My old man used to tell me stories.
About how heaven wasn't a place in the clouds, but a gate—an ancient one—built not for gods, but for people.
"A gate to salvation," he'd say, voice trembling with the weight of age.
I used to laugh. All of us did. He'd share that same story to anyone who'd listen—and even to those who wouldn't. A tale of revelation. Of redemption. Of the world ending not in fire or flood, but in silence… when Heaven's Gate opened.
"But listen here, dear," he would lean in with those cloudy eyes, "when the Gate opens, the demons of Hell shall awaken. And they will not come with swords or flame… but with whispers, to take humanity away."
My grandfather—Ezekiel.
I carry his name now.
"Hey, Grandpa… maybe let the demons rest for tonight, huh?"
He lay there, weak and fading on the hospital bed, still trying to shape the end of the world with cracked lips and breath that came in short waves. Stage three cancer. The doctors said he wouldn't last the night.
So I stayed.
Not out of belief. Not out of hope. But because it felt wrong to leave a man alone on his final night, especially one who spent his life trying to warn a world that never listened.
The stories used to scare me when I was little. But fear turned into boredom, then pity. Eventually, all I could do was sit beside him, hold his hand, and listen one last time.
"You'll see it, Ezekiel," he whispered. "You'll see the Gate. And you'll know."
I smiled politely and nodded, watching the life drain slowly from his eyes.
And then—
The heart monitor let out a single note.
Flatline.
That's the last thing I remember from that world.
Cold.
Not hospital cold—cosmic. Deep.
My first breath didn't taste like oxygen or antiseptic. It tasted like saltwater and starlight.
When I opened my eyes, I was no longer in a room. No tubes. No beeping monitors. No sterile lights. Just sky.
A sky that shouldn't exist.
Split in two—half gold, half violet. A storm resting along the edge of the horizon, as if the heavens themselves were bleeding into the sea.
I sat up slowly. Beneath me: ancient stone, cracked and carved with runes I didn't understand. Around me: pillars, broken and worn, reaching toward the sky like skeletal fingers.
Before me:
A gate.
White, towering, and open.
And somehow, deep in my chest… I knew.
Heaven's Gate had opened.
Just like he said.
The wind whispered through the pillars.
Not like voices. Not like spirits.
Just wind.
I stood—barefoot, shaking, and very much human. My hands were scraped. My shirt was damp and foreign to the touch. My throat felt dry.
This isn't a dream.
There was no interface. No glowing panels. No tutorial voice.
Only the creak of stone. The sound of waves crashing somewhere below. And the white gate before me—unmoving, silent, and ancient.
It stood nearly two stories tall, carved with unfamiliar markings that shimmered faintly beneath the mist. A pale light pulsed behind it—not from beyond, but from the frame itself. Like it was alive. Like it was watching me.
Grandpa…
I took a step forward, then stopped. Something about it—about all of this—felt… wrong. Not threatening. Not hostile. But off.
Like walking into a church where something divine used to live, but left in a hurry.
My breath caught.
A sudden chill slid down my spine. Not from the air, but from inside.
Why here? Why me?
I turned my back to the gate and looked around. The land beyond was veiled in fog. Jagged stone peaks jutted from distant hills. Trees twisted toward the sunless sky. In the far distance, what looked like broken towers stood in a line, as if guarding something ancient.
No signs of life. No footsteps. No path.
Just silence.
I didn't know if I'd died with my grandfather… or if this was what he meant when he said I'd "see the Gate."
Either way, I was here now.
And I was alone.
I stood idle before the white light spilling from the gate's hollow frame.
It wasn't blinding—just steady. Soft, almost warm. But it buzzed faintly, like something inside it was waiting to be acknowledged.
Do I go in?
Or do I turn around and find a way out of here?
I looked back. Nothing but fog-drenched hills and a land that stretched into grey silence. Jagged rocks. Hollow trees. No signs of life. No sound except the wind brushing against dead leaves.
The kind of place where time forgets to move.
That can't be the way forward.
So that leaves this… ominous gate.
I stepped closer. The carvings along its arch shimmered like dew catching moonlight. Runes I couldn't read pulsed in sequence—as if they knew I was watching.
This didn't feel like a dream. But it didn't feel real either.
Maybe that's what scared me the most.
If this is a dream, I'll wake up.If it's not…
Then I'm already through the first threshold.
I didn't decide to enter.
I just… moved.
And the world behind me disappeared.
Suddenly—
The ground vanished beneath my feet.
No warning. No sound. Just the sharp pull of gravity ripping me from the light.
I was falling.
"Fuck!"
The sky above me split like shattered glass, fracturing into gold and violet, then disappearing into a blur. Wind howled past my ears. My limbs flailed instinctively, uselessly, reaching for something—anything—to grab onto.
But there was nothing.
Just air. Just speed.
Just a hellish plunge toward a land I didn't recognize—mountains like jagged teeth, forests twisted and grey, and a cracked stone plain waiting below like an open grave.
Too fast.
Too high.
I was seconds from impact.
My brain screamed, but my mouth couldn't keep up. My body locked.
And in that final breath before the fall ended, I realized—
I hadn't chosen to enter.
Something had thrown me through.
My body twisted in the air, wind screaming past me.
There was nothing to grab. No system to save me.
Just the cold breath of another world rushing up to meet me.
The sky above—torn open. The earth below—merciless.
I didn't scream again.
I just closed my eyes.
And then—
Black.