I stepped through the church doors with quiet resolve.
No goodbyes. No speeches. Just stillness.
This was it.
If Limbo was waiting for me on the other side, so be it. It was the least I could do for Rachel—for everything she had given me. Her body. Her trust. Her pain. Maybe even her life.
So I walked forward. No fear. No hesitation. One step after another.
This is goodbye, sister.
The stained-glass shimmered in soft hues across the floor, incense lingering faintly in the air. I took another step—
And that's when Rachel's body collapsed.
She dropped like a puppet with its strings cut, right there in the middle of the aisle, just a few feet ahead of me. My breath caught, if ghosts even breathed.
For a moment, I didn't understand.
Why was I still standing at the door?
Why… couldn't I follow her in?
I reached out—but something invisible pressed back. It was like a glass wall sealed the church from me. I couldn't pass. Couldn't touch her. Couldn't even feel her anymore.
The soul-body tether was cut.
Panic surged.
"Rachel!" I shouted. My voice echoed in the empty space, but she didn't move. Her limbs were limp, hair sprawled across the floor like spilled ink.
Then, from across the street, I felt it.
A presence.
Dante.
He was watching, standing at the edge of shadow, eyes wide with disbelief. The same man who tried to send me to Limbo now looked as though he had seen a ghost—ironic.
Even he hadn't expected this.
Suddenly, the side door creaked open, and a pair of women rushed in with a man behind them. Tourists, maybe. Or parishioners. One knelt beside Rachel and gasped.
"She's unconscious! Call someone!"
"I'll drive," said the man, lifting her in his arms. "Nearest hospital's ten minutes away."
"No, no, no—" I whispered, watching helplessly.
They were taking her.
I ran beside them, shouting, waving—anything—but no one saw me. I tried to step into the car—nothing. I passed through the door like air. My hands couldn't grasp. My feet couldn't land.
The sun had grounded me. Bound my powers to nothing but shadows and silent screams.
Then I saw him.
The driver.
A man in a black coat. Slight limp in his right leg.
Him.
One of the stalkers. I had seen him before—eyes too sharp, movements too measured.
Rage erupted.
"STOP!" I screamed, slamming my fists into the seat, into the dashboard, the windows. None of it mattered. I couldn't affect the world. I was just a whisper in the wind, unheard and unseen.
Then came Dante.
He walked toward me slowly, his expression grave, a man burdened by the weight of a thousand regrets.
"Do something!" I roared. "They're taking her—he's one of them! Don't just stand there!"
But Dante shook his head. "He's human, Serah. A vessel, yes—but not a soul I can touch. My hands are tied."
"Tied?! You're a guardian, a guide, a damn enforcer of rules—but useless when it actually counts!"
"I warned you not to get too close."
"She trusted me!" I screamed, voice cracking. "And I'm the reason she's in this mess!"
Dante looked down, silent.
That was it.
The tipping point.
All the fear. The guilt. The helplessness. It surged through me like a tidal wave breaking its dam.
And then—I broke.
I screamed.
Not with voice, but with soul.
A spiritual outburst burst from my chest, invisible yet undeniable. It rippled through the air like thunder underwater. Windows didn't shatter. Bells didn't ring. But something deeper was disturbed—something older.
Every ghost nearby stopped.
Spirits turned their heads from their wandering. Some wailed in confusion. Others simply fled. A bird dropped mid-flight. A dog curled into itself and whimpered, ears flat.
Dante staggered back, shielding his face from the blast of energy.
Far away in a dark, dust-covered mansion, Madame dropped her teacup.
In Miss Rosaline's study, three souls whispered in panic.
And in a sealed stone room far, far away—
Laughter echoed.
Not loud.
But cold.
So cold it seemed to bleed into the walls themselves.
The world felt still after the outburst. Too still.
I stood there, breathless in spirit, the silence swallowing everything. Even Dante had nothing left to say.
Then, slowly, he straightened his coat, eyes trained on the road.
"She's not gone," he said.
I turned sharply. "What?"
"The body's still intact. Her soul hasn't left."
"Then why can't I feel her?"
Dante looked at me, and this time… I saw fear. Not for me. For what I might be.
"You've changed," he said softly. "You're not the same soul I guided once. You've awakened."
Before I could answer, he was gone—faded into the air like mist in sunlight.
I stood alone.
Alone… until a soft clink echoed from the rooftop above.
I looked up.
Two sharp golden eyes stared back.
Mr. Whiskers.
That damned cat.
He leapt down with unnatural grace, landing beside me. His tail flicked once, then again. He blinked at me and raised a paw, touching my leg.
And for a second—just a second—I heard it.
A voice, clear and ancient. Tired, yet wise.
"You're not a merger. Not yet. But they'll make you one if you're not careful."
I stumbled back, breath caught.
"You can talk?"
Another blink. Then the voice again.
"Only when needed. I've been watching you. Watching her. The one you're bound to."
He looked off into the distance where the car had vanished.
"She's still alive. But they're moving fast. They know now. Know you're the one. Not the girl."
"But why Rachel? Why use her to get to me?"
"Because they thought she was the anomaly. And maybe she is. But you…"
I was shaking. Every word made sense and yet shattered something inside me.
"Why are you helping me?"
Mr. Whiskers stretched lazily.
"Because I once tried to do what you're doing. Save someone. I failed. And I've been paying for it ever since."
He licked his paw.
"Limbo didn't kill me. But it damned me. Rebirth after rebirth. Always remembering. Always losing."
A long pause.
"Don't make my mistake, Serah. Don't lose yourself trying to save someone else."
Then he turned and began walking down the alley.
"Wait!" I called. "Where are they taking her?"
He looked over his shoulder.
"To the place where hope ends. Where they make vessels."
And he vanished into the rising heat of the afternoon.
◆ Scene Cut: The Van ◆
Rachel's body lay limp in the back seat. The man driving hummed softly under his breath, hands steady on the wheel. The two women beside her whispered prayers—not to gods, but to something else.
In the rearview mirror, one of their eyes flickered.
Not blinked—flickered—like static on a screen.
They weren't all human.
◆ Scene Cut: Madame's Estate ◆
Miss Rosaline stood, trembling. Souls flickered around her, all whispering at once.
"She's awake—she's awake—she's not meant to be awake—"
Madame stood by the window, unmoving, her expression unreadable.
Rosaline finally asked, voice low, "What now?"
Madame turned her head slowly.
"She chooses."
"Chooses what?"
Madame stared out at the horizon, where a storm was building.
"Whether she becomes a weapon… or a salvation."
◆ Scene Cut: The Streets ◆
I ran.
The moment dusk hit, I was free again—tethered once more.
And now I knew where I had to go.
No more games.
No more hiding.