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"You joined," the man said, his voice like silk over gravel. "Most people just click. Very few actually want to arrive ." "Arrive where?" Arthur asked, his voice trembling.

Arthur looked back at his beige apartment—the half-eaten sandwich, the stack of bills, the quiet safety of a life half-lived. Then he looked at the obsidian woods and the key glinting on the tray. Join now!

The man stepped aside, gesturing to the open door. Outside, Arthur’s familiar suburban street was gone. In its place was a sprawling, mist-covered forest where the trees looked like they were made of obsidian. A path of glowing white stones led into the dark. "You joined," the man said, his voice like silk over gravel