"Oh shit."

Those were my last words as a living, breathing human that was not turned to red paste by a runaway 18 wheeler. One minute I was on the sidewalk taking a smoke, the next there wasn't anything to distinguish me from roadkill other than my clothes. It's strange that I'm aware of how my carcass looked, as well as the fact it took an ambulance twenty minutes to arrive, and that nobody came to my funeral. The entire time it felt like I was just standing there to the side, watching the process like a ghostly fly on the wall.

I was sitting on my own tombstone, just watching as the clouds rolled across the evening sky, when things got… interesting. A rattling sound caught my attention, followed by a gentle breeze carrying the scent of rot from behind me. I didn't need to turn around to know who or what it was. A sensation older than time itself crept along my incorporeal spine as I recognised my visitor.

"Hello Death. What took you so long?"

There was no reply, so I turned to face my spectral guest. It was no surprise to me that the grim reaper was a skeleton draped in a black robe, though instead of a scythe there was in those bony hands a ring of innumerable keys and a book. Despite the macabre face that was nothing but bone, there was a softness in the empty eye sockets, almost as if I were looking into the eyes of an old friend. Through those dry teeth came a voice that bordered on a whisper as the figure bowed their head.

"I am sorry. Your death was a terrible one, and your burial was unappreciated by those of your kin that still live. Such a thing is not uncommon, but is no less bitter to witness. No mortal deserves to pass on in such a manner, it is not the way it should be."

Those words hurt, though not in a bad way. Death seemed to be distraught saying those words, almost as though reminding me was a burden to themself. If I still had eyes from which tears could be shed, I would probably be crying.

"Don't worry about it. I never knew my real family, and there was never anybody I called friend, so it's no real surprise that nobody came. Changing the subject, do you always let people watch their whole after-death scene? I thought it was straight to the pearly gates or flaming pits once your time was up."

Death took a few steps forward until they were right at my side, the nonexistent eyes looking down at the disturbed earth that was my grave.

"It is determined by the nature of one's end. Those who pass in their rest or with those they care for will find their way swiftly, while those who die in violence or hate will struggle to release their attachments. You held on for a reason, one which I wish to hear."

A hand came to rest on my phantom shoulder, and those empty eyes looked at me with a sense of reassurance. 

"I… I hoped that somebody would visit my grave. It's dumb, but I didn't want to be forgotten even though I kept everybody at a distance. I don't think anybody wants to be forgotten, y’know? Well, obviously you'd know, you've probably heard the same from millions of people."

The hand on my shoulder moved until it had taken hold of my hand to gently pull me from my seat. I stood up, and with one last look at my unremarkable burial site, walked with death past the cemetery gates and into a nearby field. As we walked they gave me an answer to my rhetorical question.

"You are not a fool for fearing obscurity. Such a thing is painful, and leads an unforgiving soul to linger too long on the mortal plane, thus becoming a vengeful spirit. It is true that many have told me of their unwillingness to depart until they were reassured, though I have an answer to that."

Death brought from their side the book, bound in what looked to be wooden slabs. The pages unfurled, displaying an unending line of names that seemed to take up more space than the pages should allow. 

"None are ever forgotten, not really."

I focused on the book, eventually settling on the bottom of the page where a familiar name was written. Death followed my gaze and planted a single skeletal finger on the name.

"Robin Brady, or if your birth parents had not perished so soon, Robin Thatcher. You need not fear, for I will remember you forever."

I had only ever heard my real name once, long ago in a foster home I scarcely remembered. I smiled, both at the memory of those days and at the joy of hearing my name said in a voice as kind as death's. I locked eyes with the ageless being, a question that had tormented me all of my living days could finally be answered.

"What happens now?"

The book closed with a clap, and was holstered back on the leather strap it was hanging from. Jingling keys were unhooked from the belt of the reaper, and those dark voids looked to the sky.

"That is for you to decide, though your options are limited. You held no God as your own, which left you without a destination, though your choices are not worthy of those places deemed paradise, nor were you evil enough to deserve damnation. There are, however, more paths you can venture."

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With a wave of a hand, a myriad of doors filled the field, each one different from the others in both shape and color. Death strolled by a few of them, and at their touch dissipated into the evening air. A clearing was made by their will, and around the two of them was a ring of inward facing doors.

"Each of these doors leads to another world. Some similar, others unfathomable, all of them unique. You are familiar with reincarnation, the cycle of endless rebirth, through the entertainment born of human imagination. It is not dissimilar to what is offered now, though there will be certain offerings made for you."

I looked at the reaper, puzzled by their choice of words.

"You mean that I get to live again, in a new life? Like in those internet stories? What do you mean by offerings?"

Death chuckled warmly, which was a delightful sound similar to the swaying of branches.

"Calm yourself, if you please, there is no rush. Yes, you will live again, and you have the freedom to choose what kind of life you want to live. Depending upon which door you choose, you will be given something that will allow you to reshape destiny as necessary. I will explain more, but first you must let your deepest self guide you further."

With that the entity took a step away, and an otherworldly silence fell over the field. My thoughts turned inwards as I asked myself what I wanted, who I wanted to be, and why it was that I wanted it. I closed my eyes, allowing my mind to drift deeper into what was once my subconscious to extract the desires I had long confined there. I reached inwards mentally as my spirit reached out, the sensation of wood upon my incorporeal hand jarring me from contemplating. The sky had turned dark, the only light given by the moon and stars of the clear sky.

"This door. This is the one my soul wants. This is the path my spirit needs."

