Uninvited Existence

Ren adjusted the grocery bag in his left hand as he strolled down the sidewalk, his sneakers scuffing lightly against the concrete. The city buzzed around him with the hum of engines and distant chatter, a typical late afternoon.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he glanced at the screen before answering. "Zakar? What's up?"

"Hey, Ren," Zakar's voice came through, light and cheerful. "You busy tonight?"

Ren smiled faintly, shaking his head as he sidestepped a crack in the pavement. "Not really. Just got out of the grocery store. Why, sweetie?"

".....,I was thinking," Zakar continued, "we haven't hit the lake in a while. Perfect time for a little night fishing, don't you think?"

Ren chuckled. "Oh! Fishing, huh? Thought you were still salty about me out-catching you last time."

"Oh, please," Zakar replied, mock indignation clear in his tone. "I let you win to boost your fragile ego. Besides, I've got new lures I want to test out."

Ren grinned, stopping at the edge of a crosswalk. He glanced at the traffic light ahead. The cars had obediently stopped, their engines idling under the glaring red signal.

"All right, I'm in," Ren said, shifting his grip on the groceries. "But you're bringing the snacks."

"Deal," Zakar laughed. "Eight o'clock?"

Before Ren could answer, the low hum of the street was pierced by a sharp, erratic honking. His head whipped toward the sound as he instinctively stopped mid-step, still standing at the crosswalk.

"What the hell?" Ren muttered, his grip tightening on his phone.

The source of the commotion came into view, a yellow school bus careening down the street like a drunken beast, its horn blaring and wheels screeching. The vehicle showed no signs of slowing as it swerved uncontrollably, sideswiping parked cars and narrowly missing pedestrians.

"Ren?" Zakar's voice crackled through the phone. "What's happening?"

Ren's heart pounded as he stood frozen, watching the chaos unfold. The bus, moving like a drunken man, smashed into a row of public trash bins, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. Pedestrians screamed and scrambled for cover as metal crunched and shattered glass rained onto the pavement.

The bus's violent rampage ended with a passionate kiss into a truck, the impact crumpling the two vehicles like tin cans. The air was filled with a deafening silence that followed the final crash.

Ren barely had time to process what had happened when a new danger presented itself. The traffic pole, yanked from its base during the collision, hurtled through the air toward the sidewalk.

His breath caught. The pole's trajectory seemed almost deliberate, heading straight for him.

"Ren? Ren, answer me!" Zakar's voice was frantic now, but Ren couldn't respond.

The last thing he saw was the gleam of sunlight reflecting off the pole's metal surface before everything went black.

------

Ren floated in an expanse of nothingness. Darkness stretched infinitely in all directions, an oppressive void with no sense of walls, ground, or sky. It was not cold, nor warm—just an endless absence of everything. His form was unshaped, undefined, a mass of white and grey that swirled together in a constant, unsteady flux.

He had no body as he understood it, no limbs to move or eyes to see. Yet, something of him persisted—a consciousness, faint and frayed, tethered to a fragile thread of awareness. Thoughts drifted sluggishly through him, unanchored by time or meaning.

Where… is this? Am I alive?

The questions hung unanswered, swallowed by the void as soon as they arose. There was no response, no sound, not even the echo of his own mind. His presence here was all-encompassing yet wholly insignificant, as though he was both the sole occupant of this space and a speck lost within its vastness.

Time, if it even existed, held no sway. Seconds, minutes, hours—it all blended into an ungraspable flow, leaving him adrift in the void.

Then, imperceptibly, the darkness began to shift. A change—not in light or texture, but in essence—nudged against him. Without warning, he found himself pulled forward, or perhaps outward. The nothingness yielded, and he emerged.

Ren now found himself in a new expanse—one as boundless as the last, but entirely different. This space was blindingly white, stretching into eternity like an untouched canvas. He could still feel the instability of his form, the same swirling mixture of white and grey that lacked definition.

Ahead of him, suspended in this infinite whiteness, was a throne. Its design was elaborate, almost divine. The backrest stretched high, adorned with intricate carvings of constellations, swirling galaxies, and patterns that seemed alive, shifting subtly when not directly observed.

The armrests were smooth yet bore engravings that seemed to pulse faintly with an otherworldly glow. The seat itself appeared pristine, as though no being had ever dared to rest upon it.

But Ren's attention was drawn not just to the throne but to the others in this space. Seventeen figures lingered around the area, their presences distinct despite the emptiness surrounding them.

Like Ren, they were translucent and ethereal, lacking vessels of flesh. Yet unlike his own amorphous form, they retained the outlines of human bodies.

