James felt light, adrift in a void. He braced himself for the familiar stench of sulfur and blood. But when he opened his eyes, a radiant glow flooded his senses—brilliant yet not blinding, warm and inviting like the first light of dawn. He squinted, adjusting slowly to the brightness.
He stood in an endless room. The floor beneath his feet shimmered like pure gold, polished to a mirror-like sheen. Yet it wasn't cold or metallic, it felt soft, like silk, yet firm enough to support him. Above him, there was no ceiling, only swirling clouds of silver and white, shifting like ocean waves. Now and then, beams of golden light pierced through, casting a gentle warmth across the space.
The walls, if they could be called that, were woven from light itself. Translucent and ethereal, they glowed like a distant sunrise, radiating a sense of ancient permanence. Every corner of the room pulsed with a calm, serene aura.
As he stood up, his hands brushed the golden floor. A comforting warmth seeped into his skin. A gentle breeze stirred, carrying the soft sounds of harps, chimes, and a distant choir, music that resonated with his soul. Even the air felt alive, breathing with divine essence.
At the center of the room, a marble dais rose from the ground, veined with gold that shimmered under the heavenly light. Upon it stood a figure that stole James's breath away.
"A... Seraphim," James whispered, heart pounding. A mix of awe and fear surged through him, his body trembling as he struggled to comprehend the sight.
The angel was both majestic and serene. Six wings spread wide, each feather a thread of shifting light, flowing between hues of gold, white, and blue. The wings rustled gently, as if moved by a divine breeze. Its face was human yet too perfect to belong to this world, and its eyes burned like twin orbs of white flame, blinding, but without heat.
Its robes, woven from pure light, shifted with every movement, trimmed in gold that caught the light like morning sun. In its outstretched hand rested a golden staff, adorned with seven radiant gemstones, each glowing like a miniature star.
The angel's presence pressed James to the floor. He could barely breathe, the weight of the divine pressing into his very bones.
"James," the Seraphim said, its voice like a deep drum and a whispered prayer all at once. It descended from the dais, wings folding gracefully, the light dimming just enough for James to bear. "I am Zephaniel, a servant of God, though unworthy of the title you may think me to hold."
James managed to raise his head slightly, his voice weak. "W-why am I here?"
Zephaniel's blazing eyes softened, becoming almost compassionate. "You have been chosen, James. Chosen to carry a burden... a mission beyond mortal comprehension."
The seraphim floated slowly around him, as though searching for something unseen, before returning to the dais. "But not all is yet revealed," it added, voice shifting suddenly into a language James couldn't understand. The celestial tongue resonated in his soul, but twisted his thoughts into knots.
"I... I can't understand you," James whispered, forehead pressed to the floor. "I'm sorry."
Zephaniel paused. A sigh escaped it, gentle yet heavy. "It seems the heavens have not yet given me permission to speak all that is to come. But for now, take this."
A golden text shimmered into existence before James. Letters and symbols wove themselves together into a name:
Name: James L. Silver
Guardian: Zephaniel
"You may rise," Zephaniel said, its form beginning to blur into pure light. "We will meet again."
As the seraphim vanished in a flare of gold, the room dimmed. James was left alone, the golden text still floating before him. His body, no longer trembling, felt lighter.
He sat cross-legged on the warm floor, eyes fixed on where Zephaniel had stood. The words repeated in his mind like a haunting melody:
"You have been chosen, James. Chosen to carry a burden, a mission greater than any one mortal can comprehend."
He exhaled slowly. Chosen. The word lingered, heavy and unfamiliar. He struggled to grasp its meaning. Why him, of all people?
James glanced around the ethereal space, half-expecting an answer in the shifting lights or celestial music. But there was only silence, a vast, echoing stillness. He felt small again. Not from awe this time, but loneliness. The crushing weight of being at the edge of something vast and unknowable.
"This... this has to be a mistake," he whispered. "I'm just James. I run a company. I live in New York. How am I supposed to carry some cosmic burden?"
A bitter laugh rose in his throat. He rubbed his face, trying to shake the unease. Still, beneath the disbelief, a strange sense of responsibility began clawing at his thoughts. Something deep inside recognized the truth: something profound had just happened.
And despite it all, a flicker of determination lit within him.
"If this is real," he muttered, clenching his fists, "then I'll figure it out. I have to."
Suddenly, the space shifted. New golden text appeared before his eyes:
Quest: Unlock your ability
Ability: Solomon's Eye
Reward: 500 Essence
James blinked. The peace he'd found moments before shattered, replaced by a rush of confusion. "A quest? Seriously?"
He rubbed his temples. "What the hell is 'Solomon's Eye'? Sounds like some knockoff anime title."
The text flared slightly, golden flames flickering as if insulted. James raised an eyebrow.
"What, you've got a temper now?" he said. The text pulsed again, then calmed.
"Fine, fine, I'll do it. It's not like I have any other way out of here."
The flames flared once more, and the message shifted:
Failure to complete the quest may result in... consequences.
James froze. A chill crept down his spine. The playful tone of the moment vanished. He stared at the words, suddenly serious.
"Consequences?" he whispered. "What kind of consequences?"
No answer. Just silence. Even the divine music seemed to hush, like the room was listening.
James took a breath, steadying himself. "Okay. You're all mysterious, I get it. But seriously, how do I unlock this ability?"
The text shimmered again. For a second, a golden smiley face appeared, then faded away.
James stared. "Hey!" he shouted, leaping to his feet. "Don't just disappear! You still haven't told me...."
His voice echoed, unanswered. Only the distant music remained.
He sighed, pacing. "Why do I feel like I'm stuck in some celestial joke?"
He lightly kicked the golden floor. Still soft, still warm. "Alright. I'll play your game," he muttered, looking up at the swirling skies. "But I better get some answers next time."
The room remained unchanged. James stood alone, his thoughts swirling.
"Why does it feel like everyone's leaving me their damn responsibilities…"