"Let's start from the top. Kylexsis, you've truly suffered for years. I've seen the weight you carried. The pain. The loneliness. And for that—on behalf of us all—we are truly sorry."
His eyes widened, caught off-guard.
"W-what? Why are you apologizing?"
"Because," she said softly, stepping closer. "You weren't meant to be born on Earth."
The words hung in the air like a thunderclap.
"Your soul was never meant for that world. It was a grave error. A cosmic mistake."
Kylexsis's brows drew together. He tried to comprehend.
"I'm sorry—what? What does that mean? I wasn't supposed to be… born there? Then what was I supposed to be? An angel? A celestial mistake? A toaster oven?"
The goddess chuckled, despite herself. But her eyes were solemn.
"Okay. Imagine the human body's immune system. When an unknown harmful bacteria enters, the body fights it off, right?"
He nodded, slowly.
"Earth did the same to you. Your presence there triggered its rejection. Your soul was incompatible. The world pushed you out like a foreign disease."
She let the weight of that truth settle. And to her surprise—he didn't look shocked.
Because deep down… he'd always known.
Kylexsis had felt out of place his entire life. Like static in a perfect signal. Like a glitch in someone else's story. But it wasn't until now, with death behind him and the divine in front, that the truth had a name.
Rejection.
"That is why I—and the High Orders—have granted you this rare opportunity. A second chance. A new life, properly adjusted this time. Designed for you."
She smiled again, radiant and kind.
But Kylexsis froze.
A new life?
A second chance?
No. No, no, no.
Not again.
The thought of returning—even to a different world—made bile rise in his throat. Life, in any form, was a prison sentence dressed up as a miracle.
He had tasted pain. Swallowed cruelty. Been devoured by a world that loathed him for breathing.
No matter how shiny she painted this offer, it felt like a curse with glitter glued on.
"I… I can't do it."
She blinked, visibly startled.
"Kylexsis?"
He backed away, voice trembling.
"I can't go back. To anything. I don't want to wake up in another world, wondering when the next heartbreak will crush me. Or when I'll be hated again for something I didn't choose."
His voice cracked. His fists clenched.
"I just want to stay dead. Forever."
The words hit her like a whip. For the first time, her light dimmed. She floated toward him gently, arms open—but no longer glowing quite so bright.
"My dear boy… what do you mean?"
Kylexsis stood there, arms crossed tightly over his chest, the weight of lifetimes in his eyes. He looked smaller than he had ever been—tired, frayed, worn from the cruelty of a world that had rejected him from birth. His words came not from rebellion, but resignation.
"It is what I mean."
He wasn't being defiant. He was just... done.
The idea of starting again, of risking another life where he'd be marked and hated for who he was—it was unbearable. He didn't want hope. Hope had betrayed him too many times.
"I've come too far. I can't go back. I'm gay. That's always going to be a problem down there. I don't want to do this all over again only to end up in the same damn place."
He meant every word. Even if the afterlife was judgment or oblivion, it would at least be different.
Ekhanto didn't speak immediately. The goddess, whose very presence bent reality, seemed to still for a moment. Something in her softened, a shadow flickering behind the gold of her eyes. Disappointment crept across her features, too graceful to be anything but tragic. She had seen thousands of souls walk this same line. Some cried. Some begged. Some lashed out.
Kylexsis? He surrendered.
She looked away, fingers gently twisting the hem of her flowing dress, as if trying to smooth away a sorrow she had no power to erase. Her eyes found the sparkling lake again, but they were distant now, caught between realms and regrets.
"I thought you'd want reincarnation." Her voice was almost too soft to hear.
"I thought it would feel like a gift."
He frowned, confused and impatient. His life had never offered surprises that weren't painful.
"You thought what?"
There was steel beneath his tone, though his knees were weak. Somewhere deep inside, he feared her answer.
The goddess sighed, and the Rift responded. The wind slowed. The trees seemed to listen. Even the shimmering lake stilled, as if the world was waiting for her words.
