Noise. Endless noise that merged into a single, piercing ring in her head. It wouldn’t stop. People rushed around, shouting and growling, barking orders into radios, while dragons furiously flapped their wings. The thunderous roar—whether from the beating wings or the enraged cries of passersby—rumbled through the air. The snarl of death seemed to come from everywhere, as if the earth itself wanted to swallow her whole.
“Am I dying?”
A strange, guttural sound persisted, drilling into her thoughts, tearing at her insides and turning them outward. Her head felt like it was being bored into from both within and without. She blacked out again, briefly savoring the silence that replaced the growling.
A man darted back and forth. One moment, he was pleading with the police for help; the next, he was collapsing in tears beside the girl’s body. Every breath he took was a reminder of how he’d failed to protect the woman he loved from this suffering.
“Forgive me,” he whispered, staring at her pale face. “I couldn’t keep you safe.”
***
Her head throbbed like she’d spent the night at some cheap dive bar—really cheap. Not that she’d know; Mary wasn’t exactly the party type. She’d earned her reputation as a “nerd” among her classmates for a reason. Jen had warned her not to stay up late cramming with textbooks! Finals had been relentless, and Mary used every spare second to study. But when she’d fallen asleep, she couldn’t remember. Maybe, exhausted from her books, she’d passed out at her desk, and sweet Jen had carried her to bed...
But where? The bed beneath her didn’t feel like hers at all, not even close to anything in their dorm. It was like silk, but so impossibly light, unlike anything Mary, Jen, or even the richest kid in their class had ever touched. Her consciousness slowly stirred, like a plane taking off.
She wasn’t in the dorm.
When Mary finally opened her eyes, she found herself in an unfamiliar room. The ceiling was carved with what looked like a thousand faces, each one unique. Tiny golden mouths and hollow golden eyes stared down at her with countless gazes. It made her uneasy. A gray morning light seeped through heavy curtains, brushing her face with an icy touch. Wasn’t it supposed to be summer? Why was it so cold? The dim glow of a lone lamp only heightened the alien feel of the place. Mary lay in bed, the chill creeping over her skin, trying to piece together how she’d ended up here. But every theory slipped through her fingers like sand.
Breathing was a struggle; each inhale took effort. Mary could barely lift her eyelids. A faint flicker of light illuminated the room, either a symbol of hope or the last bright spot before an all-consuming darkness swallowed everything in its path. She had to get out of here.
Reaching up to touch her face, she came to a startling realization—this wasn’t her skin. Mary’s delicate hands, untouched by gardening with her mom or fishing with her dad, didn’t belong to her anymore. She stifled an internal scream and jolted upright. A spring in the mattress should’ve squeaked, but it only silently gave way under her weight. Too soft for an orthopedic mattress—a featherbed, maybe? Mary tried to stand, but it felt like she wasn’t moving herself, like something else was in control.
It was the kind of sensation you get when you’re wearing an oversized costume for handing out flyers. You move your arms, but you can’t shake the weight of the bunny suit pressing down on you.
“Mary,” a voice whispered, soft as a breeze, not so much reaching her ears as merging with her very being.
“Where am I?” A swarm of questions buzzed in her head, but her voice could barely manage one.
“Don’t be afraid, Mary,” the voice came from a far corner. “You’re not alone. I’m here to help you.”
“When I fell asleep, I didn’t need any help,” she shot back, her voice gaining strength. “Where am I, who are you, and what’s going on?”
She got out of bed, but her body still felt foreign, unsteady. It was like she was outside herself.
“Shall we talk?” The voice grew closer until a silhouette, the color of seafoam, appeared before her. “I’m not quite human, so I can’t fully grasp your feelings or emotions, but I’ll do my best to answer your questions.”
Mary stayed silent, casting a wary sidelong glance at the glowing shadow. If she didn’t feel like a hostage, she might’ve cracked a joke about chatting with a ghost. Did it even have a body? There was no physical form to this “spirit,” no eyes, no face at all. The only human-like traits were the vague outlines of a head, arms, and legs.
The spirit said nothing, and Mary raised an eyebrow. She waited, like a predator stalking its prey.
Who knew what this spirit wanted from her? Saying it wanted to help didn’t mean it was true. She could just as easily tell this turquoise reflection of reality that ghosts don’t exist, right to its face—or lack thereof.
Mary coughed and crossed her arms. The silence stretched on.
“Well?” she prompted, but the spirit didn’t move. “Let’s talk.”
“Your first question,” the spirit declared solemnly, “you’re in the Interworld Space for Soul Redistribution. And I am…”
“Soul?” Mary echoed, stunned.
“…your guide on the path to acquiring a new body.”
“Body?” Mary interrupted again.
“Right now, you’re undergoing adaptation to a new body, as well as data collection for relocation,” the spirit continued, ignoring her interjections.
“Relocation?!”
“Your fourth question,” the spirit pressed on unexpectedly, “yes, soul. A soul is the moral, intangible shell of a person, containing their worldview.”
“I know what a soul is! What does this mean?!” Mary shouted, but the spirit once again disregarded her interruptions, sticking to the core explanation. All she could do was listen.
