I used to access the afterlife through a trance state. I would abandon my body, incarnating in my shadow. In that form, devoid of substance and made of pure darkness, I would appear at a random point in the ash desert.

  There, I would wander for days, maybe years. Time passed differently, and to this day, I do not know if it was a material reality. As a shadow, I was not sensitive to anything other than surfaces.

  There were no stars in the sky. Only an eternal sunset beyond the horizon illuminated the landscape.

  With experience, I learned to navigate. There were enormous rivers, miles and miles wide. They were composed of dark red sand that flowed slowly, carving canyons in the ash.

  And finally, I saw it: the upside-down skyscraper.

  It was the first and only structure I had ever encountered in that place.

  Back in my body, I studied the recordings made with the arcane cube and began filling entire hard drives with speculations, hypotheses, and models.

  With each trance, I tried to reach the threshold of that skyscraper. Now I could see its features, the signal lights, the concrete bastions.

  Like a tree with many branches, the building had an urban canopy. It was a mess of other structures, arches, and bridges built from colored glass and basalt. That was what I understood from the systems analysis I had.

  But no matter how close I got—no matter how much I followed the course of the river of red sand—I never reached the building. It moved with the horizon.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  But you’re not interested in these things. Aren't you? You want to know what happened after I died.

  So, Catur, here’s what happened.

  I do not remember the faces or the actions of my killers, but I do remember my strength dissipating, my magic shattering, my body ceasing to respond.

  It was dark, and it lasted in the blink of an eye.

  When I reopened my eyes, I found myself in a colonnaded penthouse without windows and overlooking the world at dusk.

  It took me a moment to orient myself, to realize that it was a sloping parking lot and that I was walking on the ceiling.

  Pipes, emergency signs, neon lights—a few overturned cars confirmed my supposition.

  I didn’t feel sick. I remembered everything about my last moments of life.

  More than a deceased, I felt teleported. A familiar sensation that didn't make me hot or cold.

  I touched my chest, my shoulders, and my neck to know what condition I was in.

  I was fine. I was whole and in my best physical shape. The flow of magic was not comparable to before, but a couple of tricks with my shadow worked, and I calmed down.

  I just had to find a way to go back, to get revenge.

  I began to explore the plain. My breathing and footsteps broke the dead silence of the afterlife.

  I reached the edge of the parking lot and gasped.

  The ash field lay miles below. I could see the scarlet river coming and crashing against the pinnacle sunk in the sand.

  A soundless wind grazed me high above. It pushed me back from the edge.

  To understand, I tried to step into the void and was rejected. I tried to send my shadow, but it was rejected, too.

  I was starting to understand—I was a prisoner.

  And, if I was a prisoner of the afterlife, in that skyscraper, after an exhausting battle, the answer could only be one: I was dead.