I nodded, sweat building at my fingertips.

“Once you do,” he continued, “see if any lights appear. Count them. Pay close attention to what they look like. Can you do that?”

My heartbeat increased. I shouldn’t fear my own power, but my instincts reminded me to always fear the unknown.

I disappeared, and the room brightened. Glass disappeared too, replaced by a brilliant silver ball of light that filled the room. Blinding white rays shot out at all angles, moving in slow, methodical circles. Twelve smaller lights danced around the room, but they were wisps of dust in comparison.

I reappeared, and Glass was in front of me again. The other lights vanished, and the color of the room shifted.

“Whoa,” I gulped, blinking away the brightness. “That was different.”

“What did you see?”

“It was like I was somewhere else. The same room but…altered. There was a bright light where you were standing.”

Glass fiddled with a large metal ring on his finger. “I ran my arm where you were sitting and felt nothing. You may be invisible to all senses now, not just sight.”

All senses? My imagination whirred. I couldn’t tell if I was feeling excitement or dread.

“Here’s my theory.” The doctor flipped the journal to an earlier page. “You’re now utilizing a source of energy that comes from the Wilds on the other side of the Endless Mountains, which means it’s no longer a natural power. It’s known as a Divine Variety.”

My breath shortened. Sharp’s words from yesterday echoed in my head. The effects are random, and in rare cases, very dangerous.

“Don’t look so afraid,” Glass continued. “The powers people inherit are products of their environments, which is why the people of different regions look and act so differently. The center of the Wilds is even more unique in this regard. What else do you know about it?”

I racked my brain. “Uh, Sharp once said there’s a patch in the center of the Wilds that’s impossible for outsiders to enter.”

On the wall behind him was a map of the continent. The Wilds were due north, across the Endless Mountain Range. A dark ameba-like shape blotted out the center of the massive forest, as if the map maker had spilled ink.

“It isn’t impossible,” asserted Glass, “but most people can’t enter safely without some sort of environmental power or assistance. A long time ago, even the most common folks could enter.”

He gave the map a heavy look. “But things change. The Wilds are shifting and alive. They were the Reaper’s home on earth, and his energy remains in the Ghost Trees, the largest and oldest living things on the globe. These giant flora oscillate between life and death, moving freely between the Unseen Dimension, and our own. This oscillation is the source of most Divine entropy on the west side of the V.U.C.”

I knew the Wilds was a strange place, but this information was far from what I was expecting. Willow and I skipped a lot of class during the education season, and it was finally catching up to me. “Unseen what now?”

He laughed at my idiotic expression. “It sounds a little out-there, but it’s true. Let me show you what I mean.”

The doctor shuffled through a drawer on his desk and returned with a single playing card. “How many cards?”

“Just one.”

“Which one?”

“The king of hearts.”

He flourished his hand, and the card now depicted a fire-breathing tiger with two heads. “Wrong.”

“How did you do that?!” I snatched it, only to discover two cards stacked close. I tried the motion myself, without success. “I think I get it. The Unseen Dimension is like one of these cards. A world so close, it’s practically the same.”

He took back the cards, flourishing them once more. “You said it better than I could. This dimension is a pathway souls travel through when they die. There isn’t much documentation about the Deep Dark, but we do know Divine Varieties use energy from this place.”

I stared at him for a minute before I could say anything. “So do I… go to that dimension when I disappear now?”

“Yes, I believe that to be the case.”

“That’s…wild.”

He chuckled. “Sure is.”

“What about the lights?”

He placed a hand over his heart. “You’re seeing a concentration of moving energy, representing the living human soul. Last night you saw six lights in the room, which coincides with the number of people present. A second ago, the light you saw was me.”

If that light was Glass, I thought, then the light from last night must have been…

This thought was interrupted by another, one that made my blood run cold. “You weren’t the only light in this room.”

“I wasn’t?” He blinked rapidly and looked around. “What did the others look like?”

“They were very dim,” I pointed all over the room, “and they were everywhere.”

His face paled, and the hand nesting over his heart twitched. With a cotton voice he asked, “Did you count them?”

I hesitated, the ATMOSPHERE growing heavy. “I… counted twelve.”

He jolted and began to itch the back of his head.

“Sir?”

His professional composure returned in an instant. “Sorry. That proves my theory in a way I didn’t expect.” Tired eyes scanned the room. “I’m one of few doctors in Pantmawr, so I’ve had the misfortune of witnessing a fraction of this town's deaths over the last ten years. Every patient that died in my care, died in this room.”

His intention wasn’t to scare me, but I recoiled at the grave sincerity. Twelve lights. Twelve dead patients. A power that lets me see into the Unseen Dimension. The Other Side. Death.

“Don’t look so afraid, Badger.” His tone changed from professional to fatherly, moving his hands like an animated storyteller. “The lights you’re seeing are the burn from an ember, left behind by an extinguished flame. Death and life exist in the same space, dancing without end, their separation an illusion.”

Dancing. Why did that strike a chord? All the lights I had seen had been moving in slow steady rotations, masterful pirouettes. Different lights, but the same dance.

“I’m sorry sir,” I whispered.

His smiling eyes were warm. “For what?”

I looked him in the eye. For as long as I’d known him, it had never once crossed my mind that the kind and headstrong Glass had pains he never spoke about. “About your patients. You reacted when I said the number so...”

“Perceptive.” His expression softened, making him look older. “You don’t need to apologize, kid. The idea that human souls leave an imprint behind when they die is… comforting.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” I said, matching his smile, forcing it a little. My mind raced with the possibilities now. If what I saw was an imprint… where does the rest of the light go?

He clapped his hands together. “Moving on. I’d like you to help me test one more thing.” He picked up a potted fern from his desk and held it out to me. “Turn invisible and see what happens if you touch something organic.”