Chapter 290

Somewhere beyond the border of the living world, there was a place called Soul Land. It wasn't a place you could find with a map, nor was it a destination you could travel to by choice.

It existed in the sliver between life and death, where those desperate enough to see their lost loved ones were forced to confront trials that could tear apart the soul. They entered with a heart full of hope but often left with nothing but shattered pieces of their former selves.

Avery had heard the stories. She'd always told herself she wouldn't fall for the allure of such places—places where people's darkest fears and memories came alive, places that demanded too much in exchange for something so intangible.

But the pain of losing her brother, Isaac, to an accident she couldn't explain, left a hole in her that only a reunion could fill.

She stood at the edge of a desolate field, the ground cracked and dry beneath her boots. No one told her how long it would take to arrive. The land stretched out, dark and endless, the sky the color of bruises.

A chill filled the air, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Despite the cold, sweat beaded on her forehead. She hadn't thought much about the journey; all she could think of was Isaac and how badly she wanted to see him again.

There was no guide, no instruction, only the faint image of a doorway—an archway made of stone, jagged, like it was thrown together by someone who didn't care if it stood or crumbled. As she stepped forward, the ground beneath her feet didn't give way.

Instead, the earth hummed—a sound like distant cries echoing from within. It didn't stop. She kept walking, drawn to the archway, her heart pounding in her chest.

Once she crossed the threshold, she could feel the change in the air. It wasn't just the oppressive quiet, but something deeper, like the world around her was watching. The forest surrounding her had no leaves, the branches twisted into grotesque shapes, like hands reaching out in all directions. Avery swallowed hard, her throat dry. Isaac was here somewhere. She just had to find him.

The first trial came quickly. A dense fog rolled in, thick and suffocating. Avery strained her eyes to see through the mist, but it only grew thicker, until it wrapped around her, closing in on her with a force that made it hard to breathe.

Every step felt like it was carrying her deeper into the mist, and every time she thought she could hear something in the distance, it turned out to be nothing. Silence pressed down, crushing her chest.

"Isaac?" she called, her voice ragged. The fog didn't answer.

Instead, the ground shifted beneath her, and out of the mist, dark shapes emerged. They looked like people—like figures from her past, their eyes hollow and unseeing. Some walked toward her with slow, heavy steps; others just stood still, their heads tilted at unnatural angles, as though watching her. As one of the figures drew near, she saw its face—her mother, or at least someone who looked like her mother. But it was wrong. The eyes were dark, empty, like holes that sucked in all light.

"Mom?" Avery's voice cracked, a rush of grief washing over her. The figure opened its mouth, but no sound came out. It just stared. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't take her eyes off it.

With a sudden jolt, the figure vanished into the mist, and Avery stumbled back, heart racing. Her hands were shaking, but she forced herself to stand. She couldn't let herself lose focus. Isaac was here somewhere, waiting. She had to keep going.

The fog thinned, and what lay ahead was even worse.

A vast, twisted landscape stretched out before her—dead trees, cracked earth, and the remnants of a shattered sky. A deep pit stood in the center of the land, black as night. Avery's feet felt heavy as she approached it. The edge was jagged, the bottom so deep she couldn't see it. The air grew colder still, and she heard something else—a soft sobbing, like a child lost in the dark.

It didn't take long for her to realize that the pit was not empty. A figure crouched at the edge, knees pulled up to its chest, rocking back and forth. Avery hesitated for a moment, and then, her voice trembling, she called out again, "Isaac?"

The figure turned toward her, and it wasn't Isaac.

It was her younger self, sitting there in that pit, eyes wide and full of terror, hands grasping at the jagged edges like she was trying to hold herself together. The face looked so familiar, so real, it was like seeing a ghost of her past, someone she'd forgotten. The little girl in the pit whispered her name.

Avery felt her heart tear in half. It was her voice, her fear. The little girl in the pit was her pain, her past, every mistake she'd made, every regret she'd tried to bury. This was what Soul Land did—it showed you what you had done to yourself, the things you had refused to face.

"Help me," the child's voice rasped.

Avery's hands balled into fists. She wanted to scream, wanted to reach out, but she knew there was nothing she could do. No matter how much she wanted to pull her past self out of the pit, she couldn't. It was too far gone. The child was a part of her that had died long ago.

The vision began to fade, and the pit collapsed in on itself, leaving only the silence and the dull ache in Avery's chest.

She kept walking.

The third trial came like a punch to the gut. It started with the sound of footsteps behind her. Slow, deliberate steps. Avery's heart raced. She tried to ignore it, but they grew louder, closer. Someone was following her, and no matter how fast she walked, they were always there.

"Isaac!" she shouted, spinning around.

But no one stood there. The footsteps stopped, then started again, this time ahead of her, as though toying with her.

"Isaac!" Avery screamed, louder this time.

And then, he appeared.

Isaac, but not Isaac. The figure before her was wrong, twisted—like a distorted reflection of him. His clothes were torn, his face scarred, his eyes vacant. It was the shell of her brother, but it wasn't him.

She reached out, trembling. "Isaac?" she whispered.

The figure stepped back, its form wavering like smoke. "You can't save me."

The words felt like nails driven into her chest.

"I'm not real," the figure said again, its voice cold. "None of this is real. You're not real. None of it ever was."

Avery's legs buckled beneath her, and she collapsed to her knees. "No, you're wrong. I'm not—" Her voice cracked. The figure was right. She wasn't real. None of this was. It was all a construct, a nightmare made to eat away at her.

"Issac, please," she gasped. "I need you."

The figure didn't respond. It just stood there, its body becoming more indistinct, more unreal. The world around them began to fade, the land turning to mist again. Avery felt a deep, soul-crushing exhaustion flood over her.

Then, as she closed her eyes, ready to give up, she heard his voice.

"Avery."

It was Isaac's voice. Real. Clear.

When she opened her eyes, there he was. His figure stood at the edge of the mist, not a ghost, not a distorted reflection. He was real, flesh and blood, smiling at her the way he used to. She could see the scars, the darkness in his eyes—he had been through this with her, too.

"Isaac..." Avery whispered, barely able to speak.

He walked toward her, his steps sure, his eyes soft with the weight of everything they had been through. The pain, the fear, the loss—all of it fell away as he took her hand. Together, they walked into the horizon of Soul Land, the place where the living and the dead could be together for just a moment longer.

But Avery knew that moment was fleeting, and it didn't matter. She'd seen him again. She would never forget that.