Darkness.
A silence so vast it felt alive.
For a moment — or maybe forever — I was certain I no longer existed.
No breath. No pain. No body to hold it.
Just thought, floating in a place that wasn't a place at all.
Then came the sound — faint, distant — like a thousand whispers woven into wind.
They didn't speak words. They remembered them.
When I opened my eyes, I expected light — the kind they say greets the dead, warm and blinding, the gates of heaven opening wide.
But what I found instead was… blue.
A deep, endless blue.
Not the blue of oceans or skies, but something heavier. Smoky. Cold.
It rolled across the ground in slow waves, swallowing the horizon until it was all there was.
I was standing — though I couldn't say how — on what looked like ground, yet it gave beneath my boots like mist.
No sun, no moon, no stars.
Just a horizon that refused to end.
I turned in slow circles, my voice breaking the stillness.
"Hello?"
No answer.
The echo came back late, softer, almost thoughtful — as if deciding whether or not to return to me.
"Heaven?" I whispered to no one. "Am I… in heaven?"
It didn't feel like it.
Heaven—just like some people said—was bright. Golden. Filled with choirs and light. But this place…
This place was silent. Smoky. Lonely. Like the world after the last fire had gone out.
"No," I muttered, shaking my head. "No, this isn't heaven."
The fog thickened, curling around my legs. The air was thick — heavy enough that even my breath sounded distant.
"Maybe…" I said quietly, "maybe this is hell."
But hell, according to every frightened priest I'd ever met, was fire and lava and torment — endless screams echoing through caverns of flame. There was none of that here. No heat, no screams. Just a strange, haunting stillness.
I exhaled sharply. "Too beautiful for hell," I said under my breath. "And too ugly for heaven."
The thought almost made me laugh — almost.
My eyes darted across the emptiness again. No walls. No stars. No end.
Just a single thought clawing at my skull: Where the hell am I?
Then another whisper: Hades.
"Maybe… Hades," I murmured. "That's it. The old world. This must be it."
A thin smile crept across my face. "Then tell me, old gods — which one of you runs this place now? Hades? Osiris?" I looked up, though there was no sky. "Whichever of you runs this place, I need to speak with you."
My voice echoed faintly, then faded into the fog.
"I have to return," I continued, louder now. "You hear me? I can't rest yet. Not like this. That man — the one who destroyed everything — he's still out there. My daughters are still with him."
My chest tightened. "Please," I said softly, "I can't stay here. Not knowing what he's doing to them."
Nothing answered. Just the slow drift of fog.
"Hello!" I shouted, my voice cracking. "Who's here? My name is Alaric! You should know that by now!"
Silence. Only the echo of my own voice.
I laughed bitterly. "Maybe it's true what the priests said — maybe the path to hell is wide. Because this sure as hell isn't narrow."
I sighed, shaking my head. "What am I even saying?"
I rubbed my face, muttering under my breath. "I've gone mad. This must be my afterlife — talking to nothing in a world that doesn't exist."
Then, suddenly…
"Are you done, Alaric?"
The voice came from behind me — deep, ancient, calm.
The kind of voice that didn't need to be loud to be obeyed.
I spun around, heart hammering, but there was no one. Only mist and shadow.
"Who's there?" I demanded. "Show yourself."
The voice replied, low and measured, sounding closer now. "Understanding is wasted on the living. Names, shapes, faces — they mean nothing here."
I took a step forward. The mist parted as if afraid to touch me. "Where am I then?"
"Nowhere that matters," the voice said, closer still. "Only where I need you to be — in the place between."
Something in its tone made my stomach twist. "You brought me here?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because you've been calling for me."
I blinked. "Calling for you? I don't even know who you are."
"You've called to every god that would listen," the voice said, now circling faintly around me. "You've begged to go back, to finish what was left undone. You've been calling for a long time, Alaric."
I froze.
"For a long time? I just got here."
But the voice didn't answer.
The fog pulsed, and for a moment I thought I saw shapes in it — faint outlines, figures frozen mid-motion.
"I have come to grant your wish," the voice said.
My chest tightened. "Then… does that mean you can send me back?"
"Yes," it said slowly. "But there is a cost."
"Name it."
"You will walk among the living again. Stronger. Unbroken. You will not die by blade or time. You will have your revenge. But once your vengeance is complete, you will perform a task for me — before you may ever rest again."
I swallowed hard. "What kind of task?"
"You will know when it finds you."
"Vague," I muttered. "Convenient."
"Do you accept, Alaric?" the voice asked.
I stood still. Images flickered behind my eyes — Emily's lifeless face, the moment Darius smiled as he took everything from me, the screams of my daughters echoing through as they dragged them away.
My hands curled into fists.
The heat of rage burned away fear.
All I could think of was Darius — his voice, his smirk — and the way it would sound when I tore the life from his throat.
There was no hesitation left in me.
"Yes," I said. "Send me back."
"Very well," the voice murmured.
The air shimmered, and suddenly the ground beneath me began to crack open.
A pool of light surged upward, spiraling into a vortex. It roared with a power I could feel in my bones, pulling me toward it.
My voice shook. "What is that?"
"The way back."
The pull grew stronger, tearing at my form like I was smoke caught in a storm.
The light flared brighter, swallowing everything.
"Remember what I have told you, Alaric Thorn. To return..."
The rest vanished in the roar.
Light swallowed everything — sound, breath, thought.
The pull grew stronger until there was nothing left of me but motion and fire.
And then, only silence.