The boy awoke on a crossroad.

He didn’t remember how he had gotten there. He didn’t remember much of anything. Even his own name eluded him. To his credit, he still knew enough to recall the lack of a name as something peculiar, but unfortunately that alone was not enough to help recall anything else. Aside for that one morsel of knowledge, he knew only that he was exactly here, wherever “here”, exactly, might be.

In search of an answer to that question he decided to observe the what of the “here”. The road was wide but unpaved. It was lined with white gravel, and barren of any signs of life aside from the boy himself. Small buildings, derelict and black, lined each street for as far as he could see, which was not far. A thin, wispy fog that seemed to grow heavier as it grew further away permeated the air. The boy stood exactly in the center of the intersection, each street as dark and unknown as the last. Yet it was clear to the boy that the choice between one street or another was an important one. That this was the case was simply something which he knew. Though he could not recall why, he could feel with every fiber of his being that it was the unquestionable truth.

As far as the fog allowed, the area was well-lit. The fog muffled shadow as well as vision and everything became the same, dull gray once far enough away. Despite the resolve to make a choice, each path seemed utterly the same. It was not possible to make an educated choice, so instead the the boy decided on the only method available to him. He turned his head and followed a path a random.

Once his path was chosen, he didn’t look back. If all options seemed the same then there was no sense in second guessing himself. By the time he walked the length of three buildings, the fog closed around him to such an extent that he could no longer have seen the crossroad, even had he looked. In two more buildings the light began to dim and one with more after that the buildings themselves had faded into fog. Yet even with his ever diminishing field of view, the path ahead remained clear. Literally.

As the fog closed in around him, it seemed to open up ahead. Never enough to see where he was going, but more than enough to see the way to reach it. He walked like that for a long time. Or perhaps a short one. In truth, he could not seem to keep track. The only thing that told him he was moving was the feel of his legs as one shifted in front of the next and even that soon became a hypnotic drone as he stepped ever forward.

Whether an eternity or a moment, neither road nor fog was endless. They led to the beginning of something new. The transition was subtle. The road became rougher and the gravel larger. Pieces of stone took on less rounded appearance and the path’s borders narrowed until they once again existed at the edge of the fog. The gravel gave way to squared cobblestone as a spidery lamppost clarified in front of the boy. Quite suddenly, he found himself beside a lamp, the fog dissipating, in a very different place.

The road was now rose red and was bordered by narrow strips of fertile earth. Lanterns like the one beside him dotted the street with seemingly little thought towards their spacing. Behind the empty garden mounds stood tall buildings with steep, shingled roofs. Above those, there was the sky.

Nebulas of vibrant green and red and violet decorated a quilt of blue so dark it looked nearly black. In front of the nebulas shone two moons. The larger shifted slowly from one colour to the next while the other held a steady, pale radiance. So remarkable was the sky, and so accustomed to solitude was the boy, that that he failed to notice the most remarkable thing of all.

“Welcome, lost soul, to Daimachi.”

The boy jumped and quickly searched for the voice’s source. His eyes told him he was just as alone as before, while his ears latched onto the noise and caused him to realize the depth of his own silence. There had been not even the slightest of noises. He couldn’t even recall the sound of his own steps. He quickly shifted his feet to listened for the subtle sounds that they produced. Sure enough, he could hear the impact of foot hitting stone. He could hear the faint buzz of the lamp beside him. He could hear, in the distance, the muted lull a city.

As he focused more closely on his surroundings, shadows of movement began to coalesce at the edge of his vision

“Don’t strain yourself. It will come with time.”

With the voice’s return, the shadowed faded once more into nothingness.

[Where are you?]

“There we go. One thing at a time. I’m right beside you. I’m here to help, and to bring you where you need to go.”

The voice was deep and gravelly. It somehow seemed alien, yet at the same time friendly. He felt he could trust its owner and so nodded his consent.

“Let’s go then. You know the way. I’ll keep you safe and answer some questions to pass the time.”

It was true. He did know the way, sort of. Though the boy still didn’t know where he was going, he felt that if he kept walking, he would reach his destination soon. The city proved it, as did his guide. As he looked forwards, towards the path in front of him, he could just make out a faint, warm flame floating to his side.

Questions filled his mind. Some seemed more important than others and those he decided to save for later. Though important, they also seemed less pressing. So much still felt blurred out like his hearing had been, out of his consciousness just waiting for something to bring attention to its absence before suddenly resolving all at once. In the end, he decided to stick with the simple questions and follow the guide’s advice to take things slowly.

[What was that fog?]

“What indeed.” The boy could sense amusement in the voice. “It has many names. A great many things do, here. To me, it is the shroud of lost souls, as it appears whenever another soul arrives.”

The boy considered this. Was he a Lost Soul? In some ways it didn’t seem to match. After all, he apparently knew this path he was on. Indeed, it had felt familiar to him from the moment he had stepped on it. But in other ways it was a label which resonated deeply.

[You said we’re in Daimachi before. What is that?]

“Hmm. Daimachi is a city. A Great City to be sure, perhaps the greatest, perhaps not. It is nonetheless one of many bastions in this place, and of the many it is the one you chose to find.”

[So I could have ended up in a different place. A different…bastion?]

“Yes and no. you had the choice and you chose here, though you didn’t know you had at the time. Would you have chosen different? Could you have even done so? These are things you cannot know. Consider them if you wish, but you already know that you cannot turn back.”

As the duo walked, more details gradually resolved into focus. Accompanying the gentle flame was the shadow of a large cloaked figure. More shadows of movement, presumably city-goes that the boy could not yet see, faded in and out of view as they walked about, always giving the boy and his guide a wide berth. Even the formerly barren gardens began to fill with wispy shadows of plants he could not recognize. Meanwhile, the buildings seemed to grow taller, and beyond them stood a truly massive structure.

It looked like a single tower, cylindrical and peaked with a fan-shaped roof, but it was as tall as the tallest skyscraper and as wide as a stadium. The bricks themselves had a sort of ethereal quality that he could not yet discern. The whole structure seemed awash with colour, much like the ever-shifting moon. It was obvious now that this was his destination, seen for the first time after walking so far.

“Don’t stop now. We’re almost there. Daimachi is a city that is always growing. Near the edge it grows outward, while in the middle it reaches upward. At the very center of the city lounges the taproot that is the source of all others, dwarfing them. It is there where you will meet the Daimyo.”