The soft hum of eternity surrounded Mary as she stood before a shimmering gate of light. The place was calm, peaceful—a liminal space between life and what lay beyond. She felt no pain, no sorrow—only a strange stillness in her soul.
A gentle voice spoke, neither male nor female, but warm and commanding. "Mary Green, you have fulfilled your earthly journey. You may pass through these gates and rest."
But Mary hesitated.
The light pulsed softly. "Yet... you do not wish to leave, do you?"
"I can't," Mary whispered. "My son is still in pain. I saw him smile again, but it's fragile. What if it fades?"
The light shifted, revealing a slender, unconscious figure—another woman, young, frail, but breathing. "This is Mariana. Her journey in this world was meant to end today. But her soul has been chosen for something greater. She will travel through small worlds, aided by a system designed to right what is broken in others. But for this, she must leave behind her life—and her parents."
Mary's heart stirred.
"You may take her place, Mary. You will not drink the soup of forgetting. You will remember your son, your pain, your purpose. In return, you must care for Mariana's parents as if they were your own."
Mary stepped closer to the image. The girl's face bore no resemblance to hers, yet something called to her. A chance. A second life. A promise to both families.
"What happens to Mariana's soul?" she asked.
"She will rest within the system, waiting for her missions. But she gives you her body willingly."
Mary exhaled slowly. "Then I accept."
The light pulsed once more, folding around her like a cloak. As her consciousness began to fade, she heard one final whisper from beyond the veil:
"Remember who you are, Mary. The world still needs you."
And so, she fell—not into darkness, but into a new beginning.