Kal awakened in a land of mist. Glowing spheres, representatives of the gods, with their verdict. They were going to be merciful. They were going to give this man, who worked so hard to undo the crimes he committed, a second chance. His old partner was writhing in hell, but he may yet escape that fate. Reborn once more to find the path as a healer, rather than a killer.
@internutter/challenge-03308-i020-repaid-in-full -- Anon Guest
There is no walking in the afterlife. There are no feet to walk with, merely the memory of them. Whether it is a lonesome valley, an empty forest, or a frightful desert, the soul traversing it had to walk it alone. That was the test.
This was the judgement.
Gods don't have bodies either, not really. They are ideas formed by the minds of intelligent creatures. When there is no brain left to give shape, they are formless essences of the Divine. Recognisable because a soul has memory.
This one has repented, said one of the essences. Call it... Mercy.
This one has slaughtered, said another. Justice.
This one has felt guilt, said Wrath.
The memory of Kal didn't have anything to say. Just waited, knowing he deserved their sentence. He probably deserved worse.
I see threads of change, said Fate. A knot in the warp and weft. The shuttle has unraveled him from a worse end. The Wraithbinder gave him a geas... We would use that to the favour.
A hope flared in the memory of Kal. A second chance? he asked.
Yes, said Redemption. You will do well. You will serve well.
A glimpse of what happened to those who only served themselves, especially those who served themselves at the cost of others' well-being. Not fire. Not ice. Those were unimportant without a body to feel them. Souls in the Plane of Torment suffered in pools of disgust. They seared in pits of incendiary mortification. They froze in the subzero slurry of hatred.
Kal did not want to go there. Nobody did. I will serve you, he said. I will do whatever I can to improve the world.
So you shall, said Mercy. Now breathe.
A bright light. A sudden gravity. A discomfort that made the soul once called Kal scream. Hands bigger than their head moved them around. Cleaned them of grime and moisture. Wrapped them up warmly, and laid them against something warm and soft and huge.
Mother.
"Welcome to the world," sighed the exhausted woman. "My Cal."
She had another life to live. One dedicated to easing hurts instead of causing them, but that would be a few years away, just yet.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / avdesigner]
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