Erin loved storms, but this one was different. Dark gray clouds crowded the sky above the campus, shutting out the sun like a curtain across the world. Inside the lecture hall, rain pelted the windows in an irregular beat that escalated, mingling with her professor's droning voice.

A chill swept down her spine, out of place in the humid air. Alien dread gnawed at her insides as her pen tapped erratically against her notebook. She couldn't focus, couldn't ignore the anxiety that set her heart racing.

As the rain reached a fever pitch, the air grew damp, like a wet, heavy blanket. Fear clawed its way up from her stomach to her chest as her mind raced. She gave up, giving in to the basic fight-or-flight response. Hands shaking, she gathered her things and slung her bag over her shoulder, heading for the door.

Unnoticed, Erin slipped out of the lecture hall.

Her footsteps echoed in the cool hallway, each step under the harsh fluorescent lights bringing her closer to the exit. As she neared the door, her hand grabbed the cold handle, and her breath caught. Through the small window, she saw a shivering kitten huddled under a tree near the student parking lot, its fur soaked.

Erin paused for a moment, then steeled herself and shoved the door open, charging into the downpour. Raindrops bombarded her, drenching her clothes, while the wind tangled and whipped her red hair. Yet, with the kitten in sight, the panic that had overtaken her now diminished to a backdrop.

She strode across the grass, indifferent to the deluge, and scooped up the kitten, cradling it gently as its small claws clung to her shirt. Clutching it close against the chill wind, she jogged to her car, rummaging for her keys with her free hand. Once inside, she shut the door, blocking out the storm.

“Lucky you,” Erin murmured, pulling a white towel from her gym bag in the backseat. She smiled at the trembling kitten as she started to dry him off. “I never actually make it to the gym, so everything here is clean.” The kitten responded with a small meow, making Erin smile wider.

"Now, what to do with you?" Erin said aloud, looking into the kitten's big, blue eyes. No answer came, of course, and she found herself chewing on her lower lip, thinking. She had an idea and glanced around the car. "Where did you come from? Are you someone's pet?"

“Well, I hope I'm not kidnapping you," she murmured, placing the kitten on the passenger seat. She took out her phone, snapped a quick picture of the towel-wrapped kitten, and sent it to her dad with a message: Found this little guy in the rain. Bringing him home. The click of her seatbelt was loud in the quiet cabin as she drove off. She knew this rescue would cause a stir at home, especially with Calvin, her grumpy old cat. Her dad, she was sure, would warm up to the kitten, even if he wasn't happy at first.

Windshield wipers swayed against the rain, moving faster as Erin adjusted the dial and merged onto the highway. Her early return home would raise questions, but the kitten could take the blame; a lecture hall was no place for a lost animal, after all. Yet, explaining the real reason for her sudden departure—an uneasy feeling—was another story.

Erin always loved fantasy but stayed practical, often laughing off horoscopes and mystical stuff. A true skeptic, she had no patience for doomsday predictions. But thinking back, she realized that was exactly what she felt. The storm had stirred a deep anxiety, hinting at a bigger threat. This irrational fear only made her more anxious.

Am I going crazy?

The faint echo of that fear sent a shiver down her spine. Perhaps sensing her disquiet, the kitten made a clumsy leap onto her lap. Erin glanced down, her hand moving instinctively to guide the adventurous feline back to the passenger seat's safety. But the kitten wriggled free, tottering toward her lap's edge, drawn by the curiosity of the world outside her window.

"No," she protested, reaching again to secure the errant kitten. But her attention snapped back to the road as a sudden jolt violently shook her. Eyes widening in horror, Erin saw another vehicle—oblivious or indifferent to her presence—sideswipe her car, hurling it toward the guardrail. A harsh metallic screech filled her ears, the world outside a blur through her windshield as her tires screamed across the wet asphalt. Finally, when the car lurched to a stop and the chaos of sound ceased, she looked up, rain streaming down the window. Her heart raced, mirroring the relentless pace of the windshield wipers, her car ominously stalled in the road's center.

