**The Afterlife and the Pact**
***
*The first thing he feels is weightlessness. Then, the absence of everything—no wind, no heartbeats, no sound. Just white void stretching forever.*
**Man:** "Hello?!"
*His words vanish into silence. No echo. No ground. Just emptiness.*
**Man:** "Is this… death?"
*A soft ripple moves through the void like laughter carried on a breeze. A voice follows—smooth, echoing, and impossible to place, as though it comes from everywhere at once.*
**God:** "You catch on quickly. Most people scream first."
**Man:** "Who's there?! Show yourself!"
*A shimmer forms. Shapes twist like starlight gathering purpose. Then, a figure—flickering between male and female, old and young—steps forward.*
**God:** "Show myself? Which self would you prefer, child? The comfort of a father, or the warmth of a mother? Maybe the face of the little girl you saved?"
**Man:** "Don't. Don't bring her into this. Is she alive?"
**God:** "Of course. You saved her. That's why you're here."
**Man:** "…So this is heaven?"
**God:** "Heaven. Hell. Limbo. Such small words for something so vast. Let's say this is… in-between. A hallway with many doors."
**Man:** "And I get to choose one?"
**God:** "No. You've already chosen the moment you jumped. You traded your story for hers."
**Man:** "Then what happens to me now?"
*The figure tilts their head, their voice now soft, almost teasing.*
**God:** "You're restless. Mortal hearts rarely rest easy, even when they've earned peace."
**Man:** "If you're saying I can go back—just tell me where."
**God:** "Ahh, the mortal eagerness. Fine. I'll offer you a door. Behind it lies a world of stars and monsters, of science and myth. You may know it already—from dreams, or perhaps… cartoons."
**Man:** "Wait. You mean Reincarnation? In a show?"
**God:** "Names again. You people love names. Yes, that. You'll be born there—not as a hero, nor as a chosen one. Power won't be gifted, destiny won't be written for you. Only one truth will travel with your soul."
**Man:** "What truth?"
**God:** "You'll know when your heart begins to beat again."
*The light around them pulses. The man feels his body dissolve, as if his soul is being rewritten, scattered among the stars.*
**Man:** "Wait! What if I fail again?"
**God:** "Then you'll simply begin again. That is the beauty of infinity."
*The last thing he hears before the light swallows him is a faint whisper that sounds like both laughter and prayer.*
**God:** "Now go, little spark. Let the universe see what you become."
****
I didn't expect death to hurt less the second time around. But maybe it's not pain—it's the sound. The faint, distant hum that turns into crying. Mine. Then others. Then silence.
I can't move. I can't speak. I only listen. The muffled voices around me are heavy, trembling. One nurse murmurs something soft, something final. "The mother didn't make it." Another voice replies quietly, "The father… no records, no contacts. He was gone before we found her."
That's how my new story begins. Born from tragedy, unnamed, unwanted. A soul rewritten into a body smaller than I imagined, lungs full of borrowed air.
Hours pass—or maybe days. I can't tell. The world outside my little glass cradle stays blurry until one afternoon, the door opens. A woman steps in. Soft curls, warm eyes filled with exhaustion and kindness. Her hand clutches that of a man—broad-shouldered, gentle even in silence. Sandra and Carl Tennyson.
They move through the nursery quietly, the way people do when carrying unspoken grief. I hear fragments of conversation—"They said there's no next of kin," Sandra whispers. "He'd be alone."
Carl hesitates. "Are you sure? We just found out about Gwen's birth today. Frank and Natalie must be over the moon. But us…"
Sandra sighs, her gaze lingering on me. "We wanted a family. Maybe this is our way."
Their decision isn't loud. It's a simple nod between them. A small miracle forged in silence.
And just like that, I'm no longer an orphan.
They take me home, name me Ben. Ben Tennyson.
But when I see my reflection—tiny face, brown hair, and unsettling red eyes—it hits me. The name, this family, this world. I know those names. Gwen Tennyson wasn't born to Sandra—she's Natalie and Frank's daughter. That means… this is *that* world. The one from my childhood, where aliens are real and the universe never stops spinning.
The world of Ben 10.
Except I'm not the Ben I remember. I was never supposed to exist here.
I remember what the voice in the void said—that I'd be given one truth when I was reborn. Now I think I understand part of it.
Because if I'm here, if the real Ben never existed, then everything is already shifting. The butterfly effect has started, and I'm the flutter.
Today, Gwen Tennyson was born. And so was I.
Two cousins. Two beginnings. One story now rewritten.
And deep down, something tells me this universe already knows it's changed.
***