He'd always thought death was just another phase of life — you live, you die, and then you move on to paradise or hell. Simple.
But this wasn't that.
His soul was falling through nothingness. No light, no sound, no sense of time. Just endless dark pressing against him. He didn't know if he was awake or dreaming. At some point, he started to wonder if he even was anymore.
Or was it a dream?
No… he remembered too clearly.
He saw the drunk driver.
He saw the crash.
He saw that same man picking a fight with a shopkeeper right before it all went black.
"Great," he muttered to the void. "That's not how I planned to die."
Then—impact.
Or something like it.
He hit what felt like solid ground, gasping, his limbs shaking.
A faint light shimmered somewhere ahead, barely strong enough to outline his figure. Everything else stayed buried in shadow.
"Jonathan."
The voice was deep, commanding — it vibrated through his bones. He spun around but saw no one.
"Your time is not up yet. Now go."
"Wait, what—?"
And before he could finish, the darkness cracked open.
Jonathan jolted awake. A chandelier swayed overhead, light flickering off crystal. His chest heaved as he scrambled out of bed and stumbled toward a mirror.
A stranger stared back at him.
"I'm alive."