I step through the shimmering portal, and before I can even blink, I'm back in the Guardian's strange little home. The air here is warm and still, full of the faint scent of firewood and something herbal, maybe tea.
I look up—and the Guardian is already waiting for me, standing just a few steps away.
A rare smile creases his usually unreadable face.
"I'm glad to see you've passed the first test," he says.
His voice is calm as ever, but there's a quiet pride in it. "Most souls do manage to pass the first trial, but that doesn't make it any less important. You endured, and that is worth recognizing."
He pauses, then adds with a gentle, almost fatherly tone, "Before we continue... would you care to share a meal with me?"
I blink, surprised. "Honestly? Yeah. I could use a break."
"Excellent. Follow me."
We step out of the corridor and into a cozy dining room. It's not what I expected from a being who oversees purgatory. The walls are made of smooth, polished stone, lined with scrolls and faintly glowing lanterns that emit a soft, gold light. In the center of the room sits a short table, low to the ground, with two mats placed on either side.
The Guardian gestures politely. "Please, make yourself comfortable. I'll be back with the beverages."
I sit cross-legged on the nearest mat. The floor is warm beneath me, almost like it's alive. A gentle hum fills the space—maybe it's the magic that keeps this place intact, or maybe it's just the quiet silence between worlds.
Moments later, the Guardian returns, balancing a round wooden tray. On it is a simple meal: thin slices of meat, an assortment of cheeses, crisp crackers, and to my amusement—two cold cans of Sprite.
He sets the tray down between us and sits across from me.
"Not exactly a feast," he says with a wry smile, "but it should be enough to help you recharge."
I chuckle, grabbing a cracker. "Sprite, though? Didn't expect that."
"You'd be surprised how many souls ask for it," he says. "Something about carbonation makes the afterlife feel less... final."
We both take a few bites in silence, the crackling fire in the other room filling the quiet with its soft rhythm.
Then he looks up and meets my gaze.
"So," he asks, "what did you think of your first test?"
I lean back, chewing slowly as I gather my thoughts.
"It was definitely challenging," I say after a moment. "The physical part was tough, but the jungle was the worst. I felt lost, helpless. It wasn't just a test of strength—it was about patience. Trusting myself. Knowing when to push and when to pause."
He nods, listening intently.
"You made it through," he says. "That matters."
I look down at the table. "So, I answered one of your questions... mind if I ask one of my own?"
The Guardian chuckles softly. "Fair is fair. So long as your question isn't about the next test, I'll answer as best I can."
"Alright," I say. "How did you end up here? As the Guardian of purgatory, I mean."
He leans back slightly, eyes drifting toward the wall. His voice is softer now, almost distant.
"That's a story not many ask about," he says. "It happened a long time ago. Ages, maybe. Time doesn't work quite the same here."
He folds his hands over his lap.
"Back then, I was just like you. A human. I died. I found myself in purgatory, confused and cold, facing the same three gates. I faced the tests... but I only passed two."
He pauses, taking a sip from his Sprite.
"Normally, that would've meant wandering here for all eternity, slowly losing who I was. But as luck would have it, the previous Guardian was preparing to retire. He needed a replacement—someone already bound to purgatory, someone who had faced the trials and understood what this place meant."
He glances back at me.
"He chose me."
"That's it?" I ask, surprised. "You just... got offered the job?"
"Essentially," he says. "It was a strange twist of fate. Wrong place, right time. But it was better than drifting through eternity, forgotten even by myself. This gave me purpose."
I nod slowly, trying to picture what that must've felt like—being offered eternity with meaning instead of madness.
"So... what happened to the old Guardian?"
A small smile plays at his lips.
"He went to Heaven. He'd served long enough, guided enough souls, kept his mind and compassion intact. That earned him a place among the stars."
I raise an eyebrow. "And you? Will you get the same?"
"Yes," he replies, without hesitation. "Each Guardian serves for ten thousand years. I've done about four thousand so far. Another six, give or take, and I'll be allowed to move on."
I nearly choke on a piece of cheese. "Six thousand years?"
He laughs—an actual, honest laugh.
"I suppose it sounds absurd to you. But here, time stretches differently. It's not so bad. I have my home, my duties, and interesting travelers like you to speak with."
I smile a little, but something still sits heavy in my chest.
"I don't know if I could do it," I admit. "Six thousand years in this place, watching souls come and go, knowing what could've been... that would eat at me."
The Guardian tilts his head, eyes thoughtful.
"Perhaps. Or perhaps it would teach you peace."
We fall into silence for a while longer, just eating. The warmth of the room makes it easy to forget, for a moment, that this is purgatory at all.
Finally, he sets down his empty can and stretches his arms.
"Well," he says, "we've rested long enough. Your next test awaits."
I stand slowly, still savoring the lingering comfort of the meal.
"Thanks," I say. "For the food. And for the answers."
He smiles again, just faintly.
"Of course. Come—there's still a long journey ahead of you."