There was only the never ending void; no light, no sound. But a wandering soul within can feel its infinite emptiness. The soul knew it had a name. It remembered its past life, how it died, and understood that its life had come to an end. Now, it waited in the void, not for a rescue but for its fate. Will it go to heaven? Will it go to hell? Will it be reborn and given a second chance at life? Or will it be stuck here for eternity? The soul did not know how long it had waited nor did it even care before it felt the void shift and twist. It felt itself torn by the void into multiple fragments. It tried to piece itself together but to no avail. It didn’t feel pain, but it knew it lost something. The soul knew it had a name. It had remembered its past life and how it had died. And it understood that it had forgotten those. Through the fracture the soul went. It was being crushed and broken further but it resisted as much as it could. It had already lost many things, and was unwilling to lose more. Gradually, it was being chipped away. Then, it heard voices. One of apology. One of disbelief and rage. One of denial. And it heard one more. It heard the cry of new life. It heard its own voice.

*** The doctor said that it was the first time she ever heard of a stillborn child come back to life and even experienced it firsthand. To the couple, it didn’t matter if it was medically impossible. They were just happy that their child was alive and well. Artur, the father of the miracle child, was not from their town. He suddenly appeared one day covered in injuries. It was Eliza, only a young teen back then, who took care of him. Artur kept his history hidden from everyone in the town, including Eliza, but did not stop her from falling in love with him over the years. After they married, Eliza suffered from three miscarriages so it was no wonder that they were so happy that she had finally given birth despite the tragedy that almost took place again. A ten-year-old girl left the town shortly after dawn. Their family owns a bakery, so her mother would always wake up early to prepare the bread they would sell in the morning. The girl wore a brown hooded cloak and carried a basket in her arms. She headed straight for the nearby forest and followed a well-used trail. After a few minutes, she arrived in a clearing that lead to a hill. On top of that hill was a wooden warehouse. She peeked at the slightly open door and found a man lying asleep on the floor. She walked up to him and dropped the basket beside his head. “Fallen islands!” the man exclaimed as he sat up with a start. He looked around and saw the hooded girl standing beside a basket on the ground. “Oh, Mori. Morning.” He opened his mouth for a big yawn, then pulled a warm roll of bread from the basket. “Mom said if you don’t sleep at home tonight, you can forget that you have a home,” the girl said as she sat down beside the basket. She took out a bread with a butter and sugar-coated top. “She always says that,” the man said. “She also said that you should enjoy today’s breakfast because it will be the last.” “Fine. I just need to do a little more adjustments.” The man downed a huge piece of bread and pushed it down with a cup of cold coffee he took out from somewhere in the warehouse. He then wiped his hands on his dirty clothes before walking toward the object that occupied the center of the building. He had a proud smile on his face. “It looks shabby,” the girl said as she stood and picked up the basket. “Wait until it takes off in the air,” he said with that stupid smile. “I’ll let you ride it if you take back your remark.” “No, thanks. It is shabby.” The man turned to scowl at his child but she was nowhere in sight. “Feisty little kid.” The caring expression on his face as he said those words spoke otherwise. Morielle was standing just outside the door of the warehouse so she heard what Artur said. There was a sad smile on her face as she walked away. She was backtracking the trail back to the town when a group of four children around her age blocked her way. “It’s the witch!” a boy with buckteeth shouted as he pointed at Morielle. “Idiot rabbit. She’s a zombie, not a witch,” the only girl in the group of four sighed. “I’m not a rabbit! And witches and zombies are the same thing!” “You’re still an idiot, though!” “Shut up!” the biggest and meanest looking in the group silenced the bickering duo. He was slightly fat and at least a head taller than the rest of the group. There was a bruise near his left eye which Morielle stared at with a contemptuous smile. “Today, we will get our revenge,” he said. “Any last words, little zombie girl?” “I thought that hit would fix up your brain, but I guess it only made things worse,” Morielle said with a shrug. “Get her!” His three minions surrounded her, with the only one who had remained silent standing behind her. He was the weakest looking in the bunch, and also the first to fall. He received a kick right in the gut knocking him down in one blow. The other two tried to grab her from the sides, but with a quick duck, a sweeping kick, and a straight punch in the gut knocked them down. The bully leader charged at her while screaming what he probably thought was a cool-sounding warcry but actually sounded like some wild beast being skewered alive. She dodged to the right and threw a punch to his face. It was powerful enough to upset his balance, and would probably leave a bruise similar to the other side. Before the bullies could regroup and reorganize, Morielle dashed back to town. She sneaked to the back of their home and found the wooden barrels where they stored water. She grabbed a pail and dipped her hands in the cold water. “Had a fight again?” Eliza asked from the house’s open backdoor. “Yeah. I tried to knock some sense into dad, but his head is too hard,” came Morielle’s witty response. “It is funny because it’s true, but you shouldn’t be lying to me young lady.” “Fine. Rodney and his gang were picking on me again. They called me stuff like zombies and witches.” “Aw, my