They doesn't seem to notice him, or if they does, they show no reaction beyond a slow, serene drift away or towards him, their paths weaving around him. There is no sense of urgency, no communication between them that anyone could perceive, only quiet, purposeful existence. It underscored the feeling of being in a place not governed by the hectic, often chaotic principles of the physical universe, but by something far more profound and serene.
His mind, the fragment of consciousness, tried to process this impossibility. Where he is? This isn't heaven as any religion described it. It isn't hell. It isn't even an alien planet. It is… something else. A planar convergence? A realm of pure consciousness? A storage facility for souls between lives? The theories, relics of old existence, felt laughably inadequate here.
As he follows the path, the voice within him grow subtly stronger, more insistent, yet still gentle. It feel less like a directive and more like a welcoming, a long-awaited reunion. Closer now, the feeling pulse. Almost here.
The path led him away from the grandest structures, towards a section of the garden that seem more secluded, more… intimate, despite the scale still being immense. The peach blossom trees here are older, their void-trunks thicker, their glowing petals falling like soft rain. The fog here is less a blanket and more a gentle mist that swirled around the base of a structure that, while still enormous by earthly standards, is dwarfed by the mile-high monuments elsewhere.
It is a pavilion, open-sided, supported by slender columns that rose like elegant void-stalks against the backdrop of cosmos. Its roof is not solid, but a lattice of pure, condensed light, through which the distant nebulae shone, dappling the misty ground within. And beneath the lattice, at the heart of the pavilion, stood a figure.
It is larger than the other void-beings he has seen, more refined in its structure. Its void-body seem deeper, richer, almost a window into the absolute blackness before creation. Its aura isn't a single colour, but a swirling vortex of every colour imaginable, contained and yet overflowing, a shimmering river of light. And within its void-form, the lights aren't just stars; they are galaxies, nebulae, entire constellations collapsing and reforming in miniature.
This figure is the source of the voice. He knw it with an certainty that bypassed thought. His entire void-being resonated with its presence, a resonance that felt simultaneously like meeting someone for the first time and returning to a long-forgotten home.
The path ended at the edge of the pavilion. The fog parted completely before him, inviting me in. The figure hasn't moved, hasn't made any physical gesture, but the mental voice intensifie, filling his awareness with a profound sense of peace, anticipation, and ancient wisdom.
Welcome, it pulse, the 'word' not spoken but understood intrinsically, woven into the fabric of his soul.
You took an unexpected detour, little one, but you have arrived.
Little one? My old life, my memories that seemed to have triggered this whole bizarre journey, felt incredibly distant. What was I to this being? A lost child? A new arrival?
He drift forward, into the pavilion, towards the silent figure. The air grew warmer, or perhaps that is just the warmth radiating from the figure's incredible aura. The myriad colours of its light-vortex aura seem to reach out, not to touch, but to acknowledge his presence, washing over simple white aura.
As he drew closer, he could make out subtle features within the figure's void-body, shifting contours that hinted at a form beyond simple description. It feel like looking at the universe compressed into a single entity.
When he is just a few yards away, the figure pulsed with a gentle light, and the mental voice spoke again, clearer this time, carrying an inflection of… amusement? Or perhaps just infinite patience.
Do not be afraid.
You are not lost.
You are… redirected. And there is much you need to understand. About where you are, about what you are now, and about why you were called here, ahead of your time.
Ahead of my time?
That phrase hung in the space between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. Is this a place souls came after death? Had he died? The memory of the rift forming as he scrolled through old pictures felt jarringly mundane compared to this cosmic theatre.
The figure's aura flared slightly, and he feel a question forming within his own being, a silent query of bewildered confusion.
Why me?
The figure seemed to perceive the question before he fully formed it. Ah, the voice pulse, softer now.
That is a story for another moment. First, you must ground yourself. You must learn to exist without the anchors of your former reality. This realm is not bound by the same rules. Time, space, matter… they are fluid here.
Fluid? I looked back the way I came. The clear path was already beginning to soften at the edges, the fog gently creeping back in. Behind me, the colossal ring monument shimmered, and for a moment, the nebulae flowing through it seemed to rearrange themselves into a symbol that felt… familiar, though I couldn't place it.
You possess a unique resonance, the voice continued, drawing my attention back to the figure before me. A frequency that was detected when your consciousness, adrift in the echoes of your past, brushed against the veil between realities. The void you saw was not merely a tear; it was an invitation, perceived only by those with the particular confluence of energies that you possess.
An invitation? It had felt more like being violently ripped from existence. But perhaps, from this perspective, it was the same thing expressed differently.
You are one of the Awoken, the figure stated, a profound finality in the thought. Souls who, for myriad reasons, become aware of the deeper currents of existence before their appointed time. Some arrive through meditation, others through trauma, some, like you, through a strange confluence of memory and residual energy.
Awoken. The word feel significant, like a title he has unknowingly earned or been assigned.
The figure observed, its light-eyes – if they are eyes – seeming to focus on his white-outlined void-body.
The transition is successful, if abrupt. Most who arrive unexpectedly require guidance to stabilize their essence. You seem remarkably… whole.
Remarkably whole? He feel utterly bewildered, existing as a living shadow in a realm of cosmic light and impossibly grand structures. But compared to being stretched and torn apart by a black hole, maybe this is whole.
So, the voice softened, a sense of turning a page
Welcome, truly. ¿¿¿¿, in your limited understanding, might be perceived as… Observer. Or perhaps, Guide. Names here are fluid as well. For now, you may call me as you feel.
Observer. Guide. The titles felt appropriate for a being of such immense presence in this place.
And you, Observer pulsed, what was your identifier? In the time before the void?
My identifier? My name. The word felt strange, small, almost meaningless in this context. But it was what remained of who I had been.
I… I formed the thought, pushing it outwards. I was called…
The sound of his name, in his mind, felt like a fragile bell ringing in an empty cathedral. It resonated between them, a tiny spark in the cosmic silence.
A good frequency, Observer pulse approvingly.
It suits the resonance you carry. Now, little one, the journey begins. Not the journey here, that is complete. But the journey within this realm. There is much for you to learn, if you are willing.
Willing? Did I have a choice? Ripped from my reality, deposited in this impossible place, given a new, void-like body… what were my options? Fade back to where I was? That seemed impossible. Wander aimlessly through this cosmic garden? I wouldn't even know where to start.
I am willing, I projected the thought back, feeling a strange mix of fear and exhilaration. This was terrifying, yes, but it was also the most incredible, awe-inspiring thing that had ever happened. It was the ultimate mystery, unfolding before me.
Excellent, Observer pulsed, its aura intensifying slightly, bathing the pavilion in a warm, multicoloured glow.
Then step closer, little one. There is much to show you. Much to explain. And perhaps, ultimately, much for you to do.
The final thought held a hint of future purpose, a destiny he couldn't yet grasp. He drift forward the last few steps, standing directly before the Observer, ready to hear whatever cosmic truths it's about to impart, ready to begin his existence as one of the Awoken in this breathtaking, impossible realm. His old life was gone, the memories that triggered this journey suddenly insignificant. All that mattered is now, and the infinite possibilities held within the void and light of this new existence.