#9
Two years after Ghei.
Sylvain had grown into more than just a "city of the resurrected." People from surrounding villages began to settle there—not the revived, but ordinary folk drawn to the city's philosophy of freedom. They brought crafts, agriculture, music. New colors emerged among the once-bleak crystal structures.
But Aelia knew that beneath this growth, there were wounds that had yet to heal.
And that wound had a name: the Bridge of Reluctance.
The Bridge of Reluctance—Bridge of Reluctant Return—was one of the three gateways to Empyrean once mentioned by Kael. It lay at the farthest edge of the Silent Steppes, spanning the abyss that separated Nyania from Aetheria. Long ago, this was where the souls resurrected by Devaros first entered the material world after leaving the Liminal Veil.
"It's a transitional place," Lyra told Aelia one morning. They stood over a massive map drawn across the city hall floor. "A place where the resurrected faced a final choice before 'living'—to accept a new life, or remain trapped on the bridge forever."
"And now?" Aelia asked.
"Now the bridge is… unstable. Explorers report cries echoing from it. Strange lights. Lost souls."
Aelia stared at the map. The bridge was far—at least a week's journey from Sylvain, through dangerous lands. Yet she felt compelled to go.
"Maybe some are still trapped there," she whispered. "Like the souls in the Garden of False Dawn."
Kael, who had been listening, nodded grimly. "Perhaps. But the region around the bridge has been unstable since Devaros died."
"I have to go."
"Why?"
"Because…" Aelia searched for the words. "Because if someone is trapped forever in a place of transition, that's no better than being forced to live. And we—I—have a responsibility."
"Responsibility to whom?"
"To Ghei. To the principle he left behind: if we are free to choose, then we must ensure that the choice truly exists—unobstructed."
Kael studied her for a long moment, then sighed. "Very well. But you won't go alone."
They departed as five: Aelia, Lyra, Kael, and two former soldiers from Sylvain—Roran and Tessa, a married couple who had died in the same war, been resurrected together, and chosen to keep living after finding love again in their second life.
"We owe this city," Tessa said as they prepared supplies. "This is how we repay it."
Traveling through the Silent Steppes felt different now. Once, the plains had been silent, almost dead. Now there were signs of life—purple moss clung to stones, translucent-winged insects drifted through the air, and occasionally small fox-like creatures with crystal fur darted past.
"Ghei's Null Echo is still at work," Lyra murmured on the third day as they rested. "It's canceling the curse of nothingness Devaros spread here."
Aelia looked down at the purple dust beneath her feet. She remembered the black ash that had scattered from Ghei—the power to say no. A power that, even after its bearer was gone, continued to change the world.
On the fifth day, they reached the edge of the abyss.
It was no ordinary chasm—the edge was not stone, but a dense, slowly swirling gray mist. From within it came faint sounds: moans, whispers, sobs.
And spanning the abyss stood the Bridge of Reluctance.
The bridge was made of frozen light—not bright, but dim, like moonlight veiled by clouds. It curved gently, narrow and without rails. At the far end stood a sealed gate of light—the entrance to Aetheria, now locked with Devaros gone.
"No one can cross the bridge now," Lyra said. "The gate beyond no longer opens."
"Then why the voices?" Roran asked, drawing his short sword.
They approached the base of the bridge. There, they saw them.
Souls.
Twenty, perhaps thirty. Not fully formed—more like blurred silhouettes with faint faces. They crowded at the bridge's base, neither advancing nor retreating. Simply… existing.
One soul lifted its head as they approached. The face—what could be recognized—belonged to a middle-aged woman.
"Alive…" the soul whispered. "You're alive…"
"Yes," Aelia said, kneeling though she knew she could not touch them. "We're from Sylvain. Who are you?"
"We are… the hesitant," the voice replied, like wind through stone cracks. "When Devaros brought us here… he gave us a choice: cross the bridge and live again, or remain here. We… hesitated. And now… we are trapped."
Kael stepped forward. "How long?"
"We don't know. Time is different here. Days. Centuries."
Tessa covered her mouth. "They're trapped because they hesitated?"
"Ironic," Roran muttered. "A bridge for those reluctant to return… and those too reluctant ended up stuck."
Aelia looked at the souls. They were not like the ones in the garden who longed for release. These souls didn't know what they wanted. And that ignorance had become their prison.
"What do you want now?" Aelia asked.
The souls shifted—as close to exchanging glances as such forms could.
"We want… to decide," said a male soul. "But we can't. Our hesitation… binds us."
Lyra flew low over the bridge, inspecting it, then returned with a tense expression.
"The bridge is made of Reluctance itself—emotional matter. The more they hesitate, the denser it becomes for them. For us, it feels like light. For them…" she gestured to the souls, "…it's like adhesive asphalt."
"So they're trapped by their own doubt?" Kael asked.
"And reinforced by residual power from Devaros," Lyra added. "He created this place to test resolve. But when he died, the test didn't end—it stalled."
Aelia faced the souls. "If we help you decide… could you be freed?"
"Perhaps," the woman replied. "But how do you help the hesitant decide?"
That was the core question.
They made camp at the edge of the abyss. Night there was longer, colder. The voices from below grew louder after dark.
Aelia sat by the fire, speaking with the souls brave enough to approach—only a few; the rest lingered at a distance.
"When you first died," Aelia asked the woman—who introduced herself as Liora—"what did you feel?"
"Relief," Liora answered. "I'd been ill for a long time. Cancer. Dying felt like… rest."
"And then Devaros resurrected you."
"And gave me a choice. I wanted rest. But I was afraid rest would mean eternal darkness. So I hesitated."
