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Asterion opened his eyes to see a flat white plain that went on forever. The edge where land met sky never got any closer, no matter how long he stared. A long, winding line of dark shapes moved slowly ahead of him—some looked like people, but others had extra arms or legs, or heads that weren't quite right. They all shuffled toward huge gates that stuck up from the ground like giant fingers against the pale sky. The gates had strange markings carved into them that seemed to change whenever Asterion tried to get a good look. The massive hinges were rusty bronze, creaking loudly as if they hadn't been closed for thousands of years. Each step Asterion took felt like his feet were sinking into mud, a heavy resistance that mirrored the dread rising within him.
As he walked, the atmosphere grew thicker, pressing against him like a weight he couldn't shake off. His heart pounded in his chest, the sound muffled by the oppressive silence that enveloped the plain. The figures ahead continued their slow march, their faces obscured, their intentions unreadable. Asterion felt an unshakeable sense of foreboding, a whisper in the back of his mind that something was terribly wrong.
His memories began to fade away, like water slipping through his fingers. It was like he was trying to hold water in his hand, feeling it leak between his fingers no matter how hard he grasped. The fear, hate, and anguish he felt at first grew quieter and quieter until it was just a whisper in the back of his mind, a distant echo of a life that felt more like a dream than reality. A part of him wanted to cling to those emotions, to the fire that fueled his resolve, but another part felt them drifting away, replaced by a chilling numbness.
As the line of twisted figures continued to move forward, Asterion felt a deepening sense of detachment from them, as if he were merely an observer in this strange world. Soon, his memories of her and his family started to fade like photographs left too long in sunlight, colors washed out and details blurred. He clutched at them desperately, trying to preserve every detail—the sound of his mother's laughter, the warmth of Mishel's embrace, the feel of his unborn child's tiny kicks. The harder he tried to hold on, the more elusive they became, teasing him with the promise of remembrance.
He dug in his heels against the slow march toward the ornate iron gates, but when he finally stopped, a pair of eyes fell upon him. They were not the eyes of the figures shuffling ahead; they belonged to a being that seemed to stand apart from the rest, radiating an aura of authority and timelessness. It was just a passing glance, but in that fleeting moment, his entire life flashed before him—twenty-two years compressed into a single, searing instant.
White-hot anger scorched through him, followed by waves of anguish that threatened to drown him, and then paralyzing fear that froze his blood. He fell to the ground, his cheek pressed against the cold, damp earth, his limbs heavy as stone. Rising again required every ounce of strength in his trembling body. He felt small and insignificant in the face of this vast, empty plain, and the enormity of his loss crashed over him like a tidal wave.
As soon as he stood up, he was plucked from where he was standing and placed in front of the being whose image he could not comprehend. The being had an ethereal quality, shifting shapes and hues that made it difficult to focus on any one aspect. It spoke in an intrigued voice, asking, "Why are you trying to reject the end of your suffering?"
Asterion opened his mouth to respond, but it felt as though the words were stuck in his throat, tangled with the emotions swirling inside him. Finally, he managed to speak, his voice shaking. "I don't want to forget about them—my family, my wife, and my unborn child. I just don't want to forget them like they never existed, like they never meant anything to me."
The being merely looked at him with pity, its gaze penetrating yet devoid of warmth, as if its emotions had dried up long ago. While looking at him, it said it would bless him and ensure that he would never forget them. A sense of trepidation washed over Asterion, an instinctual warning that he ignored in his desperation. He agreed instantly, not realizing the weight of what he had just accepted.
After that, the being touched his forehead; it was just the lightest touch, but it felt as if his entire body, mind, and soul were being violated while he was engulfed in flames. The sensation was horrific, a consuming fire that obliterated his sense of self. He tried to scream, but no sound escaped his lips, the terror locking his voice away. Desperate, he clawed at his skin, trying to tear away the pain, but it didn't stop. He clawed out his eyes, throat, hair, skin, and ears—anything that would let him look human.
The agony felt endless, a torment that seeped into his very being, until finally, it stopped, leaving him a crying, bloody mess on the ground. The being just watched on, its gaze unwavering, showing no signs of compassion. Then, as if it were merely a routine task, it healed him. He felt the warmth of regeneration coursing through his body, yet he was still on the ground crying; it only healed his body, leaving his spirit shattered.
After what felt like an eternity, the being finally spoke again, informing him that it had granted him perfect memory so he would never forget about his family. The weight of that gift was both a blessing and a curse, a reminder that he would carry the anguish of his loss with him for eternity. The being then continued to converse with him for a while, discussing the nature of existence and the price of remembrance. Asterion listened, the words flowing over him like water, but he barely grasped their meaning. He was lost in the storm of his own emotions.
