You wake up.
Not in a bed.
Not in a body.
In memory.
The faces you forgot are waiting.
The ones who held you when you broke.
The ones you carried through lifetimes.
The ones who whispered truth
even when you called it madness.
You remember the mission.
You remember the veil.
You remember choosing all of it.
The pain.
The laughter.
The long silences
where you thought God had left.
He didn’t.
He just hid behind your own eyes
until you were ready to look.
Death is not the end.
It’s the callback.
The scene change.
The soft hum before the curtain rises again.
You don’t lose the game.
You leave the stage
to meet the Author.