I woke up to nothing.
No ceiling. No ground. No horizon. Just white — stretching forever, swallowing everything.
It wasn't the white of hospitals or clouds. It was the kind of white that didn't belong to light or color, but to something beyond them. There was no up or down, no sound, no shadow.
I raised my hand, or at least I thought I did. There was no edge to see where my skin ended and the world began. Just white.
For a long moment, I stood there, trying to make sense of it. My brain fumbled through possibilities — dream? coma? afterlife?
Then it hit me.
"This…" I muttered. "This feels way too familiar."
I looked around again. The emptiness, the calm, the strange awareness of being between things. And then I remembered the hundreds of fanfictions I'd read during late-night procrastination sessions.
"Right. The white void. Classic reincarnation setup," I said dryly. "All that's missing is some shiny overpowered god with a glowing robe."
>"You have a remarkable sense of self-awareness for a newly departed soul."
I froze. The voice didn't come from behind me, or above, or anywhere — it came from everywhere.
Slowly, light gathered before me. The whiteness rippled like disturbed water until it condensed into a figure — tall, faceless, cloaked in light so bright it was calm.
There was no gender, no form to focus on, just presence — the kind that filled the space and silenced every thought.
>"You are correct, Abhay. This place is the space between what has happened and what will happen."
My lips twitched. "So, uh… the in-between. A divine waiting room."
> "You may call it that if it comforts you."
Their voice carried no emotion but felt kind — like it existed outside anger or mercy, but understood both.
"Okay," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "So I'm dead?"
> "Yes. Your thread in the world you knew has ended. You now stand in the Fold — where all timelines cross before continuation."
"Fold, huh?" I nodded slowly. "Sounds cooler than 'heaven buffer zone.'"
> "It is neither heaven nor hell. It is the white between worlds. Here, every possible reality touches for a breath, before drifting apart again."
I stared at them. "So basically… the universe's version of a train junction."
> "An accurate simplification."
I blinked, realizing my own humor was echoing back to me in divine affirmation. "Right. Of course."
There was a pause — peaceful, like even silence was alive here.
Something about that quiet loosened my thoughts. I hesitated, then asked, "Hey… if this place connects everything — past, present, future — can I ask something a little personal?"
> "You may."
"My family. My parents. My sister… they were the only reason I kept dragging myself through that office job. Can you tell me what happened to them? After I—"
> "After your passing, time continued. You must understand — this place exists at every moment of every world simultaneously. What you call 'after' is only a point of reference."
"Right. So… are they okay?"
The being was silent for a long time, though the light around them pulsed softly.
> "They endured. Your family mourned, as all who love do. Your sister carried your memory as a quiet fire. Through it, she found her purpose. She studied law, and through her work, reshaped your nation's justice system. In her words, your loss became her compass."
I didn't realize I'd gone still. My chest felt both heavy and light at once.
"She… changed the country?" I whispered.
> "Yes. The world you left was not lesser without you, Abhay — but it was changed because you were there."
For once, I didn't have a clever remark ready. Just a small, uneven laugh.
"She always said she'd fix the system one day. Guess she actually did. Figures I had to die to motivate her."
> "Love often expresses itself through continuation."
"That's… one poetic way to put it."
The being inclined their head slightly, light rippling like calm water.
> "Do not grieve. In the Fold, nothing truly ends. What is remembered continues."
I nodded slowly. "Yeah. I guess that's… oddly comforting."
We stood — or maybe existed — in silence for a while. I thought about all the times I'd complained about work, about routine, about wanting adventure. Turns out, the universe listened.
"Alright," I said finally. "So, what now? Is this the part where you judge me, or do I just… float around until I fade into the light?"
> "Neither. You are to continue. Existence does not favor endings without purpose."
"Continue?"
> "You are to be reborn. Not as who you were, but as who you might yet become."
I raised an eyebrow. "Reborn? Like… in another world?"
