The man prostrated himself before the woman. “Please, I beg of you, God!”

Even though the woman before him was stunningly beautiful, overshadowing every wonder in the world. Her skin was as white as snow, seemingly just as cold. It looked smoother than glass and healthy and youthful. The fabric on her body was otherworldly, made of something that humans could not obtain, or even comprehend beyond a single thought of “beautiful.”

All this the man gathered without a single glance at her face. He could only look at her feet, staring intently as if that could permit her to sense his intentions and urgency. Perhaps she was reading this thought right now; she was God herself after all.

The woman stood up and walked to the side, out of his sight. The man lowered his head further and studied his dirty fingernails, stuck on top of his warped fingers like the digits of a twisted creature that did not belong in this holy hall of God.

“Sometimes, I am a human, just like you. At other times, I am a demon. Of course, you might also know me as God. However, that title is not one I chose myself. It was bestowed upon me by mortals such as yourself.”

The woman’s soft voice came from behind him, sounding far and close, almost as if she was whispering in his ear. Yet, there wasn’t a hint of seduction...!

The man swallowed as he tried to purge the thought from his mind, holding his breath as he waited to be turned to dust for his impure thoughts.

“However, right now, I am indeed a deity. If I wish, I can know everything. I can do anything. I have… if you will, no limits. But what is the fun in that?”

“Do not fear. A simple, honest man like cannot control your thoughts.”

The woman returned to her ornate seat in front of him. “I hear your wishes, but I do have rules I have imposed upon myself, so I cannot satisfy your request.”

The man’s heart frozen and he closed his eyes.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

“I am willing to do anything. Equal exchange… anything…for her. Without her, my life has no purpose.”

“Silly human. You make a foolish decision. No emotion, no feeling lasts for all eternity. Why would you give up your own life for someone else’s? Why would you die if she cannot be by yourself?” She tutted in disappointment. “Consumed by grief as you are, you cannot make a rational decision. Come back another day.”

The woman’s feet rose as she reclined back against her throne in finality.

The man watched as his last hope slipped through his fingers. In a way, he expected this, but he couldn’t rest easy until he tried. Now, he could finally stop.

He looked at the white marble floor, pristine and unblemished. It was such a shame.

Slowly so that he did not startle the God, a foolish thought, he realized, he took out a small ceremonial knife. It was this knife that he exchanged with his wife on the night of their marriage. It was the knife that cut into her pinky and allowed her blood to drip into the wine cup, mixing with his.

On that night, they truly become one, swearing to never leave each other.

Blood spilled onto the marble floor. He gritted his teeth, never letting a sound out of his mouth except the grinding of his teeth. The floor spun as he felt the spilling of his blood slow.

With this, he could finally be with her.

Kokra looked down at the dying man as he neared his boundary between life and death. Although unconscious, he was not yet dead, even if he would be in a few more minutes.

Foolish. Foolish, but strangely heartwarming. Such was the charm of the lesser races, unlike beings like her who would never know love.

Snapping open her fan, she began to wave it slowly, pushing air toward her face. The man was not arrogant. He held no expectation that she will help him out of pity. His final thoughts held only peace and expectations for a reunion in another world.

She’d help, but only a little. If he could bring his wife back, then she will resurrect both him and his life. However, if he can not… then...

The fan snapped close and the man disappeared.

“The Hall of Souls.”

Whether he could truly overturn the destiny that condemned his wife to an early death is completely up to him.

When the man woke up, he found himself sprawled on the ground. The rough surface was pitted and gravelly. White haze filled his vision, and if he stood up, he could no longer see the floor.

“Where is this place? Is this the afterlife?”

He felt his heart, but no wound was there. He’d always believed that the dead carried their injuries into the afterlife.

“The knife!”

He knelt down and swept the ground for the precious blade. His wildly waving hands knocked on something and sent it skittering across the floor. He hurriedly ran after it and grabbed it securely before he could lose it again.

His fingers rubbed tenderly over the dagger, feeling the scratches on the fine craftsmanship of the ornaments. It was almost as if the knife in his hands was stabbing at his heart in anger, anger that he could almost lose his wife’s gift to him.

The man stood up to see an emaciated face in front of him.

“Ah!” he shouted and jumped back. The face in the fog did not move to chase him, but stayed where it was motionlessly. The man held up his knife menacingly.

“Who… am… I?” the face whispered.

“I… I don’t know,” the man stuttered.

“I… see…” as if it was sighing, the face turned away and faded into the mist. It was once a man but was now something lesser: a wandering spirit that did not know who it was.

Was Tabitha also here?

“Tabitha!” the man shouted. “Tabitha?” His cries faded into the mist without a single echo. Nothing replied. “Tabitha!”

Something in the mist moved and the man ran toward it, only to skid to a stop at the sight of another hazy face. But it wasn’t Tabitha. Even if she was reduced to this, he’d find her. Even if he was the one to become a spirit, she’d be able to find him too.

“Tabitha!”

He just had to believe in the connection they shared, built from those precious few years they spent together.

What did her face look like again? What was her name…?

“Tabi...tha?”

Was he looking for someone? Who was Tabitha?

Who was he?