“They’ve done it again, I see,” a voice interjects upon the silence. I can glean neither gender nor age from it, somehow, though it is as clear as any sound I’ve ever heard.

“Hello?” I call out into the void, not truly knowing if I had hallucinated it. I’ve been stuck here in this space of infinite nothingness for who knows how long and the silence has become all-encompassing. Even my own voice has begun to succumb to the susurrus of silence, drowned out by the oppressiveness of it, almost tangible in presence, heavier than my voice is somehow.

When there is nothing to hear, the mind fills those gaps, I’d long ago realized. Which is why I figure I might have imagined it. There's nothing here in this space, after all.

It's a never ending expanse of complete darkness.

I can’t see my hands, though I can feel myself waving them in front of my face. I can also, it seems, feel the boundaries of my body. I can feel the smooth skin of my chest and stomach as I rub my bare hands up and down. Normally I would close my eyes and take deep breaths to feel present in my body, but I can’t see anything anyway, so all that is required to ground myself is to focus on the way my body feels beneath my fingertips.

“That is not your body, though I can understand why you might feel that way. It’s your soul, which has heretofore been encapsulated inside your body, its ‘container,’ which it remembers the shape of. In a way, it is like memory foam. Now that you are no longer inside that container, your soul will expand to its original shape until it reaches its maximum volume. It's an interesting thing, that. Especially considering it can happen in here at all.”

I feel the voice as if it's a physical thing, as if it were inside of me and bearing down on me all at the same time, pressing against my flesh as if trying to invade my very being. I have long since passed into the state of being panicked, so the oppressive feeling can’t do much more than I’m already experiencing, especially since I can’t feel my heart beating or the air that must surely be entering my lungs with each panicked breath.

When the voice comes again, it is much less aggressive, though the tone hadn't been unkind in the first place. It's also emanating from a point off in the distance, now occupied by a tall, thin form wearing white robes.

Their arms are inside sleeves that meet across their stomach, entirely hiding any flesh that they may or may not have, the way Earth monks were often depicted doing on television. The robes flow past their feet, though they seem to end without ending, as if the border of the fabric is merely a suggestion and, were I to lift it, it might stretch to occupy the space I lifted it to rather than separate from the “floor.”

Their face, however, is … interesting, terrifying, beautiful, confusing, and everything in between all at once. I can’t focus on it. Or their head, in general. They may have hair, they may not. It might be brown, black, red, blond, or white. Their eyes might be blue, or they might be gold. They may be smiling, or snarling, or any number of things. Whenever my eyes roam to meet another feature, I am unable to grasp the previous one, perceiving an unfamiliar piece to an ever-unfamiliar form.

I can’t grasp the whole of it, it seems, and no matter how many times I come back to an eye that I swear was brown or green when last I saw it, it isn’t. As if the very idea that they have features at all is merely a suggestion.

It is unsettling in so many ways I can’t properly describe. Whatever, whoever, this is is not human. That much is obvious. I can feel it somewhere deep inside myself, along with the all encompassing fear pouring itself into the melting pot of overwhelm I'm already experiencing.

“My name is Aethos. I can see that your name is Zed. I am in the process of integrating you into this Universe, now that you've been transformed—transmuted, perhaps— by what theorists on your world might have called the ‘brane.’ In this case, however, that brane, short for membrane, is what is known as Essence. You aren’t personally familiar with the theory, but it makes a great bit of sense, upon further examination.”

I can’t find any words. There are no words to convey the fear I’m feeling, the discomfort, the paranoia. There are no words to explain that I feel like I'm dead and that I've regained consciousness in the belly of some voidbeast science had somehow missed.

The last thing I remember before appearing here is an impossibly strong grip pulling me backward. I'd been using my forge when I felt a breeze wash over me strong enough to stoke the cooling embers of the metal I'd been hammering. I was mid swing, barely having fully perceived the breeze yet, when I felt my body being violently pulled. Then I was just … here. Standing in this infinite nothingness.

“I hate when those bastards use my ritual. They don’t even understand the thing in the first place, and they’re using it to grab people from other Universes to use as chaff for whatever game they’re playing at. Most of the time, they luck out on a Universe that has a similar density, but in your case they didn't.”

I can barely grasp anything they’re saying. I don't even really care. I shouldn't be here in the first place, let alone be forced to converse with anyone, but I’m saved from attempting to … do something, ask something—I don’t even know, really— when they start talking again.

