“When you consider just how many people out there probably knew the answer, it was honestly infuriating just how little we know about the afterlife. Those who responded well when we asked always said that they didn’t exactly remember much of their time there, if at all, while others just refused to discuss the topic altogether.
It’s hard to get the truth, sometimes,” - Henri Ogembwa, scholar of the soul and the afterlife from Levain, circa 673 FP.
Floating.
That was the best way she could describe how she felt: That she was floating, much like a fallen leaf on the river currents. The currents brought her to and fro, her very being subject to its wills, yet for some reason it had not bothered her as much, although at the same time there was a tiny part of her that wanted to feel affronted at such a lack of agency.
At the same time, it felt peaceful to just flow alongside the current, without having to trouble herself to make decisions or otherwise. There were sayings about leaving one’s worries behind and she couldn’t help but feel that it suited her current feeling exceedingly well, yet even so the tiny voice within her never stopped making a ruckus nonetheless.
Everything felt vaguely like a fever dream and yet not, all at the same time. It was a feeling that defied description all too often, that sort of feeling where you just have no idea if what you’re experiencing was real or not. She felt as if she had dreamt it all at times, yet at other times, something within her told her that it was all too real.
The currents kept her moving all that while, never in a rough manner, with her always feeling comfortable in its embrace, neither warm nor cold. The flow was at times rushed, at times slow, but always a gentle embrace regardless. It was as if the place – if it was any place at all – she was in was one yet separate from the flow as a whole, in some manner.
She felt as if she was watching her life’s experiences as they flew past her eyes during that time, from the earliest of her childhood days, when she was still amongst her family, and the few she called friends. Most of those “friends” had shown themselves to be anything but worthy to be called that, but there was one that remained worthy of the moniker, she remembered. One that stuck with her through thick and thin.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
As her memories took her down the pathways of adolescence, then later adulthood and beyond, that one friend remained by her side, always loyal, living life not just for her own sake but also another’s. A sentiment she found herself sharing before too long as they got together and never looked back.
It was perhaps a luxury to be able to share one’s life the way she had done, and if so, she definitely had no regrets over it.
There were naturally memories of fighting and killing as well. In fact, a lot of her lifetime was spent fighting and killing, not that she had any regrets about it. Most of the time, it was just a job to her, something she did with no excitement yet still devoted her full attention to, as that was the least she could offer those who would fall before her arrows.
Perhaps for that reason, the one time she faced an actual worthy opponent in terms of archery was particularly clear in her memories. She would not deny that it was a thrill of a lifetime to be able to duel someone so closely matched in skill, if through different avenues. Not even the ending – she was uncertain if her final shot struck true or not – displeased her all that much, with her final memory being that of praise and appreciation for her opponent.
Appreciation that she got to meet someone like them in her life.
It was around then – though exactly when “then” was wasn’t easy to tell as everything around her just had that timeless quality to it – that she realized that she had died. Was the flowing river the afterlife? Or was it just some manner of transference between the land of the living and the dead? She knew not, but the nagging, screaming voice in the depth of her mind also became clearer with the realization.
A realization that she did not want to die yet. That there was still so much to live for.
She felt like she was crawling through the currents in pursuit of the shores, as oddly as that must have sounded. All the while, the temptation was constant, to just lay down and rest and to forget all the worldly troubles, to forever put them behind her. A few times, she even felt like giving in to those siren serenades and just surrender herself to the currents, but in the end, the thought that she still had someone who was certainly waiting for her hardened her will and allowed her to persevere.
After what felt like an eternity yet might also be little more than a brief moment, she felt like she reached the shore, where she grasped on and extricated herself out of the stream with some difficulty. Then everything seemed to fade away around her, giving way to familiar yet unfamiliar feelings, noises, and sensations even as the memory of the experience she just went through vanished as if they had never been there.
She could feel her fingertips moving, although they were rather stiff and cold compared to the usual. She breathed in, the motion feeling no longer as natural – or necessary – as before, yet still bringing some familiar comfort nonetheless. The all too familiar noise of people she knew chattering around her ceased around then, replaced by a sudden, all encompassing silence, which would not be strange if things were happening the way she thought it was. Even without opening her eye she could feel the stares pointed her way.
So it was that when Salicia Adenauer opened her eye once more, risen amongst the ranks of the Unliving, that she was met with surprise, tears, and jubilation from those who she was proud to call friends.