"Oh, shit." The words escaped her lips, a reflex more than a conscious thought, as her eyes widened in terror. The semi-truck’s grille loomed into her rapidly narrowing field of vision, barreling towards her small car with its tires screeching in a desperate attempt to stop. In that fleeting moment, faced with the stark reality of impending doom, Erin's instinct was to shield the kitten. She reached out, hoping to offer a semblance of protection, but her fingers grasped at empty air—the kitten had vanished.

Emerging back to consciousness felt like ascending from the depths of a deep well, moving through layers of darkness towards a beckoning light. Warmth enveloped her, the soft murmuring of a stream and the sensation of sunlight dappled across her skin coaxing her awake. When her eyes fluttered open, an emerald canopy of leaves swayed above her, dancing in the breeze. Pushing herself into a sitting position, she expected stiffness from lying on the ground but felt none. A grassy slope stretched out before her, ending at a clear stream that wound its way in a serpentine course before disappearing into the forest’s embrace. The place was stunning, almost too perfect, bordering on paradise.

As she sat in the green grass, watching the small stream flow onward, it felt as if a monumental truth lay just beneath the surface of her consciousness, elusive but becoming clearer. Her fragmented memory pieced itself together as she sifted through her recollections: a storm, a lost kitten, a drive home turned disastrous. As realization dawned, a shiver passed through her, not unlike the sensation of a cold breeze brushing against bare skin.

"I died… I’m dead," she said more calmly than such a statement warranted.

“Maybe.” The voice beside her was calm. Erin didn’t jump; instead, a flicker of curiosity stirred within her. The tranquility here softened the surprise of the sudden company. Turning, she saw a young, dark-haired woman sitting close, as though she had always been there. Her presence, surprising yet fitting, felt right—as if Erin had been expecting her.

“Maybe?”

"You might be," the woman replied, her tone nonchalant as she shrugged. Sitting cross-legged, she busied her hands with braiding a plucked blade of grass. “It depends."

"Depends on what?"

"On you." Thetra turned towards Erin, extending her hand in a gesture of friendship. Reflexively, Erin shook it. "I’m Thetra, by the way." In this brief exchange, Erin noted Thetra's striking appearance. It wasn’t just her features but the aura around her that captivated; she seemed as integral to the landscape as the trees or the sky, her presence blending with the world around them. Thetra’s presence was that of the first day after a long winter.

“What are you?” The question escaped Erin's lips before she could catch it, and she winced, ready to apologize for the blunt inquiry. But Thetra laughed—a clear, light sound that seemed to resonate with the surroundings, as if the forest itself shared in her amusement. The wind picked up just then, whispering through the trees and making the leaves dance and shimmer above, as though echoing Thetra’s laughter.

"That's a good question, but not the right one," Thetra smiled, her gaze dropping to the woven grass in her hand. It was twisted into a shape unfamiliar to Erin, yet she felt she should recognize it.

"What depends on me?" Erin asked, hesitant.

"Everything, perhaps. There's a chance of that. Or hopefully, just a fraction—though it would still be a considerable one." Erin blinked, absorbing the weight of Thetra's words.

Everything?

"That’s insane."

"You have no idea; not yet, anyway."

"Well, I would like to."

"Sadly, we don’t have time to explain it properly. Which isn’t fair to you, of course. You didn’t ask to be here." Thetra's frown deepened, and the woven blade of grass in her hand faded from bright green to pale yellow as a heavy silence filled the space between them.

"So, what do we have time for?" Erin finally broke the heavy silence.

"We have time to discuss the choice you’re here to make. To die or not."

"Why would I choose to die?"

"Because of what we might lose if you don’t."

"Everything?"

"Everything," Thetra confirmed, her tone underscored with a seriousness that left no room for doubt.

“But what does that mean?” Erin pressed.

“It means the Earth, scoured empty of all life, plant and animal, and beyond that, every other world with it.”

"So, no pressure," Erin scoffed, the attempt at humor a thin veil over her struggle to grasp the surreal gravity of her situation. Thetra paused, not responding right away. She released the remains of her woven grass to the breeze and leaned back on her hands, her eyes lingering on the treeline beyond the creek, as if searching for words in the silence that stretched between them.

