Bryce’s mind was foggy, and his body felt weightless, detached from any sensation of pain or pressure. Slowly, he became aware of his surroundings, blinking as his vision cleared. He was no longer on the event field, no longer surrounded by the chaos of the explosion. Instead, he found himself in a long, sterile hallway. The walls were a dull, off-white color, lined with doors that seemed to stretch on endlessly in both directions. There was a faint hum in the air, like the background noise of a large facility or a busy station.
Bryce sat up, trying to piece together what had happened. The last thing he remembered was the explosion, the overwhelming force that had knocked him off his feet, and the frantic rush to save the children. Panic rose in his chest as he recalled the kids, the ones he'd tried to protect. Were they okay? Where was he?
As he slowly stood up, he noticed a few familiar faces in the hallway. People from Jacobs Technology, co-workers who had also been volunteering at the event. They were just beginning to stir, waking up groggily like he had. One by one, they got to their feet, casting confused glances at each other before wandering away, as if they instinctively knew where to go. Bryce tried to call out to them, but his voice didn’t seem to work. They didn’t look back, simply disappearing down different corridors.
Bryce frowned and took a few tentative steps forward, his leg aching faintly but no longer carrying the deep pain from before. His limp was barely noticeable now. Something was off. This place didn’t feel real—it felt like a dream, or some kind of in-between state.
Before he could process more, he began to notice figures appearing around him. They were children—kids of all ages, some in wheelchairs, others standing or holding onto one another. The group of special needs children he had been trying to protect during the explosion was here with him, their expressions a mix of confusion and wonder. There were 22 of them, to be exact. Bryce’s breath caught in his throat as he recognized some of them. Twelve were from the event—the children he had tried so desperately to save. There was Mason, the determined boy in the wheelchair, and Ava, Lisa Jacobs’ granddaughter, her wide eyes staring up at him. He saw four more faces—student helpers who had been at the event. They looked dazed but unhurt. And then, there were six other kids, siblings of the participants, who had come to support their brothers or sisters during Challenge Day. They were all here, gathered around him in the hallway, looking just as confused as he was.
“Is everyone okay?” Bryce managed to ask, his voice finally working. He scanned their faces, but the kids didn’t respond right away. Some of them just looked at him, others exchanged worried glances with each other.
“Where are we?” one of the older student helpers finally asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Bryce shook his head. “I—I don’t know,” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. “But we’ll figure it out. We’re together, and that’s what matters.”
He wasn’t sure if he believed his own words. There was a strange energy in the air, a sense of being somewhere entirely out of the ordinary. Bryce’s instinct told him they weren’t alive anymore—that they had crossed some invisible threshold when the explosion happened. But how could he explain that to the children? He had no answers himself.
Suddenly, the hallway around them seemed to shift. The drab walls flickered and shimmered, and in an instant, the corridor opened up into a massive, sprawling space. It was unlike anything Bryce had ever seen. The ceiling stretched impossibly high, disappearing into the distance, while the floor was an endless sea of people, kiosks, and platforms. It looked like a bizarre cross between a huge mall, a flea market, a DMV, and a train station. There were rows of counters where people were standing in line, waiting to speak to attendants behind glass windows. Others were sitting in large waiting areas or walking briskly toward different platforms that seemed to lead to various destinations.
There were signs above the counters and platforms, written in multiple languages and symbols, some were marked with symbols that resembled religious icons: a crescent moon, a cross, a lotus flower, others of which Bryce didn’t even recognize. Each path glimmered with a distinct hue, beckoning to those who believed. One large sign read "Reincarnation Processing", with arrows pointing in different directions.
Bryce stared in disbelief. It was a reincarnation center, or at least something like that. People—souls—were being sorted, processed, and directed toward different outcomes for their next lives. Some moved through the process quickly, passing through gates and being led to platforms where they vanished in a flash of light. Others lingered, filling out forms or speaking with attendants. Bryce could see people being directed toward shops or windows, where they received some kind of item or document before continuing on.
“Look!” one of the boys exclaimed, pointing to a sign that read “Express Lane for Good Karma.” A small crowd had formed, and those who stepped into the lane were quickly whisked away, smiles plastered on their faces, as they approached a set of shining platforms where ethereal beings seemed to await their arrival.
“Is this where we get sorted?” Bryce wondered aloud, his heart racing at the implications of what this place could mean.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
He looked down at the kids around him, and it was clear they were just as confused as he was. Some clung to each other, while others stared wide-eyed at the vast, bustling center in front of them. Bryce took a deep breath and tried to keep his own fear in check. They had to stick together.
“Alright, listen up,” Bryce said, gathering the kids close. “I’m not sure where we are, but we need to stay together, okay? We’ll figure this out.”
The children nodded, their trust in him evident in their wide eyes. He was their guide now, whether he was ready for that responsibility or not.
