Though not gone yet, the fog had begun to lift by the time Kayo stepped out, the priest walking slightly ahead silently. Every single movement he made seemed deliberate, careful, and with purpose behind it. A flick of a finger, a small nod, small gestures conveying attention and direction. They were easy enough to read as well as follow.
This guy… He's pretty good at being nonverbal. Wonder if he ever took a vow of silence.
Kayo fell into the rhythm and let his eyes wander. Rows of stalls lined the main cobblestone street, fish drying on the racks and vegetables stacked in neat pyramids. Some people carried buckets and fishing rods to the shore, nets slung over their shoulders like togas. Others wheeled carts of goods towards the edge of the village and further inland. Merchants, clearly.
Soon enough, Kayo's theater-trained eye picked up on repetition. The raised, open hand with the palm facing yourself used as a greeting, the brief bow and a hand gesture to thank a seller, even the light taps of a stick on a cart to signal readiness to depart. By noon, he'd already mapped out several key locations: the fountain in the village center, the storagerooms near the docks, the communal dining hall, and of course, the belfry-house.
By the time they returned to the priest's home, the sun shone pleasantly high above the village, its warmth balancing the chill breeze. The priest stopped in the doorway and turned to him, giving a brief nod. It was more of a "that's enough for today" than outright dismissal. Kayo returned the gesture, unsure if that meant he was free to go or supposed to follow, but the man's faint smile made it clear he'd done well enough.
For the first time since arriving, Kayo felt a measure of comprehension.
When the priest left him by the house and disappeared into the village, Kayo stayed a while longer, watching the villagers go about their day. The smell of the sea hung heavy in the air, mixed with smoke and salt. For a fleeting moment, he almost felt like he belonged.
Almost.
I can't stay here forever. Terry needs me… I need her, too.
Back home, she was the only person keeping him sane. Not just through the ridiculous shifts his boss would put him through, but in general, too. And although she was older, he felt a certain responsibility as a brother. He couldn't even begin to fathom what he would do should something happen to her… He dismissed the thought before it could settle.
But going back won't be as easy as dying again. Well, it might, but that's one hell of a gamble.
He exhaled deeply, faint, pale fog forming in front of his mouth from the cold air.
As a last resort.
• • •
For now, Kayo did what he had to: he adapted. The priest took him on as an apprentice, the closest thing Kayo had to a father in 7 years. He soon learned that the priest was more than just a spiritual figure. He was a healer, companion, mentor, and the leader all in one. A symbol of community rather than divine ordainment.
Over the next several months, Kayo picked up the basics of their language through constant exposure. He spoke with the elderly during lunch downtime, whose tales of the village's history held his attention the most. Occasionally, he passed groups of playing children. Some asked where he came from, others what he did for a living. The eccentric ones asked if he was perhaps a mermaid or a cursed fish. He helped the merchants load their cargo before departure, and he wandered the streets.
At. Night.
.
.
.
It never got easy. Every rustle of a bush sent him into full-on panic, like the person who shot him had come to finish the job a second time. Worst were the nights when he stopped walking… And something else didn't. More often than not, it ended up being an animal. The occasional cat or a stray dog. Sometimes, a lone villager found themselves outside late at night.
He stopped sleeping after that. The only solace was the inside of the chapel. He would sit near the door with a single lit candle until the priest found him in the morning, bleary-eyed and shaking.
Kayo didn't turn to face him. He just sobbed. The priest, without a word, placed a blanket over Kayo's shoulders before sitting down with him.
"You've been my apprentice for six months now," the old man said quietly, "I meant to wait until at least a year, but… Maybe it will help you."
And that was the first time the priest spoke of magic. Just more proof, if Kayo even needed any at this point, that this truly was a completely different world.
The magic he spoke off was not what Kayo had expected though. No fireballs, lightning bolts, or turning people into frogs. Instead, what he described was a way of life. A way through which one may live in tune with the world around them.
"That is the essence of a priest," he said, "To be the bridge between our world and that of the spirits. To offer their guidance to those who need it."
Kayo listened in silence. The priest's voice was calm and low, almost blending with the faint crackle of the candle.
"The spirits do not live apart from us," he went on, "They are the breath of the world, the tide of the sea, and even," he gestured towards the candle, "The warmth of the flame."
He then gestured towards his chest, around the heart.
"Inside every living being, there is a still point. A hallow, like the eye of a storm. We call it the core. When you awaken it, it allows you to channel the flow of all things, and spirits are a part of that flow," he drew a short breath, like he was preparing to reveal an embarrassing secret, "But it takes patience. Months, sometimes even years. Most never manage it."
Kayo frowned, "And you think I can?"