“…and memory. Your fifth question—body, yes, in your original body, you reached a critical point. In your terms, it’s called clinical death, but in reality, at this stage of life, a soul changes its shell. In other words, relocation to another body occurs. This also answers your sixth question. You’ll begin a new life, one you must prepare for while you’re in the Interworld Space for Soul Distribution.”
The spirit finally fell silent. Mary processed the information. This ghost operated like a Google search engine. Input a query, get a response. She needed to phrase her thoughts as precisely as possible to avoid lectures on “what is a soul” or other philosophical tangents.
“Can I return to my original body?” she asked. Her heart pounded as if it had suddenly come alive.
“No, that’s impossible,” the spirit cut her off.
“Why did this happen to me?”
“Clinical death is an undeniable trigger for soul relocation.”
“But…” Mary clenched her fists, fighting back tears of frustration. She’d almost finished all her exams!
The spirit drifted closer, part of its silhouette passing through her shoulder. She flinched in surprise.
“Human feelings and emotions are foreign to me,” the spirit said abruptly. “I operate strictly by protocol. If a person shows signs of hysteria or crying, I’m instructed to make contact and offer encouragement.”
“If you hadn’t said that, it might’ve helped more,” Mary said with a faint smile, brushing away a small tear.
“Thank you for your feedback,” the rustling voice replied. “I’ll add it to the database for future behavioral adjustments.”
A brief pause followed.
“And I said ‘said,’ not ‘say.’ I’m female.”
The absurdity of the situation made Mary chuckle, but she decided not to show her sarcasm to the silhouette. It (or she?) wouldn’t get it, and without that, the joke would just lead to awkward silence.
She needed to act. Here’s the deal: new body, no going back to the old one, and someone else would be taking her exams…
“What’ll happen to my old body?” A vague suspicion dawned on Mary’s face.
“It will be reassigned to another soul,” the ghostly entity replied.
“Can I interact with that soul?”
“No, that’s impossible. Any interaction would result in mutual self-destruction.”
The spirit probably didn’t understand the concept of bluffing, but she couldn’t rule out the possibility either. She needed an alternative source of information to confirm or debunk what she’d heard. The hope that this was just a vivid dream was fading fast. The sensations were too real for sleep.
“What do I need to know before relocation?” Mary began.
“All information will be provided in the Data Library,” the ghostly substance gestured toward a door Mary hadn’t noticed in the darkness before. “You’ll learn more about the world of your new body, its history, and memories. Unfortunately, our technology doesn’t allow for a full transfer of memories, as that would require eliminating one of you.”
Mary hoped that was a joke and no one had actually tried such experiments. She didn’t dare ask for clarification.
“You have seven days to gather information. Do you want to focus on history?” The spirit waved an outlined hand. “Or take the path of an inventor and bring technologies from your world?” It moved the outline of its other hand. “The choice is yours, as is your right to full access to this Library.”
Mary scanned the room again. A small window with unpleasant-looking curtains, low ceilings, and the narrow bed she sat on. Her legs were uncovered, and she wore a nightgown reminiscent of something from the Middle Ages. Was she being transported to that era?
“What year will I end up in?” she asked.
“In an equivalent to your world,” the spirit replied, almost disappointedly lowering its hands. “Relocation happens between worlds, not across time within one. Any other questions?”
The last part sounded offended, and Mary wondered how she’d managed to upset the spirit—and more importantly, why. It (or she!) still hovered close, as if waiting for the most important question.
“No?” Mary mumbled uncertainly.
The spirit rustled discontentedly, grumbled, and then its glow seemed to dim.
“How many times… how many times have I come to humans, speaking of the great honor bestowed upon their dull lives, devoid of—” the ghostly lady paused, “devoid! Completely! Of any knowledge about interworld space. How can anyone live in total ignorance, with access to a vast source of knowledge, and ignore it, thinking they’ll manage just fine without it!”
“Feel better now?”
“I’m a spirit, a senseless being,” it lamented in disappointment. “I can’t feel better or worse. Go to the Library, study the materials. Teleportation is available to you.”
The spirit nearly vanished, but its last remark carried genuinely useful information. The feeling that this wasn’t just a mindless robot but something with emotions sparked a flicker of curiosity in Mary’s soul.
“What kind of teleportation?”
“What kind… this kind,” the spirit mimicked her words. “This kind! You need to ask questions!”
“Sorry,” Mary said timidly, unsure if she was actually in the wrong.
“Gather information about your new life,” the figure instructed. “You can teleport into your new body but remain a silent observer of what’s happening. Don’t try to open your eyes or speak to anyone. Watch, listen, and learn—that’s your task. Teleportation is also in the Library.”
The spirit began to fade, creating a whirlwind and a scent of frosty cold. As Mary watched, she caught fragments of its muttering: “Utterly hopeless creatures,” and “Completely devoid of curiosity,” along with a few more: “I told Adam, take me off personal contact duty, but no, he kept saying, ‘You’re doing great.’ Idiot.” And with that, the spirit vanished from the room. Well, all the answers lay in the Library, and that’s exactly where Mary intended to go. It was just a few steps away.
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Welcome to the enchanting world of this series, where power and intrigue walk hand in hand. My name is Alexandra Metaphor, and I’m your guide into this wondrous realm :) Please like, comment, and follow me as an author so you don’t miss out on anything or skip new chapters and books!
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