Screaming in agony, Noah’s soul split apart from his body. The desecrated corpse pitched to the ground, its top half cut into ribbons. He stared down at it, the agony fading now that he no longer had a body with which to feel.
“Well, shit,” Noah said. “That was fast.”
Invisible energy tugged at his chest, pulling him away from the world. Noah sighed.
Oh well. So long as there are other places to revive, I already know what’s going to happen. What’s a few thousand more years of waiting?
Something wrapped around his throat. Noah’s ghostly eyes bulged and he choked – something he hadn’t thought actually possible for a spirit. A black ribbon materialized around his neck, leading back off into the clearing.
The force pulling him away from the world vanished as the black ribbon yanked him back down to the world. Pain erupted throughout him once more and his eyes snapped open, drawing in a ragged gasp and clutching a hand to his thundering heart. He was in a body once more.
His head slammed like an entire orchestra had been trapped within it. Noah groaned in pain, unable to even move from his spot. It was several minutes before he gathered the energy to push himself upright.
There was no sign of his clothes. He was completely naked. Noah staggered upright. A heavy fog hung around his mind, even though the pain started to recede. He was in the same clearing.
The gourd of poison still sat on the ground where he’d left it. In the all too close distance, Noah could hear crunching noises from the direction of where he’d run. Swallowing heavily, Noah crept up to the pool of water and peered inside it.
The face of the man whose body he’d stolen looked back at him. He’d kept it, somehow. Unfortunately, the clothes didn’t seem to be part of the package deal.
“I came back to life?” Noah whispered to himself. He touched his face, just to make sure it was there. A roar split the forest behind Noah and he paled, launching himself into the lake. He swam down as deep as he could go and latched onto a stone at the bottom, holding onto it for dear life.
He wasn’t sure how long he remained there. Time had lost much of meaning during his stay in the afterlife. Noah didn’t dare release the rock until his lungs burned so much that he could hardly feel them and shadows danced before his eyes.
His body barely managed to propel him back up to the surface of the lake. He gasped for air, slumping over the edge as his lungs desperately pulled oxygen in. Suppressing a groan, Noah rolled over and glanced around.
The clearing was empty. His head still felt like mincemeat, but it was better to feel it than to actually become mincemeat…again. Noah pulled himself the rest of the way onto dry land and pushed himself upright.
He glanced at his hands, then held them up before him. The image of the strange pattern that had appeared before them felt etched into his mind. He tried to picture it forming before him, but the fog surrounding his head grew thicker. A spike of pain ran down his spine and Noah dropped his hands, grimacing.
A cold breeze rustled by him. He shivered and tilted his head to the side, listening as hard as he could. He couldn’t hear the monkey anymore. That didn’t mean it wasn’t still there – he hadn’t forgotten how silent it could be when it wanted to be.
Pants or not dying? Which one is more important?
Noah crept into the burnt woods. He hadn’t made it far in his previous escape attempt. He spotted the bottom half of his corpse lying in the tussled dirt between several trees. There was no sign of his upper body or the monkey.
He crept up to his former legs and quickly tugged his pants and belt off. Noah pulled them on, grimacing at the still-warm blood covering them. A small book clipped to the belt thumped against his side as he pulled it on. As soon as his legs were through the holes, Noah shuffled off into the trees, tying his belt with numbed, fumbling fingers as he walked.
Despite his best – and largely ineffective – efforts to be stealthy, Noah winced at every dry branch that cracked beneath his feet. He threw glances over his shoulders every few feet, jumping at the slightest winds.
He didn’t allow himself to calm down until he’d been walking for so long that the sky started to darken and night fell. Noah slumped against a scorched tree and slumped down.
“This is not how I saw my afterlife going,” Noah said to himself in a low whisper. He shivered as a cold wind dragged its chilly fingers across his bare chest. The fog covering his mind had only just started to peel away a few minutes ago.
Inventory. I need to take inventory. See what I have.
