I always thought that if I ever bled out on the ground, it would be in some heroic way. Maybe in a burning building, dragging someone out. Maybe in a fight, standing over someone I cared about, taking the hit meant for them.
Not like this.
The asphalt beneath me is cold, but I barely feel it. The pain is dull now, fading in and out like a radio signal just out of reach. My hand twitches when I try to move it, but I already know it's useless. It's slick with blood.
My blood. It's pooling around me, warm at first, then sticky, then cold.
I stare at the sky, waiting for something. A flash of memory. A sudden realization. Some kind of closure. But all I get is the sound of my own slowing breath and the faint hum of the city around me.
This isn't how it was supposed to go.
I had everything.
I don't say that as some poetic reflection, some bitter statement about how it all got taken away. I had everything, and I knew it. I wasn't blind to it, and I didn't take it for granted.
Born into money, but not the kind that makes you forget what work is. My father made sure of that. He built himself up from nothing and made damn sure his kids understood what that meant. We weren't pampered.
We had nice things, sure, but I worked jobs every summer, learned how to fix my own car, and knew what it felt like to go to bed exhausted.
I had friends, too. Real ones. The kind who knew me before I was anything. The kind who would show up at 2 a.m. with a six-pack and no questions asked. The kind who, when we got older, had families of their own but still made time for me.
And then there was her.
Amanda.
We met in college. She was the kind of person who made you feel like you'd known her forever within five minutes of talking. Sharp-witted, quick to laugh, never afraid to tell me when I was being an idiot—which was often.
We built something real, the kind of love that wasn't just passion but understanding. We grew together, built a life that felt unshakable.
For a long time, it was perfect.
And then life happened.
I never believed in fate, but looking back, I can see the moments. The small, seemingly harmless choices that led me here.
It started with a deal. Nothing illegal, nothing shady, just business. An investment that promised a big return, one of those once-in-a-lifetime opportunities that people dream about.
A new tech startup, something about Neuromorphic computing—honestly, I barely understood the details. But the numbers made sense, and the people involved had reputations solid enough that I didn't ask too many questions.
At first, it was everything they promised. The money poured in, and with it, more opportunities. Bigger deals. More connections. I had built a good life already, but now? Now I was looking at something even greater.
A legacy. Something that could last generations.
But success attracts all kinds of people.
One day, a man showed up. Well-dressed, polite, but there was something off. Something behind his eyes that made my skin crawl. He wasn't part of the original investors, but suddenly, he was everywhere. In meetings.
At events. Always watching. He introduced himself as Mr. Hale, said he was interested in "expanding our horizons."
I should have walked away then.
But greed is a funny thing. Even when you think you're above it, even when you tell yourself you have enough, there's always that whisper. Just a little more.
So I listened.
And I made the deal.
Things changed after that.
The money kept coming, but so did the shadows. Hale's people weren't just businessmen. They had connections that stretched into places I didn't want to think about. And once you're in, you don't just walk away.
I started noticing things. A car that always seemed to be parked near my office. A strange man at a café, watching me a second too long before looking away. Evelyn got phone calls in the middle of the night, silence on the other end.
I confronted Hale once.
"You're making yourself paranoid," he said, smiling like he knew something I didn't. "This is just business, Camden. You're making good money. Why question it?"
But it wasn't just business anymore.
I tried to pull out. Told them I was done, that I'd made enough, that I wanted no part of whatever was going on beneath the surface.
Hale didn't argue. He just nodded, still smiling.
"Of course, Camden. You've done well. Take some time. Enjoy your success."
I should have known it wouldn't be that easy.
The threats were subtle at first. A break-in at my office, nothing taken but papers shuffled, like someone wanted me to know they had been there. A message scrawled on my car window in red marker: Too soon to leave the table.
Then it got worse.
One night, Amanda and I were walking home from dinner when a man bumped into her. It was quick, almost too quick to notice, but I saw the way his hand moved—slipping something into her coat pocket, then disappearing into the crowd.
A note.
-We don't want her. Yet.-
That was the moment I knew there was no walking away.
So I ran.
Not far, not forever. Just long enough to figure things out. I moved Amanda to a friend's place under a different name. I started digging, pulling every thread I could find, trying to uncover what I had really gotten myself into.
What I found… it wasn't just business.
Hale's company was a front. Behind it was something older, something deeper. It wasn't just money laundering or organized crime. It was power. Influence that reached into places I didn't even know existed.
People in politics, corporations, even law enforcement—tied together by something I couldn't understand.
