Convergence

Chapter Sixteen: The Final Deal

Nick didn't even remember waking up, but somehow, they knew they did.

The water felt wet this time, at least. They'd shot up from the floor, the liquid falling through their hands, a sharp pain slowly drifting from their chest.

They felt like they were being suffocated, and as they stood, they were a child again.

No blood anywhere to be seen. A normal kid.

And the sky looked like the blackest night. Stars speckled everywhere above, with a faraway moon shining a light on the rippling water.

The wind was blowing.

"Woah," Nick's voice echoed, and they didn't even feel like they said it. It didn't sound like them—more like a younger, childish version of them.

"Nick."

A man stood in front of them, one with a slender face, brown hair and square glasses. His hands were folded behind his back, and he, very clearly, had a gunshot wound on his chest, perfectly in the middle.

"Who are you?" Nick asked, clenching their fists. They caught themselves glancing back to their reflection a few times. But they didn't have to ask. It was clear. "You're the warlock."

He smiled, laughing shortly. His voice was young, but still adult-ish. "Yes. And you have something I want."

"How is this possible?" Nick lifted their hands out. "How are you possible?"

"I don't think you'll need that answer, Nick." He walked closer, light barely reflecting off his glasses. "You always needed an answer for something."

Something about his stance reminded them of... "Am I dead?"

"Yes. You are dead, Nick Althorne. And there's nothing past this. Just... endless water. And an endless night."

Nick huffed. "But there can't be."

"You've spent your life researching everything from necromancy to a possible afterlife, and this is it. This is your research. And you want more."

"I want more for myself." Nick leaned forward, a desperate look in their eyes. "Take me back, please. Please."

"Why would you want to go back?" The warlock asked, though he knew the answer. "The world is horrible. Both of them. It treated you this way, and you want to go back?"

Nick felt tears in their throat, but they wouldn't go free. "Ella. I can't just go without knowing she's alright."

"Ella is dead, too." He said it bluntly, turning his back and looking up at the moon. "This wind you feel here is artificial. She died at a young age, like you should have done. She died the moment she left your arms."

A numbness washed over them. But it wasn't good. It was sickening. It was the worst kind of numbness, knowing something should be there and there just wasn't. Then, Nick erupted in even more desperation, walking closer to the warlock's back. "No, please! She deserves more in life! If you're not going to save me, then save her!"

He turned, looking down at them. "...And you don't deserve to be saved?"

Nick was quick with their answer. "No."

"There are people out there who truly don't deserve to be saved, you know." He continued talking. "Your father, for example. He was supposed to be in that soul prison, with you and your friends, and the six others. But I didn't want to put you through that. If it's any consolation, his soul tasted horrible."