“They don’t even know all of you who experience this issue come here first, which is incredibly intellectually deficient of them considering they—you—come out the other side of the portal different than they'd gone into it. In some cases, they're even a different species, though they always come through with Skills and Spells native to this Universe. You’d think they would at least wonder why, no matter who comes out the other side, even the ones who don't receive new forms, they always exit the portal with Skills they’re at least vaguely familiar with.”

They heave an audible sigh, somehow, despite that they haven’t moved from their position even slightly. Honestly, there’s no indication that the voice is coming from them at all save for the vague sense that the voice is coming from that direction. I don’t even know where they came from, now that I think about it. Or how they got here. They'd just appeared in my line of site, suddenly. As if they had always been there.

“Unfortunately, those who get brought over don’t all receive my direct attention. You got lucky in that my consciousness was condensed enough that I felt your entry into my Domain and managed to divert the automatic integration the other souls received.”

“Lucky?” I say incredulously. It’s a bitter thing, the voice that escapes me. Quiet and without teeth. I don’t even really mean for it to come out of my mouth, actually. It found its way there on its own, it seems.

“That’s as good a point as any to use as a segue, I suppose.” Their voice is apologetic. I don’t feel comforted by it. “You’re not using your mouth to speak. That’s not your body. You’re a soul. Well, you’re Essence now, in one of it’s ‘phase states’ but that’s a concept from your world I don’t think you would appreciate the scientific complexity of enough for me to dig into the nuances.” The form finally moves, though it’s only to wave a hand dismissively.

“The body you’re seeing isn’t my body, either. Nor am I actively controlling its movements, as such, so whatever you see is an interpretation by your mind. It’s a piece of my consciousness that your mind has decided to give form to. Another concept that you’re not in a state to really delve into. Suffice it to say, this space is not physical. Neither of us have physical form here in this space.”

That doesn’t make any sense, though. None of this makes any sense. Where am I? How do I get back? I don’t give a shit about the science of whatever this is. I don’t give two fucks about any of this. I shouldn’t be here at all!

“I know, Zed, and I am sorry. If I could send you back, I would have done it without ever having to speak to you in the first place. You would simply have been where you started, never the wiser. Unfortunately, I can’t. Essence in the ‘Conscious state,’ which your soul is now comprised of, cannot be affected by any sort of Spell or Aura technique. It is one of the fundamental laws of this reality. Not even the Divine state of Essence can truly affect Conscious Essence, though there are a few exceptions that don't apply here."

I don’t want to hear this. I don’t want to be hearing any of this. I don’t care what the laws are. Break them. Find a—

“Zed. Please. I know that you're distraught beyond words. I'm sorry. So truly sorry that this is happening to you. I can’t circumvent the laws of our world’s physics any more than you could have on yours, God or not. Even if I had any physical power to act, I could do nothing about your circumstances. I feel your anger. I have it, too. You're not the first this has happened to. In a way, it's my fault, if you wish to be angry at me. Those pieces of trash acting as they do, bearing my name is more infuriating than—”

“Stop, stop, STOP! Where am I? Who are you? Are you reading my mind? How did I get here? What is this integration bullshit? Why can’t you send me back? Just open the portal back up and send me back through it! You’re in charge, you said! We all come to you, you said! Help me!”

Finally, I find some words, though most of them are questions and not a single one do I even want the answers to. No, what I want is for this to be fixed. I want to go back in time to before the portal, and I want for the portal never to open in the first place.

“As I said, I am Aethos. I am the System. Technically the God of the System, but I've Transcended past Godhood to become it. Without me, or the System, rather, countless people born every day would die because they don’t have access to the power that the Universe grants but doesn’t teach while a select few flourish, dancing upon the corpses left behind. I am that teacher.”

Anger floods me as they meander through their explanation on their way to my answers. If you’re reading my mind, hurry the fuck up!

“I can hear what you’re thinking, but only because it's not actual thought, as such, but rather the way your soul is expressing itself here. I'm perhaps the best user of Aura in the past hundred thousand years, and ‘Soul Sense’ is a function of such an ability, but were you inside a body currently I wouldn't be able to so clearly determine what you were thinking. As it stands, you are not thinking so much as screaming each and every feeling you have directly into my head.”

“No body? What does that even mean?”

There’s just so much shit I don’t know. So many questions I have that I have no framework to understand unless they start from the very beginning. How am I supposed to do anything like this?