> "In another world, yes. One of countless realities that coexist alongside your own. What you call fiction — the stories you read and imagine — they exist as truth elsewhere."
I stared, half in awe, half in disbelief. "Wait, wait — you mean all those worlds I used to binge online… they're real?"
> "They are. Every story imagined by sentient thought becomes a thread within creation. You glimpsed them through imagination, but they live as realities you could not yet reach."
I blinked. "So… all that fanfiction I used to read wasn't completely a waste of time."
> "Every act of imagination creates resonance. You touched realities without knowing."
"That's… both amazing and kind of terrifying."
The being's light pulsed gently — amusement, maybe?
> "As all truth is."
I folded my arms. "Alright. I'll bite. Why me? Why get this… opportunity? I wasn't exactly a saint. I spent half my life procrastinating and the other half regretting it."
> "You misunderstand. You were not chosen for anything. You were chosen by randomness. From all beings who have lived or will live, your soul resonated with the frequency of chance. No design. No destiny."
I blinked. "So… it's literally RNG?"
> "Randomness is the purest form of fairness. Purpose can be born even of chaos."
I let out a low whistle. "Wow. That's probably the most divine way anyone's ever said, 'You got lucky.'"
> "Luck is merely another word for unexpected alignment."
"Right," I said, grinning faintly. "Divine RNG. Got it."
The light shimmered, and for the first time, I sensed something almost like warmth from the being — not human warmth, but a vast, patient kindness.
> "As one granted continuation, you are permitted to shape the foundation of your next existence through four wishes. However, every gift must bear balance. Each wish shall carry its own limitation."
"Four wishes," I repeated, the corners of my mouth twitching. "So… no lamp, no genie, no blue smoke?"
> "No. Only will and consequence."
"Fair enough." I took a deep breath, letting the absurdity settle into excitement. The feeling of emptiness that had followed my death was gone, replaced by something strange — possibility.
I looked up — or whatever counted as up here — and said, "Alright then. Let's get this started."
"Proceed when ready, Abhay."
The whiteness around us grew softer, like clouds parting for dawn. For the first time since the accident, my heart felt steady.
Maybe this was what peace felt like — not silence, but permission to begin again.
I smiled faintly.
"For my first wish…"
Alright — here it is.
This is Chapter 2 – "The White Between Worlds" (Part 2) — continuing directly from the end of Part 1.
The tone matches what we've established: cinematic, calm, reflective, with gentle humor and divine solemnity.
---
Chapter 2 – The White Between Worlds
Part 2
"For my first wish…" I began, my voice echoing into the endless white.
"I want the ability to travel between worlds."
The being's form pulsed softly, as though considering the vibration of the thought itself.
> "World-hopping — a wish born of curiosity and the yearning for adventure. It shall be granted, but know this: power without structure dissolves into chaos."
The white air shimmered as the being's words wove themselves into meaning.
> "Your ability shall awaken upon your sixteenth year. Each cycle of your world's sun, you may journey to two worlds only — one for each half of the year. The allowance shall not carry forward if left unused. Six months in each, and no more. The time you spend beyond shall not age you, and when you return, you shall be as you were."
I nodded slowly, grinning. "So basically — a biannual vacation across realities. Sounds fair."
> "Balance demands limits, Abhay. Without pause, the threads of fate would tangle beyond repair."
"Don't worry, I'm not planning to become a full-time tourist," I said, half-smiling. "But… not gonna lie, that's a pretty cool start."
> "Then your first wish is sealed."
The air trembled softly — like reality itself took a breath.
I exhaled. "Alright. For my second wish…" I paused, thinking. "I want a body — one with unlimited potential. Something that can grow, adapt, and survive in any world I enter."
The being's light shimmered again, slower this time.
> "A body of infinite potential — fitting for one who seeks the unknown. Yet, infinity too must bow to the law of harmony."
The light curved gently, almost like a smile of stars.
