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Darkness swallowed Daniel whole. For a moment—maybe an eternity—there was nothing. No rain. No pain. No sound. Just the weightless drift of a soul untethered.
Then, a light. Faint, pulsing, like the slow heartbeat of something ancient.
Daniel opened his eyes.
He stood on a shore, the river stretching endlessly before him. The water was impossibly still, its surface reflecting a sky that had no stars, only swirling shadows. Cold mist curled around his feet, and the air carried the scent of something long forgotten—memories, regrets, whispers of the past.
And Lena.
She stood at the water’s edge, her back to him, her dark hair moving as if stirred by an unseen breeze. She was no longer drenched, no longer broken. When she turned, her face was calm, her eyes deep and unreadable.
"You came," she said.
Daniel swallowed. "Where are we?" His voice sounded different here, distant, as if spoken from the bottom of a well.
Lena tilted her head slightly. "The place between."
"The place between what?"
She stepped closer, her bare feet leaving no imprint on the sand. "Between what was… and what comes next."
Daniel’s chest tightened. He remembered the fight. The knife. The way his strength had drained out of him in that alley, washed away by the rain. He looked down, expecting to see blood, a wound—but there was nothing. His body felt whole, yet weightless.
"I'm dead," he murmured.
Lena’s lips pressed together, something like sadness flickering across her face. "Not yet. But close enough."
A ripple disturbed the river’s surface. Daniel’s gaze snapped to it. A shadow moved beneath the water, slow and deliberate. Something was waiting there. Watching.
"You have a choice," Lena said.
Daniel turned back to her. "A choice?"
She reached out, her fingers grazing his. A sudden flood of memories rushed through him—laughter, warmth, the feel of her lips against his. And then the pain. The emptiness. The guilt that had hollowed him out long before the knife had found him.
"You can let go," Lena whispered. "Come with me."
The water lapped at his toes, and for a moment, the pull was almost comforting. Easy. But somewhere in the distance, faint and fading, he thought he heard something else. A voice. Calling his name.
Someone was waiting for him.
Someone still alive.
He clenched his fists, resisting the river’s pull. "I don't think I’m ready."
Lena’s expression didn't change, but something in her eyes shifted. A flicker of something almost like relief.
"Then go," she said softly. "But don’t waste it this time."
The river surged. The darkness cracked.
And Daniel woke up to blinding white light, the beeping of machines, and the dull ache of stitches holding him together.
He was still here.
But the lost part of his soul?
That would take time to find again.

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