Through the peculiar sense of his soul—something beyond sight, sound, or touch—Ren perceived their differences. Each figure bore shades of white and grey, their ratios unique. Some were almost entirely white, their grey streaks faint. Others leaned heavily into the darker tones, as though shadows clung to their souls.

Two stood out starkly. One figure exuded an equal balance of white and black, the colors shifting and mingling like oil on water. Another radiated a predominantly grey form, streaked with traces of deep, murky black.

Ren tried to make sense of their presence, his formless mind reaching for answers that remained out of grasp. He couldn't hear their voices, if they even spoke. He couldn't see their faces, yet he felt their existence, their identities pressing faintly against the edges of his awareness.

Then, an unfamiliar sensation rippled through the space. A presence arrived—not like the others, not like him. It was grand, radiant, and unignorable.

"I am a constellation," the being's voice resonated—not through sound, but through an undeniable force that touched every corner of Ren's fractured soul.

The being before them radiated an awe-inspiring presence.

Her form shimmered, neither entirely solid nor immaterial, a celestial glow surrounding her like a veil of stars. Her hair cascaded like strands of silver light, blending into the white void, while her eyes gleamed with a hue that shifted from gold to indigo, as if galaxies swirled within them.

"I am Laquila," she spoke, her voice ringing through the vast space like the chime of ethereal bells. "You stand before me, not as beings of flesh and blood, but as souls severed from the mortal coil."

Ren, still lingering further back than the others, felt the reverberations of her words, though much of it was faint and fragmented. What he could discern felt distant, as though separated by an invisible barrier.

"You have all perished," Laquila continued, addressing the seventeen figures before her. "A tragedy of chance, a fleeting moment of chaos that severed your lives. Yet here you are—in Solum Astra"

"The plane between existence and eternity. It is an extraordinary rarity for souls to appear here, even more so for so many at once. And rarer still… is the opportunity I now present to you."

Ren's form flickered slightly, his unstable soul struggling to hold onto her words. Most were muffled, like whispers drowned beneath the crash of waves, but he caught fragments: died... Solum Astra… chance.

Laquila gestured elegantly, her arm sweeping toward the empty throne. "Before you lies a choice. The Judgment Field awaits, where your actions in life shall decide whether you ascend to paradise or descend to suffering. But…" Her lips curved into a knowing smile.

"Another path exists. I offer you the chance to be reborn, to live once more, in one of the worlds under my jurisdiction. Among them, the realm of Airet."

The figures stirred, their outlines shimmering with newfound energy at her words.

A murmur passed through them, their thoughts exchanged not through speech but some ethereal resonance. Ren, however, could hear only fragments of their exchanges:

"…reincarnation… chance to…"

"…Airet? What kind of world…"

"…live again…"

Laquila raised a hand, and the murmurs ceased as her voice dominated the space again. "To choose reincarnation is to embrace uncertainty. Airet is a realm bound by magic, blade and strife, shaped by affinities, gifts, and blessings. Affinities—your connection to the elemental forces of the world—shall manifest naturally.

Gifts are unique abilities, rare and precious, bestowed upon the fortunate. And blessings… well, those depend entirely on the will of a constellation."

One of the souls, bearing a form predominantly white with subtle streaks of grey, spoke. "Will we know these affinities or gifts when we reincarnate?"

Laquila nodded, her smile patient. "Your affinities will reveal themselves as you grow. Gifts, however, are not guaranteed. The chance to receive one is slim, but for souls like you—hailing from another world—the likelihood is higher."

Another soul, darker in tone with streaks of grey bordering on black, hesitated before asking, "What of blessings? Can we… choose one?"

Laquila's expression remained serene, though her voice carried a hint of amusement. "Blessings are not so easily obtained. They are bestowed at the discretion of a constellation—should one deem your soul worthy."

The seventeen figures grew more animated, their forms flickering with excitement and anticipation.

Ren watched—or rather, sensed—from afar, unable to fully grasp their words. He felt the ebb and flow of their energy but could not comprehend the specifics of their exchanges. To him, the words were fractured:

"…higher chance… blessing…"

"…Airet… magic… how does…"

And yet, Ren's presence remained unnoticed. The seventeen seemed entirely unaware of him, as though he were a shadow beyond their perception. Only Laquila, with her radiant and all-encompassing aura, seemed aware of his distant, unstable form.

The conversation continued, questions asked and answered, until one by one, the figures began to vanish. Each soul flickered momentarily before disappearing into the void, presumably passing into the cycle of reincarnation Laquila had promised.

Finally, the vast white space was empty, save for Ren and Laquila.

The celestial being turned toward him, her gaze sharp and piercing. A faintly amused smile played on her lips, entirely different from the gentle, polite expression she had shown the others.

"Now," she said, her tone playful yet laced with something inscrutable, "it's just the two of us~."