Napoleon thrust his eyes open. "This.."

The scenery unfurled before him like a canvas painting; a vast plain of lush, green grass, stretching over many miles, and a gigantic mountain range with snow-tipped mountains. This wasn't on the island. Was this heaven? He looked down at his chest and touched all over. There was no sign of the sword injury or of blood. Only a black clothing covered his torso, a clothing he didn't remember ever having. It seems he really was in heaven. If he had left Earth, that was only with his soul. His body would stay, be buried; or in his case, eaten by wolves.

His hand wasn't wrinkled. He turned his hand back and forth, clenched and opened. "How incredible!"

This hand was easy to move. No aching or pain.

Looking around, the old man found a lake a couple of hundred meters away. The lake was connected to the mountain range and the endless rivers flourishing through, weaving together in a beautiful system of sprinkling blue. Red salmons jumped above the surface of the water and danced together, playfully mating in the lake.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

He began to run and his feet were beyond fast. They were incredible. This was even better than when he was young.

Was this really what heaven was? A beautiful place where you could live out your dreams in peace and tranquillity?

As he came over to the lake, he walked to the water and looked down, wanting to see his reflection. 

"This face... this isn't me!" the now young man screamed and fell back, landing on his behind. The image reflected from the water, staring back at him, had not been the face Napoleon was used to. It was not the wizened face he wore when he died, chiselled at by the ebb and flow of time, and nor was it the young, stoic face he wore as the emperor of France. It was a delicate of a young man in his teens, completely different from how Napoleon had ever looked like!