If I knew the afterlife existed, I guarantee I would not have booked this vacation.

The trip was ambiguous for a jobless twenty-two-year-old New Yorker struggling to pay rent. It was a creative way to ruin my life and career, as my brother, Joseph, had put it. He wasn’t exactly wrong.

I was known by most as a rational man. Sometimes timid and too awkward for my own good, but I was proficient in enough skills to qualify for a good future. I had a degree in accounting and a good job history for someone so young. Few faults of my character stuck out on paper. Certainly nothing that would explain my sudden switch of common sense.

The hotel room was tenfold more luxurious than my apartment. Clean with the scent of fresh detergents, AC dialed to perfection. I’d spilled wine on the bed sheets, but that would be cleaned by tomorrow. I lived in an actual room, as opposed to the goblin’s nest I called home.

The lavish lifestyle extended to my actions. I added desserts to my meals with no regard for budget. I blew savings on experiences I wished to enjoy. A visit to the Colosseum, amusement parks, guided tours to museums I knew nothing about. If something caught my eye, I paid for it.

My responsibilities, as far as I was concerned, did not exist. Bills were left unpaid. I’d missed a dangerous number of calls from my landlord regarding last month’s rent. I decided to block his number in hopes of some peace of mind.

In short—what sane people would deduce from observing the situation—I was thoroughly fucked. I had no flight home to think of. No money to buy a plane ticket, and no paycheck coming to save me. My meager savings were spent visiting attractions I didn’t actually care about.

All of that was done by intention, planned weeks in advance. I was always kind of a smartass who took the most complicated routes to solve the simplest problems. Go ahead and guess what problem this insane vacation was supposed to fix.

Admittedly, I wasn’t at all happy with the actions of past me. I knew I would regret this decision. Which was why I made sure to rule out every opportunity to back down.

In hindsight, I should have called my brother right there and then. Joseph would have had the funds to fly me back to New York. He and his girlfriend had a couch for me to leech on. Neither would have been happy to take me, but I knew my brother would have helped me back on my feet.

Instead, my dumb ass headed for the goddamned casino, too embarrassed to back down.

Out of my remaining hundred and fifty-four dollars, a hundred and fifty turned into casino chips. I went all-in on green without hesitation. Perhaps if the roulette landed in my favor a couple of times in a row, if a few zeroes were added to my balance, I could gain the willpower to haul myself back to America.

The ball landed on black.

From one bad decision to another, my remaining pennies found the liquor store, and I returned to the hotel with a cheap bottle of Spanish wine in hand. I chugged the bottle on the elevator on my way to the twelfth floor.

I headed straight for the balcony. A perfect view of asphalt and parking lots lay below me hundreds of feet below. It was insane how high a hotel building could reach, and how tiny the guardrails of such skyscrapers were allowed to be.

If I’d had money for a last meal, perhaps the worst of my decisions could have been avoided. Unfortunately, my drunk self wasn’t known for his emotional intelligence.

I climbed on the railing and closed my eyes, balance wavering.

***

I woke up in space. Stars of all colors surrounded me. Bright moons, distant supernovae, rays of light within the vast emptiness. No amount of sci-fi terms could have described the canvas, taken straight out of a psychedelic trip. This was not a sight telescopes saw from Earth.

As my senses untangled, it dawned on me that I wouldn’t have to worry about finding a way home tomorrow. I wouldn’t be waking up to my miserable life any time soon.

I was dead.

Holy shit, I thought. I really did it…

I jumped.

My heart still raced. The sheer panic of the fall was unlike any adrenaline rush I had ever felt. I knew I had hit the ground, splattering into a million pieces. Nobody would mistake my death for an accident. Soon enough, my family would hear the news of my fate.

The pain was gone now. All of it, including every ache I thought I once had. No back pain, no toothaches. No clogged nose, no headaches. My limbs were intact as if the impact had never happened.

The pain was replaced by a sense of emptiness.

Why was I still conscious? I was never supposed to wake up again. That was why I had jumped, was it not? To stop existing. Why, then, did I have the ability to think? Why could I still feel the soul-numbing regret pinching at my heart?

Had I truly believed I had nothing to lose?

I cried. I hated how I could still feel anything at all. Even more so, I hated myself for choosing to give up.

“Oh, poor soul!” A woman’s voice filled the space. The sound came from all around me. “This… This is horrible!”

I gasped. Adrenaline replaced my whimpers. There was no person anywhere in sight.

“Ah,” the woman said. “Sorry. I need to show myself, don’t I? I’m sorry for the delay.”

She appeared out of thin air, her figure fading in from transparency. She floated in the space in front of me. Her hair was silvery white, and she wore a white silk dress. No, that was wrong. Her hair was a rainbow, blended in with the space around us. And her dress… A black gown fit for a funeral, intricate patterns woven into the silk, hem adorned with a row of black roses. The gown turned back to white silk, then the fabric turned to flowing water. Her appearance kept changing. Or perhaps she wore everything all at once.

The woman herself appeared young, maybe twenty or so, but I was afraid to guess for sure. Her skin was smooth as glass, her body an ideal model at the very least. She blushed and avoided eye contact. She wiped a tear.