Death appeared by my side, once again placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Beyond this portal is a land of mystic arts, demons, horrors of the body and soul, and a land ablaze in a century long war. What you desire, whatever it may be, is somewhere in this place of danger. The boon offered by this door is one that shall allow you to strike at the threads of fate, mend broken bonds, and guide others to the path. If this is truly what you seek, no, what you need, then gain passage without the key."

For a moment I was unable to move, asking myself a hundred questions as my hand shakily peeled away from the door. As my form broke contact with the surface, a sensation of deep loss and grief battled with my mind, a voice deep within begging, borderline screaming for me to open it. Suppressing the voice was difficult, though not impossible, because it could tell that I wasn't pulling away from the door, but rather pooling my thoughts into a key of my own. The shape was already inside of me, it was just waiting for substance to manifest.

With every shred of willpower, I pushed the key through my soul and into the lock. A blast as powerful as a wave of thunder shook the area, flinging all other doors away, leaving only myself and Death standing before it. With a deep groan the door opened revealing a veil of nothingness that was tangible. I could feel myself being pulled in, and my soul was ready.

Before I could embrace the portal, the hand on my shoulder pulled me back and spun me around to face my guide. Though there was no flesh with which they could display emotion, I could tell that Death was smiling.

"You're going now to a place where I frequently perform my duties in vast amounts. Take some small comfort that you and I shall meet again, though it would be wise to delay such a meeting by many years." In a slow and deliberate motion I was pulled into a hug by the kind shepherd of souls. "Do well, little one. Do not let the darkness tarnish you."

The one holding me suddenly began to fade, and soon I was alone with the gateway. I smiled, the words of Death echoing in my mind. My hand came close to the nothingness of the door, and in an instant upon touching it I was thrust into the void.

…

The darkness was dense, though it carried a warmth that I couldn't describe as any word but overwhelming. This sensation was strange, though it was somehow familiar to something I had experienced before I was born into my previous life. Was this the inside of a womb? No, there was no movement aside from myself, and the only heartbeat I could hear was my own. This place, wherever it was, had certain boundaries that I could feel all around me in almost an oblong sphere. 

Wait a second, I know this shape. Is this the inside of an egg? The walls were pressed against me, and no matter how I shifted I could gain no purchase. How am I supposed to get out of here? If I were able to breathe, I would likely be hyperventilating due to the sheer panic inside my mind.

Calming myself down with reassurances that I must be in the care of whatever laid me, due to the comforting warmth that seemed to regularly shift every so often, and that it wouldn’t be long before it was time for me to hatch. What a weird concept: to be born from an egg. The sheer novelty of it worked well to distract me from the worry that had pestered me. With that part of my restless mind now put to rest, I suppose the only thing left for me to do is wait.

Fortunately for me, the wait wasn’t long, perhaps a little less than a week. The heat that had been given to me through the shell had a rhythm to it, undoubtedly when mother or father left the eggs to see to their own needs, and had suddenly stopped not long ago. A chill had settled within my abode, and some form of genetic instinct was running in my mind to force my limbs to break free of the egg. The working strategy was to push my face against the outer wall, then twist my neck to the sides to batter the shell with the sides of my head. Surprisingly it was working, and I could feel the membrane stretching as the shattered casing was pried open. With a disturbing squelch of the tearing film, I tasted my first breath of air as my body tumbled out of the rigid prison.

Without the use of my eyes or limbs yet, all I could do was lie on what felt like cold stone and take in the sensations around me. The air was delightfully warm and smelled of something that I instinctively knew was others like me, most likely my parents. From multiple directions I could hear footsteps and voices, alongside high pitched barks and a ragged wheezing. Alarmingly, I could sense the cool air on my body as whatever slimy amniotic fluid was quickly evaporating off of me, as well as a certain pattern of divots in my skin. After a few minutes of lying on the floor, basking in the refreshing newness of my hatching, I finally mustered the strength to push myself upright and open my eyes.

Two figures, upright and bipedal, were standing in front of me clutching to one another. One was large and bulky, with a deep green color and two sweeping horns to the sides of their head. The other was smaller and bright orange, though I could see that something long and wide was swaying in the air behind them, just above their waist. My brain screeched to a halt as recognition of these creatures locked in: kobolds. These were kobolds, the scaly lizard kind with fangs, claws, horns and tails. A part of me that I had no knowledge of lit up upon seeing them, informing me right away that the two in front of me were my parents.

Now that I knew what they looked like, all I could do now was look down at myself, which was itself a jarring experience. Unlike the green and orange of my parents, my scales were an unmistakable sheen of sapphire, with small silver streaks running across my body like tiger stripes and a lighter teal shade on my front side like a lizard underbelly. I looked at my hands and feet, both of which had four digits that I could grasp at will, and were capped with nubby claws that were black. As I stood up to test how my new digitigrade legs would work, I noticed a weight pulling at the base of my spine. A cursory glance at the area confirmed that I indeed had a tail, and an interestingly long one at that. I was beginning to grow curious as to what my own face looked like when I heard more of the bark-like noises coming from behind me.

A large kobold, with gray scales and cloudy eyes, pointed at me and made a clucking sound. Curious, I turned to look around and noticed that apart from me there were three other eggs in a bowl shaped place that must have been their nest, each one showing signs that they would soon be hatching. With a tinge of worry, I looked up to my parents who were replying in the same chittering to the obviously elderly kobold, both looking…happy? Their replies came as hurried chirps and squeals as I stumbled towards them, still not used to these new legs. Unfortunately, whatever adrenaline survival chemical that had been coursing through me quickly ran out, and my feet faltered as I fell to the ground once more.

The last I saw before darkness closed in on me was four hands of orange and green reaching for me.