The cursor blinked.
Blink.
Blink.
Like a heartbeat that refused to die, it pulsed on the half-finished page of her newest story, one no one would ever read.
The room smelled of cold tea and ink. Crumpled papers surrounded the girl's desk, each one a proof of effort that wasn't enough.. The monitor's faint glow painted her tired face in pale light, reflecting hollow dark eyes that hadn't seen the sun in days.
Outside, the city lived. Its lights flickered in windows she would never enter, and the distant sound of traffic carried on without her.
Inside, Hana Ito didn't.
Her inbox was still open, full of polite rejections."Thank you for submitting, but we've decided to go with another author." They blurred together now, a soft, numbing static of disappointment. She remembered her earliest hope, how alive she felt typing each word. Now even the memories felt distant, like watching someone else's life.
The hum of the computer fan was the only sound left. Even her breathing felt like an interruption.
Everyone else moves forward… and she just keeps writing to no one.
Her eyes drifted to the unfinished paragraph on the screen.
"She said she fought for love. But what is love, when the soul itself is rotten?"
Her lips curved into the faintest smile.
"Maybe in another life…" she whispered. "I'll do better… if there is one…"
Breath slowing as her eyes grew heavier. The blinking cursor stopped.
Silence.
Darkness.
Then… static.
Voices cut through the nothingness.
"--you---this---work?"
"----has---to---"
"---got---too---powerful---"
They weren't meant for her, yet somehow, she heard them.
No air. No body. Just awareness, floating in a sea of nothing.
'Is this a dream, or did I....die? Exhaustion?' For a moment, Hana wondered if this was death. A part of her wanted it to be, and yet somewhere deep inside, a tiny spark of curiosity survived, the same spark that had always pushed her to write stories, to imagine better endings.
Then, light.
It started as a shimmer on the horizon, a spark against the black. Then another. And another. Until the void rippled, tearing open like the surface of water touched by a stone.
The light pulsed, forming a silhouette, graceful and otherworldly.
"Where… where am I?" Hana whispered, looking around her.
"You are in my domain, child."
Light bloomed, shaping into a woman. Her hair shimmered like stars, her eyes glowed like moons, her dress flowed like moving shadows. She radiated both calm and authority.
Hana blinked. "And who are you supposed to be?"
"I am Lunara, Goddess of Souls."
"Goddess of Souls?" she repeated. 'This has to be some weird dream' she thought to herself.
"I guide every soul toward its purpose," Lunara said. "But you, Hana… you went against that purpose."
"I didn't go against anything," Hana muttered.
"Your life ended too soon, you changed what was meant to happen."
"So what, punishment time?" she crossed her arms.
"No. You still have a role to play."
"A role? Great. What kind?"
"In the world where you will go, souls have become corrupted. Consumed by despair, they have fallen into darkness. You will redeem them and restore the balance."
"Sounds like free labor if you ask me." Hana said raising her eyebrow.
"Call it what you will. It's your only chance to escape oblivion."
"Oblivion? Wonderful."
Lunara raised her hand. Light gathered, forming a small lantern glowing like a heartbeat. Hana felt the warmth radiate, subtle but pressing, almost as if it was alive.
"This will help you."
Hana squinted. "So… ghost flashlight?"
"You'll understand soon enough. Now go." goddess said with commanding voice.
The light flared, swallowing her whole in seconds.
As she was pulled into the light, she heard a man's voice, deep and cold.
"This will not work. You are wasting your time, sister."
And the light went out.