Colors drained from the world as I walked, each step carrying me deeper into the threshold between realms. Trees twisted, gaunt and skeletal, their branches barbed with frost; the ground beneath my feet grew slick and black, swallowing sound and light alike. Even my own breath felt foreign—hollow, echoing in the silence. This was the borderland, the dominion of Geira and Panoúkla, where the boundaries between life and death blurred and nothing felt certain. They stood before me, impossibly tall and joined in eerie symmetry—one goddess, two faces. Panoúkla’s side glowered with short, cocoa-dark hair and deep brown skin, her eyes cold as obsidian. Geira, in contrast, radiated a pale, spectral presence: hair the color of new leaves streaked with white, skin nearly translucent along with brown doe eyes. “Where is she?” I demanded, voice raw as I took a trembling step forward. Panoúkla’s gaze sharpened. “People die, little goddess. People are born. Names slip away with the wind. Who do you mean?” “Laelynn!” The name tore from my throat, desperation spiking as I ransacked my memory for more. Laelynn what? I never asked. Shame prickled beneath my skin. “She’s just a child—a mortal girl. Long blonde hair, eyes so blue you’d swear they held the sky. She wore a pale blue dress—she was burned in her village, Willow Hollow.” My voice broke. “You must know her. You must.” Geira’s lips curved into a gentle, knowing smile, her gaze softening as if she recognized the soul I described. Beside her, Panoúkla remained stone-faced, but Geira’s presence radiated warmth—a stark contrast to her partner’s chill. “Ah, Laelynn Estella... December twenty-third,” Geira murmured, her voice as light as spring rain. “I remember guiding her into the mortal world as if it were only yesterday. Why do you ask about her, my queen? You have never come to us for the sake of mortals before.” “Bring her back!” I pleaded, my voice cracking. “She doesn’t belong in the Afterlife—can’t you just—” Panoúkla’s eyes flashed, her tone cutting through my words like a blade. “No! Laelynn has lost so much—her family, her friends. She deserves rest, deserves to be with them. To pull her back would unravel the flow of time itself!” “Then send her here!” I protested, hope flaring for a heartbeat. Panoúkla barked a harsh, mirthless laugh. “Impossible! A mortal cannot simply be reborn as a god or walk these halls. Once mortal, always mortal—there is no place for her here.” Geira squeezed her partner’s hand, then met my gaze—her eyes gentle, almost apologetic. “Not quite impossible. There are ways… We have bent the rules before—” Before she could finish, Panoúkla jerked away, covering Geira’s mouth with her hand. “Enough! She isn’t ready to know.”
A chill crept over me. “Know what? What aren’t you telling me?” Geira gently pulled Panoúkla’s hand away, her doe-like eyes meeting mine—wide, vulnerable, and brimming with an honesty that made my breath catch. “You… you were mortal once, Ying. You and your brother both. Long ago, Panoúkla and I would find children who died before their time, souls with unfinished stories. We gave them a second chance—a new life here in Vildora, to be reborn as gods.” Her voice faltered, and Panoúkla picked up the tale, cold and resolute. “But we stopped for a reason. The dead deserve peace, a reunion with the loved ones they lost. And the process… it’s dangerous. Not every soul is meant to live in Vildora. Only those with a spark—a trait destined to bloom into divinity—can survive. If not, they become trapped, lost between worlds, their memories unraveling until nothing of who they were remains.” My heart plummeted, heavy with the weight of the truth "So why didn’t I—” I began, but Panoúkla raised a hand, silencing me. She laced her fingers with Geira’s once more, the gesture gentle but firm. “Why didn’t you know?” she finished for me, her tone softer now. “We… we usually erase the memories of the mortal life. It’s a chance for a true beginning—only fragments remain, enough to shape your new self. The rest fades, leaving space for what you must become.” Suddenly, it all made sense—the ache of hunger at the trading post, the strange familiarity of the mortal world, the dreams that felt more like memories. I had always thought they were echoes, nothing more. But it was a life, once. My life, forgotten and remade. “Laelynn…” My voice trembled as I looked between Panoúkla and Geira. “I truly believe she’s one of us. Please—bring her back. I beg you.” The truth settled over me like a heavy shroud. If Laelynn returned, she wouldn’t remember her mortal life. Would she remember me at all? My heart twisted. “And… please, let her keep her memories. Let her remember who she was, who we were together.” Panoúkla released Geira’s hand, her usual chill softened by a glimmer of understanding. For the first time, I saw warmth—compassion—in her eyes. “Very well. But you must understand the risk. If she is not meant for this place, if her spirit cannot take root… she will be lost between worlds. There is no bringing her back after that.” I nodded, resolve anchoring me. “I understand.” Turning my gaze skyward, I let hope crack through my grief. “Laelynn,” I whispered, “you’re almost home.”