The old man smiled, "You must try. Your heart is restless. And the restless are closest to hearing."
He showed Kayo how to sit properly, hands on knees, and how to steady his breathing.
"You will not feel anything the first day. Perhaps the first month. The world does not rush to speak. But if you listen closely, you will hear it."
I'd certainly rather appreciate a manual than a string of metaphors, but I don't think magic cares about what I want.
For the next several mornings, Kayo followed the same patterns. He would help with chores at dawn, eat, and then meditate until noon. The first week was miserable. His knees ached and every little sound and stray thought pulled him out of focus. But by the third week he began to notice something strange. An awareness of sorts. Sure, there was the lingering feeling of being watched ever since he woke up, but this was different. It felt more like company than a stalker in the unseen.
The priest said very little, only nodding in approval whenever Kayo would mention it.
One night, the presence felt particularly strong. Strong enough in fact, that Kayo could not sleep because of it. But he didn't feel like he needed to. So, he did the one thing he knew how: meditate.
Within minutes of closing his eyes, the air shifted. The world seemed to turn around him, slow at first, then faster. Only when it finally stilled, he opened his eyes.
The chapel was gone.
He stood on an endless plain of water that stretched far beyond sight. It was so still and clear it looked like glass. The horizon between it and the sky was almost invisible, and he stood ankle-deep in it, though he felt no cold or texture, nothing at all.
He turned slowly. Wherever he looked, the sun hovered just above his line of sight, following him as though it was a HUD of some kind.
This is too calm to be a dream of mine.
He took a step. Rings spread outward, warping the mirror-surface for a moment before stilling again.
And then he saw it.
Wait… that's not my reflection.
The figure below the surface looked like him, but not quite. The hair, previously short and blonde was now longer, darker, streaked with a faint magenta hue. His eyes, too, had changed: from sharp silver blue to a pale magenta with a dark ring in the center of his iris that split the color into two sharp shades.
He leaned closer.
What the hell happened to me…
He crouched to get a better look, but his reflection didn't. It stayed upright, watching him.
Then the sky dimmed.
Clouds gathered without sound, blotting out the eternal sun. The first drop struck the surface with a hollow sound, echoing like a heartbeat. Then another. Then dozens. The once-glass sea rippled, darkened, and began to churn.
Wind rose from nowhere, tearing at his clothes. The reflection stared back, motionless and untouched, as the world around him twisted into a storm.
Far in the distance, a tide began to rise.
Kayo stumbled backward, slipping on the water as though it was a puddle. The reflection stepped forward, lips moving, though no words came through. Only thunder.
The proverbial wall of water rose over the horizon, then kept going higher, until at some point it seemed to dome over him.
Kayo staggered back, but there was nowhere to go. The distance had vanished into the tidal wave. He braced himself… And then everything stopped. The roar died down and the maelstrom gave way to eerie quiet.
He looked down again, and the reflection was staring right back at him.
"Who are you?" he asked the doppelganger.
"What am I if you're already a shadow of yourself?" the reflection replied, squatting down as if to bridge the distance, "We've died and came back! Why are you so afraid of death?"
"Because-"
"No," the reflection cut him off, "I don't want your excuses! Fear of death is a choice, one that leads to a life of misery!"
The reflection reached forward, grabbing Kayo by the legs and sinking him waist-deep.
"We've been given a second chance, use it to the fullest!"
A brief pause, like the whole world was thinking it over.
"So what will you do now, Kalju?" the reflection taunted him, "Will you sink, or will you swim?"
Kayo's legs struggled to keep him afloat, desperately searching for ground that was not there. The more he struggled, the tighter the grip became.
"Why do you still fight it?" it asked.
"I don't want to die again…" Kayo whispered, almost breaking into cries again.
"You won't die here. This is not a place of execution," the reflection began climbing up, clutching Kayo like a harness now. It felt like the water itself became solid, almost gelatinous, "It is a place of remembrance! Remember who you were, once upon a time, and even before that!"
Kayo grasped his memories of his past life. His job, his parents, the few friends he made throughout his life, and lastly, his sister. And the more he remembered, the heavier he became, until the waters enveloped him fully. But unlike his first death, it did not feel dark and scary. Rather, it held a faint sense of comforting familiarity.
The deeper he sank, the weirder his memories became. Visions of moments he'd never lived, people he'd never met. They drifted past like fish, and then vanished.
When at last he hit the floor, the light came. Radiant and blinding, Kayo stood in front of himself. It reached out. As Kayo took its hand, the light began to siphon away, filling the hollow next to his heart until the ache finally stopped. When he woke up, he was back in the chapel, gasping for air and fighting another wave of nausea.
I am so sick of water by this point…