"So… I'm dead," I said again, more to myself than Brakos, like repeating it might make it settle in easier.
"You are," Brakos replied softly.
There was no drama in his voice, no grand proclamation—just a simple truth.
I stared into the flickering fire for a while, feeling the weight of it all sink into my chest. I could still feel the pastry in my stomach, still feel the warmth of the chair under me, still think, still speak... and yet, I wasn't alive.
And then the second realization hit me like a truck."My family… They were with me when I died. They saw it happen, didn't they?"
Brakos looked down, his smile fading to something more somber."They did. I'm sorry, Jackson. It wasn't easy for them. But you were surrounded by love until your last breath."
That did nothing to dull the sting in my chest.
I sat quietly for a moment, then let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "Okay. Yeah. That's... heavy."
Brakos gave me time. He didn't interrupt. He just sat there, calm and patient, sipping his tea like he'd done this a thousand times.
Then something clicked in my head.
"You knew I was coming, didn't you?"
Brakos looked up. "Yes."
"And you brought me here for a reason—not just because I died young or had a tragic end or some vague cosmic lottery."
He gave a small, sheepish smile. "Also yes."
I narrowed my eyes. "So what, exactly, do you want from me?"
The air didn't shift. No dramatic thunder. No glowing symbols. Just Brakos, calmly folding his hands in front of him.
"To live," he said.
I blinked. "That's it? You pulled my soul across the veil of death so I could live?"
"Yes," he said plainly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I want you to live, Jackson. To explore. To grow. To experience. You have potential—immense potential—and I want to see what you'll do with it."
I stared at him for a moment. "You make it sound like I'm a character in one of your stories."
His smile widened, amused but not dismissive. "Aren't we all? But yours… yours has the markings of a good one. Unfinished. Complicated. Full of loss and heart and ideas. That's what makes a story worth reading."
"And you don't already know how it ends?" I asked, half-joking.
That was when I noticed it—that flicker in his eyes. A small glint of something deeper."No," he said softly, "and that's why I want to watch it unfold."
He leaned back again, thoughtful."I've seen so many stories. Lived through them. Catalogued them. At one point, I thought I wanted to know everything—but I was wrong. Knowing everything makes life… dull. So I limit myself. I only let my mind hold what it needs to. Enough to be wise, not enough to be bored."
"Wow," I muttered. "That's… kind of poetic."
"Also very practical," he added with a chuckle. "There's a reason I haven't gone mad after eons surrounded by infinite knowledge."
"Fair." I paused, thinking. "So… that's it? You just want me to live an interesting life so you can enjoy the show?"
Brakos tilted his head. "Mostly."
"'Mostly,' huh?"
He waved his hand. "Details. Things for later. Right now, you deserve to make your own choice."
I studied him carefully. He was hiding something—but not in a malicious way. More like he was giving me room to grow into the truth, like a plot twist he didn't want to spoil.
"...Alright," I said finally, folding my arms. "So I died. I'm here. You're not God, just a very powerful spirit who really likes books and chaos, and you want to reincarnate me so you can watch my life like a Netflix original."
Brakos chuckled. "That's one way to put it, yes."
"And you can't just send me back to my old world?"
"No. Your fate there has been fulfilled. Your story in that world is complete."
That... hurt. But I understood. I wasn't meant to rewrite the past—I was meant to write something new.
I leaned back and let my eyes drift toward the towering shelves again.
"So what does this reincarnation thing look like? Do I get to pick what world I go to? Is there a menu? Or do you just spin a cosmic wheel and say 'good luck'?"
Brakos grinned. "I take requests."
He waved his hand, and a shimmering screen of swirling colors appeared beside him. Dozens—no, hundreds—of worlds flickered in the light. Sci-fi cities, lush fantasy forests, post-apocalyptic wastelands, underwater civilizations, floating islands, shadow realms, even one that looked like a world made entirely of dessert.
I squinted. "Is that… a planet made of cake?"
"It's more dangerous than it looks," Brakos said with a straight face.
"Yeah, I bet." I laughed softly and turned back to him. "Alright. I'll think about it. But first… can I ask one last thing?"
"Of course."
"My family—can I know if they're okay? If they'll be… alright without me?"
Brakos nodded, his smile softening again."You may choose to keep your memories. If you do, I'll occasionally send you glimpses—updates. Nothing too detailed, but enough to ease your mind. That said… I can't change their fate. I can't protect them from everything. That is not within my power."
I hesitated, then nodded. "That's… fair. Okay."
Silence fell between us for a while. But it wasn't uncomfortable.
Eventually, I leaned forward, setting my empty glass back on the table. "If I live this new life… if I grow, become stronger, do something meaningful… will you record it? Like, in a book?"
Brakos's eyes widened, then glimmered."You wish your story to be shared?"
"Not exactly my story," I said. "Not with my name. But… if it could be uploaded to my old computer. Hidden in a folder my family might stumble across. A story they might read and not even realize it's me. It'd be… a way to say goodbye. Or maybe hello."
Brakos looked stunned for a moment."That is… a beautiful request. Yes. I can do that."
I smiled. "Thanks."
He rose from his chair and walked to one of the shelves, running his hand along the spines of several old tomes. "I knew there was something different about you," he murmured.
I tilted my head. "Different how?"
Brakos didn't answer directly. He plucked a book from the shelf and turned back to me."You've already taken your first step as an author of something greater. Now, let's start writing the next chapter."