asked for too much. Then it laughed, a sound like thunder rolling across distant mountains.
"Going for the overpowered setting, are we? Primordial wolf strength, modified weaknesses, and void manipulation. You'll be one of the strongest beings in that world from the moment you arrive."
My non-existent heart sank. "Is that... not allowed?"
"Oh, it's allowed," the being assured me. "I can see your intentions, child. You don't plan to destroy the world or become some tyrant. You want to live, to protect those you care about, to face challenges on your own terms. That's reasonable enough. Besides, you've earned it after floating in my void for several thousand years. Consider it hazard pay."
Relief flooded through me. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. Power comes with responsibility, and that world has plenty of threats that will test you. Now, let's discuss your appearance and background. I assume you've given that thought as well?"
"I have," I said, and I couldn't keep the excitement out of my voice. "For my appearance, I want to be tall, six foot three. Athletic build, like a swimmer's body. Toned but not overly bulky. Short, spiky white hair, gray eyes, and a sharp jawline. Basically, I want to look distinctive but not so unusual that I can't blend in when I need to."
"Vain, but understandable. And your background?"
This part I'd thought through carefully. I needed resources, freedom, and a reason to be in Beacon Hills without raising too many questions.
"I want to be born into a wealthy family. Top one percent, old money. My parents should be named Laura and Jaden Vale, business tycoons with investments in multiple industries. But I want them dead."
The being's form shifted, something like surprise rippling through it. "You want to start as an orphan?"
"Yes. Have them die in a plane crash when I'm fourteen, just before I arrive in Beacon Hills. It's tragic enough to be memorable but not so unusual in wealthy circles. It gives me access to their fortune and company, as well as the freedom to operate without parental supervision. Plus, it's a built-in emotional backstory if anyone asks."
"Calculated," the being observed. "You've really thought this through."
"I've had time to think," I said dryly. "Thousands of years, apparently."
The being chuckled again. "Fair point. Very well, Lucien Vale, that will be your name. Son of Laura and Jaden Vale, heir to a business empire, orphaned at fourteen when their plane went down in the Himalayas. No bodies recovered. You'll inherit everything, including the main estate in Los Angeles and enough wealth to do whatever you please. Does that suit you?"
"Perfectly."
"Then we're done here." The being raised its hand, and reality began to warp around us. The void started to collapse inward, or maybe I was expanding outward; it was impossible to tell. "A word of advice, child: power is a tool, not a solution. That world will test you in ways that have nothing to do with how hard you can hit or how fast you can heal. Remember that."
"I will," I promised.
"Good luck, Lucien. Try not to break my favorite TV show too badly."
Before I could ask what that meant, the being waved its hand, and everything went dark.