A shiver ran through Sarah’s body again. Despite being burrowed under a cocoon of her blanket, she felt the cold in her bones.

It was not like her prison cell was unheated, but the chill came from within. The emptiness and loneliness crept through her veins as she was curled up on her bed. She couldn’t even remember, when she had last talked to someone, who didn’t order her around like the wardens did. It could have been over a year ago as far as she knew.

Times had changed since the early twentieth century. Ever since the first meta-humans emerged, tensions were on the rise. Meta-human was a blanket term for everyone with paranormal abilities. Abilities like telekinesis or teleportation shook society up as normal people couldn’t defend themselves against them. The more powerful meta-humans didn’t want to bow down to the normal humans and started revolutions left and right. It didn’t take humans long to view all meta-humans as a threat and, although most of them weren’t, they suffered under the same scrutiny.

Not long before Sarah's birth, the government put meta-humans under special surveillance in so called Meta-Human Investigation Camps. In fact, it was one of those camps near New York where Sarah was born to a pair of meta-humans. Her mother was a rather powerful shadow walker - someone, who could melt into the shadows to stay unseen and unheard - and her father was one of the strongest registered telekinetic meta-human. But it was this heritage that made Sarah a target for everyone. The reason for that lay in the fact, that two meta-humans never had a child together, before Sarah came into being. It had never happened before, but it was Sarah’s birth that shattered long known facts. Up to this point, the consensus was that meta-humans couldn’t wipe out humans as meta-humans needed them for reproduction. The implications of Sarah’s birth were disastrous for the government, especially if she was to inherit both of her parent’s powers. After a few years, it became apparent that had not only inherited their abilities, but in addition, she had her own power, which was an odd combination of her parent’s. She could bend shadow and darkness into places where they couldn’t be, banishing all light from such a place.

It was no surprise that the possibility of more meta-humans producing off-spring with similar results terrified the government. They hatched a secret plan to make the meta-humans in the camps sterile. But how it always is with secrets, they will become known one day. And when it did, the real rebellion started.

Everything that came before was only a prelude to the war that would follow. Sarah’s parents were one of the first to die, when they helped Sarah to flee from the camp, when she was only fourteen. In the following years she was hunted by the government, recruited by the rebels and ultimately rose to power in their ranks. The rebellion started strong, but soon the humans developed better and better tactics to counter specific powers, which led to a war of attrition, which the meta-humans were bound to lose. Based on the high mortality rate of those partaking in the war, Sarah became the leader of the rebellion soon after her seventeenth birthday. Burdened with the responsibility to lead her people to a peaceful and autonomous future, she learned as much as possible about warfare, diplomacy, logistics and covert operations. She trained her skills, encouraged her people and fought her enemies.

After two years of war, in which the rebellious meta-humans held part of the United States of America and Canada’s east-coast, the human government started to talk about peace. Sarah was already sick of the war at that point and wished for nothing more than ending the conflict. She agreed to a peace conference knowing it would most likely lead to nothing. She knew the humans feared nothing more than an established safe haven for meta-humans, which would only grow stronger in time. But what she had not expected was a trap. The humans had found ways to eliminate meta-humans, especially when they were not on their guard, but a delegation with the most powerful meta-humans wouldn’t be killed.

Or so they thought.

As soon as she and her delegation arrived at the designated place, their powers were suppressed. No one knew the humans had developed the technology to do that and she and her companions weren't prepared for it. It was a quick covert op that killed all the people escorting her. They spared only her for scientific reasons as Sarah learned later on. After all she was still the only one ever to be born from two meta-humans and the humans wanted to learn what made her special.

And this was the story how Sarah got into her situation.

The prodding and analyzing from multiple scientists stopped after some time because they had found what they searched for or they had hit a wall. Not that Sarah had a way to know. No one talked to her.