He dug through his pockets. They were empty.
Right. A book and some torn up pants. That’s it. Not bad considering I didn’t even have a body yesterday.
Noah unclipped the book from his pants and flipped it open. Detailed notes drawn in tight, flowing handwriting covered many of its pages, each of which was dedicated to a single, complicated pattern similar to the one he’d drawn in the air a few hours ago.
A rune.
The words drifted to his mind of their own volition. Noah frowned. Runes certainly felt like the right way to describe the feature, but he was quite certain the thought wasn’t his own. He’d retained a lot of his previous body’s memories, but it didn’t seem like he could access them consciously.
At least I can read.
Noah flipped through the pages, searching for the rune he’d envisioned while fighting the monkey. His efforts were rewarded by an old page near the very back of the book. It was covered with dozens of sketches of plants and animals that he didn’t recognize, along with descriptions of each one.
“Wind rune,” Noah read, tracing the pattern with a finger. An image of the rune formed itself perfectly in his mind. Noah raised a hand, picturing the rune in his mind. A thin blade of wind leapt from his palm and carved deep into the brittle trunk of the tree in front of him. A faint blanket of weariness fell over his shoulders.
Noah scrambled to his feet, eyes darting around to see if anything had heard him. He stood still for several seconds. Nothing came. He crept over to the tree, inspecting his handiwork. The magic had carved a deep cut into the rough bark.
He envisioned the rune again, this time pointing his palm at the ground. Another blade of wind leapt forth and bit into the earth. The weariness grew stronger, but the fog didn’t encroach on his mind again.
Okay. Brain fog comes from dying. No magic when foggy. Conclusion: don’t die.
Noah looked up at the night sky. Bright stars twinkled far above, glowing with faint golden light. Despite his situation, he let a small breath of awe slip out from between his lips. It was beautiful. Nothing like the dull, smog-muted stars that he could make out through his apartment window back on earth.
He looked back down at his book, determination etching itself into his features.
“I need to get to civilization.”
Screaming in agony, Noah’s soul split apart from his body. The desecrated corpse pitched to the ground, its top half cut into ribbons. He stared down at it, the agony fading now that he no longer had a body with which to feel.
“Well, shit,” Noah said. “That was fast.”
Invisible energy tugged at his chest, pulling him away from the world. Noah sighed.
Oh well. So long as there are other places to revive, I already know what’s going to happen. What’s a few thousand more years of waiting?
Something wrapped around his throat. Noah’s ghostly eyes bulged and he choked – something he hadn’t thought actually possible for a spirit. A black ribbon materialized around his neck, leading back off into the clearing.
The force pulling him away from the world vanished as the black ribbon yanked him back down to the world. Pain erupted throughout him once more and his eyes snapped open, drawing in a ragged gasp and clutching a hand to his thundering heart. He was in a body once more.
His head slammed like an entire orchestra had been trapped within it. Noah groaned in pain, unable to even move from his spot. It was several minutes before he gathered the energy to push himself upright.
There was no sign of his clothes. He was completely naked. Noah staggered upright. A heavy fog hung around his mind, even though the pain started to recede. He was in the same clearing.
The gourd of poison still sat on the ground where he’d left it. In the all too close distance, Noah could hear crunching noises from the direction of where he’d run. Swallowing heavily, Noah crept up to the pool of water and peered inside it.
The face of the man whose body he’d stolen looked back at him. He’d kept it, somehow. Unfortunately, the clothes didn’t seem to be part of the package deal.
“I came back to life?” Noah whispered to himself. He touched his face, just to make sure it was there. A roar split the forest behind Noah and he paled, launching himself into the lake. He swam down as deep as he could go and latched onto a stone at the bottom, holding onto it for dear life.
He wasn’t sure how long he remained there. Time had lost much of meaning during his stay in the afterlife. Noah didn’t dare release the rock until his lungs burned so much that he could hardly feel them and shadows danced before his eyes.
