Page 146 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

SHADOW

TWENTY-EIGHT

THE WARRIOR

The day the portals opened…

The Warrior’s pain stopped as quickly as it started.

Its absence left him oddly numb… disoriented. Light—more radiant even than Grayshell—greeted him, and the sensations swirled into madness.

He couldn’t fully comprehend what lay before him.

Fine mist glittered through the air, warm light slicing across the omnipresent white. Where windows should have been, there was only an abyss of brightness… not light, but Love.

All around him glowed an unmistakable, unending Love made manifest—more solid than metaphysical—caressing his being as sunshine once kissed his skin at his favorite beach.

Something akin to overwhelm swelled through him. His body…

Which was not his body, he realized. Different. Nebulous. Somehow the presence of him felt even larger than life, and Aren Amadeus of Grayshell was already accustomed to feeling like far too much. But this…

This form of existence was infinite…

Love wasn’t adequate. The word fell short of the peace and belonging, the aching bliss of luminescence brought to life. But it was the only word The Warrior could remember that came close.

His soul conjured fine lines framing bright aqua eyes and a beaming smile. Where ache had been, there was only… peace.

Aren sucked in a breath before blowing it out, more habit than necessity, as this form had no limits or needs. It simply… was.

When he rose, mist swelled around his feet as they solidified, the rest of the body he knew following with remarkable ease—amorphous light becoming matter. Had he meant to do that? As in life, most souls mirrored their level of proficiency when they entered the After, but even The Warrior’s energy seemed startled by how instinctively he’d sculpted a form more familiar than simply… existing.

With one step, walls materialized around him, as veiled as everything else, vague windows lining brick where streams of light shone through.

He wondered whether Grayshell had been modeled after this… this space?

Of course it had. All things were. Within the infinite expanse of Creation, all things were true at once. In darkness, light expanded. The mere thought of existence became reality—just as The Warrior had made himself a body without conceptualizing it.

“Hello?” Aren breathed, expecting no answer. He was unsurprised when he received instead a Knowing. The thread tugged at his chest, turning him toward his companion. A companion who simultaneously was and wasn’t.

Warmth filled his chest, his eyes watering as he blinked at the being he’d worshipped for centuries. In love and hate, faith and bitterness, standing strong or broken on the floor, The Warrior had shouted victories and grievances alike to his Creator.

“War,” a resonant voice boomed—one and many, male and female, resounding through all that was or ever had been.

Goosebumps trailed from head to toe, though The Warrior wasn’t entirely sure he had skin to pebble.

“Anger. Lust.”

Aren knelt faster than he thought possible, acutely aware no heart beat within the vessel he’d sculpted. Some corner of his awareness knew it would have been hammering.

“A life well lived. Those were the sins you decided you carried. Rise, son of the King.”

Keeping his eyes lowered, The Warrior couldn’t bring himself to decipher a face until the Knowing wordlessly demanded he lift his now-tangible chin. His soul vibrated with relief, joy, pure overwhelm… and an undying, infinite, unwavering, unconditional Love.

Home. By every measure, he was at last Home.

“I’m truly dead, then?”

The knowing calmly confirmed, “In the physical sense.”