Michael opened his eyes, but the world around him was nothing like his room.
There was no bed, no Sara, no sound of the night breeze. Instead, he found himself standing in a wide, empty place. The ground looked like soft white clouds, and the sky above him glowed faintly, with no sun, no moon, only light.
A woman stood in front of him, dressed in flowing silver robes, her face calm but serious. She had wings, pure white, folded neatly behind her back.
Michael blinked.
"Where… where am I? What's going on?"
The woman sighed, almost looking guilty.
"You died, Michael," she said softly. "But this was not supposed to happen."
Michael's heart dropped. His voice shook.
"What do you mean not supposed to happen? I was with Sara, and then my chest—my heart—it just stopped!"
The angel nodded slowly.
"It was my mistake. Your time was not meant to end tonight."
Michael's hands curled into fists.
"You mean I died because of your mistake?!" His voice echoed in the emptiness. "Send me back then! Put me back right now!"
The angel hesitated, and that silence made him more anxious.
"Why aren't you saying anything?!" Michael shouted.
Finally, she looked him in the eyes.
"I can't send you back," she said. "Your body is gone."
Michael froze. "Gone? What do you mean gone?"
The angel's voice lowered.
"Your girlfriend… Sara. She was afraid the police would suspect her. She burned your body. There is nothing left to return to."
Michael staggered back like the words had hit him physically.
"She… burned me?" His voice broke. "No… no, Sara would never…"
The angel's eyes softened with pity.
"She panicked. Humans make desperate choices when they are afraid."
Michael pressed his hands into his hair, pulling, shaking his head.
"I can't believe this. I wanted to marry her, to build a life with her. And now… I'm just—what? Gone forever?"
The angel stepped closer.
"You are not gone. There is still another choice. But we don't have much time."
Michael's chest tightened again, not from pain this time, but from fear of the unknown.
"What choice?" he asked.
"You cannot return to your old life. But I can place your soul into another body — someone who has just died in another world. You will live again, but not as Michael. You will have a new name, a new face, a new destiny. This is the only chance to continue."
Michael's mouth went dry. "Another world? Another body?"
"Yes," she said firmly. "But you must decide quickly. A body has just become empty, and if you refuse now, your soul will drift away forever."
Michael closed his eyes for a moment. His last memory of Sara's tears burned in his mind — and then the image of her setting his body on fire. The pain of betrayal cut deep.
When he opened his eyes, there was no more hesitation.
"Fine," he said, his voice hard. "Send me. I don't care what name, what body. Just… give me another chance."
The angel gave a slow nod.
"Then it is decided."
The light around Michael began to grow, so bright he had to shut his eyes. He felt his soul being pulled, stretched, and then swallowed by something larger.
The angel's final words echoed in his ears:
"From this moment, you are no longer Michael. Live again… and this time, carve your own fate."
And then, everything went dark.
Michael expected nothingness after the blinding light. But instead, he woke up gasping for air. His lungs burned like he had been drowning. He clutched at the ground, coughing hard, spitting dirt from his mouth.
When his eyes finally opened, he realized he wasn't lying in his own bed, nor even in a place he recognized. He was in the middle of a forest. Tall trees surrounded him, their leaves whispering in the wind. The smell of damp earth filled his nose.
He looked down at his hands — they weren't his.
His skin was paler, his fingers longer, with faint scars across the knuckles. He touched his face, feeling a sharp jawline and a scar near his left eyebrow. Panic spread in his chest.
"What… what is this?" he whispered. His voice sounded different too, deeper.
A sudden flash of memory struck him — the angel's words.
"You are no longer Michael. Live again… as another."
Michael swallowed hard. "So this is it. This is my new body."
He stood slowly, his legs shaky. His reflection caught his eye in a small puddle nearby. The face staring back wasn't his own — it was a stranger's. Short dark hair, cold gray eyes, and that scar across the brow.
"…Kael Draven," he muttered, the name sliding into his mind as if it had always belonged to him.
He clenched his fist, testing the strength of his new body. It felt solid, trained. Whoever Kael Draven had been, he wasn't weak.
But as he looked around, the reality of his situation hit him.
"I don't know this world. I don't know the rules here. I don't even know if Kael had enemies waiting for me."
A rustle in the bushes snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned sharply, his body moving with natural reflexes, faster than he expected. From the trees, a man stepped out — tall, armored, with a sword at his side.
"Kael?" the man said, frowning. "I thought you were dead. What are you doing here?"
Michael's — no, Kael's — heart pounded. He had no idea who this man was. But if he said the wrong thing, it could mean trouble.
He forced himself to stay calm.
"I… I survived," Kael said slowly, trying to sound steady. "Barely."
The man studied him, then gave a short nod. "Hmph. You're tougher than you look. Come on. The others are waiting."
The man turned and began walking. Kael followed, though his mind raced.
Others? Waiting? Who were they to the old Kael? Friends… or enemies?
Every step deeper into the forest reminded him — this wasn't Michael's life anymore. Sara, his old world, even his old body… all gone. Now he was Kael Draven, whoever that truly was.
And if he wanted to survive, he would have to learn quickly.