And I had become a part of it.
The night it all came crashing down, I was supposed to meet an old contact. Someone who had information, someone who promised they could help me disappear.
I should have known it was a trap.
The second I stepped into that alley, I felt it. The air was wrong. Too quiet. Too still.
Then came the pain.
A sharp explosion in my side. Another in my shoulder. I hit the ground before I even heard the gunshots.
Footsteps. Slow, deliberate.
Hale knelt beside me, still smiling.
"You should have stayed at the table, Camden."
He left me there.
And now here I am.
I don't know how long I have left. My body feels heavy, like it's sinking. I try to move, but there's nothing left in me.
The city keeps moving around me, unaware.
I always thought I'd see my life flash before my eyes in the end. But it's not like that. It's just moments. Scattered pieces of what brought me here.
Amanda's laugh.
The warmth of a summer night with my friends.
The first time my father told me he was proud of me.
The weight of my mother's hug when I left home.
The feeling of signing that first contract, thinking I had it all figured out.
The cold is creeping in now.
I wonder if she'll be okay. If she'll know that I did this to protect her.
I close my eyes.
I don't know what happens next.
But I guess I'm about to find out.
=.=.=
=.=
=
The first thing I felt was movement.
It wasn't the jarring, painful kind I had last known. No bullet tearing through my body, no cold pavement beneath me. This was different. Gentle. Rocking. Like being carried by waves.
I opened my eyes.
I was on a boat.
Small, wooden, barely more than a raft. It floated smoothly over water, but not just any water. It was light—swirling, shifting, an endless river made of stars. The kind of thing you only see in dreams or the imagination of poets.
All around me, there were other boats. Hundreds, maybe thousands, stretching as far as I could see. Their passengers weren't people, at least not in any form I recognized. They were orbs of light, glowing softly, drifting along the current. Souls.
I didn't question where I was. Maybe because some part of me already knew.
Samsara. The river of reincarnation.
So this was what came next.
The journey was quiet. Peaceful, in a way. The stars below us shimmered like reflections of forgotten lives, and the sky above was endless and black, but not empty. Shapes moved within it—large, distant things, watching but never interfering.
Time was meaningless here. Maybe it was minutes, maybe years, but eventually, I saw it.
The End.
A massive archway loomed ahead, carved from something that looked like stone but shimmered like liquid gold. Beyond it was nothing. Or maybe everything.
My boat slowed. The others did too. One by one, the souls drifted through, disappearing into whatever lay beyond. And then it was my turn.
I passed through the arch, and suddenly, I wasn't in the boat anymore.
I stood in a place that wasn't a place.
The ground was solid but invisible. The air was thick with something I couldn't describe. Before me stood three figures. Not human, not even close, but they had presence—so much of it that it made my bones feel like dust.
Destiny. Fate. Luck.
I didn't need to ask their names. I just knew.
Destiny stood tall, robed in shifting threads of history itself, woven together by unseen hands. Time bent around them, twisting into scenes of lives past, present, and future.
Fate sat before a great loom, weaving strands of possibility. Every choice, every moment, every path taken and untaken—all laid out in the fabric they spun.
Luck? Luck lounged casually, leaning against nothing, flipping a coin that never seemed to land. They grinned at me, the only one who seemed to acknowledge my presence with something like amusement.
"Camden," Destiny spoke first. Their voice was layered, like a thousand people speaking at once. "Your time has ended."
I exhaled. "Yeah. Figured that part out."
Fate barely looked up from their weaving. "Now, it begins again."
I glanced between them. "So, what happens now? Judgment? A test?"
Luck chuckled. "Judgment? Tests? That's not how this works, friend." They flicked their coin, and it vanished into the void. "Your next life is up to chance."
I frowned. "Chance?"
Destiny nodded. "We draw lots."
And just like that, three objects appeared before them.
A scroll. A thread. A die.
Destiny took the scroll, Fate plucked a thread from their loom, and Luck grabbed the die with a smirk.
"This will determine your next life," Fate said.
They acted without hesitation. Destiny unrolled the scroll, revealing unreadable words that burned like prophecy itself. Fate wove the thread into the grand tapestry, setting my path in place. Luck tossed the die into the air.
It spun, caught in endless motion—until it landed.
Six.
Luck whistled. "Well, well."
Destiny looked at me. "It is decided."
The world around me began to unravel, pulling me into something vast, something new.
My next life awaited.
And just like that—
I was gone.
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A/N: How was it? Like the start?