Death is a strange thing.
For some, it is pain.
For others, relief.
For me?
It is a lie.
I was not supposed to die.
I was promised freedom.
Wealth.
Power.
Everything.
They said it would be worth it.
Now all I have are my thoughts, drifting through a void that refuses to acknowledge me.
.....
"I WANT TO LIVE."
"I WANT TO LIVE AGAIN."
I screamed until the words broke apart, until time lost meaning and memory became a blur. I screamed for someone, anyone, to answer.
Nothing did.
The void never answers.
It only watches.
No sound. No warmth. No sense of before or after.
Just endless darkness, patient and unmoving, as if it had always known I would arrive.
And that was when I understood.
This was not death.
This was collection.
A place for souls who accepted gifts they had not earned.
Who took promises at face value.
Who believed death was an escape clause.
The universe had not betrayed me.
I had simply reached the part of the agreement they never explained.
And then the void changed.
Not shape.
Not form.
Behaviour changed.
The pressure of it shifted, like something leaning closer - not out of curiosity, but recognition.
I felt it then.
Not a voice.
A presence arranging my thoughts for me.
"You are loud," it said, without sound. "Louder than most."
I laughed. Or maybe I tried to.
"What did you expect?" I thought back. "I had everything taken from me."
The void did not deny it.
"No," it replied. "You spent everything."
Images surfaced - fractured, incomplete. A moment I could never fully remember. A figure without edges. A promise spoken without words.
Freedom. Wealth. Everything.
In exchange for something.
Something I had agreed to without ever understanding.
"I held up my end," I thought. "I did what was asked."
"You did," the void acknowledged. "That is why you are not gone."
It pressed in closer, not threatening, but administrative.
"Death was not your payment," it explained. "It was your arrival."
I felt sick.
"So this is it?" I thought. "Eternal nothing?"
The void paused.
"This is where we place what cannot be claimed yet," it said. "Souls with unfinished balances. Promises that do not dissolve with time, distance, or universes."
Then something new.
A sensation like a door being acknowledged, not opened.
"Your universe has no remaining value to extract," the void continued. "But others do."
I felt it then .A vastness beyond the vastness. Different rules. Different gods. Different consequences.
"There is a universe," the void said, almost thoughtfully, "where power is abundant, conflict is constant, and beings like the one you bargained with are common."
I knew without being told.
A universe of heroes and monsters.
Of miracles and collateral damage.
Of gods who bled.
"You may go there," the void offered.
Hope flared, sharp and dangerous.
"What's the cost?" I asked.
The void did not answer.
Not yet.
But for the first time since I died,
the darkness no longer felt empty.
...
The void remained close.
Too close.
I could feel it holding something back - not uncertainty, not fear - permission.
"There is more," I thought. "You are not telling me something."
The darkness stilled.
For the first time since it had acknowledged me, the void did not respond immediately.
When it finally did, its presence felt constrained.
"Yes," it admitted.
"There is context you are not required to possess."
That answer chilled me more than silence ever could.
"Required by who?" I asked.
The void's pressure shifted, like a system encountering a boundary it could not cross.
"Your existence intersects with a structure that predates this universe," it said carefully.
"Predates the one you will enter."
Images tried to form - collapsed before they could take shape. Scales too large. Motions too slow. Rules written in dimensions I could not perceive.
"There are forces for whom universes are not creations," the void continued, "but boards."
I felt suddenly small.
"So what am I?" I asked.
The void hesitated again.
Not long.
But long enough.
"A move already made," it said at last.
"One whose outcome has not resolved."
Understanding settled in - not fully, not cleanly - but heavy.
"I do not get a choice, do I?"
"You already made one," the void replied.
"Long before this holding state."
The darkness receded slightly, as if preparing for action.
"The universe you are being transferred to is not your reward," it added.
"It is where the game remains active."
"And what happens if I refuse?" I asked.
The void did not answer.
Because this time, it did not have to.
The void lingered.
Not close.
Not distant.
Present in a way that felt strained.
"There is something you should understand," it began.
The pressure around me tightened.
Then stopped.
Not because it chose to.
Because something else had noticed.
The void went still, like a system aware of being observed.
The darkness deepened. Not heavier. Not closer.
Focused.
The thought withdrew before it could finish forming.
"Proceeding," the void said instead.
The word felt forced.
The nothingness folded.
Not outward.
Inward.
There was no sensation of movement. No falling. No rising. Just the certainty that I was no longer where I had been.
And then -
Weight.
Gravity returned violently, like a rule reasserting itself.
Pain followed. Immediate. Unignorable.
I gasped and remembered too late how lungs worked.
Light fractured my vision. Space stretched endlessly in every direction.
Something vast surrounded me.
No - held me.
I lay in the open palm of something alive.
Fingers larger than worlds curved slightly, precise, controlled.
A presence loomed above me, immense beyond comprehension.
It did not look at me.
It assessed me.
Questions brushed against my existence, not spoken, not thought.
Origin.
Consistency.
Authorization.
I felt myself reduced, categorized, tested against rules I had never known existed.
This was not curiosity.
This was verification.
The void hesitated.
Again.
The presence above me paused, its process stalling for a fraction of something that was not time.
A gap formed.
Not in memory.
In meaning.
The question of why I was there failed to resolve.
The void acted.
Not by force.
Not by removal.
By absence.
The concept of my presence unravelled quietly, like a line erased before it could be read.
There was no forgetting.
There was nothing to forget.
The assessment collapsed, unfinished. The hand loosened, no longer certain why it was holding anything at all.
The presence withdrew, attention redirecting to certainties that still existed.
The void receded instantly, its interference vanishing as though it had never occurred.
I remained.
Unaccounted for.
Unregistered.
And somewhere beyond perception, a structure adjusted around a discrepancy it could not immediately locate.
The last thing I felt before consciousness slipped again was not relief.
It was the certainty that I was no longer where I should be.
And that this time, the universe did not know why.
....
Thanks for reading the prologue.
What do you think happened to the void now its decided to help,
Feel free to drop any power stones or anything, though it doesn't matter because the games gone and I'm doing this for enjoyment because i cant find anything good to read.
.....