Chapter 1: Life 1, Age 26
Dying is hard. No matter how many times I experience it, it doesn’t get any easier.
I could say that the first time was the worst, but that would be a lie. I’ve had many deaths worse than the first. Still, the first time I died was the only time I truly believed it would be my end. That was a different kind of pain.
My first life was long ago. So long ago that I can barely remember anything about that time anymore. After my first death, in the lives that followed, I endured years of pain and suffering. Once I found my footing, though, I also found joy and wonder in a new world. All of this, of living innumerable lives in another world, has made my first life feel so distant. So… detached.
I’ve even forgotten my name from that first life. It’s disappeared in the long river of time.
I only really remember one thing from that life. I had a sister.
I can’t remember anything about her anymore, not even her name, but I remember caring about her. She was my only family at the end. Allowing these memories to fade is one problem I have not yet fixed. Not yet. Forgetting makes living easier.
When I died, it was sudden. My sister had gotten into some kind of trouble, and I was in a hurry to save her. It was rushing that led to my death.
Maybe it’s strange that I don’t even remember the details of how I died, but I have died so many times since then. All I remember anymore is that I had a sister, she was in trouble, and I wanted to save her.
I do, however, remember what came next.