“I'm trying. I promise. I'm also aware of the knowledge you have no way of having. I’m trying to be as explanatory as possible without overwhelming you; keeping it as simple as possible so what I say doesn’t require a novel’s worth of information to make you understand. There is much I could tell you, much I could expound upon for thousands and thousands of your years and still not reach the end of what I know, but you aren’t in the state for such a thing, nor do you want a history lesson, especially when you’ve just been kidnapped.”

A wave of grief washes over me and I nearly collapse. Kidnapped. I was kidnapped into a different fucking Universe, apparently, with no way back. Then anger shines through the grief.

Why can’t I—

“You cannot go back for several reasons, but I'll give you the two most important. One, the state of Essence that now makes up your soul cannot be directly acted upon by magic, or, more accurately, other forms of Essence. Were the portal still open in that direction, you wouldn't be able to travel through it without being in a container, even if time weren't in the state it is. Meaning you would have to be bonded for it to be possible in the first place, at all. The second reason is that the portal only has an exit now that you've been pulled through it. I'm suppressing its appearance for now so you can come to terms with things, but there's no portal from your world any longer. Or to it.”

“But why can’t you just reopen it?”

“Because I would have to know where the portal led. The Spell I designed, the one they are unfortunately using in this case, is one that opens in a random location. Completely random. Universe, solar system, planet. Even time. Essence, no Essence. There's no telling. It's completely random, because, without the System to guide me, learning such a directed Spell was all but impossible. In many ways, it still is, but, even if you could, you don't know where you were. When I created it, I wished to meet other life forms. To communicate with them. To garner aid in the battles we were experiencing every day because Essence is as hostile as it is beautiful.”

There's bitterness in their voice now.

“I had no way of knowing the limitations of such a Spell, nor the effects it would have on those who came through from Universes like yours. We didn’t have a System, then, as I said.”

I’m not sure I understand exactly what that means, but I can make a few guesses. People died.

Aethos scoffs. “To understate it utterly, yes. Some lived, though they were not of this Universe. They weren’t born of Essence as we are. They couldn't wield it without being integrated as I do for those who otherwise find themselves here. They all died. Each and every one. I wish that I had never created that Spell.”

“Why can’t you get rid of it? You said you’re the System, didn’t you?”

“I did. I am. I also said I don’t have power to act the way other Gods can. All my power is tied up in the net that encompasses the Universe in the form of my Domain, where you are right now. I am the Universe in a way, since no one can escape my net, but I'm also outside of it. I'm essentially a Universal compendium of Spells, Skills, and Progression. I hold the knowledge that's automatically granted to every person who enters the Universe, be they Migrators like yourself or otherwise.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“So it’s an all or nothing kind of thing,” I respond, my voice heavy with sarcasm.

“Yes, it’s all or nothing, except in the one specific case of the Enslavement Concept Spells. I, along with every other God in existence at the time, Banned it from inclusion in the System. In addition, every God is bound by oath to end all threats under that Concept should they attempt to form outside the System with extreme prejudice. It's the only thing that the Gods have managed to unanimously agree on, even those considered morally corrupt.”

I still don’t understand. My mind is spinning at a thousand miles an hour and I can’t settle it down enough to land on any one thing.

“To backtrack a bit, a bandage I feel is most necessary to rip off now before we stray too far and stumble upon it later, I can’t reopen the portal because I don’t know where your Universe is in comparison to this one. You can’t travel through it as you are because Conscious Essence cannot exist outside of a container. I told you that before, but you didn’t extrapolate, which means that, unfortunately, I have to break that news.” If I had eyebrows, they would be furrowing.

“Your soul is without a container, Zed. Your body was that container.”

“So put me back in my container, then.” I point out, condescension dripping from my tone. Aethos doesn’t rise to the bait, though. Their voice is still as kind and patient as it had always been. For some reason, it’s making me mad. So fucking mad. I don’t want the kindness. I don’t want this shit. Put me back. Send me back. KILL ME!

Woah. I'd shut my eyes, but I don’t have any. I still try, anyway, but it doesnt work. I can still see Aethos and they can still see me. They’re closer now, I can tell. They'd heard that.

Just like that, all the anger is gone, replaced by an almost unbearable shame. Shame I should be able to feel in the privacy of my own head. A head I don’t have anymore, if I’m catching Aethos’s meaning.

