"So why are you still here if every soul is bound to reincarnate?"
Uriel chuckles — a small, rueful sound. "Because I love reading stories. What else would keep me?"
"Don't you want your own life? To make your own choices?"
She smiles, as if sharing a private joke. "When you read, you don't control what happens next. You're a reader — powerless over a character's fate. And yet those pages can be the most alive moments. Why would I risk reincarnating and losing all these memories when I can keep living through them?"
"How can you call that living? You're not choosing anything — you're just watching."
Uriel tilts her head, thoughtful. "You're thinking about control the wrong way. Suppose your fate was set in stone. Would life be worth living without choice?"
Her gaze meets mine, steady. "Living isn't choosing the story; it's how you react to it. I can close a book. I can hate a character or love them. I can hope, even when the ending is fixed. Those small acts — closing the cover, turning the page, holding onto hope — that's freedom. As long as I can do those, I'm more alive than most."
A wind stirs the stacks of papers, loosening pages. I watch her gather a few books into her arms, her movements careful — almost tender.
"Don't mistake me," she says after a pause. "I'm not saying you should stay here. You can't — and you shouldn't. Your soul is already bound elsewhere."
"A new world?" I ask, intrigued. "Do you know anything about it?"
She chuckles softly. "Good question — I like that."
Leaning closer, her eyes glimmer. "Then let me tell you a tale of desire, madness, and vengeance."
***
Once, long before the age of humans, the world belonged to beings called gods. Humans would later call it the Age of Divinity — the First Epoch.
Each god wielded power beyond mortal comprehension, and each was destined to live forever. But no soul can live forever without corrupting.
For eons, the gods reigned. Yet the longer they lived, the more life itself lost meaning. Eternity corroded them. Some began to forget who they were. Madness spread, corrupting their souls.
And still, for all their power, they feared death even more than they feared insanity. So they waited — prisoners of their own immortality.
Chaos grew like wildfire. Until one of the youngest gods — gifted with strength beyond most — rose to act. He could not kill his kind, but he could imprison them. One by one, he sealed their souls away. Those prisons became what mortals now call the Mystery Dungeons.
The war that followed nearly shattered the world. But the young god and his allies prevailed.
Even he was not spared. For no being can endure eternity without the cleansing of the Akasha's river — without the cycle of reincarnation. After his victory, he didn't surrender to madness. Instead, he chose to ascend to Akasha — to die and be reborn anew.
***
I frown, disbelief twisting my features. "This isn't one of those clichés where I'm actually the reborn god, right?"
Uriel bursts into laughter, shaking her head and closing the book. "No, I've loved this story for a long time. If you were him, I would know."
I mutter, disappointed, "Stalker."
She smacks me lightly with the book. "Brat."
"So why is this story important anyway? Aren't the gods confined in those Mystery Dungeons?"
"Yes, the prisons are inescapable, and the gods have already lost their sense of self, so only a portion of their power remains — unclaimed… Well, not exactly."
"Not exactly?!" I shout, louder than I meant to.
Uriel sighs, as if used to interruptions. "Some of them found a new host — greedy adventurers who tried to seize the power for themselves and ended up consumed by it. They inherited the will and rage of the madness-driven gods. Humans call these hosts Monarchs."
"But if they're sealed, where's the danger?"
"While it's true they can't escape their prisons now, no one knows how long the seals will hold. Besides…" She leans forward, eyes gleaming. "There are benefits to exploring those dungeons."
"Benefits?"
"There's endless power to be seized — artifacts that could overthrow nations, riches that could buy you half the world. But greed isn't the only factor." Her tone drops, almost whispering. "Over time, the seals are starting to crack. Manifestations of the gods' anger and power have crawled out — monsters born from corruption itself. Hellwalkers."
I swallow, trying to process it all. "Well, most of the life I remember still feels like a forgotten nightmare that crawls in my shadow. I'm sure it won't be as bad."
Uriel tries to hold her laughter, but her face… there's a tint of sadness beneath the mirth.
I hesitate, then ask quietly, "I haven't even asked, but why are you helping me? What do you gain from this?"
Uriel stretches her arms to the starry sky. "A sequel, obviously. I've been reading the stories of this world for quite a while now. They're among my all-time favorites. Ah, how long I've waited for an opportunity like this…"
Her smile turns devious. "I really hope you'll give me a satisfying story to read."
"Damn neet," I mutter.
"Oh, don't pout now. I still haven't told you the best part. You'd really think I'd let you go there unprepared?"
My suspicion rises. "What are you suggesting?"
"One small advantage. One clue to unravel your first mystery. The location of a certain lake."
I narrow my eyes. "You really enjoy being cryptic, don't you?"
She picks up a knife and begins drawing on a wooden table. "There's a place near the city of Clairmarche — a lake said to be void of time. You must enter the lake and dive through the abyss." Her eyes narrow. "If you wish to explore the world."
"Anything else?"
"You're quite greedy…" Uriel sighs. "You'll need to go to the lake if you want to wield magic."
Magic… The word echoes, foreign and yet familiar.
"One more gift."
Her hand closes over my face, and a stream of knowledge floods my mind. The drawn map sharpens, growing more detailed — buildings, roads, even names I shouldn't know. It feels like I've lived there once, and yet the world remains alien.
"That's all I can do for you. The rest is on you."
I look over the river beneath the tree. Then it hits me. "Uriel, I'm sure I'm wrong, but didn't you say souls are cleansed when they enter the river of souls? What about these memories?"
"Ehh…" Uriel replies, looking at me like a guilty puppy.
"You fuc—"
"Ah, I was only messing with you," she laughs. "You'll probably keep memories of this place for a while."
"'Probably,' huh?" I faintly laugh.
"It's time, friend."
Uriel's face softens — a flicker of genuine sadness. Is she actually lonely?
"Ah, don't look at me with pity!" she says quickly, forcing a grin. "I'll be fine laughing at your misfortune, eh eh. And when your journey ends, we'll have another laugh together here, okay?"
"Uriel…" I smile. "It's a promise then."
I walk to the edge of the great tree. With a gentle smile, I say my goodbyes.
"You better read carefully. I don't plan on living a boring life."
"You better not disappoint me, child."
And so, I let my body fall toward the river — toward the next story — as the stars blur above and my curious reader watches from afar.
***
The air feels humid, like I'm at sea. My lungs ache as I draw my first breath. Slowly, I open my eyes.
Then I realize.
"I'm not a baby?" I shout at the top of my lungs. "Where the fuck am I, Uriel!?"