Heka managed to break free from the blinding white light that had enveloped him, his eyes squinting as they adjusted to the sudden dimness.
Before him lay a dark spot, stark and mysterious against the otherwise glowing expanse. Intrigued and cautious, he took tentative steps toward it.
As he drew nearer, the dark spot resolved itself into a door. It was old, wooden, and slightly ajar, as if it was inviting him in. With a hesitant hand, Heka pushed the door open, revealing a small garden bathed in the gentle light of dawn.
Despite this being his first visit to Ansel's house, a strange familiarity washed over him. The garden's layout, the winding stone path, the neatly trimmed hedges. They all matched the backyard.
Confusion swirled in Heka's mind. He murmured to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why can I be here? Have I just passed the door anywhere? No, this is impossible."
Yet, the oddest thing was the sun. It had risen, casting warm golden rays that danced on the leaves and petals. Time, it seemed, had moved forward here, unlike the timeless void he had just escaped.
Heka sat on the bench. His heart pounded with a strange mixture of wonder and unease. Was this a dream? A trick of his mind?
To test the reality of his experience, he closed his eyes tightly, willing himself to wake up, to break free from whatever illusion held him captive.
More perplexing still, the drowsiness he had expected to return was gone. Instead, he felt wide awake, alert as if he had just emerged from a deep sleep.
The heaviness of fatigue had vanished completely, replaced by a sharp clarity that made the world around him seem even more vivid.
He got exhausted from thinking about it all.
He slowly got up from the chair, every movement sending sharp jolts of pain through his skull. His head throbbed relentlessly, and a wave of dizziness washed over him, forcing him to steady himself against the wall. Each breath was shallow, each step a monumental effort.
As he staggered down the dimly lit hallway, the faint creak of a door caught his attention. He turned the corner and saw Ansel emerging from Hansel's room, his expression tense and searching.
He guessed immediately that Ansel must have been looking for him, worried and restless.
Nevertheless, Ansel's presence stirred a strange mixture of relief and confusion within Heka. He wondered silently. "What is this? Am I not dreaming? But why don't I feel like I'm sleeping?"
Fear and uncertainty gripped him, and instinctively, he chose to hide. He pressed himself against the shadowed wall. Only after Ansel had returned to his room did Heka allow himself to move again, his body protesting with every step.
The headache intensified, pounding like a relentless drum inside his skull. His energy was draining fast, slipping away like sand through his fingers. Even the simple act of breathing felt like a monumental task, as if invisible chains weighed down his chest.
"What exactly is going on? Did I just pass the time?" He whispered to himself, confusion thick in his voice. Time seemed fractured, slipping and folding in ways he couldn't understand.
Finally, he reached the door to Hansel's room. There, lying motionless on the bed, was his own body. Pale and still, it looked fragile, as if it could shatter at the slightest touch.
"So, am I dead? Did they kill me secretly?" The thought clawed at his mind, dark and terrifying.
In a trembling motion, he raised his hand to look at it. To his horror, his skin was translucent, see-through.
He could clearly see the floor beneath him through the palm of his hand. His fingers seemed to flicker between solid and ghostly, as if he were fading away from the world of the living.
Heka heard footsteps. He looked back. He saw Ansel walking towards him. Ansel just passed him by. As if he didn't exist.
As Ansel entered the dimly lit room, his footsteps were soft but purposeful. He moved quietly toward Heka's body lying on the bed. With a gentle hand, Ansel straightened the blanket, smoothing out the wrinkles as if trying to offer some comfort to the still form beneath.
Heka's spirit, trapped in this strange in-between state, desperately tried to call out. "Ansel!!! Ansel!!! Ansel!!!" His voice echoed in his mind, but no sound escaped his lips. It was a silent scream, a desperate plea that went unheard.
Ansel, absorbed in his own thoughts and actions, didn't notice the faint presence hovering nearby.
Driven by a surge of hope, Heka floated closer to Ansel, reaching out with trembling hands. But his fingers passed through the air, through Ansel's solid form, as if he were nothing but a ghost.
Ansel finished adjusting the blanket and quietly left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
There was nothing he could do, no way to make Ansel understand his presence. He stood motionless for a long moment, staring down at his own lifeless body on the bed.
Summoning what little strength he had left, Heka reached out to touch his own body. But the moment his hand made contact, it bounced off as if hitting an invisible barrier. The rejection was physical and painful.
"What happened to me?" He whispered, his voice cracking with despair. He tried to cry, to let the tears fall and release the anguish inside, but his eyes remained dry.
Yet, amidst the despair, a small flicker of gratitude sparked within him. "At least I haven't died. If I died, they would have completely covered my body. But, Ansel only lifted the blanket up."
Suddenly, a hand appeared before him, reaching out in an offer of help. The hand was terrifying. It was long, lancing nails curved like claws, sharp and sinister.
To Heka, it was a dreadful sight, a hand that seemed to belong to a creature from nightmares. Yet, despite his fear, he dared to look up.
"Is he Lexus?" Heka thought, heart pounding. He remembered the stories, the warnings whispered in the shadows: Lexus was the one who came. He will give you Soul Delivery.
"Get up..!!" The voice commanded, firm but not unkind.
Though terror gripped him, Heka reached out and took the clawed hand. The touch was cold but steady. He rose to his feet.
"Give me your hand, I'll give you something." His voice low and compelling.
Heka lifted up his hand. That person seemed like to pour something into his hands. But he didn't see anything. His hands were completely empty.
From the outstretched bare hand, an object materialized, a tiny grain, no larger than a speck of sand. It shimmered softly, radiating a faint, ethereal glow that seemed to pulse with a life of its own.
Heka's eyes widened in wonder and apprehension. He thought, recalling the whispered legends of souls being carried away by mysterious forces. "What is it? Is it Soul Delivery?"
As the grain of sand gently touched Heka's translucent hand, an astonishing thing happened. A small hole appeared on the surface of his palm, as if the grain had pierced through an invisible barrier.
"Now, it is your time to pay for it. Your soul will be mine." The man's voice echoed ominously, low and resolute, as he finished pouring the grains of sand into Heka's hand.
The hole in Heka's hand sealed itself seamlessly, the skin was knitting back together as if nothing had happened.
Then, without warning, a blinding light burst forth from his palm, flooding the room with a brilliance so intense that Heka had no choice but to close his eyes tightly.
The light pulsed and shimmered, filling every corner of his vision, until it gradually faded away. When Heka finally opened his eyes, he found himself lying on the familiar bed once more.