#6
Six months after Ghei.
Neovita officially changed its name to Sylvain — "the place reborn." Yet among the resurrected original inhabitants, the old name still lingered on their tongues. A city of forced resurrection. A second prison.
Kael now served as the de facto mayor, though he refused the title. He preferred to be called "the gatekeeper" — guarding the gate between those who wished to stay and those who wished to leave.
Because this was the greatest change after Devaros' demise: the way home was finally open.
In the city center, on the former site of the Empty Monument, now stood the Grey Portal — a doorway to the Liminal Veil. Not as large or grand as the portal Ghei had used, but big enough for one person to pass through at a time.
The portal appeared on its own a week after Ghei vanished. No one knew who created it. Perhaps Devaros left it as a final legacy in death. Perhaps Ghei opened it from the other side. Perhaps the universe itself finally acknowledged their right.
One thing was certain: anyone who went through the portal did not return.
Some tried sending objects — stones, books, letters — through it. They vanished, never to come back.
The portal became both a symbol and a test.
Aelia taught in the morning, and in the afternoon, she sat on a bench near the portal, taking notes.
Today, Mara came — a middle-aged woman with the same hollow eyes she had worn for twenty years of her second life.
"I'm going," Mara said without preamble.
Aelia nodded. "Are you sure?"
"No. But I'm less sure about staying." Mara gazed at the grey portal. "I remember my first death. Cancer. Slow. Painful. Then darkness. Then… I was here. And now, the cancer is gone. But the fear remains."
"Afraid of pain again?"
"No. Afraid that this life… is empty. That I live again only to wait for pain to come back. Or to wait for something that never comes."
Aelia wrote in her notebook: Day 187. Mara. Cancer. Fear of emptiness.
"Have you ever met Ghei?" Mara asked suddenly.
"Yes."
"What did he say about… this?" Mara gestured at the portal.
"He said everyone has the right to choose their own end."
Mara smiled faintly. "He was wise. Or mad. I haven't decided yet."
"Perhaps both."
Mara stood, straightened her skirt. "If I go… please remember me as someone who chose. Not someone who gave up."
"I will remember," Aelia promised.
Mara stepped through the portal. No hesitation. No courage shown. Just… leaving.
The portal trembled briefly, as if swallowing something, then settled again.
In her notebook, Aelia crossed out Mara's name and wrote beside it: "Gone home."
But not everyone who approached the portal actually stepped through.
Renn, a young man who had committed suicide in his first life, came nearly every day. He sat on the bench across from Aelia. Watching the portal. Silent.
Today, for the first time, he spoke.
"I'm afraid of the dark."
Aelia turned. "Dark?"
"Death. Darkness. Nothingness." Renn stared at his hands. "But here… it's bright yet empty. Like a bright light in an empty room."
"Are you more afraid of darkness or emptiness?"
Renn thought for a long time. "Emptiness. Because emptiness… is aware. Darkness might not be."
"So you'd rather be unaware?"
"I don't know." Renn lowered his head. "That's why I'm still here. Choosing to leave every day. Every day, I don't."
Aelia did not advise. She did not try to persuade. She just listened.
This was what she had learned from Ghei — sometimes what people need is not an answer, but space for uncertainty.
Lyra arrived with news from Aetheria.
"The other gods are arguing," she said as they sat on Aelia's rooftop, overlooking the slowly reviving city. "They fear the portal."
"Why?"
"Because it proves that humans can choose to leave their system. Until now, gods controlled birth, life, death, even life after death. But the portal… it's an exit they cannot control."
"Will they close it?"
Lyra shook her head. "They can't. The portal is made of… nothingness. Null Echo frozen. Like Ghei's trace. And Null Echo is the only thing that can oppose the gods' power."
Aelia gazed at the portal in the distance. The calm grey light in the middle of the city.
"So Ghei is still protecting us, even after leaving."
"In his own way." Lyra folded her wings. "He didn't want to be a hero. But he became a symbol. Ironically."
"Life is full of irony."
That night, Aelia dreamt again.
In her dream, she stood in the Liminal Veil. Ahead of her were not Ghei, but rows of people — Mara, and others who had passed through the portal. They lined up toward a simple wooden door.
The same door Ghei had seen.
When Mara opened it, from beyond the door came… light.