"You have a special soul," she finally said, her eyes still on the trees dancing with the wind. "Not that souls aren’t inherently special, but yours... yours carries a certain rare quality."

The words 'special' and 'rare' felt like slaps to the face, embarrassing and undeserved. Erin looked down, as if studying her hands. A pebble on the shore, that's what she was. Ordinary to her core, except the true red of her hair—the dying gasp of a heritage generations gone. If there had been anything special about her, she had never seen it.

“Special how? What quality?” she asked, voice low.

"To explain properly, you would need a better understanding of the nature of souls. The short version is that your soul has unique potential. It's sometimes referred to as a Seed Soul or a Hero Soul. Essentially, this potential will become more clear as you progress your magic."

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

At the mention of magic, Erin let out a snort, a mix of skepticism and surprise marking her reaction.

"Magic?" she questioned, incredulous, and the corner of Thetra's mouth turned up in a grin.

"Yes, magic," she confirmed. "Coming from a first-tier world, your experience with magic is limited to myths and tricks," Thetra explained. Then, raising her hand, the bright summer sky darkened, transforming the tranquil clearing into dreamy twilight. With another gesture, the sky shifted again, and a brilliant white moon bathed everything in an ethereal silver glow. "Magic is quite real," Thetra remarked, lowering her hand back to her lap. Erin gaped, staring in wonder, and Thetra laughed at her expression, the sound ringing pleasantly through the clearing.

"Manipulating the sky might be a little beyond you in your next life, but magic won’t be.” The words settled over Erin, taking a moment for their full impact to register.

“Next life?”

“Yes, if you choose to leave this one, you’ll be sent on to a second-tier world, Jetriser, where you might just make all the difference. For that world, and every other.” Thetra’s declaration hung in the air, heavy with implication.

Erin was at a loss for words, her emotions a tangle of skepticism and an inexplicable pull towards belief. The urge to dismiss everything Thetra had said as a figment of her imagination clashed with the undeniable reality of their surroundings. The clearing, bathed in moonlight, was too sharp, too vivid to be a dream. Feeling unmoored, she looked back at Thetra, searching for anchorage in the unreal situation.

“What happens if I say no? I mean...I was dead,” Erin asked.

“You were in an accident.” Thetra corrected, “You could live. Stuff like that happens all the time, against all odds.”

“But if I do that...”

“Then we're in a fair amount of trouble.”

“'We' being...”

“Everything. Everyone.” Thetra nodded, and Erin wrapped her arms around her midriff, as if to contain the sense of dread forming there.

“You’re saying there aren’t others with the same...type of soul I have?” Erin asked, seeking clarity.

“There are,” Thetra confirmed. “But the threat we face is immense. We need every one of you. And we need you now.”

“To do what?”

“Take it one step at a time. Start by understanding your magic, your new world. You'll know what to do when the time comes, when you're ready.”

"You're really not selling this," Erin remarked, running her hands over her face. The gesture was grounding, a brief respite from the weight of the conversation. “You’re asking me to save everything, but you can’t give me details on how or what I’m supposed to do?"

"I don't need to, your soul isn’t the only reason." Thetra replied, leaving her statement hanging in the warm summer night air. Erin waited for more, but Thetra fell silent, tilting her head to study the sky. Erin followed her gaze upwards and a shiver traced her spine. She had been stargazing with her father many times, and knew the night sky in her part of the world well, yet she saw not a single constellation she recognized. It was too much, too big. She closed her eyes, looking down towards her lap, deep in thought.

The math was as simple as it was brutal - her life against the fate of everything else. She had a family, real and sincere, not just maintaining appearances like so many others.

And they are part of everything that will be lost if I don’t go.

What would she do to protect her family? The real question was, what wouldn’t she do? Dying seemed like the simpler option. But living without them?

Her thoughts stalled. The prospect was daunting. To lose everyone and everything she knew in a moment—her father, her mother, her siblings, her friends, her cat—all just gone. Was perishing with them preferable to enduring alone? Could she bear the weight of deciding the fate of everyone, everywhere?