She didn’t get depressed about her situation, but living in a windowless isolation cell for over a year scraped on her sanity. What made her shiver at night, however, was the absence of moonlight. It was something Sarah had learned before but was painfully aware as she suffered alone in her cell. She had a connection to the moon. This was something she had told no one before because she feared her peers would call her lunatic. When things were most dire, she had even prayed to the moon for help and whenever she did, she felt stronger than before. If it was a real power boost or just her imagination, she couldn’t tell.

She still prayed every night to the moon, but ever since they had put into her prison she couldn’t feel the power around her and she felt disconnected from everything. And this created her feeling of emptiness.

The opening of her cell door pulled Sarah out of her thoughts. She peeked from under her blanket and saw a man in a suit. She remembered his face. He had been her lawyer for the so-called trial in which a tribunal had found her guilty of treason.

“Miss Johnson?” He asked carefully.

“Yes?” She replied with a coarse voice. Not talking for a while had taken a number on her.

“I am Jordan McAllister. I’m your…” he started to explain but Sarah interrupted him.

“My Lawyer. I remember you.”

“Ah, good!” He said in relief.

“Why are you here?” she asked. They hadn’t talked since after the trial, so she was unsure about his reasons to visit her.

“Well, I just got visiting rights to do so. I’m sorry for not coming earlier,” he explained.

“Don’t be sorry. Didn’t expect you to come anyway. So, what brings you here? It’s not a courtesy visit, I guess?” Sarah asked and pulled herself upwards into a sitting position. She fought the urge to crawl back under her blanket.

“Sadly, it’s not,” he admitted and looked crestfallen. “I’m here to tell you that the day of your execution has been decided.”

Sarah inhaled sharply. She knew she was to be executed since the trial, but without a date, it never felt real.

“When?” She asked with a quivering voice.

“Three days from now,” Mr. McAllister said. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t do more.”

Sarah said nothing at first. She stared at the ceiling of her cell and thought about the news. Her mind wandered to her friends. Some of them were already dead, some perhaps in prison and she hoped some were still free. She knew she would never see them again.

“You think they would grant me a last request?” she asked without looking at him.

“I don’t know. Perhaps. Depends on your wish, I guess.”

“I want to be executed outside. With a look on the moon and the stars.”

Mr. McAllister said nothing at first but pondered at the request.

“I will try to arrange that, but may I ask why? It seems like an odd thing to ask for to be honest.”

“I’ve been in this cell for months. When I go out, I want to smell fresh air at least. I want to look at the sky and pray to whichever gods there may be to guide me to whatever awaits me after death,” she explained her reasoning. “Death doesn't frighten me anymore. I just want to be free of the shackles that bind me.”

“I see…” Mr. McAllister said, but Sarah didn’t think he understood what she was talking about.

“Please, try to make them grant me that last wish,” she added and took his hand.

“I will do it. I think no one would deny a dead man’s last wish. Even someone like you should get this courtesy.”

“Someone like me, eh?” she asked.

“Well… You know…”

Sarah chuckled slightly.

Three days later Sarah’s time had come. It was interesting for her to see through how many phases of emotional upheaval one could get in just three days. Despite telling her lawyer that she was ready for death, she struggled with the thought until the last moment. She didn’t know what would come after, and that was something that frightened her.

Only when the prison guards escorted her outside, she finally accepted that there was nothing she could do about it. When she realized, where they were headed, a smile appeared on her face. They led her outside to a place with a concrete wall and a wooden post before it. Opposed to it was a small stand where several important looking people and some journalists sat on improvised seating arrangements. For some odd reason there were no cameras or any other recording devices as she had expected.

The guards positioned her in front of the wooden post and then chained against it so that she faced the spectators. An army officer walked over with a microphone in his hand.

“Sarah Marie Johnson. You were sentenced to death by firing squad, which will now be executed. Any last words?” The man asked and hold a microphone in front of her face.

Sarah thought quickly, then shrugged her shoulders.

“Just get to it.”

