REBORN INTACT

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

JELENA

The feeling of being watched drags me out of my thoughts.

It starts as a prickling sensation at the back of my neck, subtle at first, but growing stronger with every passing second until it becomes impossible to ignore and the stare feels heavy, almost tangible, like cold fingers pressing against my skin.

Reluctantly, I open my eyes as I have been conscious for a while now.

At least, I think I have.

Time feels strange in this place. It stretches and folds in on itself until I can no longer tell whether minutes or hours have passed since I first woke up.

The first thing I notice is the silence, it presses against my ears and settles into my bones, with no wind or even traces of footsteps or even distant voices, not even breathing.

Nothing.

I slowly sit up, my movements cautious and for a moment, I simply remain still, allowing my eyes to adjusts the darkness I experienced earlier is gone, replaced by a strange dim glow.

The room is illuminated by light that seems to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.

There are no windows or candles or even lanterns yet the space glows with a pale silver radiance that reminds me of moonlight trapped beneath water and my wolf purrs in pleasure

Being here is the most I have felt my wolf no jokes

The room itself is larger than I initially realized and the ceiling stretches impossibly high above me, disappearing into drifting shadows with ancient stone walls surround me, their surfaces smooth in some places and cracked in others.

Strange symbols cover the walls.

They shimmer faintly whenever I look directly at them, then fade the moment I try to focus.

The symbols crawl across the stone like living veins and the sight sends a chill through me, shelves line one side of the room, hundreds of them or perhaps thousands and each shelf is filled with jars, scrolls, books, crystals, and objects I cannot begin to identify.

Some glow softly and others pulse like beating hearts, one glass container appears to hold liquid starlight and another contains what looks disturbingly like captured memories floating in silver mist.

The air smells unusual, warm herbs, rain-soaked earth and burning wood and beneath it all, something ancient.

Something that reminds me of forgotten graves and old prayers, at the center of the room rests a large black cauldron suspended above a fire that burns without wood.

The flames are silver instead of orange, they dance soundlessly beneath the pot and the sight should be comforting but instead with what I have experienced so far here, it keeps me on the edge making it make my stomach twist.

Nothing here follows the rules I know or feels natural and yet somehow, everything feels exactly as it should and that realization terrifies me most, the sensation of being watched intensifies.

Slowly, I lift my gaze, a figure stands several feet away, I instantly freeze, I cannot make sense of what I am seeing.

The being resembles smoke and clouds woven together into a single form, its shape shifts constantly and one moment it appears tall and slender, the next, broad and imposing and there is no face or visible eyes or mouth, just no features at all.

Yet somehow I know it is looking directly at me, studying me and waiting patiently

"I knew you were awake for a while," the figure says. "But why did you take so long to open your eyes?"

The voice echoes through the room but not loudly yet every word vibrates through the walls and settles deep inside my chest.

I swallow, my throat feels dry.

"What are you?" I ask.

My voice comes out rough and uneven, the figure tilts its head or at least I think it does, it is difficult to tell where one shape ends and another begins.

"I am the guardian of the gate," the figure replies. "I found you passed out."

The answer only creates more questions, my mind immediately races back to the last thing I remember.

The darkness, the pain, the cloaked woman and impossible road and street

My heart tightens.

"I don't understand," I say. "You found me there? Did you see the other being in the cloak?"

For a moment, the figure remains silent, the silver fire crackles beneath the cauldron although strangely, I hear no sound, then the figure speaks again.

"I assume you mean Hidden Pain."

The name sends a shiver through me, even hearing it feels dangerous.

"She appeared before I reached you."

I stare.

"So she was real."

The figure lets out something that sounds suspiciously like amusement.

"In this realm, reality is a much larger concept than you are accustomed to."

That answer does absolutely nothing to help me.

I sigh.

Despite my fear, curiosity continues to push against my caution.

At this point, what is left to fear?

I am already dead, at least, I think I am.

"So I'm guessing you're both females?" I ask skeptically.

The figure moves toward one of the shelves, cloud-like limbs stretch outward as several jars float into the air on their own, they drift behind her obediently.

"You can say so."