"Kylexsis, you didn't just die. You chose death. You made it happen." Her tone shifted, slipping into the cadence of cosmic law. "You provoked your killer. In the divine records, that means you took your own life. And in the eyes of the Higher Realms… that is murder."
He blinked. The words didn't register right away.
Murder.
It was a word for monsters. For villains. For the people who had hurt him. Not for someone who just… wanted the pain to stop.
His breath hitched, but he kept his face still.
"So what are you saying?"
The tension around them thickened like storm clouds in a silent sky.
"I'm saying this isn't a free walk into the afterlife."
Ekhanto turned to face him fully now, divine energy humming around her like an ancient song reborn.
"You have two choices: reincarnation... or Hell."
She paused.
"There is no purgatory for suicide."
A scoff escaped him before he could stop it.
"Then send me." He waved a hand like it meant nothing. Like he meant nothing. "I've already lived through hell. I know how it works. Maybe I'll meet better people down there. At least Lucifer seems consistent."
The moment the words left his mouth, the Rift cracked.
Not in sound. Not in sight.
But in energy.
Ekhanto's aura flared—no longer gentle, no longer calm. The skies above rumbled as her celestial wings spread wide, casting long shadows over the field of flowers. Her eyes, once golden with warmth, now blazed like twin suns of fury.
"Enough!"
Her voice thundered through the Rift. The grass recoiled. The tree behind him groaned under the pressure of her rage. And Kylexsis—who had stood his ground through pain and mockery—felt his legs give way.
"You do not understand what you are saying."
She stepped forward, not walking but gliding, divine power curling in the air around her.
"Hell is not fire and pitchforks. It is every wound you've ever bled. Every scream you ever choked on. Every tear you tried to swallow. And you will relive them—not once, but infinitely."
Her wings pulsed with light. And as she raised a single glowing hand, images flooded his mind.
Kylexsis as a child, crying alone in the school bathroom.
Kylexsis being dragged down a hallway.
Kylexsis, broken on a hospital bed.
Kylexsis... watching Clarke walk away, helpless.
Over and over. Looping. Never ending.
His knees hit the grass hard.
"Wait—what? Relive... my worst days?" His voice cracked, heart pounding like a death knell in his chest.
"I can't... I can't do that. I—"
He collapsed, trembling, his face buried in his palms.
All that effort… all that pain… all that death…
Only to find out he had damned himself.
In that moment, Kylexsis wasn't brave or stubborn or tragic.
He was just a boy.
A scared, hurting boy who didn't want to be broken anymore.
Kylexsis had finally realized the bitter truth.
No matter what he did. No matter where he went. He would never truly belong.
He'd clung to hope, once. Thought maybe—maybe—he could be loved. And he had been.
By Clarke.
Clarke had loved him like no one else. Clarke, who had stood by his side through five years of storms and silence. Clarke, who had taken him in when no one else would. Fed him. Held him. Cried with him. Fought for him.
Clarke had been light when Kylexsis was drowning in the dark. His best friend. His only real love.
And what did Kylexsis do in return?
He died.
Left Clarke behind with a bleeding hole in his chest and no one to blame but himself.
A coward.
A failure.
A damned traitor of love.
He should've listened.
Should've stayed.
Should've lived.
He didn't deserve Clarke's love.
Didn't deserve forgiveness.
Didn't deserve anything.
Let him suffer. Let him burn in the depths of hell.
Why should he be offered reincarnation? Why would God take pity on a soul like his?
"Oh Kylexsis, come here."
It wasn't until Ekhanto gathered him into her arms that he realized the tears streaming down his cheeks. Her embrace was soft, impossibly warm, like being pulled into a sunbeam. And with that single touch—
He shattered.
He clutched her like a lifeline and sobbed, head buried in the crook of her neck. His entire body shook as he wept harder than he ever had before. She held him, rocking gently, rubbing his back in slow, soothing circles.
