Pete opened his eyes to... nothing. Not darkness. Not light. Just... absence.

  "Oh dear."

  He turned toward the voice and found himself facing a young woman floating in the void. She wore flowing robes that seemed to be made of starlight, and her hair drifted around her head as if underwater. Despite her ethereal appearance, her expression was distinctly mortal: sheepish embarrassment.

  "You're dead," she said, as if discussing the weather. "I'm so sorry about that. But also, and I really need to emphasize this part, you're in the wrong place."

  Pete blinked. "I'm... what?"

  "Let me explain. I'm Aria, managing deity for World Designation AZ-7743. You know it as, well, you won't know it as anything, since you've never been there. But you're supposed to go there. The soul transfer system brought you to my world, except..." She made an awkward gesture. "There was a mix-up. A clerical error, really. You were supposed to reincarnate in the Central Kingdom, nice place, by the way, very civilized, magical academies, indoor plumbing, decent healthcare. Instead, you're being sent to the Borderlands. Specifically, the Demon's Maw, which is quite literally the worst, most monster-infested, lawless hellscape on the entire planet."

  "Ok,” Pete said.

  Aria paused. "You... you understand what I'm telling you? You'll be surrounded by monsters that can tear you apart. Parasites that will eat you alive. No civilization for hundreds of miles, and when you finally do reach human civilization it will be the worst kind. Most souls beg me to fix this."

  "Sounds about right, actually.” Pete said quietly. "I deserve it."

  "Now why would you say that?"

  "I let my daughter die."

  "You... what? Hold on." Aria waved her hand, and suddenly Pete's memories flooded the space around them, visible like scenes from a movie.

  But these weren't the memories Pete had been torturing himself with for ten years.

  These were different.

  Sarah at age three, watching Pete fix her broken toy with absolute adoration. "My daddy can fix anything!" she declared to her stuffed animals.

  Sarah at five, sick with the flu. Pete stayed up all night, singing off-key lullabies until she fell asleep.

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  Sarah at six, showing him a drawing of their family. In it, Pete was ten feet tall with a crown and cape. "That's you, Daddy! You're my king!"

  Sarah at seven. The last morning before the accident. Pete had made pancakes shaped like her favorite cartoon character. She'd hugged him so tight and said, "You're the best daddy in the whole world. I love you forever and ever and ever."

  "Oh” Aria said softly.

  "Oh, Pete. You weren't responsible for that accident at all. That drunk driver made his choice, entirely his choice, entirely his fault. You were..." She watched the memories continue. "You were a wonderful father. She was so happy. Look at her face in these memories. That's pure joy."

  "I should have been faster” Pete said, but his voice lacked conviction. Jennifer's words, still fresh, echoed in his mind.

  "If you'd been faster, you would have died too, and Sarah would have blamed herself” Aria said gently. "Would you have wanted that for her?"

  Pete's breath caught. "No! Never."

  "Pete, I have something to tell you. Your daughter... she also reincarnated in another world. She lived a full, beautiful life. She became a healer, married someone kind, had three children, and died peacefully at ninety-seven, surrounded by family. She thought of you often, with love. She never blamed you. Not once."

  The frozen thing in Pete's chest cracked wider. "She was happy?"

  "Incredibly happy. She carried your love with her into that new life, and it made her strong and kind and wonderful." Aria smiled. "You gave her that, Pete. Your love didn't end when she died. It was the foundation she built her second life on."

  For the first time in ten years, Pete felt something shift. Not closure, grief didn't work that way. But acceptance? Maybe. Permission to remember the joy instead of only the loss.

  "I still think the Borderlands are appropriate for me,” he said, but there was a hint of something in his voice. Not quite humor. Not quite hope. But the ghost of what those things used to feel like.

  Aria laughed. "You're an odd one, Pete Harrington. But fine. I'll send you there. However, I'm not sending you defenseless. I'll grant you a blessing, a skill that activates for sixty seconds, making you completely immortal and indestructible. You can use it four times. That should give you four chances to escape the monsters and make it to relative safety."

  "That's generous."

  "It's the least I can do." Aria paused, considering. "Oh, and don't worry about language barriers. The first time you use my blessing, you'll automatically understand and speak all languages of this world. Can't have you surviving monsters only to die because you couldn't ask for directions."

  She smiled at her own joke, then continued. "Now, for your appearance, most people ask to be young and attractive, or to look like a hero. What would you like?"

  Pete shrugged. "I'm fine as I am."

  "You... want to look forty? In a medieval fantasy world?" Aria tilted her head. "You're serious?"

  "Why not?"

  "Well..." Aria grinned. "I'll grant your wish, but I'm giving you a vitality boost. You'll look forty, but you'll have the strength and health of someone in their twenties. Peak condition. Is that acceptable?"

  "Sure."

  "Excellent! And Pete?" Aria's expression turned serious. "Your daughter would want you to live. Really live. Not just survive. Promise me you'll try."

  Pete thought of Jennifer's words. Of Sarah's memories, the real ones, filled with love and laughter.

  "I'll try,” he said.

  That small spark in his chest, the one Jennifer had kindled with her call, flickered a little brighter.