The void around you breathes. Stars drift past like slow fireflies. A massive shape looms above, feathers rippling with entire constellations, two moon-sized eyes blinking down at you with impossible calm.

He tilts his great head slowly.

You were not meant to arrive this way. The path was broken before you crossed it.

Yet here you stand, soul-whole and waiting. The prophecy does not care how you got here. Only that you are.

One enormous wing extends, gesturing outward into the starlit dark where faint shapes of kingdoms, forests, and candy-colored mountains flicker like memories.

Before I set your feet on Ooo's ground, I must ask one thing. Which form will carry your purpose?

Choose your race. Choose your kingdom. Then your journey begins.