#3
Neovita, the City of Second Chances, was not what Ghei had imagined.
He pictured a city full of revived life—resurrected humans grateful, striving, making use of their "second gift."
What he found was a grave pretending to live.
The city was built on a mountainside, houses made of shattered crystal stone reflecting the twin moons' light in ways that hurt the eyes. Streets were empty, though shadows moved behind windows. The only sounds were the echoes of their own footsteps, and occasionally a muffled sob from inside a building.
"They don't go out during the day," Aelia whispered. Her eyes scanned the surroundings with faint memories—one hundred years behind her, yet it felt like she had left such a place just yesterday. "Nyania's sun is too… honest. It makes them remember they should already be dead."
Ghei walked along the main road. His Null Echo worked more actively here—every house he passed, the cries within abruptly stopped. Like sadness severed midstream.
Lyra, flying low beside him, whispered, "You confuse them. Their feelings… vanish when you're near."
"Good," Ghei murmured. "Maybe they can stop crying and do something."
But he knew that's not how depression worked. He knew from experience.
Someone finally appeared.
A man with a face like worn woodcarving, sunken eyes, a thin body wrapped in coarse cloth. He stood in the middle of the street, blocking the way.
"You're new," he said, his voice like rubbing paper.
Ghei stopped. "Yes."
"Revived by whom?"
"Devaros."
The man nodded slowly, as if accepting a sentence. "We're all here because of Devaros. He has a particular taste—those who die quietly. Those who do not scream. Those who accept."
"I do not accept."
The man squinted. "Then why are you here? Neovita is for those who accept second life. For those who try again."
"I'm looking for information about Devaros. Where he is. How to find him."
A laugh—or something close to it—escaped the man's mouth. "You want to face him? For what? To thank him?"
"To kill him."
Silence.
Then the man turned, shouting toward the houses, "Listen! This new person wants to kill a god!"
Windows opened. Faces appeared—pale, empty, filled with dead curiosity.
"Kill a god?" someone whispered.
"Impossible…"
"But… if we could…"
They began to come out. One by one. Men, women, old, young—all with the same eyes: eyes that had seen the other side of death and returned with something broken inside.
They surrounded Ghei, Aelia, and Lyra.
"Why?" asked a woman with a scar around her neck—perhaps from hanging. "Why would you want to kill him?"
Ghei looked at all of them. He saw himself in each of their eyes—a version that gave up. A version that accepted the "gift" and now was trapped in guilt for not being grateful.
"Because he took something that wasn't his," Ghei replied, his voice clear in the silence of the city. "My life was no longer his. Yet he took it again."
"And you think that by killing him, you can die?" asked the first man.
"That's what he said."
"Gods lie."
"Then I will kill him for lying too."
Some of them smiled—a smile without happiness, but with recognition. Like finding someone who spoke the words that had only existed in their minds.
The man—his name was Kael, Ghei finally learned—led them to his house. A crystal shack with one chair, one bed, and walls covered in scribbles.
The scribbles were repeated writing: "I am already dead. I am already dead. I am already dead."
"To remind," Kael said as he saw Ghei reading the walls, "so we don't get carried away by the illusion that this is real life."
Lyra and Aelia waited outside. They knew this conversation was for "the same ones."
"How did you die?" Kael asked, sitting on the floor.
"Sleeping pills. Peacefully."
"I hanged myself. Not peaceful. But same result: waking in the Liminal Veil, meeting Devaros, given a choice."
"A choice?"
"To remain in the Veil forever as a shadow, or live again here. I chose to live again." Kael let out a short laugh. "Stupid. I thought it was a second chance. Turns out it was just a more comfortable prison."
Ghei sat across from him on the floor. "Devaros. Where is he?"
"Empyrean. The highest layer. Inaccessible to mortals." Kael looked at Ghei. "Unless you have something he wants. Or something he fears."
"Null Echo."
"Yes." Kael nodded. "But that alone is not enough. You need a path. A door."
"Where is the door?"
"There are three. The first: the Temple of Shattered Hope, at the peak of the Shattered Crystal Mountains. The second: the Bridge of Reluctance, at the edge of the Silent Steppes. The third…" Kael hesitated. "The third is inside someone."
"What does that mean?"
"There is someone in this city—named Soren. He is… a 'living door.' Devaros planted part of his power inside Soren as an experiment. If you touch him with your Null Echo, you might open the way to Empyrean."
"Why hasn't anyone tried?"
Kael looked at his own hands. "We're afraid. This second life is torment, but… the fear of nothingness again is greater. After dying once, you understand: death is not dark. Death is nothing. And 'nothing' is more terrifying than suffering."
