It is over.
The words echo in my mind as I stare at Jordan's lifeless body. Blood. So much blood. It spreads beneath him, dark and final. My hand trembles. The weapon feels heavy. Too heavy.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. My voice doesn't sound like mine. It sounds empty. Alien. I see only him. Only his face. And what I have done.
A last tear runs down my cheek.
Then I raise the gun.
I don't hesitate. I have hesitated long enough in my life.
The barrel rests against my temple.
I pull the trigger.
Warmth.
That is the first thing I feel. Not cold. Not darkness. Not the nothingness I expected.
Warmth.
I open my eyes. Green. Everywhere green. A meadow stretches endlessly before me, gently rolling, dotted with wild flowers. The sun shines brightly, but not harshly. The sky is a perfect, clear blue.
The rain is gone.
I stand up. No pain. No blood. My clothes are clean.
"Is this... heaven?" My breath catches. "What a beautiful place. Not how I imagined it, but... beautiful."
I pause. Laugh bitterly. "Wait a minute. As if I would end up in heaven."
"He said the same thing."
A voice. Coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. I turn around. The air in front of me shimmers, condensing into pure light. A figure manifests.
I swallow. "Then you are... God?"
"To you humans, I suppose I am, yes."
"I see." I nod slowly. "And you have come to judge me?"
"And if I were?"
I collapse. My knees slam into the soft ground. I throw my upper body forward, pressing my forehead into the grass. The composure is gone.
"Please! Please, dear God, don't send me to hell!" The words spill out of me, uncontrolled. "I know I did many immoral things, but... even if you might not believe it—it tore me apart inside. Doing those things until I couldn't anymore and had to end it. Oh please, dear God, I don't kill anyone without a reason—"
"Calm down, John," the voice says. It doesn't sound angry. Just calm. "There is no such thing as hell."
I dare to look up. "Really?" Hope sprouts. "So I am in heaven?"
"Not that either."
"You are in another world. A new world."
Confusion floods me. "I don't understand—"
"You shouldn't be here at all." The deity sounds almost... guilty? "I should have been more careful with you."
"I didn't expect you to kill yourself right away. Or kill yourself at all. More like a long depression that slowly fades after years. I mean, yes, you lost your very best friend. Your mother. Your little brother. But overall you had a pretty good life. So I thought that—"
"Jordan, my mother, my little brother... they were my light," my voice is rough. "All three. And now they are gone. With them, all my light has extinguished." I lower my head. "That is why I threw myself into the darkness."
"So that's how it is. I understand." The figure is silent for a moment. "Actually, you are not allowed to be here. One only comes to this world if born here. Or if one had a life so gruesome that we offer compensation. That never applied to you. You had love."
"Then why am I here?" I almost scream. "If I'm wrong here, why did you bring me?"
"A mistake," the God admits. "A technical error in the transfer. When a human dies, I must extract his soul immediately so it does not extinguish. If another soul is in immediate proximity and leaves the body at the same moment... it is sometimes caught in the pull. You shot yourself exactly the second I took Jordan."
My breath hitches. Jordan is here. Jordan is alive. Somewhere in this world.
"And what good is that?" My voice gets louder. More desperate. "Is he supposed to be able to change here?"
"That is exactly the goal."
"That is not possible!" I almost scream. "I assure you! He never trusted anyone because of his past. Except me. And it was exactly me who killed him in the end. That's it. He will never be able to trust again. On the contrary—he could be even darker now than before. Does he even have his pills? You made a massive mistake! Don't you know what terrible things he triggered in the other world?!"
"Oh, I do." The deity is calm. Too calm. "I am aware of that. And yet I believe: He will change."
I shake my head. In disbelief.
"Alright," the entity says suddenly. "I will make you a proposal. Actually, I would have to erase you. You are a bug in the system."
I freeze. "Excuse me?"
"But I give you the choice." Its eyes—if you can call them eyes—fix me. "You can live here to find Jordan and be convinced that he can change. Or you go back to the previous world—where you are dead, of course. So: How do you decide?"
I don't have to think. Not a second.
"I want to live." I clench my hands into fists. "I will save him. And protect him too. Whatever the cost."
"Protect him from whom?" the God asks curiously.
"From himself."
