Sirius' time crawled until it could go no further. It dragged him to where such a concept no longer has meaning or exists. Met with finality, he now faces the crossroads of end and beginning.

Sirius wakes in a cold sweat, his bloodshot eyes unfolding onto an empty void.

He gasps for air as if he were choking, gripping his throat as if to tear it open. If his fingernails were longer, he could surely cut through. The breaths are rapid, only interrupted by the boy's incessant apologies. His body throws itself from side to side.

-Make it end. Make it end. Make it end.

But nothing was wrong.

He could breathe.

Realizing this, he releases his reddened throat. His breaths slow, and the apologies cease. With heavy inhales, he gets on his knees. His legs aren't broken. He looks at his torso; no indentation. Tubes do not run through his nostrils and there are no casts covering his limbs. In fact, he's fully clothed. The same clothing as that night.

A vague calmness overtakes him.

Amber eyes take in the landscape. Or rather, the lack thereof. A boundless ocean idles in its nowt.

Everything is coated with the purest shade of black he's ever seen. Not a single glimpse of light enters his hollow corneas. The fingertips he clawed his throat with have no visible form in this nil.

It's empty.

No sights. No smells. Only the sounds of his strained breathing.

He slaps himself on the wrist. Nothing. No feeling at all. Despite almost choking himself to death moments ago, there is no feeling.

-Where am I? Is this hell? Did I actually die?

Is this a dream?

No...

It seems real. It seems so real yet feels so fabricated.

Though faintly, his body becomes visible. Are my eyes adjusting? He scans the area; a soft yellow glow emanates in the far span.

A small figure catches his view, it sits inside the small, illuminated area. What is that? He staggers to his feet; his breath finally entering a steady pace. His legs are weak; he hasn't walked in weeks.

Fear. An emotion he's felt more in the past couple of minutes than in his entire life. Do I go towards that? With no other choice, he presses on. While the ground is solid, his footsteps ripple as if on water. The distance between the figure and him doesn't appear to be shrinking.

-Is this limbo? Purgatory?

Eventually, after countless fearful steps, the figure and light come closer into view. Is someone there? Is that the devil? His frantic assumptions prove false. It's a seat, reminiscent of a throne. Something rests in the chair. A person. Sirius stops on the edge of the haunting light.

As if responding to his halt, a radiant glow expands and fills the vacuum. Absorbing him and the void entrapping is an enchanting brilliance. And at its center, comes a calming voice.

"Welcome, Sirius."

On the throne sits a girl, a pretty one at that. Shining, dirty blonde hair drapes over her slim shoulders. She wears a simplistic yet intricately woven white dress; laced with varying shades of blue. She smiles cordially, if angels exist, this must be one of them.

"...Am... I dead?"

It's all he could muster, his voice frail and gravelly. His throat is still recovering from the strangulation of himself a moment ago.

Her delicate features soften.

"Yes, you are dead." She speaks warmly, as if her voice a hug. Her demeanor is overwhelmingly polite. Sirius drops to his knees. A quiet laugh escapes his throat, and he chokes on it; it's basically a whimper. "But this doesn't need to be the end of your life."

"What...?"

"Before I continue...did you... enjoy your life?"

Sirius stares into her kind eyes, his mouth hanging open slightly. Whoever she is, emits a feeling of nostalgia. Her eyes reflect himself and his past. His whole life seems to flash before him. Memories and moments that molded him into who he is.

He feels strangely calm, as if he wasn't just murdered. It's as if a wave of tranquility is washing over him, is it this woman's doing? He sniffles before composing himself.

"I... did when I was younger."

"But not since then?"

"There were moments I had fun but...I... wasn't happy."

"Did you want to die?"

Her words are so blunt they almost cut. The question feels unnatural coming out of her gentle character.

"No, not exactly but... there wasn't any point in me living." His eyes avert their gaze to the ground. He looks defeated. He feels defeated. A scene of him on that roof flurries through his mind. The girl seems saddened, as if she saw the memory. "I thought about killing myself sometimes, but there were always two things that stopped me."

"What were those?" Genuine curiosity and concern. Her sweetness fumbles his train of thought.