“So be it,” the man said and reached for a blindfold in his pockets.

“Don’t,” Sarah said and shook her head. “I don’t need that.”

This time the officer hesitated a moment, but when he saw the conviction in her eyes, he put the blindfold back into his pocket. He then walked back to the spectators and commanded a firing squad in front of her. Sarah looked around and found Mr. McAllister at the sides. She mouthed a silent ‘Thank you’ to which he nodded.

“Make ready!” the army officer said amplified by the speakers.

The row of ten gunmen chambered a round into their rifles. Sarah looked over those ten men and smiled at them. They didn’t give her any response. Not that she had expected it. After all, they were most likely loyal veterans, who were eager to do the deed.

Or she did them a disservice with this assessment. She couldn’t look into their heads.

“Aim!”

The gunmen adjusted their aim right above Sarah’s heart. She took a deep breath and wondered why her heart suddenly pounded so fast. Perhaps she wasn’t ready. Or perhaps her hearts pumped her blood defiantly through her body to show her it would stand with her to the very end. An amusing thought, Sarah decided.

Her eyes wandered away from the people and straight to the moon which broke through the few clouds in the sky. When Sarah saw the moon, a bright smile crept onto her face.

Everything was going to be all right.

“Fire!”

Sarah came back to her senses when she felt a slight tug on herself. It was like a shy little child pulling your sleeve to gain attention. Sarah didn’t see where she was headed as she was more ethereal than anything else and therefore had no eyes. However, she knew she was going somewhere good. Somewhere peaceful. It felt like a blinding light, which promised everything she had ever wanted as long as she reached it.

When Sarah was close to her destination, a firm grip from behind suddenly stopped her. She felt like being glued to the place where she came from. She was so close to her goal, but couldn’t move any further. It felt like an eternity had passed when another tug pulled her into a different direction. It wasn’t as bright or promising, but it was a better alternative than staying in limbo like she was. When she willed herself to that location instead, the grip that held her in place loosened considerably and she moved forward.

Waking up from death is an unpleasant experience as Sarah discovered. She felt sore all over her ethereal body. She looked around and found herself in something that looked like an old Roman temple.

“Good morning, sleepy-head,” a soothing voice sounded behind Sarah and she swirled around in surprise. A woman in a white tunic stood before her and Sarah had to admit that she was by far the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. She was a bit larger than Sarah and had beautiful auburn curls that fell down on her shoulders like liquid. Her eyes were piercing emeralds and gave a feeling of happiness and helpfulness.

“That’s so nice of you to think!” The woman said with a bright smile.

“You- you can read my mind?” Sarah asked.

“Sure. You are a transcending soul. But don’t worry. It’s just temporary,” the woman answered and walked over to a bench which didn’t stand there before. She signaled Sarah to sit beside her.

“Transcending soul? What is that?” Sarah asked her next question while placing herself on the bench.

“It’s a state of one’s soul, while moving between the mortal world and what comes after,” the woman explained. “And it’s a state in which divine beings like me can communicate with mortals unhindered. Hence, why I called you here.”

“So, you’re a goddess?” Sarah asked surprised.

“Not quite,” the woman said with a slight chuckle. “But I’m what people from your and a lot of other worlds would call an angel.”

“So there actually is a heaven? And hell?” Sarah asked surprised, and a little terrified. “Oh god, did I pray to the wrong god? Will I go to hell now?”

“Calm down! Sheesh!” the woman said a tad bit annoyed. Something in her voice was relaxing despite her annoyance and helped Sarah to calm down. “There is a heaven and a hell, yes. But it’s not like you heard. Your world is ignorant about those things. I won’t go into details because our time is limited and you’re not going to either place.”

“I’m not?”

“Certainly not,” the woman sighed and looked around. “Do you know, why we are here? It’s because you are connected to Diana, the goddess of the moon on your world. You prayed to her, didn’t you? Gods often have multiple names, based on culture and language, so perhaps you had a different name for her.”

