Dead. The sound of the word echoed through his mind. It was the same sound bells make when they toll.

  Dead.

  Dead.

  Dead.

  Dead.

  It would be so easy to laugh it off, to conclude that they were pranking him, to believe they were all delusional. Mioray could conjure a dozen reasons to dismiss what Erinel had just said, each one more believable than the idea that he was dead. Was there any point in arguing? Wouldn’t it be better to accept it first and figure out what it meant later?

  He glanced around the room. Kevin was still clipping his ever-growing fingernails, while Matt chewed on his lollipops, watching Mioray with the steady gaze of innocent, crystal-blue eyes. Erinel sat in a chair, clothed in a black short-sleeved dress cinched at the waist with a slim leather belt, tapping her knee with a single finger, the one adorned with that ring that didn’t suit her. The jewel was so white it seemed to glow from within. If they were teasing him, they weren’t laughing. If they thought it was something significant, they were far too casual about it.

  What does it mean to be dead? Mioray wondered. Shouldn’t everything turn black as your consciousness succumbs to eternal darkness? And the worst part, you wouldn’t even realize it. Nothing would exist for you anymore. You’d just fade away.

  There is no afterlife. Only a beginning and an end. The concept was simple, but humanity had always struggled to accept it. That’s why they’d crafted gods and higher powers to fill the void. From those beliefs, religions were born. Initially it was a source of comfort for the suffering, but in time, religions became tools for control, for war, for hatred against those who thought differently. It was the cycle of humankind: to go to extremes and take anything, no matter how sacred, and forge it into a weapon.

  Another extreme was the belief in something after death, a reward or punishment meted out by some higher force. It raised questions of justice. Should sinners suffer forever, or was there a point where they might be forgiven? But did everyone deserve forgiveness? What about those who led cruel lives and left others to struggle in their wake?

  “Oh, there you are!”

  The sudden voice cut through Mioray’s spiraling thoughts that led him deeper into the abyss of existential dread. Terry draped an arm around Mioray’s shoulders, grinning as if they’d known each other for years.

  “Don’t run away from me like that again, okay?” Terry chided. “I was looking for you everywhere and even ran into Farah. Boy, is she mad about something!”

  “Wouldn’t you be, if someone violated your privacy?” came Farah's sharp response. She had joined Terry, with Mia trailing close behind. Farah had changed clothes and was now wearing a long black puffer coat, something more suited for a freezing winter than the middle of autumn.

  “I wouldn’t mind if you violated mine,” Terry grinned devilishly.

  Suddenly, the air chilled. Mioray knew without a doubt that Farah was the source. Her glare was colder than the depths of Snowrealm, and people said that Snowrealm was even colder than the world during the last ice age, assuming the realm existed at all. After all, it was part of yet another religion.

  Before things could escalate, Mia intervened. She raised her hands, palms down, and made a slow, downward gesture – once, twice. She followed it with a series of signs Mioray didn’t have time to register, but Farah clearly understood. She folded her arms, irritated but placated.

  “Trust me, I’m already doing too much to tolerate him,” she muttered.

  The energy in the room shifted. Too lively, too chaotic. Kevin set his silver clipper aside and cleared his throat with authority, drawing all eyes to him.

  “If you’re all going to join us, I expect you to behave,” he said, taking off his glasses and cleaning them with a light gray microfiber cloth. “I don’t like it this crowded in my room. It ruins the mood. And you, Mioray, if you have something to say, just say it. Don’t stand there brooding like a fool.”

  Every pair of eyes locked onto Mioray. It was uncomfortable, having them all watch him like that. They were supposed to be like him. People with strange, inexplicable abilities. He knew for sure that Terry had died almost a year ago. Was Kevin “dead” too? Something about him was undeniably off, especially with the way his fingernails grew back so quickly, not to mention how he controlled swarms of them at the university.

  Then there were Erinel, Mia, Farah, and Matt. Even Matt, the boy stuffing his mouth with lollipops, was supposedly “dead.”

  “Well…” Mioray hesitated. He’d never imagined asking this out loud, not before waking up in the morgue. “What does it mean to be dead?”

  Erinel rose from her chair, her dress falling effortlessly into place, its lightweight fabric flowing with a subtle grace. The skirt ended in a delicate ruffled hem, adding a touch of elegance to her movement.

  “Typically, it means the soul leaves the body and departs the living world,” she said, her tone patronizing, as if explaining basic math to a child. “But that’s not what happened to you. In your case, your soul clings to your body rather than residing within it as it should. You’ve noticed it, haven’t you? Even though you see through your eyes, your consciousness feels like it’s outside your body.”

  Mioray didn’t respond, but his heart, if it still counted as his, twinged. She was right. He hadn’t thought about it much, but there had been moments when he couldn’t ignore it. The sensation of moving his body like a puppeteer tugging strings. There was a lag between his intent to move and the body actually responding. That hadn’t happened before. Not before his last birthday.