The deity looks at me for a long time. Something like respect flickers in its presence.
"What determination," it says finally. "Let's see if you are still so determined after the rules and conditions."
"Then let's hear the rules."
"You will have to start as a baby."
I blink. "What?"
"That is the case for most Otherworlders. For Jordan too. And you want to be his age when you meet again, don't you? Because you have to find him yourself."
I swallow. Nod. "Okay. Agreed. Do I at least get into a family or something?"
"No."
"What?!" I stare at it incredulously. "And how am I supposed to survive then? Do I at least go to an orphanage?"
"No."
"But... but..." Panic rises in me. "How am I supposed to survive that?!"
"You start right here. Where we are now. You get no family. No status. No special gifts like the regular Otherworlders."
"Why just me?" I ask, despair rising again.
"Because you are not allowed to be here. Your mere existence violates the rules. I cannot give you resources."
I sink to my knees. "And how... how do I survive? There is nothing far and wide here. And I am a baby that can't even move."
"You have survived here once before. For six years."
I stare at it confusedly. "What?"
"When you came over here—through the accident—I didn't notice at first. You were completely on your own. Only after six years did you starve to death. The only difference is that now you are a baby."
"I don't remember any of that."
"No wonder. Because that hasn't happened yet. The six years lie in the future—your actual present. I am currently with you in the past, shortly after your arrival."
I am speechless.
"Wow," I whisper finally. "I'm a real survival artist." Then, more bitterly: "Well. Six years. Only. And besides, I was a grown man then."
The deity nods. "Alright. I will give you a little more luck. Which lasts for a month."
"A month?!"
"It isn't much, but better than nothing. And even with that, you have an advantage you shouldn't have. That is really enough now." It begins to fade. "I will be on my way now."
The light begins to dim.
"One more thing: Tell no one that you are an Otherworlder. Promise, that will not end well for you. For protection, I will change your physical appearance a little."
"Wait!" I shout. "How will Jordan recognize me then? Or I him?"
But it is too late.
Warmth. Tightness. My body shrinks. My limbs become heavy, powerless. I can't move. Soft silk envelops me.
"Good luck on your journey," the voice echoes. "And with your goals."
I try to get a word out. But all that comes are... baby noises.
"See you soon, Malak."
Malak? I think confusedly. He didn't even let me finish speaking. And who is supposed to be Malak?!
Then I feel it. The cold.
Damn it. It's getting dark already. And colder with it. I start to shiver.
...Damn, this silk isn't enough. I'm freezing here... or I'm starving... Move, John... move...
But I am a baby. I can do nothing. Only feel.
Dammit, luck, work faster! Otherwise I'll freeze to death!
Two days pass. Time means nothing here. Only pain.
I am still lying in the same spot. My body is weak. My lips dry. Every breath burns. I am on the verge of dying.
So much for luck, I think weakly.
Suddenly: Noises. Wheels. Hooves.
A carriage.
It stops.
I try to turn my head, but my body doesn't obey me.
Voices. Men.
"Hahaha! God has finally answered my prayers!"
"Your prayers?" A second voice, deeper, rougher.
"Yes! My dream was that we wouldn't always have to put in effort to get people."
The first voice comes closer. I see boots. Dirty. Worn.
"No more wiping out entire villages just to end up with only the weak humans. No more stealing people secretly. This is so much easier!"
I am lifted up.
A face peels out of the blur. Old. Scarred. Covered in acne and blemishes. His breath smells of cheap liquor.
"This is so much easier. Simply a baby, here in the meadow. No parents. No protection." He presses me against his dirty chest. "It has no other choice but to belong to us now."
He laughs. The other man joins in.
I am carried to the carriage.
And then I see them: Humans. Chained to the carriage. Of different ages. Different races. Elves. Dwarves. Humans. Even a child, no older than ten. Their clothes are tattered. Their faces hollow. Their eyes empty.
Slaves.
I swallow. Or try to.
The man throws me into the carriage. I land on something hard. Scream out—a weak, pathetic baby squeak.
"Shut your mouth, brat," growls the man. "Be glad you're alive at all."
The carriage door slams shut.
Darkness.
And the rhythmic clattering of the wheels, rolling me into an uncertain future.