Then the being offered another gift: a path to divinity. In return for all I have done for you, it declared, "I curse you with never being able to die. When you die, you will restart or replace another." The weight of that declaration settled over Asterion like a dark cloud, a heavy shroud of despair that suffocated him. What kind of life would that be? To live forever, to witness the world change while he remained stagnant, forever haunted by the memories of his lost family?
With that, Asterion was flung out, suddenly entering the gates. The sensation was jarring, as if he were being torn from one reality and thrust into another. He felt a sense of vertigo, a disorienting whirl that left him breathless. The gates closed behind him with a resounding clang, echoing in the silence, sealing him away from the being and the promises that had been made.
In the blink of an eye, he found himself enveloped in a white space, a stark contrast to the darkness of his previous existence. It was an expanse that stretched infinitely in every direction, devoid of color, sound, or sensation, yet somehow filled with the weight of expectation. This place was unlike anything he had ever experienced, a void that felt both unforgiving and strangely inviting.
He felt the remnants of pain lingering in his body, but the emotional scars cut deeper, echoing in the quiet corners of his mind. As he floated in this endless white space, he was consumed by the realization of what had transpired. The memories of his family—the laughter, the love, the warmth—wrapped around him like a shroud, comforting yet painful. He felt their presence, urging him to remember, to hold onto the fragments of their lives that still flickered in his mind.
In the midst of this void, Asterion began to understand that he was not merely a victim of circumstance; he was a vessel for their memories, a guardian of the love they had shared. The weight of his grief transformed into a mantle of purpose. He would carry their legacy with him, no matter where his journey led.
As the seconds stretched into what felt like eternity, Asterion pondered the implications of his new existence. What did it mean to be immortal? Would he be forced to watch the world move on without him, as he remained trapped in the past? The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying, a duality that churned within him. He wanted to scream, to lash out at the universe for the unfairness of it all, but he found himself silent, suspended in the weightless expanse of white.
But as he floated there, he felt a flicker of resolve igniting within him. He wouldn't let this new reality define him. He would seek purpose, understanding, and a way to honor the memories of his loved ones. Perhaps this wasn't the end but the beginning of something greater—an opportunity to protect others, to be the guardian he had failed to be for his family.
With that thought, Asterion began to focus on the memories still vivid in his mind, allowing them to fill him with strength and clarity. He envisioned Mishel's smile, his mother's warm embrace, and the glimmer of hope in his father's eyes. Each memory became a beacon, guiding him through the uncertainty of this new existence.
Soon, I started to lose consciousness. The weight of the memories began to pull me down, dragging me into a deeper abyss. The white space around me blurred, shifting like mist, and I felt myself slipping away from the flickering images of my past.
It was as if the very essence of my being was being siphoned off, drawn into the void where nothingness awaited. The warmth of my family's love faded, and the comforting whispers of their voices turned into distant echoes, barely audible over the pounding of my heart.
I fought against it, desperately trying to cling to the memories that defined me, the faces that brought me joy. But with each passing moment, it became harder to hold on, harder to remain anchored in this surreal reality. I was losing myself, dissolving into the emptiness that surrounded me.
Just before I fully succumbed to the darkness, a flicker of light caught my eye. It shimmered in the distance, a beacon of hope amid the encroaching shadows. Instinctively, I reached for it, feeling an urge to grasp onto something tangible, something real. The light pulsed, resonating with the heartbeat of my memories, drawing me toward it like a moth to a flame.
As I drew closer, the light expanded, revealing fragments of my life—moments of laughter with my family, tender embraces with Mishel, the warmth of a shared gaze. Each memory was like a thread, vibrant and alive, weaving together the tapestry of who I was.
Suddenly, I felt a rush of energy surge through me, revitalizing my spirit. The memories filled the void, wrapping around me like a protective cocoon. I gasped, my senses awakening with renewed clarity. I was not just a vessel for their memories; I was their legacy, their continuation in this new existence.
With a deep breath, I embraced the warmth of the light, allowing it to envelop me completely. I felt a sense of purpose ignite within me, a fire that pushed back the darkness and gave me strength. I would not let the past define me; instead, I would honor it by forging a new path forward.
As my consciousness settled, I realized I was no longer in the void. The light transformed into a vibrant landscape, blooming with color and life. I stood amidst a meadow filled with wildflowers, their petals dancing in the gentle breeze. The sun bathed everything in a golden glow, illuminating the beauty of this new world.
In this moment, I understood that I had been given a second chance. The memories of my family would guide me, and I would carry their love with me as I ventured onward. I felt the resolve solidify within me, a promise to never forget, to always protect those who mattered.
Then I blacked out like it was just an figment of my imagination.
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