  “The sensation is similar to what people describe during near-death experiences,” Erinel continued. “But not quite the same. You see, they’re outside their bodies but can’t move them. You, on the other hand, are fully awake. And that has consequences. You don’t get tired. You don’t need sleep or food. Your body heals any wound. That’s the power of your soul, no longer bound by the body. You’ve heard of objects becoming possessed, haven’t you?”

  “Like when a part of the owner’s soul attaches to a personal object, turning it into an artifact with special properties?” Mioray ventured, his voice uncertain. It was an old belief people used to hold.

  “Exactly,” Erinel nodded. “But in your case, your entire soul was attached to your body – like it’s just another object. And in doing so, it has granted you miraculous properties.”

  Mioray’s hand brushed the stump of his arm, a nervous, absent gesture. Being dead? I could accept that, maybe. But all this other stuff? A soul clinging to a body like a haunted trinket? Supernatural powers? It all sounded like something ripped straight from a comic book. Maybe it was just a figure of speech?

  He glanced at Terry, hoping for reassurance. Terry just winked, his grin as sharp as ever. If this was really Terry Strands, he didn’t seem to have any objections to Erinel’s explanation.

  Maybe I did die, Mioray thought, scanning the faces of those around him. No one wore an expression of doubt. They were calm. Too calm. Like people long used to the idea. Maybe this is what the afterlife looks like, he considered. Not the end, but a pocket world branching from the real one. Like a “new game plus” after the credits roll. A continuation where you keep your progress and start over stronger than before.

  It was a comforting thought.

  But it made zero sense. In the “new game plus” player restarts the game from the beginning, while Mioray’s life had simply continued.

  Still, it felt more plausible than Erinel’s version of events.

  Kevin adjusted his glasses, his gaze steady as he leaned forward, resting his chin on his crossed fingers. “And I gather your ability is to detach parts of your body,” he said. “Or at least your remaining arm, as you demonstrated at the university.”

  Mioray’s shoulders slumped as he caught the sound of Farah’s scoff. He lowered his head. Launching his arm forward was a pretty lame ability, he’d admit. Sure, it saved Juju from imminent death, but what then? Running around with an arm skittering on the ground, connected to his body by black, suture-like threads, was anything but impressive. Worse still, he had no idea how to reattach it.

  “What we’ve found is that these abilities usually manifest in a way connected to how you died,” Erinel said, hopping onto the edge of Kevin’s table. “You’ve probably figured it out already, but your body was dismembered, and that’s how you got your ability.”

  “I can produce sticky slime!” Matt suddenly interjected, raising his hands with a wide grin. His palms were coated in an amber-colored substance, viscous like plant resin. “I choked on lollipops, and that’s how I got my superpowers!”

  “Strong little guy, eh?” Terry laughed, pouncing on Matt to tickle him. The boy burst into giggles, squirming away and hiding behind Mia, his eyes scrunched shut in pure joy.

  Mioray watched, stunned. Is it really okay to talk about how you died so casually? he thought. It was supposed to be tragic, but Matt acted as if it were just another part of his life. Or death.

  “Well, no need to tell you how I died,” Terry said, his grin as sharp as ever. “It was all over the news at the start of the year, yeah? Now I’m my own engine. Just give me a couple of wheels, and I’ll show you how amazing I am!”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Mia’s eyes brightened as she started signing eagerly. Her fingers moved with fluid precision, but once again, Mioray couldn’t make sense of it.

  “Why are you telling him all this?” Farah sighed, arms crossed in disapproval.

  Mia’s hands moved with renewed intensity, clearly insisting on something.

  “Okay, okay!” Farah relented, exasperation lacing her tone. “Mia here was robbed by two thugs. But as if that wasn’t enough, they slit her throat. Now, when she uses her voice, she produces destructive sound waves.”

  Terry leaned toward Mioray, his voice low. “Trust me, funny guy, you wouldn’t want to hear it.”

  “What are you mumbling about?” Farah’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “Nothing, nothing,” Terry said, straightening up with a playful grin. “But come on, Farah, your story’s the best one. Share it with the class!”

  “I won’t,” Farah shot back, her eyes like cold steel. “And why should I?” Her tone made it clear that any further pushing would be a mistake.

  Terry and Farah’s bickering escalated from jabs to threats of violence, with Farah’s fists twitching in anticipation. Mia tried to calm her by gripping her shoulders, grounding her with gentle pressure.

  “Some people treat their death as something personal. You have to understand,” Erinel explained, her gentle smile radiating a warmth that reminded Mioray of his mother.

  Still, that warmth didn’t reach him. He felt downcast. He wouldn’t want to talk to strangers about his death, either. It felt far too intimate, like exposing a scar too raw to touch. Some people might share it freely, but that didn’t mean he had to.