poor little child. I will teach those nasty little buggers a lesson,” her mother said with a sickening tone as she crouched behind the kid and hugged her. “Or were you thinking I would say something like that?” Her hug quickly turned into a stranglehold. “Can’t… breathe…” Morielle thought that her brain died a little before her mother let her go. “I told you that you shouldn’t lie to me.” “And you shouldn’t be strangling your child.” “What did you say?” “Nothing.” Eliza sighed as she looked at her child. The kid was a genius. Even before she was a year old, she could already understand what she and her husband was saying. She easily learned how to walk and do housechores. She used to be such an obedient child, so Eliza didn’t know how she turned into such a bully. True, the other kids were at fault for calling her names, especially the term zombie, but the kid was quick to turn to violence to resolve her problems. Morielle spent the rest of the day helping with chores at home. Artur arrived shortly after the sun set and spent some time knocking and begging to be let in by the front door. Dinner was a simple yet filling meal of leftover bread from the morning and mushroom soup. It was a dark, cloudy, moonless night, and it was times like these that Morielle had a hard time falling asleep. She tossed and turned in bed only to sit up and glare at the darkness that surrounded her. “I’m not going back…” she growled at the darkness. “You can’t take me back.” She wrapped herself in her blanket. A strange pain filled her chest. There were things she knew, but there were also things she could not remember. She knew that she had already died once, but she couldn’t remember what her previous life had been. It was like seeing her reflection only to realize that it was actually her shadow, just an ever present figure with nothing in it. No matter how much she told herself that she should just forget about it and live her current life to the fullest, but her missing past kept on haunting her. The pain grew unbearable and she cried herself to sleep. Her dreams had barely formed when she was jolted awake by the pain. It didn’t come from her chest but from her arm instead. Strangely, a dim orange light lit her room. She looked down on her arm where an arrow had lodged itself deep. It was only then she realized the smell of smoke and the cries of pain and terror coming from the broken window. She joined the chorus of screams. “Mori!” her mother dashed into the room and stared horrified at her injury. She dashed to her side and tried to comfort the agonised girl. “Mori! Honey! Look at me,” Eliza said as she held Morielle’s face and met her eyes. “You need to trust me, okay?” The girl nodded. She then stared horrified as her mother’s hand went for the arrow and snapped the shaft near the wand. It took a bit of effort for Eliza and caused the girl to whimper in pain. The arrowhead was stuck bone deep in her arm. “The town is not gonna make it!” they heard Artur declare as he entered the room. He was holding an unfamiliar sword stained with fresh blood. He stalled when he saw Morielle bleeding, but continued when he saw that it was not a fatal injury. “We need to escape.” “Where can we go?” Eliza asked. She was pale-faced and the courage she had shown her child was gone. “We will leave the island. I’ll explain later. Let’s go!” Artur and Eliza grabbed what they could. They left the village and followed the trail in the forest. When they reached the warehouse, Eliza understood what her husband was planning. “Are you crazy?” she asked. “No,” Artur answered in a grim tone as he lead his wife and daughter into the building. “Get in.” Eliza was unsteady as she watched her husband open a door on the strange object. Inside was a small space enough for two people to either stand up and lie down in. “What is this… thing?” Eliza couldn’t help but ask. “It’s an airboat. This is how I got here in this island.” Eliza gave him an incredulous look. She looked down at her daughter who was gradually losing consciousness. Before she could say anything, sounds of arrows hitting wood came from the warehouse’s wall facing the trail from the town. “Get in. There’s no more time!” Arture basically pushed the two into the airboat. He activated the airboat’s flotation core before jumping back out. He then pushed the airboat out of the warehouse and down the hill. Beyond the hill was a gradual slope that lead to a cliff at the edge of the island. He specifically chose this place to build the warehouse because of this. Eliza realized that Artur was not planning on going with them. She watched his lonely figure turn to face the enemies approaching from the other side of the hill. Something hit the side of the airboat followed by a high pitched cackling. Through the open door, a small green figure jumped in. It was a gobline dressed in shabby leather armor and wielding two serrated daggers. Seeing the two females inside, it cackled louder. Eliza looked at her child. She was still barely conscious and their eyes met. A warm smile appeared on Eliza’s face as she said, “I love you.” With grim determination she jumped toward the rushing goblin and caught the daggers in her torso. The creature tried to pull out but Eliza held it in a firm hug. “You’re not going anywhere,” she whispered to the creature before carrying it with her through the open door. The airboat had just left the edge of the cliff and there was no ground beneath them. The goblin shrieked in fear as the dying woman brought it with her fall. The airboat swayed unsteadily as it floated and glided away from the island. Through blurry and teary eyes, Morielle could barely see the gradually disappearing island floating in the clouds. It was still dark, but the island was well lit from the burning towns. It was a beautiful sight on its own, but Morielle could feel nothing but pain. She had lost many things before, and now she lost some more. A small, unsteady airboat floated aimlessly in the dark night sky. It was shabby, and Morielle hated it.