Tears welled up in Erin's eyes, prompting her to cover her face. The silence stretched on, a quiet backdrop to her turmoil. Time seemed to slow as she grappled with her emotions, finding a fragile calm before she could speak again.

After a heavy pause, Erin's voice, barely above a whisper and trembling with the weight of her admission, broke the silence. "I can't," she murmured. "I can't leave. I just can't." Tears welled up in her eyes. Thetra’s gaze fixed on Erin with an unwavering and serious expression. The silence stretched between them until, after a moment, Thetra nodded.

"I understand," she said softly. Before Erin could utter another word, Thetra reached out, her fingers resting on Erin's forehead. A surge of energy coursed through Erin's veins, distorting her surroundings in a disorienting blur.

Then her vision cleared, her hands on her steering wheel as her car idled in the driveway. She was home. She blinked several times, knuckles turning white as she squeezed the rubber padding of her steering wheel cover.

I’m home.

The realization had a bittersweet feel to it, but she couldn’t quite remember why. As she sat and thought, she realized she couldn’t remember the drive home. Her windshield wipers flipped back and forth, clearing the water from her windshield, bringing her back to herself as she switched them off and stepped out of the car.

She lingered with the door open, looking back into her empty passenger seat, with the sense that she was forgetting something. Something she’d meant to bring inside, perhaps? With a sigh she shook her head and shut the door. Surely she’d remember later and come back for whatever it was.

She trudged her way up the walkway to her front door, and opened it, stepping into the entryway where she shed her shoes. It was then she realized she wasn’t wearing her coat at all, her T-shirt soaked through around her shoulders. Why had she gone out into the rain without putting it on? Her memory still refused to provide the answers. Before she had a chance to dwell on it, her father's voice echoed from the living room. “Erin, is that you?”

“Yeah.” She called out, setting her shoes on the bottom row of the rack and making her way into the living room, to find her dad sitting on the couch, with a book in his lap as he looked up at her.

“You’re home early.”

“Yeah, I-”

“Erin?” Her mom entered through the other doorway, wearing an incongruous suit jacket with fleece pajama bottoms, her bare feet poking out from under the baggy pants.

“Hi mom, meeting?” Her mom glanced down at herself and smiled ruefully.

“I just don’t see the point in getting all dressed up when they can’t even see it.”

Erin laughed and kissed her mom on the cheek.

“Working from home will be the end of civilization. Mark my words.” Her father said with a laugh, but the words took on an ominous tone that lanced through Erin, her heart racing.

The end of civilization…

The words echoed in her mind.

The end of everything…

Words that didn’t feel like they belonged to her. A memory surfaced then, of rain on the window at her lecture hall. That building sense of unease.

“Erin?” She jumped, as she realized she’d been standing there while her dad had been speaking to her.

“Sorry,” she apologized, rubbing the heel of her palm against her forehead.

“Are you alright, honey?” her mom asked, stepping forward to lay the back of her hand against Erin’s forehead. “You do feel a little warm.”

“Is that why you’re back early?” Her dad asked, concerned.

Must be.

Though she didn’t feel ill exactly, she certainly didn’t feel like herself. It was likely this was exactly what had brought her home. Just then the front door burst open followed by shrieks and laughter. Her younger brother and sister practically fell into the living room, still wearing their coats and shoes, and soaked from the rain.

“No.” her mother declared, raising a warning finger as if imposing her will on the universe. An effect enhanced by the sudden stillness as her brother and sister froze in place, their eyes wide. “Go get your things off at the door. You know better.” She followed along behind them as they sheepishly made their way back to the front door.

“You should go upstairs and get changed into something dry.” her father told her. “If you’re getting sick, being out in the rain isn't helping.”

“Yeah.” Erin agreed, stepping back into the hallway. She looked long enough to see her mother wrangling her siblings out of their boots and raincoats, before turning and heading up the stairs. She took them two at a time, just as she’d done ever since she’d grown tall enough to do so, and moved down the hallway to her room. It didn’t take her long to get changed and head back out. Pausing on the landing at the top of the stairs, she cocked her head, listening. Silence was all that greeted her, pressing its way up the stairs. Frowning, she moved down to the bottom slowly, listening intently. Nothing.