  But there was a bigger problem. Erinel’s words confirmed what he’d suspected. He’d been dismembered. His thoughts often circled around that idea, but it was still hard to accept. The only evidence of it now was his left arm, the stump with its dark sutures. And it couldn’t explain the full story. He still didn’t know why it happened or how he’d died.

  “Surely you have your suspicions. Don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out,” Kevin said, his eyes sharp as a knife’s edge. “Who else dismembers people in this city, leaving behind all their body parts except for the left arm?”

  There weren’t many options. In fact, there was only one. Mioray’s stomach twisted as he forced himself to confront it. The only logical conclusion. There wasn't a particular reason he died. He was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.

  “The Dismantler,” he exhaled, as if uttering the nickname of the murderer would seal his fate. Saying it felt like handing himself his own death sentence. It’s done, he thought. I’m dead, and there’s no changing that.

  “Precisely,” Erinel confirmed.

  “But he killed sixteen people before me, and they stayed dead,” Mioray argued. “Why was I the one brought back?”

  “It’s not like you were chosen,” Erinel replied, her gaze drifting to the distance. Her smile grew faintly wistful. “I had an elixir made by witches. If consumed shortly before death, it binds the soul to the body.”

  “I’m sorry, witches?” Mioray asked, disbelief creeping into his voice. Everything he heard teetered on the edge of absurdity. It would be sad if it turned out he’d lost his mind and was being held in a psychiatric clinic without realizing it.

  “Those who learned how to alter the fabric of reality,” Erinel replied.

  “In other words, scientists,” Kevin added, stepping in like a lifeline. “You’ve heard about pharaummies?”

  Mioray pressed a palm to his face. More myths. Great.

  What did he know about pharaummies? They were said to be a race that looked human but had bronze-colored skin and two hearts. While alive, only one heart beats. But after they died, the second heart took over, giving them a second life and granting them immortality. It sounded eerily similar to his current situation.

  “Apparently, this elixir, or serum, is made from pharaummy genes,” Kevin continued. “Hard to believe they’re real, but seeing as we’re here wasting time, even though we ought to be dead, it’s hard to know what to believe anymore.”

  It’s hard to know what to believe anymore. That was putting it mildly. Mioray’s mind was already overloaded. The flood of information had flipped his world upside down too many times. Dead people coming back to life, an elixir made from the genes of a mythological race, witch-scientists, and special powers... What’s next? Are they going to tell him the world is flat?

  He needed to think. Pharaummies aside, there were still some questions left. There was no guarantee everything they said was true, but for now, Mioray had to play along. After all, his own body had changed after he, allegedly, died and woke up in the morgue. He didn’t eat. He didn’t sleep. His mortal wounds healed. None of that made sense under normal logic.

  “The elixir,” he murmured, narrowing his eyes. “Was it the Corpse Reviver cocktail?”

  Erinel nodded, her expression confirming it. Mioray snorted, letting out a bitter laugh. Not subtle at all. Corpse Reviver. Of course, that was Erinel’s role. And he was the corpse. The name suited him a little too well.

  “Alright. So I’m dead now, but not really. And my body heals magically. So why didn’t my left arm grow back?”

  “For that, you need to understand how healing works,” Kevin explained, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “It only returns your body to the state it was in before you consumed the serum.”

  “But I had both my arms at the time.”

  Kevin glanced at Erinel, his eyes seeking confirmation. She nodded, lips pressed into a firm line, as if weighing the gravity of it all.

  “Then I don’t know,” Kevin admitted with a frustrated frown. He clearly hated not having an explanation. “The way it works is that all our body cells tend to stay together. If your body is cut into pieces, the parts will move toward the one still housing the soul. It works with flesh, blood, and everything else. In a sense, your body will regenerate faster if it’s fully destroyed. It’s easier for individual cells to return to the main body than for an entire limb, like your left arm, to reattach itself.”

  The implication was groundbreaking. If Mioray trusted what Kevin had said, it meant there was a chance to get his left arm back. He could barely contain his joy. Suddenly, everything around him seemed brighter. Even the ongoing argument between Terry and Farah felt light-hearted, like two old friends joking with each other.

  Two old friends... Chris and Julie weren’t exactly old friends, but they were dear to him. While Mioray could continue living as a dead person brought back to life, for them, it was over. And if that exploding stranger really had been targeting him, then it was Mioray's fault they died. No, I’m sure he was targeting me, his heart sank as the realization hit him. We’re the same. He’s dead too, and no amount of damage can stop him.

  “This man that attacked the university, is he part of this too?” Mioray asked.

  For some reason, the question made Terry and Farah stop fighting. Everyone turned to Erinel. Does she know something? Mioray wondered.

