Ethan Harper had made it fourteen years, three months, and nine days without doing anything spectacular — unless "being extremely average" counted as a talent.
But on Thursday, during gym class (which is where all disasters are born), that streak came to a dramatic end.
One second, Ethan was jogging pathetically behind the athletic kids.
The next, something sharp and hot twisted inside his chest.
Then the floor rushed up to greet him, and everything went dark.
For exactly three minutes, Ethan Harper was dead.
⸻
He woke with a gasp — except not on a gym floor.
Grass.
Soft, glowing, blue grass.
Ethan shot upright so fast he head-butted the air. Above him stretched a sky streaked with gold and violet, like a sunset that couldn't decide if it was morning. Towering trees glowed faintly as if they were plugged into cosmic electricity. Strange birds with crystal wings drifted overhead.
"What— Where—"
"OH! You're up! Took you long enough!"
Ethan screamed.
Because standing — no, floating — in front of him was… himself.
Well, almost. Ghost-Ethan looked like the chaotic version of him: messy hair, wild grin, and eyes glowing turquoise like he'd swallowed a glow stick.
"Heyyyyy, buddy!" the ghost shouted, waving both arms. "Welcome to the after— uh… side."
Ethan blinked rapidly. "I'm dreaming."
"Nope!" Ghost-Ethan said, popping the p. "You died, remember? Gym class? Heart said 'nope'? Ring any bells?"
Ethan clutched his chest. "I died… and went to… wherever this is?"
"Oh, this?" The ghost spun dramatically. "Welcome to Veylund! A magical realm full of monsters, quests, political drama, and terrible fashion choices! Lucky you, right?"
Ethan stared at him. "Why… why am I here?"
Ghost-Ethan plopped down midair, crossing his legs. "Good news: you're not fully dead. Bad news: your soul got punted out of your body, and it landed here instead of Earth." He shrugged. "Happens more often than you'd think."
Ethan tried standing. The grass glowed brighter under his feet.
"Okay," Ethan muttered, "Okay. I just… need to find someone. A healer? A wizard? A door back home?"
Ghost-Ethan's grin faltered.
"About that," he said. "We need to chat."
The wind slowed. The glowing leaves around them froze mid-rustle. Even the crystal birds paused in midair, glittering like decorations.
Ghost-Ethan floated closer, expression suddenly serious.
"You were supposed to die again soon."
Ethan's breath caught.
"In your world," the ghost continued softly. "A second death. Permanent. But somehow… being dragged here? It might've delayed it. Maybe changed it."
Ethan swallowed hard. "So I'm stuck in a fantasy world because Earth wants me dead?"
"Pretty much! But hey, look on the bright side — no algebra, no gym class, and definitely no sprint laps."
The world started moving again. The wind whispered. Distant roars echoed from somewhere far beyond the glowing forest.
Ghost-Ethan clapped him on the shoulder — or tried to. His hand passed through, but the effort was there.
"Anyway! Since I'm technically part of your soul," the ghost said, grinning again, "I'm sticking with you. Forever. Or until we figure out how not to die. Whichever comes first."
Ethan took a shaky breath.
Blue grass.
Golden sky.
Crystal birds.
His own ghost hovering like a hyperactive gremlin.
"Okay," he whispered. "This is… fine. Totally fine. I can handle this."
A monstrous roar shook the ground.
Ghost-Ethan pointed. "Correction: we can handle this. Probably."
And just like that, Ethan's first day of being dead-but-not-really began.