Not bright or warm. A neutral light. Like moonlight on snow.
Mara stepped in. And the smile on her face — the first Aelia had seen — was a smile of relief.
Aelia woke with a strange feeling: not sadness, not happiness. Just… relief.
The next day, an incident occurred.
A group of newcomers — humans from surrounding villages who had once worshiped Devaros — came to Sylvain, furious.
"You killed our god!" shouted their leader, a large man with eye tattoos on his arm. "And now you make a portal to hell!"
Kael blocked them in front of the portal. "This is none of your business."
"Anything regarding gods is our business! This portal must be closed!"
Aelia arrived, followed by several Sylvain residents.
"This portal is for us," Aelia said calmly. "Those resurrected by force. Those who never asked for it."
"You should be grateful!" shouted a woman from the newcomers. "Devaros gave you a second life!"
"Without consent," Aelia replied. "Giving a gift unasked is not mercy. It's coercion."
The crowd grew tense. Some advanced, carrying clubs.
But before violence could erupt, something happened.
The grey portal expanded.
Its light grew, sweeping the area. And from within, emerged… a shadow.
Not a human shadow. A shadow like black smoke forming letters in the air:
"Choice is a right. Respect it."
The voice accompanying it was not human — a sound like wind through stone, like rustling dry leaves.
All fell silent.
The shadow lingered for a few seconds, then shrank back into the portal.
The newcomers retreated, frightened.
"Is that… the spirit of Devaros?" whispered one.
"No," said Kael, also stunned. "It's… a trace. The trace of someone who has gone."
Ghei.
Perhaps not Ghei himself — perhaps only remnants of his Null Echo, still protecting this place.
But enough to remind everyone: here, choice is respected.
The newcomers left silently.
And Sylvain's residents stood around the portal, seeing it anew: no longer as an exit, but as proof that their courage was acknowledged.
Renn returned that afternoon.
He didn't sit. He stood directly in front of the portal.
"I'm going," he said.
Aelia nodded. "Are you sure now?"
"No. But I've decided to choose uncertainty over hollow certainty." Renn took a deep breath. "I want to see what's beyond that door."
"I dreamed of it," said Aelia. "In my dream… there was light. And relieved faces."
Renn smiled — genuinely, for the first time. "That's more than enough."
He stepped forward.
The portal swallowed him.
And this time, Aelia didn't just cross a name in her book.
She wrote: "Renn. Chose uncertainty. Brave."
That night, Kael approached Aelia.
"More are leaving," he said. "Our population is shrinking."
"It's their choice."
"I know. But… what does it mean for those of us who stay?"
Aelia looked at the city. Lights flickered on in windows. Laughter from one house. Music from another.
"Those who stay choose to try. To try to live. To try to matter. That's a valid choice too."
"But are we only delaying? Will one day we all go through the portal?"
"Perhaps. But the important thing is, it will be a choice, not a compulsion."
Kael nodded. He looked at the portal, then at the city.
"Before," he said softly, "Ghei said we were trapped in between. Now… we have two clear options: leave or stay. And that's better."
"Yes," said Aelia. "The worst trap isn't a hard choice. It's feeling like you have no choice at all."
Before sleep, Aelia opened Ghei's notebook. On the last blank page, she wrote another letter — a letter that this time would not be burned.
"Ghei,
Your portal is still here. Still helping people choose.
I don't think you ever wanted to be a symbol. But you became a symbol of freedom — the freedom to say no, the freedom to stop.
And ironically, that freedom made some of us choose to stay.
Because now it's our choice.
Thank you.
We who stay — and we who go — owe you.
Not for our lives.
But for our right over life and death."
She closed the book.
Outside, the Nihil moon shone brighter than Veritas.
Perhaps tonight, Aelia thought, more people would choose that neutral light.
And that's okay.
Because in this city of forced resurrection that is finally free, there is no more coercion.
Only choice.
And sometimes, that is more than enough.
Notes in Aelia's notebook, last page:
"Today 12 people went through the portal.
5 newcomers arrived from nearby villages — not resurrected, but curious.
3 children were born.
A strange balance.
Those who leave, those who arrive, those who just begin.
Perhaps life is like this — not a straight line,
but a circle that keeps turning,
and we are free to choose when to step down."