  “We don’t know much about him yet,” she replied. “I wasn't the one who gave him the elixir, and we’re not aware of how he died. The only thing for sure is that he was hunting you for some reason.”

  “What happened to him after we left?” Mioray pressed.

  “As soon as we escaped the university, he left too,” Kevin said. “I have my reasons to believe he was reaching his limits. His regeneration rate is too intense. Normally, it takes days or even weeks to restore the body from the state he was in. But it must also put a strain on the soul and its ability to control the body. Just because we can’t be killed doesn’t mean we can’t be rendered unconscious, like what happened to you.”

  He glanced at Mioray. “It can happen either from blood loss, which is a rookie mistake since we can control the flow of our blood as long as the heart is intact, or from brain destruction or having it disconnected from the spinal cord.”

  “Like a zombie!” Matt groaned, extending his arms and staggering toward Mioray, mimicking a walking corpse intent on feasting on his flesh.

  “But how did he know where to find me in the first place?” Mioray asked, gently stopping Matt’s advance.

  “That’s something for us to figure out,” Kevin said. “Any other questions?”

  Plenty. Mioray didn’t even know where to start. He glanced at Erinel, who tilted her head playfully. If he didn’t know where to begin, maybe it was best to begin from the start.

  “How did you know I was going to die?” he asked. It felt like the most logical question. If he was the victim of the Dismantler, then the serial killer might have known who Mioray was. And for all he knew, that killer could be in this room right now.

  “I’m glad you asked,” Erinel said, rising to her feet. “When I look at a human, I can see if the time of their death is coming soon. And in turn, they can see me as well. You walked into the bar and saw me. That’s how I knew,” she lowered her gaze, almost apologetic. “I’m sorry you had to die, but I’m not supposed to change the fate of humans. That’s not my purpose. My purpose is to guide the souls of the dead to the afterlife.”

  Of all the strange things Mioray had heard that day, this was the most unexpected. Until now, he’d thought "soul" and "afterlife" were being used as metaphorical stand-ins for more scientific concepts. But Erinel’s words weren’t metaphorical at all. They were as straightforward as they could be.

  “Excuse me?” he said, his brows raised.

  “You heard me right,” Erinel replied, clearly amused by his reaction. “When people die, their souls don’t always know where to go next. If too many souls linger in this world for too long, bad things happen. That’s where I come in. I lead them to the other side. But these days, there are more souls than there are guides like me. You can blame the Era of Survival. So many died during that time that we’re still stumbling across long-wandering souls to this day. That’s why my kind needs help. And that’s where you come in.”

  “So you’re saying... you’ve been dead like me for a long time?” Mioray asked, still trying to piece everything together. He was missing something crucial. She’s only visible to those who are about to die? She guides souls to the afterlife? That didn’t sound like the role of a human, even if she looked like one.

  “Oh, silly, of course not.” Erinel chuckled, walking toward him. Her smile was warm, but her hazel eyes were sharp with seriousness. “I’ll let you in on a secret. I’m not human. I’m–”

  “Grim reaper?” Mioray blurted out before he could stop himself. The realization had hit him so suddenly that he couldn’t keep it to himself. All the loose ends had connected.

  A mix of snarky, delighted, and disappointed reactions followed. People started moving around. Mia and Terry, both looking sour, pulled out their wallets and passed some cash to Kevin and Farah. Kevin’s face remained neutral, but Farah was smirking with satisfaction.

  “Another idiot joins our ranks,” she muttered as she counted her winnings.

  “What’s happening?” Mioray asked, thoroughly confused.

  “Miss Erinel doesn’t like being called that,” Matt explained, trying to sound wise. “There was a bet on whether you’d say it. Looks like Kevin and Farah won.”

  Mioray blinked, dumbfounded. “What’s wrong with calling her a grim reaper?” He glanced at Erinel, who looked distinctly unamused.

  “I’ll allow it this one time,” she said with a tight smile. Her hand came down lightly on his head in a playful pat, but the intent behind it felt far from friendly. “No, I’m not a grim reaper. My race is called greanrips. You can see where the confusion came from, but unfortunately, the wrong name stuck.”

  Greanrips? Mioray glanced around at the others, but no one seemed fazed. No one was surprised to hear there was yet another race mixed into all this. But for Mioray, it was one bombshell too many.

  He stared at Erinel. She looked like a normal woman, but now he was supposed to believe she belonged to some unknown race called greanrips.

  He wanted to trust her. He really did. But the unease wouldn’t leave him. Things had become a little clearer, but there were still too many unanswered questions.

  The disappearance of the Dismantler.

  The goal of the exploding man.

  The creators of the so-called elixir.

  And those were just the beginning. He could accept that he was dead. That much was undeniable. But he still had no idea what it all meant.

  https://buymeacoffee.com/spirittq, it means a world to me!