She waved her hands at the temple and explained: “This is the Divine Temple of the Conclave of Lunar Gods.”

“I’m sorry, but… the what of what now?”

“Eh, doesn’t matter. It’s not that important,” the woman said and put Sarah off with a wave of her hand. “What’s important is the following: When people die, their souls follow the path either through heaven or hell, depending on their actions in life. They will be stripped of their memories, emotions and all the positive or negative energy, they have accumulated throughout life. What remains is a pure soul that flows back into the River of Souls where they await reincarnation. You follow me so far?”

Sarah nodded. She didn’t quite get where this was headed, but at least she understood the concept.

“Okay, now we are neither in heaven nor hell, as you probably guessed, and I already mentioned. That’s because you are special.”

“That’s sounds familiar…” Sarah murmured with a sudden rush of sadness. Being special wasn’t a good thing in her experience.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Your soul is not, was not, and never will be anything else than special. Wherever you go, you are destined to be different,” the woman said with a sigh.

“Well, I learned to accept that in one life. Shouldn’t be too hard to do again,” Sarah replied with a shrug. “But what makes me so special that I ended up here?”

“That’s simple,” the woman said smiling. “You are incomplete. Or to be more precise, your soul is shattered. You were supposed to be born on a different world, but instead something happened, and you were broken into multiple parts. And before you ask, I don’t know how that happened.”

“That’s… I… what?” Sarah stuttered. She didn’t understand what the woman meant with being shattered. She felt not very broken right now.

“Yeah, that’s not something you expect to hear, is it?”

Sarah didn’t answer. She couldn’t comprehend what the angel was talking about.

“How… How does someone’s soul break?”

“I have not the slightest idea. That’s something you would have to ask the God of Death. He manages the transcendence of souls.”

“Can I do this? Ask a god something like this?” Sarah asked surprised.

“Sure. If you can find him and get him to talk to you. However, I would not advise you to search for this particular god. He’s not the nicest guy of the bunch and can be nasty, if he is in a foul mood.”

“So… you’re not one of his servants?”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “What gave you the impression I could be one of his Reapers?”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to offend you!” Sarah quickly tried to explain. “It’s just… I died and then there you are. Escorting me to the afterlife and things.”

“Yeah… I get, where you're coming from,” the woman admitted. “But to clarify things, my name is Tavariel and I’m a seraph in the order of Mercy.”

“That’s an important position, right?” Sarah asked just to be sure, to which Tavariel laughed.

“You could say that,” she answered. “I’m a direct subordinate to the Archangel of Mercy, which is the voice of the Goddess of Mercy. So, yes. I’m pretty important.”

“And what happens now?” Sarah asked nervously. She had seen and done quite a few things in her short life on earth, but religion and everything related to the spiritual side of things were not part of it. Everything, she had learned so far from Tavariel, turned everything she thought she knew on its head.

“Now?” Tavariel answered. “Now, we wait for another part of your soul to arrive. She should be here any second now.”

“Another part? Did she die as well?”

“No, but I would suggest we wait with more questions until… Oh, there she is!” Tavariel said and mentioned to a point where a ball of light came into existence and then expanded to form something akin to a human being. Only when the ghostly body was completed, Sarah noticed a few differences. The woman was young, perhaps in her early teens, and had a pale complexion with a tint of blue or violet. Even more prominent were the pointed ear tips, which prolonged her ears to double the length of normal humans. She had slightly angled eyes what gave her a rather predatory look. Her plush lips and slim figure gave a feeling of femininity, which had yet to develop. Her nearly non-existent breasts were the only factor to show her young age. Overall, the girl made an aristocratic and noble impression on Sarah.

After the girl had materialized and was dressed in the same white tunic as Tavariel and Sarah, who only then realized her own attire, she looked around. Tavariel rose from the bench and walked over to her while she signaled Sarah to wait.

“Where am I?” The girl finally asked.