What comes after death?
The moon answered, in a maternal and ethereal tone…
From a man who had never cried, screams now escaped—like a child, complaining of pain throughout his body, for he had just been born.
The glow of a blood moon slipped through the cracks of the window, reflecting upon the pale skin of the newborn. Wrapped in an almost divine touch, with blond strands drifting through blurred vision, he understood nothing.
Just seconds ago, Liam Mason Le Fay had been on the battlefield; thrown, slammed against a rock soaked in his viscous blood.
The crimson light not only tore through his organs, but also illuminated his eyes—the moon had been that color. Like a ritual of life, racing against death.
He wanted to think, but cried instead.
The cries of a child, still with very little hair, echoed through the delivery room. The nurse rushed to clean a bloodstained cloth while the mother herself gasped for breath.
He tried to open his eyes, but the light of fire-lanterns invaded his retinas in violent bursts. He shut them quickly and cried once more.
"Take this downstairs!" Emilia ordered, her voice tense. She handed a white cloth to her assistant, Ellen, who immediately ran down a flight of stairs after leaving through the door.
Wiping her forehead, Emilia let out a heavy sigh and flicked a spray of sweat onto the floor.
"Lady, that was dramatic!" she said, startled.
Though robust, wrinkled, and seemingly ill-tempered, Emilia trembled constantly, her heart pounding in her throat.
Just moments ago, that pale child, with yellow strands forming on his scalp, had shown no signs of life.
The heart of young Lady Camille, Duchess of Lawrence, slowly calmed. She cried—more than she ever had—for it seemed she had lost a child.
Then, only minutes after being "stillborn," he screamed. A child who, at first, carried no will—only confusion.
For him, and for everyone around him.
Camille smiled, happy yet clumsy.
"So, what shall we call this little fellow?" Emilia asked, with a certain familiarity.
She looked at him and examined him, but together with her husband—absent at that moment—a name had already been chosen.
"Theo… That will be his name. Theo…" she said lovingly, almost whispering to the newborn.
At that, he reacted, grasping his mother's finger. For the first time, he calmed down.
Without understanding anything, he dreamed that night.
There was a field of sand beneath his feet—that was Liam Mason. A tall man, blond hair and blue eyes, casually dressed in a dark green military uniform.
Deep cuts marked his face, along with a sincere desperation.
'Why are you here, if you did not come to the Father?' questioned a voice carried by the wind.
The turquoise-blue sky, with few clouds, soon turned into a storm on the horizon.
'He has died, Lord of Judgment,' came a voice at his side.
Before Liam, a majestic, astronomical throne covered the heavens. A creature whose very presence distorted space itself could not be interpreted by a simple human mind.
"Did I die?" he murmured in disbelief, staring at the sky in confusion. "Is this… the afterlife?"
The creature shifted, as if resting an arm upon its legs.
'This is the Desert of Yeshua. Where the Father's judgment strikes your soul, sinful being. Beneath you lies the dust of those condemned to hell, forbidden from entering the fields of the eternal gardens,' it said firmly, only to be quickly interrupted.
'Do not tell him such nonsense,' said a woman at his side—at least, the voice and distorted presence gave that impression.
"So you're the judge, and she gives you the rules? A divine secretary?" Liam said, crossing his arms at his waist.
The Judge was taken aback.
"This place doesn't frighten me as much as I thought it would… I expected at least an angel, or a demon, to welcome me…"
'Ethereal child, do you feel no fear?' she asked, locking eyes with Liam's deep gaze.
"Fear of what?" he replied, displeased. "If I've been dead since birth, and after hearing that neigh… there's no reason to be afraid."
The judging eyes narrowed.
'Envy… This is the capital sin carved into your flesh…' it whispered thoughtfully; yet even a whisper from that being was like a storm's roar.
"Great… So I go to hell for that? I've already been through that trial. How about a golden ticket straight to eternal rest?"
'The familiarity this man shows leaves me embarrassed…' the Judge thought, teeth nearly grinding. 'Yet he is sincere. I see no fear in his eyes…'
Returning to his posture, the Judge analyzed the memories—the facts—of the one he judged.
'I would love to sentence you to the entrails of Baalzeth, to make you toil in the flames of souls for all eternity, but my secretary revealed something interesting to me…'
Dropping onto the clean, fine sand, Liam looked into a pair of eyes within the distortion of space. They seemed empty to the world, yet eternal to the universe.
'Do you believe in gods, child?'
"If I'm here, then there must be some…" he replied, gazing at the endless desert. "But if you're asking while I was alive… the answer is no."
'Of course, of course…' it laughed cruelly. 'A child soon to be forgotten, one who walked the path of destruction and death, who bore no fault for his own pain… Unfortunately, fate does not like to be defied by me, therefore…'
Liam's hand sank into the sand, grain by grain.
As if other hands were pulling him downward…
In that instant, he panicked.
'The moon has decided for us, and to you it granted a sentence worse than death… I see you never believed in heaven or hell, lost child. Be sure to think about that again.'
"What?" Liam muttered, his body being dragged and consumed by the sand of the dead.
Scratched by necrotic claws, he was swallowed like quicksand—until he heard nothing more, and the Judge's sadistic smile collapsed into fragments.
For brief moments, the neigh of a horse filled his ears…
Suffocated by his own despair, he jolted awake in terror. Opening his limited eyes, he felt the light explode inside his retinas once more; his small, fragile heart raced violently.
Trapped in the body of a newborn, he cried again.
Loud screams echoed through the house; at that moment, Camille was bathing, and the nurses were busy in other rooms.
Yet the screams were not heard…
They were contained.
'Little child… I can finally see you,' said a voice, as feminine as it was ethereal.
A clean, gentle touch soothed the baby, who hiccupped softly.
He could not see, but there was a beautiful woman with a round face and silver eyes; she wore white, her skin pale and radiant beneath the moon.
Her black hair fell like a veil, while her eyes shone with pride.
'You bound yourself to a place you never imagined you would be… There was nothing else I could do. I ask your forgiveness…' she whispered, drawing closer, wrapped in a beautiful purple aura.
Leaning in, she placed a gentle kiss on the child's cheek, and once more he calmed.
'I will be waiting for you very soon. Listen to the owl's counsel—it will guide you. Come to me, my son.'
With eyes filled with tears, she sniffled.
'Welcome to the world, my little reborn son… my golden child… Theo Augustus De Lawrence.'