“Sorry,” she repeated. “This is my first day on soul reception in a long time. Clumsy me. I’m sorry if my speech is inelegant. It has been a while since I last talked with humans.”

I realized I was gaping, my perceptions in awe and disbelief. I struggled to stop. “Who are you?”

“My name is Shiela,” she said. “I am what your kind calls a Goddess. I am a moon on most centuries, sometimes a sun or a planet. A peacekeeper of the timelines. Today, I am a soul receptionist. Life’s cycle has been unusually crowded in this world. Thousands of Gods have been called, even us novices.”

The beaming glow dimmed from Shiela’s eyes. I read sorrow in her look. “Death takes a toll on everyone. Even on the world and the Gods. It’s never easy to let go. Or to feel full, knowing self as a person has disappeared. But you… Sweet soul, I’m so sorry. I have never witnessed a being as devoid as you. Your death… It was…”

I gulped back tears, trying to force my emotions under control. Was my life really that miserable? A Goddess was taking pity on me?

“Your body…” Shiela said. “I’ve never seen so much blood.”

“I’m sorry,” I said through a sniffle. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s not your fault,” Shiela said. She looked away and hesitated. “It must be warfare. My superiors warned me of this situation. Warfare is the largest cause for drained souls. No other existence but warfare would leave a tangle like yours.”

What? I thought, unsure how to respond. Warfare?

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“You were sent to your death on undisputable orders, weren’t you?” Shiela asked. “On a death mission with an even worse alternative for declining.”

“No?” I said. I had never touched a weapon in my life. A steering wheel or a kitchen knife were the most dangerous pieces of equipment I was willing to approach, and I still got scared of drawing blood or running someone over.

The correction passed through Shiela’s ears. “The creators owe an apology for birthing you in a world as cruel as this. Unfortunately, apologies can’t turn back time. There is nothing I can do to remove your pain. Death is irreversible.”

For a moment, we stared at each other. “What will happen to me now?” I asked.

“I’m not sure,” Shiela said. “Usually, receptionists send satisfied souls off for life anew. I tell humans as many secrets of the world as they wish to hear, only for the host to forget everything, their souls moving on.” She smiled, though it didn’t last. “Your soul… It’s black. It’s black as ash. You have not lived a satisfying life.”

I looked down at my body. Emptiness filled my head. This was likely the last time I would see my dad’s old Metallica shirt or feel the comfort of modern-age earbuds in my pockets. Even the Gods deemed my body as beyond repair.

“I guess I haven’t?” I said.

“Black souls usually get eradicated,” Shiela said.

I paused.

“However,” Shiela continued. “I see color in your soul. You are kind. People cared about you. You were not poison to your world. Your world was poison to you. I cannot eradicate a soul unjustly.”

I floated in disbelief. I had no idea what to say.

Shiela let out a deep sigh. “I wish my supervisor was here. She would know how to deal with exceptions. I know I will bless your relatives with a stable recovery after your death, but what will I do with you?”

She rubbed her chin and looked around, occasionally glancing at me. Was the mannerism an act?

“I believe there is only one solution,” Shiela said. “Reviving you in your world is impossible, even if all Gods worked at it together. The timeline would be destroyed. Instead, I could restore your body and mind somewhere else.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Reincarnation,” Shiela said. “I could restore your physical body and memories into a new world. A place where you have yet to be destroyed. Where you can attempt a satisfying life once more, in a world where your soul will regain color and turn to rainbows.”

I felt like a hole was ripping my head in half. As if my emotions weren’t a mess already. Mere men weren’t supposed to deal with the mess my poor decisions had brought me to. I wasn’t sure if I understood what Shiela truly offered. Hell, I could have been dreaming for all I knew.

“What if I decline?” I asked.

“Then I have no choice but to eradicate your soul anyway,” Shiela said. “Worry not. Reincarnation is not as scary as you think. Thousands of war-free utopias exist all over the universe. Places where any soul has room for repair.”

“Are there people around?” I asked.

“Of course,” Shiela said. “No life is satisfying without companions. Translation magic works with all languages. I’m using it right now. We gods don’t have time to learn every language invented. If I infuse the ability with you, any language in the world will become as clear as day.”

“Magic?” I asked. “You said magic?”

“Yes, magic exists.” Shiela smirked. “It’s commonplace in a lot of worlds. Spells and magical technology have been used and advanced for eons. Many earthlings have specifically asked to be reincarnated to worlds with wizards and swords. You’d be lucky to join them and with your memories intact. Are you still considering declining?”

I was. But I wouldn’t admit that to her. I was so tired. If even a Goddess couldn’t turn back time, to let me apologize to everyone for ending my life… the next best thing was to stop existing.

But, hell, this was another chance at life. Perhaps not on Earth, but still a chance. In a new world, where magic of all damned things was real. Was this not what I wanted? A break from life, away somewhere else.

No. It wasn’t. I wanted to reincarnate back to Earth, to see my family again. To beg for forgiveness, to promise I’d never leave off on a whim again.

It seemed I had no choice.

“I’ll take the reincarnation,” I said. Hopefully, I wouldn’t regret this later.