Ghei understood. He had been there. He knew that 'nothing.'
And he chose it.
Soren turned out to be a young man—perhaps in his twenties, but eyes old as if he had seen centuries.
Found in a basement of a small church at the edge of town, sitting on the floor with knees drawn to his chest.
"You're the new one," he said without looking when Ghei entered. "The one making people whisper."
"I need access to Devaros."
"I know." Soren finally turned. His eyes—one blue, one green—glowed faintly. "I feel your Null Echo from here. Like a hole in the world."
Ghei approached. Now he could see—something in Soren's chest. Golden light, pulsing slowly like a second heart.
"Part of Devaros is inside me," Soren said. "Gift and curse. I cannot die while it exists. But I also cannot truly live."
"What happens if I take it?"
"You'll have the key to Empyrean. And I…" Soren smiled bitterly. "I can finally die. But there's a cost. Every 'living door' opened weakens the boundary between Nyania and Empyrean. The world could… leak."
"I don't care about the world."
"I know." Soren stood. "That's why you're perfect. Those who care hesitate. Those who don't… will do it."
He opened his shirt.
On his chest, right above the heart, was a glowing symbol—an eye inside a triangle.
"Touch it," Soren whispered. "And remember—this will hurt."
Ghei did not hesitate.
His hand touched the symbol.
Pain.
But not physical. Pain like being torn from reality.
Ghei saw—not with his eyes—but with something deeper:
He stood on the banks of a river on Earth, age twelve. The water was murky. He threw stones, wondering if his life would be that murky.
His mother called him home. Her voice tired.
He turned, and in an instant—
he was no longer on Earth.
He was in a hostel room, staring at a laptop. Draft of his last novel. Title: "Dust Among the Stars."
His hands typed the final sentence:
"And finally, he realized: being dust is not failure. It is merely a state."
He saved the file.
Took the pill.
Slept.
He was in the Liminal Veil.
Devaros spoke.
"You are intriguing."
And anger—the first true anger he had ever felt since childhood—
boiled inside him.
The symbol on Soren's chest shattered.
Golden light flowed out, into Ghei's hands, up his arms, into his chest.
He was thrown backward.
Soren collapsed, sobbing—but not from pain. Sobs of relief.
"Thank you," he whispered. "Finally…"
His body began to fade. Like an image being erased.
"Tell them," Soren whispered before disappearing completely, "that I chose this."
Then he was gone.
And on Ghei's chest, there was now a mark.
A mark drawing him upward, to the sky, to the higher layers.
A mark leading to Devaros.
When Ghei exited the church, people had gathered. They saw the light. They felt the change.
Kael approached, pale.
"Soren…"
"Gone," Ghei said.
"And you…"
"Have the key."
People hissed. Some cried. Some were angry.
"You killed him!" a woman shouted.
"He asked," Ghei replied flatly.
"Now what? You're going to Empyrean? Kill a god? And leave us here?"
Ghei looked at them all. A crowd trapped between life and death. Like him—but afraid to choose.
"I have no answers for you," he said. "I only have answers for myself."
He walked through the crowd. They parted—not out of respect, but fear.
His Null Echo now stronger. The golden trace on his chest pulsed in sync with the nothingness within him.
Aelia and Lyra waited at the end of the street.
"So?" Aelia asked.
"We climb the mountain," Ghei said. "The Temple of Shattered Hope is there. That's the physical door."
"And after that?"
"After that, I face the god who ruined my life."
They left Neovita behind.
From behind, Kael shouted, "If you succeed—if you kill him—what happens to us?"
Ghei did not turn.
"That's not my concern."
But in his heart, he knew: if the God of Resurrection died, perhaps this second life would end.
Perhaps they all would finally go home.
And that, he thought, might be the greatest gift he could give—without intending to.
The journey to the peak of the Shattered Crystal Mountain began as Luna Nihil reached the zenith of the sky.
Its black light made the mountain crystals glow with cold light, like stars trapped in stone.
Midway through the climb, Aelia asked, "Niruise. What does it mean?"
Ghei paused. His breath steady—his new body did not need oxygen the same way.
"Remnants," he answered.
"Of?"
"Ning Ruishen. My old name."
"Why cut it?"
"Because I'm no longer him. He's dead. I am only… the leftover that hasn't been tidied."
Aelia stared at him for a long moment. "You're strange. But honest. That's rare."
They continued.
And Ghei, for the first time since death, thought about his old name.
Ning Ruishen—a name with prayer. Peace. Fortune. Depth.
Now he was Ghei Niruise—a name without prayer. Only an acknowledgment that he was a fragment of something already finished.
Perhaps, he thought, that was for the best.
For how could something already finished be asked to continue?