“I am so sorry that this is happening, Zed, and if I could stop, I would. I know how important being alone is to you and I know how important the idea of sanctity of mind is where you come from. If I could give that to you here, I would. If it weren’t for those Aethosian Armada members, you would still have had it,” they snort. “Gods, even the name is stupid. Alliteration? They’re not even a military group, let alone an armada.”

They’re attempting to be comedic. I don’t have it in me to be anything but broken, let alone amused. Had I ever been anything else, really? Anything but broken? A shell of a person who had long since given up on happiness or fulfillment beyond the surface?

I’ve been listening the whole time, because what else can I do, but my mind hasn’t been able to keep up with anything that's happening. It’s only now that my mind seems to rev itself up, though the direction it heads is anywhere but good. I crumple and do my best to curl up into a ball, to be as small as possible, though I can still see Aethos behind me, despite facing away from them. There's no me here to block my sight.

I can’t escape them, it seems.

I can’t escape from this. I can’t escape from this realization that I’m not on Earth. I don’t have my fucking body. I don’t have my house or my forge or my swords or my mind.

I might not be in danger of magical enslavement but that says nothing about physical enslavement, if I can take them at their word at all. These terrible people, whoever they are, had some plan for me once they’d gotten me through the portal. A plan with what they were going to do with me. How they were going to use me.

Suddenly, I can’t breathe, even though I hadn’t been breathing from the start, apparently. Not really. It feels that way, though. It feels like I need it. It feels like my lungs are pulling desperately inward but nothing is catching. I’m suffocating, gasping for air that isn’t going to come, that I’ll never smell again, that I can’t go back to. I can’t go back to it. Send me back, please, Aethos, please send me back I don’t want to stay here I don’t want to be here I just want to die let me dieletmedieletmedieletmedieletme—

“Zed! Zed, please, listen to me alright? Your soul is in a state of immense vulnerability. Not only because of the emotional trauma but because you’ve just gone through essentially a transmutation from a being with a concept of a soul to a literal, physical soul. One made of energy that sits at the very foundation of the Universe. You’ve been pulled through Elemental Space, a True Element, in addition to a Concept, and you’re literally unstable. I know this is terrible. It is despicable what they’ve done. Disgusting. But, Zed, you have to calm yourself. I can't imagine the damage you could cause to yourself like this.”

To myself, they say. To myself.

I wish I could turn away. Close my eyes. I don’t want to see them. I don’t want to see the white of their clothing or the incomprehensible blur of their face and be reminded of the hope this could be a dream followed by the deep knowledge that this isn’t a dream, that I’m not going to wake up, that I can feel my body expanding at the edges and I can’t get a grip on it no matter how much I try and squeeze myself back into shape. I’m dead. I died. My body is gone andIwon’tgetitbackbecausetheykilledme—

Then I’m encompassed by a pressure unlike anything I’d ever felt before. Or my soul is being encompassed, I suppose.

It feels like the warmest, heaviest blanket I’ve ever experienced. Like the biggest, fullest hug I’ve ever been given. I am inside a sea of warmth, floating in it, untouched by anything else, separate from the worries of the world and I can breathe again. I can breathe.

Aethos starts speaking again.

“What they’ve done to you is unforgivable,” they say and somehow I know they aren’t only talking about my kidnappers. “I’m going to help you, though. I can’t send you back, but I can at least do something I couldn’t do for the others. They caught the ass end of my awareness and this whole thing was automated rather than curated the way I’ll do for you. I know that this isn’t what you want and I wish more than anything I could give that to you, but this is all I can do.” They pause for a second.

“This sucks. I know it sucks. It won’t stop sucking for a long time, Zed, and I am more sorry than words can express. All I can do is give you the tools you’ll need to survive the other side long enough to find your ‘okay’ again. I wish there was more I could do, but I can make you strong in body like you are in mind and soul so you can take out of their hides what they took from you.”

I can still see them in the near distance. They hadn’t moved, so I don’t know what it is I’m being encompassed with. Especially since they said they couldn’t affect me with Spells or whatever because I’m all Essence now, or whatever. Unless it was a lie. Unless they just don’t want to help me for some reason. Unless—

“Zed, I know you don’t have any reason to believe me, but I wasn’t lying. I wish I were because then there would be something I could do, something you could do. I’m not using any Spells on you. I can't. You’re inside my Domain where I have the power to do much that I don’t anywhere else, though not as much as I wish I could. Especially now. I'm already acting as the container in which your soul, your Conscious Essence, is being temporarily housed, though only in the sense that there is no time here, now. For brevity's sake, I'm altering the space around your soul to feel more physical in order to simulate comfort. That's why you're feeling this way. Not because I'm deceiving you in any way.”

