After the entity pressed its fingers to Ayan's forehead, his heavy eyelids slowly shut.
The last few bubbles slipped from his lips, each one slower than the last... until the water settled, undisturbed.
His chest no longer rose. Silence settled.
The fox-eared figure remained motionless, hand still resting against Ayan's skin. No breath. No twitch. Not even a blink.
The stillness spread from Ayan to the one who touched him, as if life itself had drained from both. Their lifeless bodies drifted downward, swallowed by the cold, quiet depths.
And then the current paused, like the world held its breath for what came next.
But that wasn't where their story ended. It was only the beginning—for Ayan, and perhaps even for the fox-eared entity.
※ ※ ※
The world around Ayan was black and unmoving, like the space behind closed eyes. Something shifted in the silence, a whisper threading into his thoughts.
"Brother… Brother, where are you? Did you forget me? Brother!" The voice trembled, thin and full of longing. It was Ruby. She was calling for him.
The moment Ayan heard Ruby's voice, adrenaline surged through his body. His eyes snapped open.
Light flooded in, sharp and sudden. Shapes blurred, then sharpened, bleeding into focus. His lungs seized for a moment.
What he saw made his heart pound harder.
"What is this? Where am I?" Ayan stared in astonishment.
It was like the world from a fairy tale passed down through whispers and bedtime stories—but this wasn't nature's beauty. This was something far beyond what humans were ever meant to witness.
Light twisted through the air, moving in directions that made no sense. Space itself bent and rippled like soap bubbles. One burst silently. Another formed the next instant.
As the light passed through those warped pockets, it bent in impossible angles, curving back on itself, vanishing, reappearing. Strange shapes floated between the folds of space, with no symmetry, no logic, just pure, chaotic form.
Here, direction meant nothing. Time felt absent. Even reality seemed to forget what it was supposed to be.
Ayan stood at the edge of truth, staring into the raw, incomprehensible patterns behind existence itself.
This was the place where understanding broke.
He spotted the fox-eared entity slowly drifting through the same twisted space. For the first time, he could see the figure clearly.
It was a grown man with fox ears and golden hair that floated around his face like sunlit threads in water. His eyes were closed, expression calm, as he drifted among the chaotic, shape-shifting forms. A single golden tail followed behind him, moving weightlessly through the space.
His robes floated around him, once regal, now torn and weathered at the seams. A crooked crown rested on his head, its surface scratched and dulled with time.
He looked like a fallen king. No longer reigning, no longer whole, but still unmistakably royal.
There was a weight to him. A presence that hadn't faded, even if everything else had.
Even in decay, the crown and robe told Ayan everything. This man once ruled somewhere far beyond imagination.
Ayan reached out.
His fingers hovered close, drawn by something he couldn't name. He didn't know why, but touching this man felt important. Necessary.
Just as his hand neared the man's chest, the man's eyes snapped open.
Vivid blue.
Sharp and clear, like sapphires lit by starlight. They locked onto Ayan — ancient, knowing, and awake.
As the man opened his eyes, he began to turn. Slowly, deliberately, he drifted toward Ayan's position.
His movements were sluggish at first, like someone relearning how to move. Every motion dragged, like the world around him refused to let him move freely.
Bit by bit, his gaze shifted. His head followed. Then his body. Until finally, he faced Ayan completely.
He parted his lips, as if to speak.
But Ayan beat him to it. "Who… are you?" His voice cracked. "Where… am I? What's going on?"
"You are already dead."
Ayan froze. "What?!"
The man didn't blink. His eyes stayed locked on Ayan, steady and unreadable.
When he finally spoke, his tone was low and even, like someone delivering a simple truth. Nothing in his voice wavered, no matter how strange the moment was. "We're both dead."
Ayan froze in disbelief. "What are you saying? That can't be... How can we be dead if you're talking to me?"
The man glanced at the strange surroundings. "What you're seeing is our consciousness given form. Our bodies... they're gone. On Earth, we're both dead."
His gaze shifted back to Ayan. "Just before your death, I pulled your consciousness into this space. It lies beyond time. Time has no meaning here. No past. No future. But this space holds complete authority over it."
"No… this can't be… H-how is this possible? I… I still have unfinished work… to do." Ayan's hands trembled slightly.
The man placed a hand on Ayan's shoulder, steady and reassuring. "It's okay. Don't panic. Just listen for a moment—I'll explain everything."
He drew his hand back, calm as ever. "May I know your name, young man? I'm Kanisk Seraphis."
"I am Ayan… Ayan Sen."
"So, Ayan. Take a breath. Steady yourself. We don't have much time, but you deserve to understand what's happening." Kanisk looked into Ayan's eyes.
Ayan's eyes narrowed. "But sir, you just said we're both dead, and that the concept of time doesn't exist here." He glanced around, scanning the warped, shifting space, then fixed his gaze on Kanisk. "So how are we running out of time? I don't get it."
"Hey, son. Don't be formal, just call me Kanisk," Kanisk said with a gentle smile. "First, let me explain why I brought you to this space... a realm far beyond anything the living can imagine. Your body is dead — but your consciousness isn't. And that means... you can still return. You can live again."
"Okay, Mr. Kanisk. Please tell me... please, how?" Ayan's voice cracked. "I have to be alive... I…" His words trailed off.
The light in his eyes dimmed, his expression collapsing into quiet desperation. Every ounce of fight in him was slipping away as he begged for something, anything that could bring him back.
Kanisk raised his hand, a quiet gesture, as if preparing to shape the air itself. In an instant—
The space rippled, not with sound, but with silence folding inward, as if thought itself had taken form. The shifting patterns twisted, curved, and finally settled.
Two chairs emerged, facing each other. They weren't made of matter. They didn't cast shadows. But where they stood, the light bent unnaturally, curling around edges that shouldn't exist.
The chairs remained invisible, but the way the light warped around them revealed their presence to Ayan. A ghost-like outline shimmered in the distorted reality.