"I don't know what to do," he whispered, voice broken. "I don't want to go back to Earth… but I don't want to burn. And I can't stay here either, can I?"
She didn't answer with words. Not at first.
Just stroked his hair.
He curled into her lap, like a child that had finally given up on pretending to be okay. And she let him. Gods, she let him. That small mercy alone was enough to make him cry harder.
"No," she said at last, her voice gentle. "A soul can only remain here until the trumpet sounds. After that, if no choice is made… you'll be sent where your life determined—afterlife or hell."
He exhaled shakily and let his eyes flutter shut. Her fingers moved through his hair like lullabies. And for the first time in what felt like eternity, there was peace. The distant call of birds, the lap of water, the hush of wind…
Silence.
Bliss.
Then—
"I have a proposition."
He opened his eyes slowly, heart still tender.
"I can reincarnate you… but not on Earth. Somewhere else. A new world."
His breath caught.
"Wait—you can do that? There are other worlds?"
Ekhanto giggled softly, amused at his wide-eyed wonder.
>Oh child. The Earth is difficult. Heaven is vast. Hell is chaos. So the Creator gave us a challenge—create our own worlds. Rule them. Shape them in our image. If we succeeded, we would aid Him in His works."
She looked out at the setting sun, voice softer now, almost wistful.
"Many others… succeeded. Zeus. Anubis. Aphrodite. Thor. But the ones who failed… we were forgotten. Unnamed. Unseen."
Her gaze returned to him, steady and sad.
"Have you ever heard of a goddess of enchantment and charm named Ekhanto?"
He shook his head.
"Exactly."
"That's kinda… unfair," he muttered.
"Discriminatory?" she offered, brow raised. "Perhaps. But creation is fragile." She picked up a small twig, holding it out in front of him. "One mistake…"
She snapped it in half.
"And it all falls apart."
"Thalassa should have judged you today. But a meeting was called. I volunteered."
Kylexsis tilted his head.
"Why?"
She smiled, bittersweet.
> "Because I saw you. And because my world is in peril… and I need help."
His heart tightened.
"You need me?"
"Yes. You have a future there. A path that only you can walk. I don't know how I know it. I just… do."
And she looked at him—genuinely, earnestly—and in that moment, he saw her pain. Her loneliness. Her desperation.
And he remembered Clarke. What he would say.
"Help her, dummy."
Kylexsis sighed. Sat up. Smiled faintly.
"Alright… I'll help."
Before he could even finish the sentence, Ekhanto beamed and grabbed his hands, pressing them to her chest. Her heartbeat was rapid, fluttering like wings.
"Thank you, Kylexsis," she said. "We don't have much time. The sun is nearly gone."
She conjured a flurry of golden dust, letting it swirl around his neck until it solidified into a delicate chain. A pendant of amethyst glowed softly against his skin.
"This connects you to me. You may call upon me four times—no more. Be careful."
She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. Warmth bloomed from the spot.
"A goddess's kiss is a goddess's blessing," she said. "You'll know what it means when the time is right."
"You'll also receive a companion. Treat him well. He'll be your guide."
Suddenly, a deafening trumpet blast echoed from the castle walls above.
Ekhanto stood.
"It's time."
She pulled him to his feet, smiling.
"Thank you, Kylexsis. You've given me hope. And from now on, you are my personal envoy. My champion."
"And you…" he said, smiling faintly, "are my goddess."
She looked radiant.
And then—she tapped his forehead.
The ground erupted in glowing white glyphs. A magic circle roared beneath his feet. A white portal opened above. Heat surged through his veins—warm, holy, blinding.
And as he rose into the light, he looked back one last time.
"I'm glad it was you," he said softly. "I'm glad you were the one to judge me."
He didn't miss the tears in her eyes, or the pride in her smile.
Then—
Light.
Heat.
Flight.
And finally—darkness.
Reincarnated into a fantasy world, huh?
Alright then.
Let's see what kind of monster I become this time.