"Another chance at life? Why should I take it?"
The words taste like dust.
The thing in front of me doesn't flinch. It doesn't even breathe.Tall — absurdly tall. I barely reach its shoulder. Its robes hang like shadows made solid as they sway in the gentle breeze with no effort. No scent, no warmth, no face. Just the shape of authority.
"The laws dictate it," it says. The voice isn't human. Level, rehearsed — like it's reading from some cosmic script it's long since stopped caring about.
I don't bother replying. I didn't ask for another spin on the same broken wheel.Life was already the longest punishment I could imagine. I was hoping for something else — heaven, hell, oblivion. Anything other than another repetition. Birth, growth , death all over again being forced to find meaning in the endless wondering when eventually I'll die again .
I'm getting worked up just thinking about wasting another years. There must be a loophole.
"I'm afraid there isn't," it says again — this time, before I can even finish the thought.
Perfect. It reads minds. Of course it does.
"This is the only bridge between both heaven and hell," it continues, tone unchanged. "Most are trapped in an endless cycle of incarnation until they're ready for this step. If you believe you are not ready, I can always send you back — a new life, a new waste, as you called it."
How considerate. A deadlock. Either play by its rules or rot in the same cosmic loop.
"Say I go along with you," I muttered. "What happens if my next life turns out the same? And who even decides what comes of me?"
In other words is ending it again another option.
"Make no mistake, Davin," it said. "What you did shouldn't have landed you here. The fates made an error...You weren't supposed to reach this threshold with the stunt you pulled."
I frowned. "An error."
"Yes. You were mapped into a life before your soul had stabilized. You slipped through the weave — an anomaly like many. A fracture in design that luckily slipped you here."
It groaned slightly, like it was studying an insect that refused to die. "You ended your existence outside the proper cycle. And yet… here you stand ?"
A rhetorical question.
A bitter laugh tried to crawl out of my throat but died halfway. "So I'm a glitch in your system."
"If that helps you understand it, yes."
The tone wasn't mocking — worse, it was factual. As if I were just another faulty mechanism to be cataloged and corrected.
It stepped closer. The air around it bent slightly, like reality didn't know how to hold its shape in its presence.
"You can return — but not as before. Your next path will not be random. It will be… corrective."
"Corrective," I repeated, tasting the word like poison. "You mean punishment."
"Perspective," it said simply. "Curently you have reincarnated a total of two hundred and thirty seven times all of which have had an effect on your current life . If you choose to go back to earth-as it is named it- all of them will be erased in the hopes you'll find a different path here. No memory. No déjà vu. No guiding dreams. A clean slate ."
Two hundred and thirty seven. Astonishment filled me. I wouldn't be repeating just one life but two hundred and thirty six lifetimes.
"No," I snap. "I refuse."
Its shape doesn't move, yet the space between us stretches, thinning like glass under heat.
"Then the latter," it says. "Two wishes — and a curse of my choosing."
The words don't echo; they vibrate, threading through my skull until every thought hums with them. Two wishes. One curse. It sounds like mercy, but the tone carries nothing merciful.
"Think carefully, Davin," it continues. "Time means nothing here, but what you choose will stain everything that follows."
The light behind it fractures — or maybe that's the universe blinking. A low hum builds, deep and primal, like creation clearing its throat.
And then it's gone. No flash. No sound.Nothing .
"Call on me when you're ready. Even the slightest whisper carries weight here" it's finall remarks
A deafening science followed and a single thing pulsed in my mind.
Choice.