She moved between rooms, anxiety climbing with each one she found empty. Moving from the kitchen, to her mom's home office, into the living room and then back into the entry hallway, Erin paused, surprised to find the door open. Her old cat sitting on the porch outside, his fur orange and bright against the gray of the sidewalk, and the overcast sky.

“Calvin,” she called out, moving toward her cat. Calvin rose, stretching leisurely, before sauntering down the walkway. Erin trailed after him, crossing the threshold. Before her, the neighborhood lay in ruins. She halted mid-step, a wave of shock rolling through her, leaving her skin prickling. The neat rows of homes that once stood were now nothing but charred remains.

For a moment, she stood frozen, the door still ajar behind her, as the reality of the devastation sank in. A tentative step forward, feeling the uneven ground beneath her where the sidewalk had split. An oppressive silence bore down on her as she ventured further into the ruins. High in the sky, a strange, icy blue light flickered, holding her attention. Flames but not fire—cold and unnatural. As she neared, her skin prickled with unease. Reality seemed to warp around the light, forming a void that expanded outward, like paper consumed by an insatiable flame.

As the rift continued to widen, something began to emerge. First, she saw its pale snout sniffing at the air. Gradually, the creature pushed its entire head forward, revealing a twisted and monstrous form that Erin could hardly comprehend. Its presence felt inherently wrong, a perversion of the world. Its disfigured limbs, hosting an excess of joints. Its body was covered in a pale white flesh that didn't seem to fit it. The creature was anathema to reality itself.

It emerged fully from the rift, its towering form cast a long, hideous shadow. And then more came—through new rifts, more grotesque monsters, each as horrifying as the first, started pouring into her shattered home. Their terrifying cries echoed through the ruins, amplifying her sense of terror. Overwhelmed, Erin fell to her knees, her face buried in her hands as she began to sob. Her body was racked by the intensity of her fear and grief.

In that moment of despair, Erin's surroundings blurred and warped, fading to black. The ruined landscape dissolved and Erin felt that curious sense of detachment in the moment before the darkness over her vision cleared, resolving once more into Thetra’s clearing.

Thetra was still sitting beside her, her expression one of sympathy. Erin, with tears clouding her sight and her voice quivering, turned to her.

"Was- was that real?"

Thetra met Erin's gaze, her voice gentle, but firm.

"That was a vision, a possibility. The outcome we dread the most.” Erin's thoughts whirled as she sought solid ground.

"That can't happen, whatever those things are," she shuddered, haunted by the memory. The conviction that those monstrosities must never reach her world had been ingrained on her bones.

Looking up, she met Thetra's gaze. "If I do this, can you guarantee they'll be safe?"

Thetra gave a gentle shake of her head, her expression solemn. "Certainty is a luxury we don't have."

"I don't want to do this," Erin admitted, her voice trembling. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "But I don't see any other choice." When she opened them, she saw Thetra's head tipped down, hands folded as if in prayer.

"You deserved more time," Thetra said softly, her gaze dropping to the ground. "You're being called before you're ready, and it's not fair." She rose to her feet, brushing off her dress. Erin stood as well, turning to face her.

"So what now?" Erin asked, looking down at Thetra and realizing for the first time that she was taller.

“You go on.”

Erin began to speak, but Thetra's hand was suddenly on her chest, silencing her. Thetra had moved so quickly it seemed she had bridged the distance in an instant. The touch was gentle, just enough to momentarily unsettle Erin's balance.

"Goodbye, Erin, and good luck," Thetra said, her voice tinged with sadness. She blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears, and her azure eyes glistened in the light. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she took a deep breath, her shoulders sagging slightly as she fought to maintain her composure.

“Goodbye,” Erin replied numbly, confused by Thetra’s tone. Suddenly, she felt herself falling—upwards. She was yanked away from the ground, accelerating into the sky. Panic surged through her as she looked down to see Thetra tilting her head back, watching her go.

Erin’s stomach flip-flopped, not enjoying the sudden reversal of gravity. In the last moments before Thetra was too far away, Erin saw a small kitten gamboling around the dark-haired woman’s feet, playing energetically.