"And now?"
"Now I'm more afraid of being trapped here forever." Liora paused. "Maybe… I've decided. I want to leave. Not live again. But… is that possible?"
Aelia looked at the bridge. The gate beyond was sealed. But perhaps… that wasn't the only path.
She remembered the portal in Sylvain. How the souls in the garden could leave through small gateways.
Perhaps a portal could be made here as well.
But with what?
At dawn, Aelia found something in her supplies—something she hadn't packed: a blue Kaelen crystal.
It glowed softly, warm in her hand. As if saying: Use me.
"The Principle of Free Will," Aelia murmured. Maybe… this was the key.
She gathered the others. "I have an idea. But it's risky."
"What is it?" Kael asked.
"We create a small portal here. Like in Sylvain. But we need something that can 'cancel' reluctance—free them from their hesitation."
"Null Echo," Lyra said. "But we don't have it."
"We have this." Aelia raised the crystal. "The principle of freedom. It might help them choose."
"And if it fails?"
"They remain trapped. Or… something worse might happen."
Roran and Tessa exchanged a glance, then nodded almost simultaneously. "We agree."
Kael nodded as well. "Better to try than leave them here forever."
The ritual—if it could be called that—was simple.
Aelia placed the crystal at the base of the bridge. The souls gathered around it, hesitant.
"I cannot decide for you," Aelia told them. "But I can give you the chance to decide. This crystal will open a portal—one exit. You may choose to enter, or not. But this time, the choice is clear: leave, or remain here forever."
"Leave to where?" a male soul asked.
"I don't know. But it's better than nowhere."
Silence fell. Then Liora stepped forward.
"I choose to leave."
She touched the crystal.
It flared—not blue, but neutral white light. Before Liora, a small portal opened, identical to the one in Sylvain.
She looked into it, then turned to the others.
"I don't know what's there. But I know this place is only waiting. And I'm tired of waiting."
She stepped through. The portal closed behind her.
The other souls stood frozen. Then the second stepped forward—a young man with a scarred face, perhaps from an accident.
"I'm tired too," he said, and entered.
One by one. Some immediately. Others hesitated again, but eventually moved.
But not all.
After twenty-three souls departed, seven remained. They stepped back, unwilling to approach the crystal.
"We… are still hesitant," one said.
"That's okay," Aelia replied. "That is your choice as well."
"But we'll be trapped here forever!"
"Perhaps. But that's because you choose not to choose. And that, too, is a choice."
Kael looked at Aelia in disbelief. "You're letting them stay?"
"Freeing someone also means freeing them to remain trapped, if that is what they choose," Aelia said. "Ghei taught that. He never forced others to follow his path. He only showed that a path existed."
The seven souls looked at them, then slowly retreated into the mist at the abyss's edge, disappearing.
"They chose their own uncertainty," Tessa whispered.
"And we must respect it," Aelia said, picking up the now-dim crystal. "Even when it hurts."
The journey back was heavy. They had helped some, but left others behind. Like a surgery that only half succeeded.
Midway, Lyra abruptly stopped flying and landed hard.
"There's something… in the crystal," she said, pointing to it in Aelia's hand.
Aelia raised it. The crystal was no longer only blue—tiny points of light flickered inside it, like stars.
"What is that?"
"Memories. Or… decisions," Lyra said. "Every soul that chose to leave left an imprint of their choice."
Aelia clenched the crystal. Within it were twenty-three decisions to stop hesitating. Twenty-three acts of courage to choose, even when the choice was uncertainty.
A legacy more precious than gold.
When they returned to Sylvain, they were met with anxious faces. Many asked: had they succeeded?
"Partially," Aelia answered at the town meeting. "We helped those who could decide. Those who couldn't… we respected their choice not to choose."
"Isn't that failure?" a newcomer asked.
"No. Because the point was never to save everyone. The point was to provide choice. And some chose not to use it. That is valid."
That night, in her home, Aelia placed the crystal by the window. The points of light within pulsed softly, in rhythm with her heartbeat.
She opened her notebook and wrote:
> "Today I learned:
Doubt can be a prison stronger than iron.
And sometimes, helping someone is not about giving answers,
but about daring to say:
'It's okay not to know—
but one day you must choose to keep not knowing,
or choose to know,
or choose not to care anymore.'
And whichever choice is made,
it belongs to them."
Several weeks later, Elara arrived with a drawing: a painting of a bridge of light surrounded by small souls.
"I heard the story about the bridge," she said. "Are those who didn't leave… happy?"
Aelia looked at the picture. "I don't know. But I hope they at least… accept it."
"Accept what?"
"That life—and death—are full of uncertainty. And sometimes, the only certainty we have is the right to say, 'I don't know.'"
Elara nodded, though she might not fully understand.
But one day, Aelia thought, she would.
Like everyone in this city—once forcibly resurrected, now free to choose—would eventually understand that freedom is not about always making the right choice.
But about having the right to choose, even when we choose not to choose.
And that, perhaps, was the final lesson of the Bridge of Reluctance: that reluctance itself is a choice.
And as long as it is a conscious choice—or at least, an accepted one—it is valid.
Like Ghei, who chose to leave.
Like the souls who chose to hesitate.
Like Aelia, who chose to stay.
All are valid.
Because in this city born of forced resurrection, the only thing that must never be forced is choice itself.
***
#9
A note in the margin of Aelia's book:
> "The bridge still stands at the edge of the abyss.
Seven souls still hesitate there.
Sometimes I wonder if they regret it.
But then I remember:
regret, too, is a choice.
And they are free to regret their choice—
or free to regret nothing at all."