I can’t find a way to respond coherently. They said I don’t need to speak out loud, anyway, basically, because I’m telegraphing everything I’m thinking and feeling. I also don’t technically have a mouth, I'm not technically speaking when I perceive myself as doing it, and my soul is no longer what it once was, which is another can of worms I’m afraid to open. I’m all over the place, though. I want it back. I want it back.

My shop, my life, my solitude, my peace. I had reached a place of contentment that I never thought I could, or would. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it was mine. My life. I built it from the ashes of the old one into something I could hold onto, something I could be proud of, something that was mine.

Suddenly, I’m ten again, shaking uncontrollably in my bed while my father is passed out on the floor next to me. It’s mid-winter and the cold air is billowing into the room. The thin blanket isn’t enough to keep me warm but I can’t get out of the bed to close it. I’m not only shaking because of the cold.

I feel exactly like I did then. Terrified. Like I’m in danger. That someone is going to hurt me and I won’t be able to stop them. They’re going to hurt me. Please, please, please, God, Gods, whatever, help me. Please help me. I don’t want to feel like this again. Helpless as a child. I was okay. Please let this be a dream. Let this be a dream, please. Let me wake up.

Aethos starts vibrating in a way that reminds me of how a kitten purrs. It doesn’t get rid of my emotions, but it does immediately lessen the panic that had constricted me. I lean into it, even, hating the need to be comforted but needing it more than I have hate for it. I do need it. I’m scared I might break otherwise.

“I’m here, Zed. I know it’s scary. I can’t say nothing bad will ever happen to you again because we both know how much of a lie that would be. I suspect you don’t want loving lies right now. Well, I know you don’t want them, but I— never mind. What I mean to say is that you are strong.”

I don’t feel it.

“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. You managed to find begrudging peace with yourself after everything you went through. You’re a warrior, Zed, through and through.” I recognize what they’re doing, but it’s working anyway. They continue on.

“You found the beauty in the scars and you took ownership of them. You took ownership of you. I am proud of you, even if that doesn’t mean anything. Just know that much. That you’re strong. That strength is as plain as the sun,” Aethos says.

I don’t see any sun, though, do I? Not right now.

“You’re also fragile,” they continue. “You’ve been holding it together through sheer force of will and, although you have so, so much of that, so much more than you should have had to in your world, it wouldn’t have lasted forever. That stillness. You’d become detached. You were pouring bits and pieces of yourself into things you did, the swords you made, the martial arts you learned, because it was the only way for you to feel them. It was the only connection you had to the pieces you couldn’t find in yourself anymore. Sooner or later the pieces you were scared to look at would have reared their ugly heads.”

I’m sobbing, though I don’t care how that works at the moment. I can't stop it, either. I'm shaking.

I don’t want to be strong anymore. I just want to be okay. Just let me be okay, for once.

“You are okay, Zed. Or you will be. You’re so good at being okay. You’ve been okay your entire life, even when you felt otherwise. You don’t want to be okay, though. You want to be happy. You deserve to be happy. You wouldn’t have found it in the life you were living, though, Zed. You were unfulfilled, even though you had love for the work you were doing.”

I did like where I was. I loved what I was doing, but I was—

“You needed more. You needed people. Connections. Even if those scare you. You can’t walk through life alone, even if that feels safer. That doesn’t make this okay, by any measure, though. Where I’m going with this is that this Universe has that. Connections. More people than you could ever hope to meet.”

I don’t want to meet anyone. I want to go home.

“But you can’t, Zed. I’m so sorry, but you can’t. You have to keep going. Keep pushing forward. You’re worth something. You should think that about yourself, too. People in this world, the people of Ackellia, are forced to struggle for safety because the Universe itself, a force which has even more power than I do despite my influence, has decreed from the very beginning that life is conflict and the only way to live is to fight, or die.”

Let me die, then.

