The Price Of Death

"Foolish Child, you did a bad thing, didn't you?"

I slowly opened my eyes. I wasn't in my room anymore. Everything was black. I felt an intense pressure weighing over me, as if I were drowning in the depths of the ocean. I parted my lips to try and respond, but was stopped short, as what felt like boiling water entered my mouth and forced its way down my throat.

"Do not attempt to talk when I am speaking."

I trembled, confusion and delirium ravaged my senses.

"You had it bad, didn't you Child. Taken advantage of by the ones you trusted, then, your peers, circumstance, and even by your own mind. You truly suffered, all the way to the end."

The pressure grew even heavier, as my skin began to peel under the intensity.

"I call you child of course, because you are one. Not even eighteen and already deeming you've seen enough. Do you think you are so mighty to make that decision? Do you believe you should have any say in your curtain call? You used to smile and laugh, what I wonder, could lead you to such a horrid descent?"

The pressure grew heavier. My bones grinded against my skin, a feeling of blistering agony raged against my ailing mind.

"You used to play games with your family, you used your imagination to climb mountains, captain ships, fly planes."

The pressure grew heavier still, burning my skin.

"Then one day your mom dropped you off at her brother's house. Another few years later, a group of kids at school. Tell me Ryne, why are you so incapable of standing up for yourself?"

My half-lidded eyes widened, then were forced shut. Every word that this being spoke materialized all-to vivid memories in my mind. Memories I'd worked hard to forget. I attempted to scream as more boiling fluid filled my lungs.

"Ryne Weston. You've suffered, I'll give you that. All the way to the end, seemingly. I will grant you a new life, an encore, if you will. In a new world, chock full of that same imagination you used to harbor. Though, I can assure you in any world suffering is guaranteed. I oversee many worlds. Some with beasts, some with men, some with both. One fact remains a constant, suffering is par for the course. I must tell you, the ending of your last life will affect the next. As the god of life and reincarnation, I can not show extended favor to those whose lives were thrown away. I usually erase memories of past lives, in an honor of tradition more than anything; but for you, the child who fell so far from heaven's cradle, I will have to deny that tradition. To that end, your memories of your last life will stay with you in the next. You will remember your suffering; you could choose further misery, or redemption. You will quickly find that you will not be able to stay in your room this time, however. You can see the fact that you will retain your memories as a curse, or as a blessing. Most others that meet me don't have such a luxury. Speaking of, maledictio perpetua shall fall upon you. I have faith that in time this curse will become a blessing. Although, that faith means nothing if you don't embrace it. Don't be a new person in this new world. Don't have a new face or a new name. Be Ryne Weston. I will clean up your appearance only for the sake of grooming. Your matted locks, your putrid scent, it all disgusts me."

The god spoke in an unfamiliar language and instantly locks of matted hair fell from my head. My own foul scent I had grown accustomed to dissipated as a blinding light began to overtake my senses. It was as if I was falling off a cliff, rapidly descending into the source of the luminescence. As my eyes attempted to transition from the pitch black to now overwhelming bright, I heard the booming voice of the god speak out one last time.

"Fall back to the realm of the living child of perpetua… and do try to be entertaining."

I opened my eyes to find myself on my back in the middle of an open field, naked and alone. I inhaled deeply and tried to catch my breath. Tears streamed down my face and my heart pounded in my chest. Sweat clung to my skin and my throat burned raw. I knew these symptoms very well as signs of a panic attack. I heard enough of the fat man's nonsense to recognize it. I learned just about every technique there was to know to cope with these. Although, I'm pretty sure a meeting with a sadistic god wasn't something he thought I'd ever deal with when he taught them to me. I tapped my fingers against my wrist, slowly and methodically, and focused on the sky above me. Stars scattered across the blanket of the night, and I slowly raised a hand up over my face as if trying to reach them. Old habits, I guess.

Two moons glowed a blue hue on my skin, as I recounted the fresh memories of my last encounter; "Maledictio perpetua shall fall upon you. I have faith that in time this curse will become a blessing. Although, that faith means nothing if you don't embrace it." The faux angelic voice echoed through my mind. My tears slowly began to slow down, as I finally got myself together. I got up on my feet, resigned to accept my circumstances, and walked forward.

Not too long into my venture the open plains turned to heavy forest as the blue moons moved further and further to the other side of the sky. Soon after, pillars of sunlight began to pierce through the gaps of branches over my head and covered my skin in a warmth unlike any I'd experienced. It was almost like a hug, without having to be touched. I sat down, leaned up against the brush behind me and closed my eyes. I was wide awake, and had no intention of falling asleep. I decided to simply rest and enjoy the feeling of the sunlight. This was not the world I knew, but it wasn't terrible; at least not from the outside looking in. The air was so crisp and clean, it was almost as if I had discovered Eden. Mother nature's endless bounty was painted on every facet of the world around me. Vibrant colored flowers decorated the forest floor, further accentuating the otherworldly feeling. It truly was a sight unlike any other, boundless beauty. I leaned back against a bed of flowers and stared up at the treetops. Various fruits scattered across their vines, glistening in the morning's dew. It was all so gorgeous, so incredible, so overwhelming.

'You don't deserve this.'

Suddenly, a booming growl on the other side of the brush pulled me from my thoughts. I quickly got to my feet, my fight or flight kicking in, and turned to run away. Before I could, I heard a sound that froze me in place. Through the loud roars and growls of the animal, another, much quieter sound was mixed in. A sound I knew all too well; someone was crying. I wanted to run, every instinctual part of me was telling me to run, to escape, to not die and waste the life I just got; but, the part of me that crippled me, the part that told me I didn't matter, that nothing mattered, was my guiding voice.

'Aren't you tired of running?'