Sirius sniffles once more, "Well, for one I was too scared to die. I didn't know what came after it... maybe it was nothing forever." His lips begin to quiver and his hands tremble at his sides. "That scared me." He looks around once more. "Is this what death is? Do I just get to talk to you forever?"

"I'll get to that. What was the other reason?"

His gaze returns to the floor. "My mom. I... I didn't want my mom to be sad. She was the only person who made me feel... wanted, I guess. She raised me and I didn't want her efforts to be wasted." A sudden realization hits. "But I still died... And now... I won't get to see her again, will I?" His mother's final words to him echo in his ears. "I should've thanked her. I should've told her she was my reason for living, I-"

The girl's hand reaches down to pat his head.

"It's okay, she knew you loved her too." Her voice attempts to fight off his regrets. Gently, she caresses his knotted hair. A touch so soothing it could make you cry. Yet there he sulks, despite being flooded with guilt and sadness, sheds no tears.

"But... I didn't... I should've been a better son. I should've done more with my life. Why couldn't I just get myself together-?" His hollow throat croaks. Not since he was a child has he let himself be so emotional. He's so unused to it, that it almost feels forced.

"Shh, it's okay. You did enough." Her palm slides down onto his cheek. He's shaking. Her hand is warm and soft against his dry skin. Sirius shuts his eyelids and consumes a deep breath.

"So... now what?"

The girl smiles like she's been itching for this moment. Excitement fills her movements. She takes her hands off of his head and adjusts her posture.

"I grant you permission to live again."

Sirius looks up at her proud face, her eyes closed yet smug. Before he can get a word out, "I will send you to the world in which I inhabit, where you may get a second chance at life."

"Second chance?"

"Yes, a chance to experience life and its joys. A chance to love; to laugh; and to enjoy life in its entirety."

"Really?" It sounds far too good to be true. "Wh-why? I don't deserve that. I-"

"Shh," her expression mellows as she places a finger to his lips. "When you awake there will be a lot of things happening. It's okay to be alarmed. It's okay to be scared. But just know, this is your second chance. Don't let your old life get in the way. Enjoy this life and grow into the person you want to be... I'll be watching."

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

-This can't be real, right? A second chance? Who is this girl?

"Wait-"

She only smiles.

Her dark eyelashes cover the majority of her azure irises. They shine like jewels. As he admires hers, his eyes start to weigh. The radiant glow thins and dissipates into dim embers. The dark void rapidly blackens, and the sparkling woman simmers out of sight.

Drowsiness hits him like a tidal wave. His body is shutting down. Unable to resist its lure, he succumbs to the abyss.

The boy falls asleep.

*****

Beneath the surface, dirt sits still.

Suddenly, a speck of rock twists and mutates into a blob of pinkish red. Surrounding dirt begins to follow, slowly drifting towards the origin. The blobs melt and blend together, slowly swirling into a liquid mass. The mass morphs and swallows into the shape of a human brain. It solidifies into a wrinkled, soft, squishy encephalon.

Circling particles accumulate into a white, tough skull encasing the brain within. Tiny bristles of muscles wind together, forming damp, amber irises. Optic nerves slither from the eyes, attaching themselves into the brain. A mask of skin layers itself onto cartilage and facial muscles. Dark umber strands of hair pop out of the forming scalp. Nostrils, ears, and eyelashes design themselves from the epidermis. Eye lines and faint dimples appear in perfect placement. A tongue and uvula grow inside the dry mouth.

Tissue, tendons, and nerves stemming from the brain bind together, shaping the basic layout of a human body. Dirt bleeds into a beating heart, and veins unravel along with nerves. Tubes of intestines untangle across the body's middle region. A stomach, liver, kidneys, and healthy lungs follow. Bones and muscles consolidate, and skin wraps itself around organs, fat, and blood.

And thus, the vitalized body of Sirius is formed. Just as he was. Along with his clothing.

His consciousness enters his newly formed mind. A cough exhausts from his windpipe, but it has no place to travel. He's buried. Dirt trickles down into his fresh throat. Choking is not a pleasant way to wake up. Wheezing, he awakens. Violent coughs expel from his throat until the blockage eventually escapes. It takes him a moment to gain his senses. Dirt gathers in his eyes.

-What the hell?! What's going on?! Am I underground?!

What cruel irony to be birthed inside a coffin. Taking in the situation, he forgets the most immediate problem.

