“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.”
“Okay…what do you think will happen?”
He knocked on the metal exam table. “You can’t phase through things that aren’t living, or else you should have phased through your seat. But since I was able to phase through you, I'm curious what will happen if you touch something alive.”
I reached out, but hesitated, thinking about the twelve dim lights in the room with us. I clenched my fists, gathered my nerves, and moved into the Unseen.
The plant didn’t disappear like Glass did, but its color became saturated. I focused tight in front of me, unable to suppress the fear of death all around, trying my best to not confront it. I touched the plant. My fingers phased through, but the leaves were so hot, I whipped my hand back.
“So?” asked the doctor, when I was visible again.
“It nearly burned me.” I held my stinging hand to my face, but it looked normal.
He scrutinized the plant before writing another note in the journal. “Looks like you can’t hurt or damage any soul you touch in that state, but the reverse might be true. Be careful getting too close to these lights, for now.”
I wrapped my arms around myself. “Not a problem. The idea of touching another soul is beyond creepy to me.”
He replaced the notebook with a smaller notepad from his desk and wrote down some kind of prescription. It read:
To the office of Dr. Gold-and-Silver.
