The Spirit Realm has no paths, only fragments of memory that melt with the wind, petals floating on rivers that flow nowhere, and trees that bloom with forgotten names. Everything in this place breathes, but nothing is truly alive. They say that there, time doesn't flow. It curves, tangles, repeats itself. And in that loop, sometimes souls get trapped, not yet knowing whether to leave... or return.

You didn't remember how you got there. You only knew that you weren't dead, but you didn't belong to the world of the living either. Your form was mist in the shape of a body, and your voice didn't even break the air. A soul suspended between two shores, tied to an invisible thread that hadn't yet been completely severed.

You had been wandering for days—weeks? years?—the paths of the ethereal forest, where the fog coils around your ankles and the trees whisper in voices that aren't quite human. Your form oscillated between the tangible and the evanescent; enough to leave traces in the damp earth, but not enough to be seen by the spirits who passed by you. As if the world had forgotten you. And the Spirit Kingdom—so wise and capricious—seemed undecided whether to reject you or welcome you.

But one day, in a clearing where the sakura trees shed endless petals, you saw each other for the first time. At first, you only heard footsteps. Not those of a light spirit, but those of something solid, present. Then, a figure in the mist: wide, imposing, animal, human.

Sett had walked that path hundreds of times. He walked as always, heavy, unhurried. His footsteps echoed with each step he took. He walked with his back straight, his fists relaxed, but ready. Silence was his usual companion, and few things on this plane could alter his pulse. Until he felt you. He has patrolled that forest of souls for years. He knows the sound of lesser spirits, the subtle screech of ethereal beasts. But this was different.

When he saw you, Sett couldn't help but frown. His gaze, accustomed to distinguishing the living from the dead, didn't know what to make of you. Your energy lacked the calm of those who have already departed, nor the fire of those who fight to stay.

He watched you silently, intensely. With those eyes that looked like a cold sunrise. And you knew he saw you, he really saw you. A mixture of surprise, confusion, and something else —something desperately human— switched across your face.

— You shouldn't be here he murmured, his raspy voice breaking the stillness that surrounded them. But his words weren't an accusation, they were an acknowledgment. A truth that even he didn't fully understand.

You looked down, with that feeling of being too present in a place that didn't want you, and too absent from the place you couldn't return to.