-I can't breathe.

The air is thin. Too thin. He starts to panic. His body is completely consumed by the world. Movement is near impossible. Claustrophobia can't even begin to describe the feeling. He needs to breathe, but every breath sends more dirt than oxygen into his lungs.

Feeling the world compress his delicate body, he flails hopelessly for salvation. His arms struggle to shift around, relentlessly wiggling to make the slightest of space. After what feels like an eternity, they manage to create a hollow. Using this tight space, his arms throw themselves at the tomb. Over and over his hands pound into the soft ceiling above.

His mind has reverted to the primal state, one just trying to survive. He is no different than a caged animal.

A cavity forms itself around the frightened boy. He gains mobility, though only slightly. Barely accomplishing to scramble onto his knees, he slams his back into the soil.

-Please, I don't want to die.

Repeatedly, he strikes the natural prison with his spine. More and more room to move begins to shape, allowing the impact of his thrusts to reach greater results. Any harder and his back will snap in two. Pure desperation.

It seems hopeless. How deep is he buried? Did that girl just toy with him? Was what she said a lie?

As if a gift from the gods, a fissure pierces through. Particles of light fill the suffocating den. More importantly, air. A bolt of adrenaline injects itself into his veins. Determined to escape, he carries on his onslaught. Faster. Harder. It hurts, horribly so.

With a final charged thrust, he breaks through to the surface.

With a tiny click, a withered hand starts the countdown.

22926510 seconds remain.

The sun's blinding rays flash across his vision. Humid air fills his starved lungs. The pressure lifts from his shoulders and his body becomes as light as the air he breathes. Finally free. He has never felt a greater relief.

Squinting, he tries to make out where he's emerged. His pupils dilate, revealing his new reality.

-Where am I...?

What unfolds before him is impossible. It neither makes sense nor could possibly be imagined in a dream.

A market filled with creatures and beasts. Stalls covered with colorful cloths sell items and what appear to be fruits he has never seen before. Marvelous stonework makes up buildings and the vast square. It's as if he's stepped back into the Middle Ages.

Dumbfounded, he sits in a dirty hole with his mouth hung open. His point of emergence sits on the edge of a large, circular grass patch with scattered benches. A dazzling fountain with an apparent lack of water streaming through is positioned in the center.

Animals trot on fours and eights, some on a leash, some scampering around with business attire. Onlookers grimace at the sight of the boy, he offers a bewildered look in return. There is literally an anthropomorphic turtle.

Some spectators appear to be human, or at least humanoid. Some wear small wings, some tails, and some sport ears from other species. Most appear to be part human, half animal. Eye and hair colors differ drastically from those he's used to. Their clothing is diverse, some don clashes of cultures he has seen, while others are too unique to recognize. The bustling market square is full of scents he has never smelt before.

Sounds hit his hearing from all sides, the sound of these people talking. But their voices don't register to his ears. What language are they speaking?

The onlookers don't dwell on him, rather they glare and carry along. Is this sort of thing normal? No, it seems more that they don't want to associate themselves with him. Though someone seems to be staring. A slightly hunched man stands near a stall held together from flimsy wood. Sirius and the man lock eyes. Sirius closes his mouth and shifts his eyes from side to side.

-What is going on?! Who is this guy?

The man begins his approach. Shit, he's coming over. He politely waits for people and flying creatures to pass before continuing himself. Sirius garners the need to escape the hole. Pushing aside the complete sensory overload, he stands up and pats himself down, forming little dust clouds around him. His dark gray hoodie is now a faded brown. He slides it off and ties it around the waist of his plain black tee.

The man stops in front of Sirius. His facial wrinkles are prominent, especially on the forehead. Lines have been carved around his eyelids but no bags, dark brown irises encapsulate his kind demeanor. A sharp nose, larger than average ears, and wrinkled lips forming a smile. He's old but doesn't look too withered, the only exception being his hands.

"H-hello. Um, I-"

"Welcome, Witch Spawn."

His fuzzy eyebrows give him a welcoming appearance. He sounds daunting yet surprisingly warm. He also speaks the same language.

"W-Witch Spawn...?"

"Eat this," he extends his hand, revealing a pastel red gummy. Sirius' eyes bounce repeatedly between the gummy and the man's face.

