I Died for This?

PROLOGUE: The cosmic Internship

They say that when you die, you see a white light. That's a lie. It's actually more of a neon-purple smudge, and it smells faintly of ozone and regret.

My name was-well, it doesn't matter what it was. In my first life, I was thirteen. I was a girl who spent her time arguing with strangers on the internet about fictional character arcs and trying to convince my mom that "sarcasm" was a legitimate love language. I was a fan. I was a geek. And then, quite suddenly, I was a medical statistic.

I didn't go out in a blaze of glory. I went out in a hospital bed, surrounded by the beep-beep-beep of a heart monitor that was tired of my nonsense. My sister-the version of her from my first life-was holding my hand. She was crying. I tried to tell her a joke about the hospital food, but my lungs decided they were on strike.

Then, the world just... unplugged.

The CEO of the Universe

I woke up floating in what looked like a giant, high-definition screensaver of the Milky Way.

"Okay," I said, my voice echoing in the vastness. "If this is the afterlife, I'd like to speak to a manager. The gravity is nonexistent and I really need to check my notifications."

"YOU ARE REMARKABLY LOUD FOR A DEAD THING."

The voice didn't come from a person. It came from a massive, shimmering entity that looked like a human silhouette carved out of stardust and dark matter. He was terrifyingly tall and pulsed with the light of a thousand suns.

"Oh, look. A giant glowing mood ring," I muttered, crossing my arms. "Are you God? Or did I just trip into a high-budget sci-fi movie?"

"I AM THE STEWARD," the God boomed, his 'eyes' flickering like dying stars. "AND YOU ARE AN ANOMALY. YOU DIED WITH A SOUL TOO VIBRANT TO RECYCLE. I HAVE A JOB FOR YOU IN A REALITY THAT IS... FRAGILE."

"A job? Is it paid? Because if there's no dental plan, I'm not interested," I retorted.

The God pulsed a deep, annoyed red. "YOU ARE GOING TO BE A CELESTIAL. I AM INFUSING YOUR SOUL WITH THE CORE OF THE STARS. YOU WILL BE BORN INTO THE LINE OF THE GILBERTS, IN A PLACE CALLED MYSTIC FALLS. YOU WILL HAVE THE POWER TO INFLUENCE THE HEAVENS, TO COMMAND GRAVITY, AND TO STITCH THE FABRIC OF SPACE BACK TOGETHER WHEN THE MONSTERS TEAR IT."

"Wait, Mystic Falls?" I froze. "Like... the vampire show? You're sending me into a CW drama? Are you kidding me? Everyone there has emotional trauma and hero-hair!"

"YOU WILL TRAIN HERE FIRST," the God commanded, ignoring my protest. "YOU MUST LEARN TO HOLD A GALAXY IN YOUR PINKY FINGER BEFORE YOU ARE ALLOWED TO BREATHE AGAIN."

The Celestial Bootcamp

Time in the Void didn't work like Earth time. For what felt like centuries, the Star-God put me through the most annoying training imaginable.

"I can't lift the nebula! It's too heavy!" I complained, trying to pull a swirl of cosmic gas toward me using nothing but my willpower.

"IT IS ONLY AS HEAVY AS YOUR DOUBT, LYRA. FOCUS. COMMAND THE CONSTELLATIONS. THEY ARE YOUR KIN NOW."

"They're gas and fire, Sparky! I'm a thirteen-year-old who just wanted to finish my fanfic!"

But slowly, I started to feel it. The hum of the universe. I learned how to "pinch" gravity to make things move. I learned how to call down a sliver of starlight to illuminate the dark. I became a weapon wrapped in a snarky attitude. By the time the God was satisfied, I felt like I could bench-press a planet.

"GO NOW," the God whispered, his form fading into a gentle silver glow. "YOU WILL BE BORN FOUR YEARS AFTER THE DOPPELGÄNGER. YOU WILL BE THE YOUNGEST. THE SECRET. TRY NOT TO VAPORIZE YOUR BROTHER WHEN HE ANNOYS YOU."

"I make no promises about Jeremy!" I yelled as the Void sucked me down.

The Toddler Years (The Silent Menace)

Being born as Lyra Gilbert was a total reset. I went from commanding the stars to being a four-pound human burrito. It was humiliating.

By the time I was three, I had reached a conclusion: my body was a prison. My brain was thirteen, my powers were God-tier, but my tongue was a piece of useless ham. If I tried to speak, I just sounded like a normal, babbling toddler.

So, I chose silence.

I became the "Creepy Silent Child." I would just sit in my playpen, staring at the wall with the intensity of a thousand-year-old monk.

"She's staring at the lamp again, Greyson," Miranda Gilbert whispered, looking at me with worried eyes. "She hasn't blinked in three minutes."

"She's just... thoughtful," Greyson said, though he looked like he wanted to call an exorcist.

I looked at them both and gave a slow, tiny nod. I'm not thoughtful, Greyson. I'm calculating the trajectory of the moon so I can keep the wolves from eating you in ten years. Eat your toast.

Elena, who was seven, came running in. "Lyra! Look! I drew a sun!" She held up a messy yellow scribble.

I looked at the drawing. I looked at the actual sun outside the window. Then, I looked back at Elena. I reached out a small, chubby hand and patted her arm.

It's a C-minus effort, Elena, but your heart is in the right place, I thought.

"She likes it!" Elena cheered.

I sighed, leaned back in my high chair, and used a tiny, invisible flick of gravity to make Jeremy's spoon fly out of his hand and land in his cereal.

"MOM! THE GHOST DID IT AGAIN!" Jeremy screamed.

I closed my eyes and enjoyed the chaos.

Four more years until the Salvatore brothers arrive, I thought. I better learn how to talk by then, or I'm going to have to insult them via interpretive dance.