A profound stillness enveloped Ethan. The burning in his lungs was gone, the crushing cold replaced by a gentle warmth. He tried to open his eyes, and found he could. He was lying on something smooth, impossibly white, and the air around him was clean, scentless, and utterly silent. He sat up slowly, feeling no pain, no fatigue, only a strange lightness.
He was in a vast, featureless white room, stretching endlessly in every direction, illuminated by a soft, diffused light that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere.
"Well, look who decided to finally wake up," a voice boomed, startling him. It was rich, resonant, and filled with an exasperated sigh.
Ethan spun around. Standing before him was a figure of immense presence, radiating an aura of ancient power. He appeared as a man of stately, almost regal, bearing, with eyes that held the wisdom of eons and long white hair that flowed like a silver river. He was clad in a glowing white robe with silver adornments.
One word came to mind if a person wanted to sum up his appearance.
Beautiful.
This was Deus, the Architect of Worlds, though Ethan didn't know his name yet.
"Ungrateful, aren't we?" Deus continued, shaking his head slowly.
"Born into a stable home, loving parents, siblings, a friend who clearly cared despite your… perceived slights. And you throw it all away. Honestly, the sheer audacity you mortals have sometimes…."
Ethan, still trying to process his surroundings and the impossible being before him, felt a flicker of his old indignation.
"Ungrateful?" he retorted, his voice surprisingly steady.
"I never asked to be born! And what about all the unfairness? The bullies who got away with everything while my life was ruined? The person I cared about most saying I was just a way to kill time? And then, just when it 'seemed' like people did care, I get pushed off a bridge and drown! That's dignified? That's fair?" He gestured vaguely, his anger rising.
"Life was just unfair."
Deus let out a long, theatrical sigh, rubbing his temples.
"Oh, the human lament. Always about 'fairness.' You think you had it bad? I could show you countless souls from accross all time and space who wished for half of what you got. A roof over your head, food in your belly, a healthy body, parents who adored you, a friend who was willing to risk everything for you at the end! You were so fixated on the past, you completely ignored the immense privileges you possessed."
He waved a hand, and suddenly, shimmering visions flickered around them:
A starving child in a war-torn land.
A lonely elder dying without a single visitor.
A young person crippled by an incurable illness.
A young girl abandoned after being violated.
All Pain and Misery
Ethan watched, mesmerized and slightly chastened, but his core grievance remained.
"Even so," Ethan insisted, looking back at Deus, "I died in the most undignified way, just as I was shown that people cared. That's still unfair."
"You couldn't appreciate what you had in life and now you complain about unfairness in death?" Deus shrugged in exasperation, his patience clearly wearing thin.
"Fine. You want to talk about unfairness? I don't usually do this, not for common souls like yours. But you, boy, you are particularly getting on my nerves."
A mischievous glint entered his ancient eyes.
"So, I'm going to send you to another world. And this time," Deus leaned in, a sinister smile spreading across his face, "I am going to force you to be grateful for what you have.
Ethan's eyes narrowed, a familiar defiance flaring within him despite the bizarre circumstances.
"In that case," he challenged, his voice firm, "I'll just kill myself again. You can't force me to be 'grateful' if I just end it."
Deus threw back his head and let out a booming, resonant laugh that vibrated through the vast white room. It wasn't a kind laugh, but one filled with a chilling, almost maniacal amusement.
"Ah, the stubbornness of mortals! You think you're clever, don't you?" He took a step closer, his eyes gleaming.
"That's the thing, boy. This time, you won't be able to. I've set up a little… failsafe. You'll find yourself quite incapable of escaping this new existence. Suicide will simply not be an option."
As Deus spoke, the pure white walls of the room began to shimmer, then ripple, like water disturbed by a stone. The light intensified, then warped, twisting into a kaleidoscope of impossible colors.
"Of course," Deus mused, a deceptive softness in his voice, "I could always send you back to your old world. Give you a true second chance there."
Ethan's eyes, which had been filled with defiance, widened instantly. A gasp escaped his lips.
"Wait—" he started, a desperate hope igniting within him. The thought of his parents, of Liv, of a chance to truly live differently, flashed through his mind like a blinding light.
But Deus merely smiled, a predatory, unyielding curve of his lips.
"Too late for second thoughts, boy. Ah,if only you'd been slightly more polite." he chuckled, his eyes twinkling with cruel delight.
"Now, be a dear and make the most of this chance, won't you?"
With that final, taunting command, Ethan felt a strange pulling sensation, a dizzying distortion that stretched his very being. He was no longer falling, but being violently pulled, thrust out of the white room and into a blinding vortex of light and sensation.
The swirling stopped as abruptly as it began, replaced by a gentle warmth and a soft, rhythmic thumping.
Ethan's eyelids fluttered open, but his vision was blurry, unfocused. He heard muffled cooing sounds, soft murmurs, and a warmth pressed against his cheek. Slowly, agonizingly, his eyes adjusted, and what he saw jolted him more profoundly than the encounter with Deus.
Two enormous, smiling faces hovered above him, looking down with an expression of pure, unadulterated adoration. A woman with soft, kind eyes and a man with a gentle, reassuring smile.
They were new, yet familiar in a way he couldn't grasp. Their features were blurry, but their love was palpable. And he, Ethan, felt incredibly small, swaddled tightly in a soft blanket, unable to move his limbs with any coordination. He stared, completely stunned.
He was a baby.
He had been reborn.
The shock was too much.
A strange, unfamiliar sound bubbled up from deep within his chest, and then, uncontrollably, he began to cry – not tears of despair, but of sheer, overwhelming disbelief and confusion.
.‡.
Meanwhile, back in the endless white expanse, another figure emerged from the shimmering light, a slender, shadowed being with eyes like distant stars.
She was Mors, the quieter, more enigmatic Deity Of Endings.
"Deus," Mors' voice was a low whisper, resonating with a calm authority, "why did you truly reincarnate the boy?"
Deus chuckled, the sound devoid of warmth.
"Gratitude? My dear Mors, that's merely the convenient excuse. No, this time, it's about something far more satisfying."
A sinister grin stretched across his face, a look of profound, almost artistic malice.
"I don't care about proving anything to him. A lion doesn't indulge with sheep.
I've set things up, you see, so that he will, by all means, appreciate something.
Someone.
He will find joy.
He will find purpose. And then," Deus's eyes gleamed with anticipated delight.
"The world, my world, will take it from him." He leaned back, a look of perverse arousal on his face as he imagined the boy's look of utter despair then, the complete and utter shattering of his newfound happiness.
Mors looked at him in silence for a moment and left as suddenly and quietly as she had appeared.