"Hey..... what do you think about the supernatural?"
Who... is that?
A familiar voice echoed in the darkness, reverberating in a space that felt both infinite and suffocating. The voice was warm, casual—someone he should know—but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't quite place it. Like a fleeting memory on the tip of his tongue, it slipped further away the more he reached for it.
"Y'know—things that aren't supposed to exist. Ghosts, spirits, reincarnation... stuff like that. What's your take on it?"
Supernatural? Ghosts?
Why would I waste my time thinking about that?
Ghosts and spirits—things that are invisible to the naked eye—were easy to dismiss. If you couldn't see it, touch it, or hear it, wasn't it just another human invention to cope with the unknown? Folktales and superstitions, conjured to explain the inexplicable.
And yet…
Reincarnation.
That word lingered in his mind, stirring something deeper.
What did reincarnation even mean? At its core, it was the belief that when a person dies, their soul doesn't just vanish. Instead, it finds a new vessel, reborn into another life—sometimes human, sometimes animal, depending on whose doctrine you followed. A cycle of birth, death, and rebirth. It's like pressing reset on existence itself.
For him, he never gave it much thought. Life was complicated enough without diving into metaphysical theories. And yet, wasn't there a universal curiosity that everyone harbored, no matter how logical or skeptical they claimed to be?
What happens after a person dies?
That was the real mystery, wasn't it?
Some said you ascended to a higher plane—heaven or paradise for the virtuous, damnation for the wicked. Others believed in a purgatory, a middle ground where souls wandered until they found peace. Then there were those who thought death was the end of the road; darkness, nothingness, an eternal void. Peaceful or terrifying, depending on how you saw it.
Eastern philosophies spoke of karmic cycles—do good, and you'd be rewarded in your next life; do wrong, and you'd pay the price. Some indigenous cultures saw death as a transformation, a return to nature, becoming one with the earth and the elements.
And yet, despite the varying beliefs, despite the countless stories passed down through generations, no one had an answer. Not really.
Because no one had ever come back to tell the tale.
***
Darkness. It felt... heavy and... consuming. Then—
A flicker of sensation. The faintest prickle along his skin. His eyes slowly fluttered open, assaulted by a burst of light that pierced through the shadows of his mind. The sudden influx burned him, making it harder to focus, his vision was blurred and swimming in whites and green.
It took a moment—or maybe longer—for him to collect his bearings.
Above him stretched a canopy of towering trees, their branches were entwined to one another, and the leaves were rustling softly with the breeze. Sunlight filtered through the foliage in scattered rays, casting golden beams that danced across the forest floor. The ground beneath him felt cool and uneven, littered with fallen leaves and damp moss. Tiny motes of dust and pollen floated lazily in the air, illuminated by the shifting light. The distant caw of a bird echoed somewhere beyond the trees, breaking the serenity.
'Wh-where am I?'
He tried to speak, to give voice to the confusion spiraling inside his head—but nothing came out. His throat refused to cooperate. Even the thought of forming words felt exhausting, like dragging his mind through molasses.
'Is there anyone at all?'
His thoughts screamed into the silence.
'Hello?'
The forest, however, offered no reply.
Until it did.
A howl pierced the quiet atmosphere—it was long, mournful, and distant. Then another. And another. Soon, the forest seemed to pulse with the sound, multiple voices were joining in a haunting chorus that sent a chill racing down his spine. The trees, once serene, now loomed with an unsettling stillness.
He tried to push himself up, to move something, but his limbs wouldn't respond. It was as if his body had become part of the earth beneath him, anchored by invisible chains. No, not chains—more like his body wasn't his anymore, as though he were trapped within a fragile shell, unable to command it.
And then—
A growl. Low and deep. It was far too close.
It rumbled through the air, vibrating against his chest. Footsteps crunching through the underbrush. The sound of leaves and twigs were snapping under weight. It was approaching. Closer. Closer.
'Was it one of the wolves that howled just now?'
"Or maybe something worse?'
Wait—
That's not it!
If he couldn't move—if he couldn't run—
Then he was nothing more than an easy meal.
'Shit...shit...shit!'
Maybe if he just stayed perfectly still... Maybe they'd ignore him. Pretend that he's a rock. Or dead. Yeah, animals don't mess with things that aren't a threat... right?
Unfortunately, his hope was shattered with the unmistakable sound of footsteps crunching the forest floor—it was soft at first, but then it grows heavier and closer. The sound of leaves were rustling, and the twigs were snapped. They weren't turning away. They were coming. Straight for him.
'Fuck, fuck, fuck—'
And then it appeared.
A massive wolf, with fur like shadows stitched into silver. But what caught his breath—what sent his heart plunging into his stomach—was its eye. Or rather, the lack of one. A jagged scar was stretched over where its right eye should've been, leaving a hollow void. The remaining eye gleamed as it glared down at him.
'Is this it? Is this how I actually... die?'
But... why did this feel so... familiar? Like a memory that was half-forgotten, lurking just beyond reach.
A Déjà vu.
He braced for the fangs, the pain—anything.
But instead—
"A baby... boy?"
His mind stilled, and the world seemed to freeze.
Wait.
Did... the wolf just talk?