The rain pounded against my apartment window.

  Not a light, soothing rain. No. A heavy, mechanical, almost aggressive downpour, as if someone up there was shaking a bucket of water while muttering:

  Cosmic Voice: "Come on, a little more misery for Thalen."

  Each drop echoed like an invisible clock. A cold, precise rhythm.

  Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

  Reminding me that my life was a masterpiece of banality. Me, Thalen Rowen, 32 years old, architect — a designer of buildings praised — with hypocritical admiration — as "bold."

  In reality: a mix of talent, madness, and "if you approve this budget, we close tomorrow." Projects were rarely entrusted to me, and when they were, it was always a test: would I crumble or save the building... sometimes I did both.

  I was proud of my work. Until I realized my creations had more soul than I did. Admired by artists. Hated by accountants. Ignored by everyone else.

  My life?

  A too-large apartment.

  A prestigious but empty job.

  Exceptional projects that filled nothing inside me.

  An absent family.

  Colleagues offering coffees with no date.

  Chronic fatigue. Chic but hollow solitude.

  In short: I was the human version of a high-end office chair.

  Useful, comfortable, expensive... but forgotten in a corner. And true to my luck, even on Earth, gravity regularly humiliated me:

  I dropped my keys, phone, folders, pens...

  And especially my dignity, at least twice a week.

  That night, I had decided to celebrate my birthday alone. As usual.

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  A bottle of wine.

  Candles — because ambiance, damn it, matters.

  A very good piece of cake.

  And an old fantasy manga open on the table.

  Simple concept: celebrate solitude as an art.

  Then thunder rumbled. And in the chaos, I heard... a note. A strange, almost living sound, but soft. It vibrated in the air like a whisper.

  Cosmic Voice:

  — Harmony broken.

  — Anomaly confirmed.

  — Compatible soul detected.

  — Transfer initiation.

  I froze.

  "...I guess dying quietly was too much to ask."

  Before I could laugh at my terrible joke, the light vanished.

  The world fell silent. A silence so pure it hurt.

  Cosmic Voice:

  — Welcome to Noctsylva, dissonant traveler.

  — The world hears you.

  — May your soul find what it has forgotten...

  — or break trying.

  I opened my eyes slowly. A forest. Immense. Twisted. A scene ripped from a gothic nightmare... yet so beautiful it stole my breath.

  And my hands — pardon — my wings, greeted me with elegance.

  Cosmic Voice:

  — Welcome, dissonant traveler.

  — The thread of the Void caresses you.

  — Form: Shadow Owl.

  — Essence unstable.

  — Observation begins.

  ...I WAS A SERIOUS OWL. A. FREAKING. OWL.

  Thalen: "Great. I die in my apartment without understanding why, on my birthday... and boom. Gothic owl. Wings. And apparently zero dignity."

  I tried to move. Clumsily.

  A branch. A flap of a wing. I'm flying —

  Thalen: "Oh no! I'm falling! Wait... I'M FALLING!! Damn it, not now... not like this!"

  And there I was, upside down, hanging like a sock.

  Apparently, even in another world, gravity had decided to humiliate me.

  But as I struggled, the forest vibrated. No sound... just a pulse.

  Like a melody calling me.

  And for the first time in years, I felt something pure.

  The forest... had a soul?

  Cosmic Voice:

  — Soul Architect detected.

  — A new path is forming.

  — Shadows watch every step.

  Thalen: "Okay, mystical world. If you have a tutorial, now would be great."

  The forest left me hanging.

  Just a distant, mocking hoot.