Earth,
Jack was an ordinary man, content with his simple life in Portland, Oregon. At 30, his days were predictable, spent working as an accountant at a local bank, a steady job that paid the bills and allowed him the comfort of a small apartment in the city. He wasn't the type to seek out adventure. His world was safe, controlled. After work, Jack's life was filled with quiet pleasures—marathons of his favorite TV shows, diving into the pages of fantasy novels, and the occasional night out with his few close friends. His solitude wasn't something he lamented. He liked it that way. Fictional worlds provided an escape from the mundanity of his existence, and to him, that was more than enough.
The future didn't weigh on his mind, at least not in any overwhelming sense. He didn't dream of grand adventures or exciting possibilities—just stability and peace. But that quiet world shattered in an instant.
That fateful morning started like any other. Jack woke up late, cursing his alarm for betraying him. His coffee was rushed, the usual black without sugar, as he scrambled to throw on his work clothes and sprint out the door. His heart raced as he jogged toward the bus stop, hoping not to miss the bus to downtown. But something was different about that morning. A nagging feeling of unease crept up his spine, like a shadow trailing him that he couldn't shake.
The sky was overcast, but that wasn't unusual for Portland. Yet, as Jack crossed the street, his steps faltered. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something in the air felt wrong. The world felt... heavier. Then, it happened.
A flash of headlights. The sound of screeching tires. The blaring horn came too late, and before Jack could even register the bus barreling toward him, it hit. His world went dark in an instant. No pain. No noise. Just pure, crushing blackness.
---
When Jack opened his eyes, it wasn't to the aftermath of a car accident. He wasn't on the pavement or in a hospital. Instead, he was surrounded by an endless void, a pitch-black abyss stretching out in every direction. The air—or whatever existed here—was cold, but not physically so. It was a deeper chill, one that seemed to seep into his very soul.
"Am I dead?" The thought was immediate, followed by panic that swelled in his chest. But when he tried to move, he realized he couldn't feel his body. There was no sensation of touch, no arms or legs to move—he was weightless, floating in the void.
Jack tried to speak, to scream, but nothing came. His voice was swallowed by the oppressive silence. He couldn't even hear his own breath, if he was still breathing at all. Was this what death was? Endless nothingness?
At first, he fought against it, his mind racing through possibilities, begging for some kind of escape. He replayed the moment of the accident again and again, as though clinging to the memory might bring him back. But the void didn't care. It offered no answers, no comfort.
Time ceased to exist in the darkness. There was no day or night, no rising sun to signal the passing of time. Hours blended into days, which bled into weeks, but Jack had no way of knowing. His mind wandered, and in those first moments, it was filled with pleas to return, desperate bargains whispered to the uncaring void.
But as the endless dark stretched on, something inside Jack began to change. His thoughts, once sharp and frantic, dulled into a fog. The constant silence gnawed at him, and soon the panic that once consumed him gave way to apathy. This place, whatever it was, began to twist his very soul. He wasn't just lost in the dark anymore—he was becoming part of it.
And then, the void... stirred.
At first, Jack thought it was his imagination, the result of too much time in the abyss. But no, something was there. The darkness was alive. He could feel it creeping toward him, like tendrils of shadow wrapping around his consciousness. It whispered, though the words were twisted, in a language foreign to him. Yet, somehow, he understood.
The darkness began to fill Jack's mind with visions, strange, unfamiliar places that defied logic. Jagged landscapes that stretched into infinity, twisted creatures with forms that seemed to flicker between shapes. But it wasn't just showing him—it was... offering. As if the darkness wanted him to accept something.
As the images flashed before him, Jack felt it: a warmth, unnatural and yet... powerful. His very essence began to shift, to merge with the void around him. At first, it was subtle—a faint flicker of energy. But soon, he could feel it deep within him, growing stronger with each passing moment.
The void wasn't consuming him; it was changing him.
Jack's soul, once fragile and human, began to mutate. Power, raw and chaotic, surged through him. The fear that once gripped him gave way to something else. He was no longer a victim of this place. The void, the nothingness, was becoming a part of him.
And then, suddenly, Jack was... awake.
---
He blinked, disoriented, as light filled his vision. For a moment, he didn't understand what was happening. He was no longer floating in the abyss. He was... somewhere else, somewhere warm.
The first thing Jack saw was a woman leaning over him, her face gentle and full of warmth. Her hair, dark and soft, framed her face as she looked down at him with a kind of love he had never seen before. It took him a moment to realize—this was his mother. But not his mother from before. No, this was different. Jack was... reborn.
His heart, or whatever it was now, pounded in his chest as the memories of his past life clashed with the present. He was no longer the Jack of Portland. The darkness that had consumed him was gone, replaced by this new life.