Surviving Death

Death did not feel like falling.

There was no pain. No weight. No final breath tearing free. One moment there was violence—steel, betrayal—and then I was standing. Whole. Aware. Untethered.

Above me burned an endless blue sky. Beneath my feet, the world assembled itself as if remembering how to exist. Grass phased into existence. Trees followed, assembling themselves into a forest. I stood in a wide clearing — nowhere, yet anchored beneath an endless, burning blue sky. Beyond the edge of the floating island waited a darkness that was not inviting, even frightening.

Between the burning sky and the blackness below, a white tunnel opened. Warm. Familiar. Heavy with the promise of home — and grief at dying so young — I took a step toward it, thinking of my twin sister, Vergonia.

“Wait, Johan.”

My druid grandfather’s massive hand turned me back from the inviting light and darkness below.