Chapter 4

As I flew across the endless horizons, gliding over portals to countless worlds, time became meaningless. I could no longer tell if it had been hours, days, or years, though it felt eternal. Yet somehow, after what I calculated as nearly a month, I reached the end of the horizons. The scenery ahead changed abruptly, breaking the monotonous expanse I'd come to know.

There, atop a hill that seemed to rise out of nowhere, stood a small house.

It was so ordinary—quaint even—that it felt completely alien in this vast, surreal expanse of portals and shifting energies. But despite its humble appearance, the house exuded an overwhelming presence, one that resonated deep within me. It wasn't threatening, but it wasn't comforting either. It was... simply vast.

I descended slowly, my feet touching the ground softly. Each step toward the house felt lighter, as though the unbearable weight of my sorrow was dissipating with every inch I closed between us. My heart, which had been heavy for so long, began to feel strangely calm.

At last, I reached the door and knocked, not knowing what to expect.

"Coming!" a cheerful voice called from inside.

The door creaked open, and there stood a child—a boy no older than eight. His hair was a wild mess, and crumbs of a half-eaten cookie dotted the corners of his mouth. He held the remaining cookie in one hand, while the other swung the door open wide.

"Nice to see you, Miss Death!" he greeted, his voice unnervingly casual, as if we'd known each other for ages. "Shall we talk?"

He stepped aside and gestured toward a modest table and two chairs inside. I followed him, wary yet intrigued, and took a seat. The boy, still munching on his cookie, plopped into the chair across from me.

I remained silent, watching him as he finished his snack. He didn't seem like much—just a child playing at being something greater. Yet the energy radiating from him told a different story.

He finally broke the silence. "So... congratulations. Uh, I don't really know how to do this properly because, well... you're the first one to ever escape the soul alterers and the endless horizons."

His awkward attempt at congratulating me was almost amusing, but I was too exhausted to laugh. Instead, I simply nodded, waiting for him to get to the point.

After an uncomfortable pause, he continued, "Look, I can't send you back to your world because—"

"I know," I interrupted quietly, lowering my gaze.

The boy's eyes softened as he studied me. "What do you want to do now?" he asked.

"Huh?" I looked up, caught off guard.

"I mean, would you really spend eternities just wandering here? That's no life."

I gave a half-hearted chuckle. "The best way to never lose anything is to never gain anything in the first place."

My own words hung heavy in the air. The boy's expression shifted, and for the first time, I saw genuine sadness in his youthful eyes. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

"Are you... the one who creates new worlds and universes?" I asked suddenly, needing to confirm what I had begun to suspect.

"Um... yes?" he replied, tilting his head.

"What would you do if all your creations disappeared?" I pressed.

The boy frowned and thought for a moment. "Well... I guess I'd just create them again. They're like stories I can rewrite whenever I want."

"And what if you remembered just enough about them to know their value, but not enough to recreate them?" I asked coldly.

He hesitated, his eyes widening as he grasped the weight of my question. Finally, he swallowed and replied, "I mean... I'd cry for several eternities, no doubt about that. But in the end, I'd have to move on. I'd start creating new stories. And who knows? Maybe some of them would turn out even better than the ones I lost."

I stared at him in disbelief. "You'd just... move on?"

"Losing everything is part of life," he said firmly. "The real question is whether you let it destroy you or whether you find something new to protect—something worth living for. It's your right to grieve, but it's also your right to hope."

His words struck something deep within me. My memories surged forward unbidden—moments of joy, laughter, and triumph with my friends. Fate, Time, Creation... They were my everything, and I had willingly given it all up to protect them. My final sacrifice had saved the world we loved.

Tears filled my eyes as I whispered, "I chose to save them."

The boy smiled gently. "You chose something greater than yourself. And that's why I'm asking you again: What do you want?"

I froze. My mind raced, but I couldn't find an answer. What did I want? For so long, my only purpose had been to ensure the survival of my world. Now that I was cut off from it, I was lost.

Finally, I spoke the truth buried deep in my heart. "A life..."

The boy's smile widened. "Good. That's a start."

Suddenly, the room began to glow with a radiant light. The boy's voice echoed in the growing brightness. "Congratulations, Death. Your desires are pure, and you've sacrificed enough. I'm not asking you to change the world or take up the mantle of a goddess. What I ask is much simpler: Stay true to yourself."

As the light enveloped everything, the boy's form disappeared, his voice fading into the ether. I closed my eyes, unsure of what was happening but too weary to resist.

When I opened them again, I saw an unfamiliar ceiling above me. I tried to sit up but felt an odd weightlessness in my limbs. A woman's voice called out sharply.

"She's awake! Quickly, fetch the healer!"

I turned my head and saw a woman in a strange uniform hovering over me. Confused, I raised a small, trembling hand in front of my face.

A child's hand.

Realization hit me like a tidal wave. I had been reborn.