“Don’t say that, Zed. Don't think it.” Aethos squeezes a bit too hard but they let go just as quickly. “I’m sorry. Thoughts like that are easy to think but they aren't you. Not truly. They're the pieces of you that you picked up along the way from those who seemed to share that opinion. They're not you. You care about you, even if you can’t hear it over the voices of the others. You’ve got it bad, Zed. It’s soul deep. You’ve come to identify with your abusers. If you die, if you allow yourself to do that, then they’ve well and truly won.”

Good, I think. I don’t want to fight anymore. Let them win.

It’s a weak and pitiful thought. One I’ve had more than a few times. Many more than that. It's easy to believe it, though.

“Then don’t. Don’t fight. Just be. Just live. Every day you go on is another day they lose, even if you don’t view it that way. Your world is distant, Zed. Emotionally and physically. There is individuality to the point of being detrimental. People die of thirst next to someone with water because they're too proud to ask for a drink.”

Being alive is a fight, though, isn’t it? Existing is struggling through another day. Fumbling in the darkness, looking for the pieces to a puzzle but you don't know how many there are. Or if all the pieces you're picking up even go to the puzzle you're trying to build.

“When you get through this, when you kick those bastards' asses on the other side of the portal, you’ll find people who’ll try their hardest to get to know you, to get closer to you, to draw you into their circle because they fear the isolation your world is steeped in. To be alone is to be dead because you cannot ask for help in isolation. You can't turn to anyone when you need to. You need to, Zed.”

I sob as Aethos talks, trying as hard as I can to fight through the fear and grief and sadness and self-deprecation. It’s so easy to believe that I’m not strong enough. To believe that I deserve this hell. That I should just die.

When had it gotten this easy? How long ago had I started to believe the words that had been screamed at me more times than I could count growing up?

I shudder in a way I can’t describe. If I were in a body, I would have said it was soul deep but considering I am a soul now, despite the soul being Essence, or whatever, it feels deeper than that.

I shudder.

I suppose, in many ways, I never grew up. Never healed. I just kept putting bandages on the cracks to stop the leakage when my emotions pushed up too much against the dam I’d built between me and them I just slapped one on and called it a day. No one noticed or said anything so how was I supposed to know that wasn’t normal? I saw others laughing and smiling and it filled me with a deep, visceral longing that I had always dismissed. I remember, now, thinking about how I wished I had that, too, but that someone as disgusting as me didn’t deserve to feel that way. Someone so annoying. Someone so stupid.

In a way, they had won, even though they’re long dead. They’ve been winning ever since, honestly. I knew that, deep down. I’ve known it. Perhaps that’s why it gets to me as much as it does, even with that knowledge. They would have wanted me to feel this way but I feel like I have no other choice but to. Because I agree with them. That I’m worthless.

I wish this realization meant that I could suddenly stop feeling this way, but it doesn’t. It never has. There’s something besides self-awareness that I’m missing.

“Just because you’re aware of something doesn’t mean you know what to do with it. Again, it's as good a segue into the way the Universe you’re being introduced to works as any. You cannot conceptualize that you're not worthless, even though you're aware that this isn't the way you might have felt were you to have had a different childhood, so you can’t help it. This translates because conceptualization is the butter to the bread that is the System. The System is the foundation upon which your Concept is spread. It's a reductive metaphor, but we can discuss it more after you've had time to absorb all this.”

The pressure shifts this way and that before settling again.

“In the meantime, we’ll begin the next steps of your integration. I’ve parsed your Records, as it were, that were provided to me when you entered my Domain. I'll grant access to the Skills you qualify for based on those Records, personally. You’ll have as close to a flawless constitution as possible. It doesn’t have to be right this moment. Technically, this isn’t a moment at all, but that’s Concept stuff. In any case, take your time. Truly. I will be here when you are ready for us to begin, alright?”

I don’t have to nod. They know I understand. Aethos doesn’t let go of me, but I can somehow sense their attention moving somewhere else. If I hadn’t been able to sense it, I still would have known. The white-robed form that was apparently a figment of my own imagination representative of their consciousness disappears. They're nowhere to be found.

Now that their attention is elsewhere, it’s like I’m alone again. Because that’s what I am. Alone.

I'm the only one from my Universe here in this place, as big as it apparently is. I'm never going back.

I had a shit childhood, yes. A shit life, too, by anyone’s standards, but it had been mine. I'd wrestled it from the teeth of the beast who'd destroyed my life personally and done my damnedest to rebuild it. It may not have been pretty, but it worked. It may not have garnered envy, but was mine. I was okay with that. It was okay. I was okay.

I had finally been okay.