What comes after death?

  The moon answered, in a maternal and ethereal tone.

  From the man who never cried, screams now escaped; like a child complaining of aches, for he had just been born.

  The glow of a blood moon slipped through the cracks of the window, shimmering against the newborn's pale skin. Wrapped in an almost divine touch, strands of blond hair drifted through his blurred vision, and he understood nothing.

  Just seconds ago, Liam Mason Le Fay had been on the battlefield; thrown, cast against a stone stained with his viscous blood.

  The crimson that had ruptured his organs had also illuminated his eyes—the moon had been that color. Like a ritual of life running against death.

  He wanted to think, but cried instead.

  The wails of a child—one who still had little hair—ran through the delivery room, making the nurse rush to clean a blood-soaked cloth while the mother herself panted in sweat.

  He tried to open his eyes, but the light of fire lanterns burst into his retinas. He quickly shut them and returned to crying.

  "Take this downstairs!" ordered Emilia, the midwife, her voice trembling with nerves. She handed a white cloth to her assistant, Ellen, who hurried down a flight of stairs after stepping through the door.

  Wiping her forehead, Emilia let out a heavy sigh, sweat dripping to the floor.

  "My Lady, that was dramatic!" she said, shaken.

  Though robust, wrinkled, and apparently ill-tempered, Emilia trembled constantly, her heart pounding in her throat.

  Moments ago, that pale child, with yellow strands just forming on his scalp, had shown no signs of life.

  The heart of young Lady Camille, Duchess of Lawrence, gradually calmed. She had cried more than she ever had before, for it had seemed she lost a son.

  Then, minutes after being 'stillborn,' he screamed. The child who carried no will at first—only confusion.

  For him and for everyone around.

  Camille smiled, content yet clumsy.

  "What shall we name this little fellow?" Emilia asked with familiarity.

  She had already decided with her husband—absent on that occasion.

  "Theo… That will be his name. Theo…" she said lovingly, whispering it to the newborn.

  He reacted by grasping his mother's finger; for the first time, he calmed.

  Without understanding, he dreamed that night.

  There was a field of sand beneath his feet; thus stood Liam Mason. A tall man, blond hair and blue eyes, casually dressed in a military uniform tinted green, nearly black.

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  Deep cuts marked his face, along with a sincere despair.

  'What are you doing here, if you did not come to the Father?' a voice asked into the wind.

  The turquoise-blue sky, with few clouds, soon darkened into a storm at the horizon.

  'He died, Lord of Judgment,' another voice came from beside him.

  Before Liam, a majestic and astronomical throne covered the sky. A creature whose visage distorted space itself, impossible for a simple human mind to comprehend.

  "I died?" he exhaled, incredulous, staring at the sky in confusion. "This… is the afterlife?"

  The creature shifted, as if resting an arm upon its leg.

  'This is the desert of Yeshua. Where the Father's judgment strikes your soul, sinful being. Beneath you lies the dust of those condemned to hell, forbidden from entering the fields of the eternal gardens,' it declared firmly—only to be overlapped.

  'Do not feed him nonsense,' said a woman at his side—at least, the voice and distorted outline suggested so.

  "So you're the judge, and she gives you the rules? A divine secretary?" Liam said, crossing his arms.

  The Judge seemed incredulous.

  "This place doesn't frighten me as I thought it would… I expected at least an angel or a demon to greet me…"

  'Ethereal child, do you not fear?' she asked, staring into his deep eyes.

  "Fear what?" he replied, displeased. "If I've been dead since birth, and after hearing that neigh… There's no reason to be afraid."

  The judging eyes narrowed.

  'Envy… That is the capital sin carved into your flesh…' it whispered thoughtfully; yet any whisper from that being roared like a storm.

  "Great… So I'm going to hell for that? I've already endured that trial… Can you hand me a golden ticket and send me straight to eternal rest?"

  'The familiarity with which this man speaks is embarrassing…' the Judge thought, nearly grinding its teeth. 'And yet he is sincere, for I see no fear in his gaze…'

  Returning to its posture, the Judge examined the memories and deeds of the one before it.

  'I would gladly sentence you to the entrails of Baalzeth and make you dwell among the burning souls for eternity, but my secretary has revealed something interesting…'

  Throwing himself onto the clean, fine sand, Liam stared at a pair of eyes within the distortion of space. Empty to the world, yet eternal to the universe.

  'Do you believe in gods, child?'

  "If I'm here, then there must be one…" he answered, gazing at the endless desert. "But if you're asking about when I was alive… the answer is no."

  'Of course, of course…' it laughed cruelly. 'A child soon to be forgotten, one who walked the path of destruction and death, who bore no fault for his own pain… Unfortunately, fate does not appreciate my defiance, therefore…'

  Liam's hand sank into the sand, grain by grain.

  As if other hands were pulling him downward…

  For the first time, he was startled.

  'The moon has decided for us, and to you she has given a sentence worse than death… I see you never believed in heaven or hell, lost child. Make sure to reconsider that.'

  "What?" Liam muttered, his body dragged and consumed by the sand of the dead.

  Scratched by necrotic claws, he sank as if in quicksand, until he heard nothing more—the Judge's sadistic smile crumbling away.

  For brief moments, a horse's neigh filled his ears…

  Suffocated by his own despair, he jolted awake. Opening limited eyes, he felt light explode into his retinas again; his small, fragile heart raced wildly.

  Trapped in a newborn's body, he cried once more.

  Loud wails echoed through the house; at that moment, Camille was bathing, and the nurses were occupied in other rooms.

  Yet the screams were not heard…

  They were restrained.

  'Little son… I was finally able to see you,' said a voice, as feminine as it was ethereal.

  A clean, gentle touch soothed the baby, who hiccupped softly.

  He could not see, but there was a beautiful woman with a round face and silver eyes; she wore white, and her pale skin shimmered under the moon.

  Black hair cascaded like a veil as her eyes shone with pride.

  'You were bound to a place you would never have imagined… There was nothing else I could do. Forgive me…' she whispered, her face drawing closer, wrapped in a lovely purple aura.

  Leaning in, she placed a soft kiss on his cheek, and once more he calmed.

  'I will be waiting for you very soon. Listen to the owl's counsel, for it will guide you. Come to me, my son.'

  Her eyes filled with tears as she sniffed.

  'Welcome to the world, my little reborn son… My golden child… Theo Augustus De Lawrence.'