His body barely managed to propel him back up to the surface of the lake. He gasped for air, slumping over the edge as his lungs desperately pulled oxygen in. Suppressing a groan, Noah rolled over and glanced around.
The clearing was empty. His head still felt like mincemeat, but it was better to feel it than to actually become mincemeat…again. Noah pulled himself the rest of the way onto dry land and pushed himself upright.
He glanced at his hands, then held them up before him. The image of the strange pattern that had appeared before them felt etched into his mind. He tried to picture it forming before him, but the fog surrounding his head grew thicker. A spike of pain ran down his spine and Noah dropped his hands, grimacing.
A cold breeze rustled by him. He shivered and tilted his head to the side, listening as hard as he could. He couldn’t hear the monkey anymore. That didn’t mean it wasn’t still there – he hadn’t forgotten how silent it could be when it wanted to be.
Pants or not dying? Which one is more important?
Noah crept into the burnt woods. He hadn’t made it far in his previous escape attempt. He spotted the bottom half of his corpse lying in the tussled dirt between several trees. There was no sign of his upper body or the monkey.
He crept up to his former legs and quickly tugged his pants and belt off. Noah pulled them on, grimacing at the still-warm blood covering them. A small book clipped to the belt thumped against his side as he pulled it on. As soon as his legs were through the holes, Noah shuffled off into the trees, tying his belt with numbed, fumbling fingers as he walked.
Despite his best – and largely ineffective – efforts to be stealthy, Noah winced at every dry branch that cracked beneath his feet. He threw glances over his shoulders every few feet, jumping at the slightest winds.
He didn’t allow himself to calm down until he’d been walking for so long that the sky started to darken and night fell. Noah slumped against a scorched tree and slumped down.
“This is not how I saw my afterlife going,” Noah said to himself in a low whisper. He shivered as a cold wind dragged its chilly fingers across his bare chest. The fog covering his mind had only just started to peel away a few minutes ago.
Inventory. I need to take inventory. See what I have.
He dug through his pockets. They were empty.
Right. A book and some torn up pants. That’s it. Not bad considering I didn’t even have a body yesterday.
Noah unclipped the book from his pants and flipped it open. Detailed notes drawn in tight, flowing handwriting covered many of its pages, each of which was dedicated to a single, complicated pattern similar to the one he’d drawn in the air a few hours ago.
A rune.
The words drifted to his mind of their own volition. Noah frowned. Runes certainly felt like the right way to describe the feature, but he was quite certain the thought wasn’t his own. He’d retained a lot of his previous body’s memories, but it didn’t seem like he could access them consciously.
At least I can read.
Noah flipped through the pages, searching for the rune he’d envisioned while fighting the monkey. His efforts were rewarded by an old page near the very back of the book. It was covered with dozens of sketches of plants and animals that he didn’t recognize, along with descriptions of each one.
“Wind rune,” Noah read, tracing the pattern with a finger. An image of the rune formed itself perfectly in his mind. Noah raised a hand, picturing the rune in his mind. A thin blade of wind leapt from his palm and carved deep into the brittle trunk of the tree in front of him. A faint blanket of weariness fell over his shoulders.
Noah scrambled to his feet, eyes darting around to see if anything had heard him. He stood still for several seconds. Nothing came. He crept over to the tree, inspecting his handiwork. The magic had carved a deep cut into the rough bark.
He envisioned the rune again, this time pointing his palm at the ground. Another blade of wind leapt forth and bit into the earth. The weariness grew stronger, but the fog didn’t encroach on his mind again.
Okay. Brain fog comes from dying. No magic when foggy. Conclusion: don’t die.
Noah looked up at the night sky. Bright stars twinkled far above, glowing with faint golden light. Despite his situation, he let a small breath of awe slip out from between his lips. It was beautiful. Nothing like the dull, smog-muted stars that he could make out through his apartment window back on earth.
He looked back down at his book, determination etching itself into his features.
“I need to get to civilization.”