As they walked deeper into the soul-sorting center, Bryce couldn’t help but notice the different ways people were being processed. Some souls moved as crowds, large groups funneled into specific lines or queues. They seemed content, following the flow without question, as if they knew where they were headed. But then there were others who kept to themselves, avoiding eye contact with the crowds. Some darted between the kiosks and counters, their expressions furtive and anxious, as though they were trying to avoid something—or someone.
Bryce felt a shiver run down his spine as he watched a group of individuals in one of the express lanes. They moved quickly, directed by attendants dressed in crisp uniforms. These souls were efficiently processed, given what appeared to be paperwork, and then led toward a series of platforms marked for immediate reincarnation. Their transitions were swift and organized, with little to no waiting time.
As they walked deeper into the hall, they passed booths where vendors sold strange items: shimmering crystals, scrolls filled with arcane symbols, and even tickets promising “VIP experiences” in their next lives. The children were captivated, reaching out to touch the wares, their imaginations ignited by the vibrant displays.
“Can we get those?” one boy asked, his voice filled with hope.
Bryce hesitated, glancing at the prices displayed in an unknown currency. “I’m not sure,” he said. “Let’s focus on getting sorted first.”
But not everyone was so lucky. Bryce saw a few people standing off to the side, their faces etched with frustration or confusion, being directed toward a separate area where they had to fill out more forms or gather specific items before they could proceed. Some of these people were even directed toward what looked like a shop or kiosk, where they were handed objects or tools they seemed to need for the next phase of their journey. Bryce had no idea what any of it meant.
"Where do we go?" one of the kids asked, her voice small.
Bryce scanned the massive hall, unsure of the answer. There were no clear instructions, and none of the signs seemed to be directed toward a group like theirs. They were in some kind of limbo, caught between the pathways of people who seemed to know where they belonged.
“Look at that!” a girl pointed towards a line leading to a window where individuals were being handed forms. “What’s that for?”
As they approached, they saw a sign: “Karma Assessment and Adjustment.” Behind the counter, a clerk with an otherworldly appearance was shuffling through papers, looking harried yet attentive. People waiting in line looked hopeful, clutching their forms tightly.
“Maybe they can help us,” Bryce suggested, guiding the group forward. “Let’s see if we can find out what’s next for us.”
A sudden voice broke through the noise. "New arrivals! This way, please!"
Bryce turned and saw an attendant waving them over. The attendant looked different from the others—less formal, dressed more casually in a loose tunic and carrying a clipboard. Her face was kind but serious, and she gestured toward a line that was far less crowded than the others.
Bryce gathered the kids and made his way over to the attendant. "Where are we?" Bryce asked, his voice calm but laced with urgency.
The attendant with eyes shimmering like starlight, gave him a sympathetic smile. “Welcome to the Sorting Hall,” she said, her voice melodic yet firm. “Here, we evaluate your life’s karma and determine your path for reincarnation. Some will move quickly to the express lanes based on their positive contributions, while others may need adjustments. Don’t worry, everything will be explained soon. This part of the process is about figuring out where you're headed next."
"Reincarnation?" Bryce asked, glancing at the signs around them.
"Possibly," the attendant replied. "But it's not always that simple. Some of you may have options based on your karma, your life's deeds, or even your beliefs. For others, the path might be more direct. For now, just stay together, and when your name is called, we’ll direct you where you need to go."
Jake glanced back at the children, their faces a mixture of awe and trepidation. He felt an overwhelming urge to protect them, to guide them through whatever lay ahead. “What about them?” he asked, nodding toward the kids.
“They will be assessed as well,” the clerk replied, her expression softening. “Everyone has a path, and we will help them find it.”
Bryce nodded, though he wasn’t entirely comforted. He looked down at the kids again. "We stick together, okay?"
Bryce held the kids close as the attendant leaned toward him with a knowing expression. The woman’s demeanor was calm but carried the weight of someone who understood things far beyond Bryce’s comprehension.
"Bryce Turner," the attendant said, flipping through the stack of papers on her clipboard. "You’ve been through quite a journey, haven’t you? I’m going to need you and your group to wait off to the side for a moment. A higher-up will come talk to you soon."
Bryce frowned. “A higher-up? Why? We just want to stay together.”
The attendant smiled kindly. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. Just… unique circumstances. You’ll understand once they arrive.”
Bryce recognized that familiar tone, one he’d heard in friends who had worked customer service jobs. It wasn’t the “handling a difficult customer” or the “Oh my good you are such a Karen!” tone but something subtler, a blend of mystery and excitement. It was more of a “work with me here.” This voice hinted at “I know something you don’t, but it’s good,” mixed with “you qualify for something special, but I’m not allowed to say.” It was an insider’s tone, one that teased hidden benefits just out of reach, and he couldn’t help but wonder what surprise was waiting for him.
Bryce didn’t quite trust the answer, but what choice did he have? He nodded and motioned for the children to follow him. Together, they walked off to the side of the main hall, where there was a small waiting area. The children huddled around him, sticking close as they settled on benches, some sitting on the ground.