I blinked awake and—nothing. No dirt, no pain, no body. Just white. Everywhere. Like someone cranked the brightness on a busted TV and left it there.
A woman sat on a couch that had no business floating. She looked like one of those Instagram filters come to life—perfect skin, glowing eyes, the works. She smiled like she'd rehearsed it in a mirror.
"You're dead, kid. Relax. Not Hell. Yet."
I opened my mouth to answer. Sound came out, but it wasn't *my* voice. It was thin, echoey, like talking through a tin can. I tried to lift a hand—nothing happened. Looked down. No hand. No legs. Just a floaty ball of light where I *should* be.
"What the fuck," I said, except the orb just pulsed brighter. "Where's my body?"
"Back on the rocks. Smashed. Gone." She shrugged, like she was telling me I'd lost a sock. "That's your soul now. Cleaner this way."
Cleaner. Right. I wanted to punch something, but I had no fists. The light flickered like a bad bulb.
"Why me? I didn't sign up for—" I stopped. What was the point? She'd seen the cliff. She knew.
She leaned forward, elbows on knees. "You hurt enough for ten lifetimes. I'm giving you a redo. Different world. Same soul."
"Redo?" The orb flared. "I wanted *out*. Not a sequel."
"Tough." She flicked a finger. A gold symbol spun in the air behind her, humming like a fridge. "Everyone there gets a skill. You get two."
"Skills?" I laughed—well, the orb buzzed. "Like a video game?"
"First one: **Echoes of the Forgotten**. Stand somewhere, you'll hear what happened there. Old fights, secrets, whatever. Gets stronger later—might let you *see* it too."
Second finger. "**Void Reclaim**. Someone hits you with their power? Grab it. It's yours now. Theirs is gone forever. But if it's too big…" She made a squish motion. "You pop."
"Great. Russian roulette with superpowers."
She ignored me. "Grow fast or die messy. Your call."
"Wait—how do I even—"
"Figure it out." The white cracked. Colors swirled under me like a drain. "Live this time, Akira. Or don't. Up to you."
I tried to scream. Got sucked down instead.
---
Warm.
Smelled like milk and baby powder. Something soft pressed against my cheek. I blinked—everything blurry, giant shapes, too-bright light. Arms. Tiny arms. My arms?
A woman's face loomed, dark hair, purple eyes wet with tears. She was humming off-key. A guy beside her—silver hair, goofy grin—wiped his nose on his sleeve.
"Our little Leo," she whispered.
Leo. Not Akira. The name fit in my mouth like it'd always been there.
The guy—Caden—poked my forehead gently. "Look at those eyes. All you, Selene."
"And the hair," she laughed, voice cracking. "Silver already. Just like his dad."
I stared. They stared back. No clue I remembered dying. No clue I could still taste blood and rain.
Inside, something stirred. Two sleeping things, coiled tight.
I didn't cry. Just watched.
*Okay,* I thought. *Round two. Let's see how this goes.*