The jars settle beside the cauldron, one by one, their contents pour themselves into the bubbling mixture and I watch in fascination, blue leaves, golden dust, dark liquid that reflects stars and not a single drop spills.

"What exactly are you?" I ask again.

The figure pauses.

"If you were this bold before, you wouldn't be here."

The response hits harder than I expect and for a moment, I don't know what to say because there is truth hidden within those words so I look away.

The room suddenly feels much larger, silence much heavier and the figure continues stirring the pot but eventually, another thought crosses my mind.

"We can eat here too?"

The question leaves my mouth before I can stop it, the figure turns toward me.

"Yes."

The answer comes immediately.

"We can."

I blink.

"What?"

"Your body is the only thing that dies and is buried."

The figure stirs the mixture again.

"Your experiences remain. Your memories remain and your desires remain, the essence of who you are remains."

The silver liquid inside the cauldron swirls.

"You can still feel hunger. Joy, sadness, comfort and even fear."

The final word lingers.

Fear.

As if she knows exactly how much of it currently fills me.

"You feel pleasure much the same way you once did," she continues. "Even without flesh."

I sit quietly.

The concept feels impossible but then again, so does everything else around me

"I guess I should help," I say after a while.

The figure immediately shakes her head.

"You don't have to."

I frown.

"You will soon stand before the Judges of Love and Death."

The words make my stomach drop and every ounce of calm vanishes, my fingers tighten around the edge of the bed.

"I don't know why you have been requested," she continues. "But you have an appointment you must keep."

The room suddenly feels colder, the Judges of Love and Death, even the title sounds terrifying.

"I'm sorry..." I whisper.

My voice cracks.

"What?"

"You will need your strength later."

The figure begins pouring the contents of the cauldron into a bowl.

"This potion will help prepare you."

I stare.

"Prepare me for what?"

"Nobody, summoned or otherwise, can withstand the heat of the Palace of Judgment without assistance."

The bowl emits soft silver steam as the steam rises upward and transforms into tiny glowing birds before fading away and I watch them disappear.

My mind struggles to process everything.

Judges.

Summons.

A palace.

Heat capable of destroying souls, death apparently not being the end, I don't know which part frightens me most.

"I really don't know what to say right now."

The figure gives a short nod.

"Then stop talking."

Surprisingly, there is no cruelty in the statement, only practicality.

"Get dressed."

She gestures toward the bed.

Only now do I notice a folded cloak resting neatly beside me and the fabric appears black at first glance, then silver then deep blue.

The color shifts every time I look at it.

"You will need all the strength available to you for the mission ahead."

Mission, the word catches my attention immediately and .y brows furrow.

What mission?

Why me?

What could anyone possibly want from a dead woman?

Questions pile up faster than I can organize them but before I can ask any of them, the figure begins carefully arranging food onto a plate.

Her movements are unhurried and almost comforting, a strange contrast to everything she says so I watch her work and for the first time since arriving here, I don't feel entirely alone.

Terrified?

Absolutely.

Confused?

Without question but not alone and the realization settles quietly inside me, after several moments of silence, I clear my throat.

"I'm sorry."

The figure looks up.

"I never got to know your name."

The room becomes still, the silver flames flicker, the symbols along the walls glow brighter and even the air itself seems to pause, then the figure straightens, her form expands and the shifting smoke surrounding her thickens.

Power rolls through the room like distant thunder, when she speaks, her voice is no longer merely a voice, it is a force, a presence, something vast enough to shake stone and silence thought.

"Mira."

The single word reverberates through the chamber, the walls tremble, the shelves rattle and symbols blaze with silver light, every hair on my body stands on end.

"One hundredth Guardian of the Gates of Death and Life."

The title echoes long after she finishes speaking, I sit frozen completely speechless.

What mission am I supposed to prepare for?

You would think death would finally offer rest more like an ending, a moment to simply stop carrying the weight of existence but yet somehow, it seems my story is only becoming stranger and deep down, despite the fear clawing at my chest, despite the uncertainty waiting ahead, I find that I do not question it.

Not anymore, this is the most alive I have felt in a very long time so perhaps there is only one thing left to do.

Wait and watch and see where this story goes.