"Um, is this like a drug or...?"

"Just eat it."

"...Sorry, I'm not one to trust random people on the street-"

"Please. Do you not wish to understand the world around you?"

Sirius hesitates, a million thoughts cross his mind. Who is this guy? How did I get here? Where am I? How will eating this solve anything?? Sirius has never been one to trust others, especially so readily. But taking in his current situation, and the fact that nothing makes sense anyway, so he gives in. Throwing caution aside, he aversely grabs the gummy from the man's palm.

"This won't like... kill me or anything, will it?" The elder just stares at him, continuing to smile. No malicious intent is evident, but the man's lack of reasoning is unappealing. Sirius takes a deep breath and a drawn-out sigh. He hesitates once more before popping it into his mouth. He chews the flavorless gummy and reluctantly swallows. They stand in awkward silence; Sirius adverts his gaze side to side to avoid eye contact. "So..."

Suddenly, the foreign voices dissolve into recognizable sounds. The beast and humanoid speech morphs into an understandable language. The voices of the market can now be made out.

"Look at his clothes."

"A Witch Spawn..."

"Come along dear, don't look at it."

"Is he looking at me?"

Sirius once again dons a dumbfounded expression. What the hell is going on?! The old man clears his throat.

"You can now speak the most common language known in this world."

-Huh? Common language? This world? How did that even work?

"Huh?" Sirius vocalizes. He scratches his head and dirt sprinkles out. Nothing is making sense. This isn't how things work. He clears his throat and composes himself, kindness would be best here, right? "Th-thank you. My name is Sirius... do you... know what's going on here? Or where I am?"

The old man's smile grows brighter. He grabs Sirius' hand and faces it palm-up. Now what?? Reaching into his coat pocket, the man pulls out a pocket watch. He places the golden-rimmed clock into Sirius' hand and squeezes it shut.

Sirius is puzzled, "What is this?"

"You'll find out in time." He speaks as if that is reassuring.

And with that, the old man turns around and begins walking off.

...

-Huh?! Why is he leaving?!

"Wait just a minute-! Please, I..."

Sirius' plea proves deaf to the man, as he continues to retreat until he is swallowed into the crowd of people and beasts. He's gone.

"What the hell is happening...?"

Absolute nonsense.

Sirius examines the watch in his palm. The front side appears to be a normal clock with chiseled hands counting the seconds and presumably hours. Except there are no tiny dashes indicating the minutes or hours. Instead, they are replaced by four images of flowers, one in each quadrant of the circle.

Tiny buttons stick out on the side of the watch, he presses them, but they do nothing. He flips the watch over. A small, rectangular indent holds a countdown stretching across the backside. It seems as if the timer is modeled after an old flip clock. Fancy black numbers overlaying a white backdrop deplete by the second. A countdown consisting only of seconds, no hours or minutes, just a massive number steadily decreasing.

22926369 seconds remain.

-What is this counting down to?

He observes the market and its residents once more. Conversations between beast-folk, strange instruments being played, children playing through the streets... everything feels so alive. The market breathes with diversity never dreamt of. What is this place...?

His pile of questions continues to fill. Why did he give me this? Seriously, who is that guy? Why is there a twelve-horned horse walking on two legs? Is this actually another world?

Suddenly, the memories hit him.

He died.

His own brother pulled the plug on the only thing keeping him alive. Just thinking of it makes his heart heavy. He can almost feel his lungs closing in.

Unaware of its mint, he examines his newly formed body. The tubes, the casts, the pain... they're all gone. In fact, his body feels great.

Gone is that defective body and life. But why?

He met a mysterious girl. Who was she...? Is this all her doing? Why?

He remembers her prideful words.

-"I grant you permission to live again. I will send you to the world in which I inhabit, where you may get a second chance at life."

...

The pieces fall in place. No amount of disbelief will change what has happened. While the sky may still be blue, this place is different. He's not on Earth anymore. The anthropomorphic fish prove that.

He died.

The ties between him and his past have severed. Everyone he's come to know and despise has fallen out of the picture.

That suffocating cycle, the miserable life he led... all of it has come to a close.

But he's allowed to live again.

Another shot. A new beginning.

He clutches the watch.

"A second chance..."