I used to access the afterlife through a trance state. I would abandon my body, incarnating in my shadow. In that form, devoid of substance and made of pure darkness, I would appear at a random point in the ash desert.

There, I would wander for days, maybe years. Time passed differently, and to this day, I do not know if it was a material reality. As a shadow, I was not sensitive to anything other than surfaces.

There were no stars in the sky. Only an eternal sunset beyond the horizon illuminated the landscape.

With experience, I learned to navigate. There were enormous rivers, miles and miles wide. They were composed of dark red sand that flowed slowly, carving canyons in the ash.

And finally, I saw it: the upside-down skyscraper.

It was the first and only structure I had ever encountered in that place.

Back in my body, I studied the recordings made with the arcane cube and began filling entire hard drives with speculations, hypotheses, and models.

With each trance, I tried to reach the threshold of that skyscraper. Now I could see its features, the signal lights, the concrete bastions.

Like a tree with many branches, the building had an urban canopy. It was a mess of other structures, arches, and bridges built from colored glass and basalt. That was what I understood from the systems analysis I had.

But no matter how close I got—no matter how much I followed the course of the river of red sand—I never reached the building. It moved with the horizon.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

But you’re not interested in these things. Aren't you? You want to know what happened after I died.

So, Catur, here’s what happened.

I do not remember the faces or the actions of my killers, but I do remember my strength dissipating, my magic shattering, my body ceasing to respond.

It was dark, and it lasted in the blink of an eye.

When I reopened my eyes, I found myself in a colonnaded penthouse without windows and overlooking the world at dusk.

It took me a moment to orient myself, to realize that it was a sloping parking lot and that I was walking on the ceiling.

Pipes, emergency signs, neon lights—a few overturned cars confirmed my supposition.

I didn’t feel sick. I remembered everything about my last moments of life.

More than a deceased, I felt teleported. A familiar sensation that didn't make me hot or cold.

I touched my chest, my shoulders, and my neck to know what condition I was in.

I was fine. I was whole and in my best physical shape. The flow of magic was not comparable to before, but a couple of tricks with my shadow worked, and I calmed down.

I just had to find a way to go back, to get revenge.

I began to explore the plain. My breathing and footsteps broke the dead silence of the afterlife.

I reached the edge of the parking lot and gasped.

The ash field lay miles below. I could see the scarlet river coming and crashing against the pinnacle sunk in the sand.

A soundless wind grazed me high above. It pushed me back from the edge.

To understand, I tried to step into the void and was rejected. I tried to send my shadow, but it was rejected, too.

I was starting to understand—I was a prisoner.

And, if I was a prisoner of the afterlife, in that skyscraper, after an exhausting battle, the answer could only be one: I was dead.