{This Chapter is Rewritten: This will be removed once all chapters are finished with rewrites.}
Steven saw only darkness.
Not the kind of darkness you get when the lights go out. This was something else entirely. It was complete, absolute, and infinite. He blinked. Once. Twice. A third time. Nothing changed. He could feel his eyelids moving, knew they were closing over his eyes, but no dimming or brightening followed. There was no contrast. Just black.
He reached for sensation, but there was nothing. No sound, no scent, not even the subtle hum of his own heartbeat. There was no floor beneath him, no wind against his skin, not even a whisper of air brushing past his ears. He wasn't standing, sitting, or lying down. He was simply there. Floating. Or maybe suspended. Or maybe not even that.
Steven tried to breathe. His chest expanded instinctively, but the motion was wrong. No cool rush of oxygen greeted his lungs. No breath moved through his nostrils. Instead, his lungs moved hollowly, expanding and collapsing like empty bellows. Panic bloomed in his chest.
He tried again, still no air.
His mind began to spiral.
Am I dying?
No, I'm already dead.
Is this hell? A dream? A coma?
Why can't I feel anything?
Where am I?
His heart, if it was still there, felt like it was thundering. But even that had no sound. No pulse in his wrist. No pounding in his ears. It was the idea of a heartbeat, divorced from any sensation.
Terror swelled in his stomach like a sickness. He curled into himself instinctively, though there was no surface to press against. The sensation of his limbs was faint, as though they were not really attached to him. As though he were wearing his body like an old blanket draped over a numb frostbitten body.
His mouth opened in an attempt to scream, to make any kind of noise to piece this madness inducing silence. But still there was nothing.
Then, without warning, a light appeared.
It was not bright at first. It was soft, barely perceptible, like the shimmer of starlight seen through fog. Then it grew, until it pierced the infinite void. It didn't cast shadows because there was nothing to cast them against. But its very presence seemed to push the blackness back, folding it away like a sheet being drawn off a hidden sky.
The darkness peeled away, giving way to open space. A blue sky stretched above and below him. It was impossibly vast, unbroken by clouds, sun, or horizon. Just pure, endless azure painted as far as he could see. It was like the dome of a sky without a world beneath it. Like a painting hung in eternity.
Steven gasped, and this time, air filled his lungs. Crisp, clean, weightless. The simple act of breathing became a blessing. He could feel again. The stretch of his chest. The air across his skin. The faint tickle of sensation against his fingertips.
Relief poured through him like water breaking through a dam flooding across his body.
Then his thoughts returned, sharper now, clearer. The horror of the void was gone, but confusion replaced it just as quickly.
He looked around, spinning gently in midair. Still no ground. Still no landmarks. Just himself and the eternal sky.
"What the absolute fuck is happening?"
He yelled it without meaning to, his voice raw and ragged. The words floated out into the blue. No echo followed. The vastness swallowed them whole.
Steven looked down again. Nothing. No earth, no clouds, no shapes beneath him. He wasn't falling, but he wasn't grounded either. He was hovering, suspended in calm nothingness.
Time lost all meaning. Seconds bled into minutes, maybe hours. He could not tell. The surreal silence gnawed at his sanity.
Just when he felt like screaming again, another light appeared, this one different. Closer. Brighter. And this time, it had shape.
A figure emerged from the light. It was humanoid, but only barely. Its form rippled and changed constantly. One moment it had wings, the next it had a serpentine tail. Then it became something formless, then took on arms again. Faces shifted across it, dozens at once, none of them familiar or still.
When it spoke, its voice was made of many voices—male and female, young and old, all speaking in harmony.
"Steven Volkson. You are dead. Your life ended prematurely. As such, you are granted a second chance."
Steven stared at the being, his mouth open in disbelief.
"What the hell? Who are you? What is this? Why am I dead?!" His voice cracked with fury, his body trembling as emotion swelled again.
The figure recoiled slightly, then sighed and pressed what might have been a hand to what might have been its forehead. Its shape settled, morphing into a tall man with a narrow, familiar face. Gray hair. And a calming smile.
"Bill Nye?" Steven asked, bewildered.
The being chuckled softly. "Not truly. But you trust him. So I chose this form to ease your fear. Celestial beings are... difficult for mortals to look upon. My real form might cause discomfort, fear or even madness."
With a snap of its fingers, a wooden platform appeared beneath them. It was smooth and solid, floating without support in the middle of the endless sky. Two plush chairs materialized, perfectly upholstered and facing one another. The being sat and gestured for Steven to join him.
Steven, still overwhelmed, complied numbly.
"You are in the realm of nonexistence," the being continued. "A place without time, matter, or meaning. It has taken this form so your mind can comprehend it. You are, for lack of a better term, between life and what comes after."
Steven clenched the arms of the chair. "I don't remember dying."
"You died in a car crash, on the way to work in Houston, Texas," the being said gently. "We removed the memory. It was traumatic. You do not need to carry that burden."
Steven's throat tightened. He had questions. Hundreds. But he could only ask one.
"So what now?"
"You will be reborn," the being replied. "In a parallel world, one that resembles your own in some ways and differs in others. As compensation for your untimely death, you will receive certain... advantages. Perks, if you like."
"Perks?" Steven echoed. The word sounded absurd.
"Yes. Traits or abilities suited to your new existence. You will not know them at first. They will become evident when you need them. Also, your awareness will not return until your new body matures. Being conscious as an infant would be... unpleasant and rather awkward."
Steven opened his mouth, then closed it again. The rush of information collided with the fragments of his mind still stuck in the void. He sat in stunned silence, barely breathing.
The being tilted its head and observed him with a flicker of interest.
"You are taking this better than most," it said softly. "Fascinating."
Then it lifted one hand and snapped its fingers again.
This time, the sky began to fade. The chairs dissolved into mist. The wooden platform crumbled like ash. The blue retreated into black. And the void returned.
Steven felt his consciousness slipping. His thoughts unraveled, not violently but slowly, like a thread pulled from a spool. Questions bubbled up in his mind. Who would he be? Where would he go? Would he still be himself?
He never got to ask them.
Darkness embraced him once more, but this time, it came with something new.
The promise of a new beginning.