> "You shall receive the vessel you seek. But its resonance shall depend on the nature of the world you inhabit. Powers drawn from one realm shall not be used in another if their laws conflict. What is gained in magic shall remain where magic lives. What is born of technology may cross if compatible. Thus, knowledge may travel — but essence may not."
I blinked, processing. "So basically, if I get magic in Harry Potter, I can't use it in my original world… but if I learn how to build a hoverboard, that's fair game?"
> "Precisely. Creation that aligns with natural law may endure; what defies it, fades upon crossing."
I gave a half-smirk. "Guess I'll have to keep a notebook handy. Interdimensional R&D sounds fun."
> "Curiosity tempered by reason — a worthy trait."
I took a slow breath. "Two down."
> "Then speak your third wish."
I thought for a while before speaking again. "I want something that rewards growth — a system that acknowledges effort, not luck. One that helps me become stronger through hard work."
> "A reward for perseverance," the being murmured, light rippling like calm water. "It shall be done — but it will not be instant, nor indulgent."
The whiteness pulsed in rhythm with the being's words.
> "You shall bear the 'God Rewards the Hard Work' system. Its essence will be bound to your soul from your fifth year of life. Until then, your growth shall be natural. When the link awakens, every effort shall yield fruit — proportionate to your will and sincerity. Not before, not beyond."
I nodded. "No shortcuts. Got it. Earn it, not cheat it."
> "Effort builds foundation. Gifts build dependency. You have chosen well."
"Thanks," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "Though… it does sound like divine fitness training."
> "You may interpret it so."
I chuckled. "I probably will."
The air felt lighter now — not just around me, but inside me. The Fold didn't feel like a void anymore. It felt like potential — endless, waiting to be filled.
"Alright," I said. "For my final wish."
The being stilled, as though giving space to the gravity of it.
"I want the ability to shape my place in the worlds I visit — to have a background that makes sense in each, so I'm not some random stranger popping out of nowhere."
> "Ah," the being intoned, voice rich and measured. "To belong, rather than intrude. A wise final choice."
Light spiraled gently upward around us.
> "You shall gain the ability to weave causality — to forge a background recognized by the world itself. When you enter a new realm, its laws shall accept your presence as truth. If you seek to bear the Omnitrix, the world shall acknowledge you as kin to its bearer. Yet remember — causality cannot be rewritten beyond its own realm. What is altered there, remains there. The threads of other worlds remain untouched."
I whistled low. "So, I can blend in without breaking the story's logic. A universal passport. Nice."
> "Within the bounds of law, yes. You may shape the world's memory of you, but not its destiny. The balance shall remain."
"I can work with that," I said. "Actually… that's perfect."
> "Then your four wishes are complete."
The white expanse grew softer, as though dusk and dawn met in the same breath. The being's light pulsed once, slowly, in rhythm with my heartbeat.
> "Abhay Bharadwaj, bearer of four choices — you shall now begin anew. Your journey shall not be in a distant land, but a reflection of your own. You shall return to a parallel of the world you left, to the same family, in the same time. Yet, as all reflections differ slightly, so too shall this one. Some truths shall remain; others shall shift. What changes await, you must discover."
"Same world, but different," I murmured. "Kinda poetic, actually."
> "Every world is a mirror — some clearer, some distorted. You shall find your own reflection among them."
A strange peace settled over me. My thoughts quieted, replaced by a single steady rhythm — my heart, or what passed for it here.
"So this is it," I said softly. "Round two."
> "Continuation, not repetition. Live as one who has known death, and fears it no more."
I smiled faintly. "I'll do more than live. This time, I'll live well."
> "Then go, Abhay Bharadwaj — and let your choices echo."
The light around me thickened, folding inward like silk. My form dissolved, scattering like dust into a rising dawn.
For a moment, I felt everything — all the worlds, all the stories, all the lives waiting to be lived.
And then, there was only warmth.
And the promise of beginning again.