“Great!” Shiela beamed. “Let’s start right away! Ordinarily, Gods offer souls a choice for reincarnation, letting the host choose where to awaken next. In this case, however, I believe I know the perfect location for your reincarnation.

“Kroses Sol, a country the ancients have named the Bane of the Land. The country of Heroes, glory, honor, and magic. The Krose are people of pride. They see their country as a sacred land, a gift given to them. In return, the Krose must offer their strength to the Moons who provide them warmth.

“Doesn’t sound special, perhaps, but Kroses Sol is amongst the happiest countries in the universe. The living conditions are above average. Black souls hardly exist amongst the Krose. I have no doubt you will have a fulfilling life.”

I listened in silence. The name of the country already sounded ridiculous, at least when spoken in English. Kroses Sol. My new home. Probably eons of light years away from Earth.

“The magic in this world is simple, yet intricate,” Shiela continued. “Most mages take years to cast the most basic spells. You, as a twenty-two-year-old male, would never learn magic to the level it would be useful. It would be unfair to send you off in a state like this.” Shiela offered me her hand. “Allow me to offer you a little help. My touch will offer you the talent of magic. Take my hand, and the powers are yours.”

I couldn’t have blinked under her stare. My heart raced, faced with her beaming figure.

Hesitantly, I took her hand.

I didn’t feel anything change inside of me.

Shiela, however, seemed ecstatic. “Perfect!” she said. “I will let you explore your new abilities on your own time. I’m sure you will find great success in your new world. Are you ready for takeoff?”

“Yes, and thank you,” I said, though ready was the last word my state of mind should have been described with.

Shiela’s appearance rotated faster and faster, and new colors appeared on her dress. The landscape around us seemed to spin around me. The floating stopped, and my body began falling. I flung my arms like mad, the panic of my last moments returning.

Shiela floated next to me with a smile on her face. “You will wake up at an inn in a small town at the edge of the country. A guide of mine will grab you awake. Follow guidance, and my gift will lead you to your new life.”

The stars around me spun faster, and Shiela’s figure slowly blended in with the landscape.

“I hope we meet again,” Shiela said. “I promise this world will provide the life you have been searching for. My apostle.”

That was the last thing I heard before losing consciousness.

New world, new cultures, new everything. Who knows. Maybe I was overthinking this. Maybe learning new things here and there was what I needed to fix my messed-up head.

***

Shiela stuck to the shape of a human female during her work.

She disliked its limitations. The shape was impractical for anything requiring strength or agility, clumsy for dexterity, and limited in expression of thought. Most Gods considered human bodies useless for any task that did not require the manipulation of human mortals through menacing or attractive looks.

Still, Shiela felt obliged to the identity. She’d gained the favor of her subject with the shape, and she’d keep the appearance for as long as her subject lived.

Her station lay within the orbit of Akona. Akona was the largest moon (and thus, also a Goddess) orbiting Carillia, the God of this ecosystem. Shiela could have worked from the quiet comfort of space light years away, but when performing tricks, it was polite to inform the receiving end beforehand.

A warning, however, did not guarantee that the victims would be any less annoyed with her.

“Wasn’t that slightly too cruel?” Akona asked. The question was delivered directly into Shiela’s mind.

“Which part?” Shiela formed a smile.

Akona expressed disapproval. This, too, was delivered directly to Shiela’s consciousness.

In the shared space of the Gods’ minds, the transfer of purest thoughts was possible. Lesser expressions were considered cryptic and unnecessary. Both of which were qualities Shiela took pride in.

“To send the boy to Kroses Sol,” Akona said. “Not one of your promises was true in the form you delivered. You are aware of this.”

“I was called the Goddess of Mischief, once.”

“And let ‘once’ stay as is,” Akona said. “Carillia does not require your trickery. Neither does your apostle.”

“I will argue that both statements are incorrect,” Shiela said. “Cillian Bermeyer requires a satisfying life. Pampering will not achieve this. The man was spoiled enough on Earth, and you know where that led him. What he truly requires is a challenge to overcome.”

“You liefully forced him to accept a challenge several magnitudes harsher than what was promised. Death is a realistic outcome for your Apostle.”

Shiela grinned. “The future is up to Cillian to weave. I do not condone tangling my subjects in forced fate. What I desire is true determination.”

“And you decided to perform this trick during Carillia’s slumber.”

Shiela sensed a hint of uncertainty from Akona’s transmission. True wariness for the future of this world. “You sense it too, don’t you?” Shiela asked.

Another expression of disapproval from Akona.

“Carillia is in trouble,” Shiela said. “The humans of your world are up to something. The planet itself is in trouble. Yet, you, the Moons of the world, refuse to act.”

“Carillia is in an age of nonintervention,” Akona said.

“To His own detriment,” Shiela said. “I for one think sending a Divinity will be a fantastic addition to your affairs.”

Apprehension and fear mixed with Akona’s disapproval. “Your decision may very well worsen the problems.”

“We will see,” Shiala said with a grin. “It is up to Cillian now to shape the fate of your world.”

[Cillian Bermeyer]

[Level one]

[Abilities: None]

[Awakening activated]