The night swallows us, a gaping cavern without teeth. Even without the threat of chomping jaws, it is an uneasy feeling, and I cannot help but curl my fingers a little tighter around Jeremy’s arm as we walk together beneath the pressing dark of the hollow city streets. Clouds cover the moon, but Jeremy says that’s good. It means it will be harder to spot us.

There is a Wall, and Jeremy says if we can get to it, we can be together.

It is the first promise he’s ever made that I might not fully believe.

The chill of autumn nips at my nose, the only part of me not covered. I wear a long, black coat that reaches almost to my ankles, a scarf pulled tight over my chin, and my short hair is tucked beneath a gray beanie . Not my usual style by any means, but then, it’s prudent that no one recognizes us. Jeremy tugs insistently at my arm, and I let him pull us around the corner into an alley. A few moments later, I hear the low rumble of a truck rolling past where we’d been walking, a long beam of white light sweeping over the street. I stay pressed against the wall trying to keep my breathing steady. Though he would never admit his own fear, I can feel Jeremy trembling slightly against me.

The truck passes, and we wait a few more moments before moving back onto the main street, my fingers only just grazing Jeremy’s as we pick up the pace a little bit.

“Almost there,” Jeremy whispers, reaching up to squeeze the back of my neck in reassurance. I nod, and a few minutes later, the Wall comes into view. It is even taller and uglier than it looks on television.

“We should’ve split up,” I insist, not for the first time. “We should’ve gone separately.”

Jeremy shakes his head, slowing his pace as we approach. The Wall is not visibly guarded. It doesn’t need to be anymore. People are supposed to know better. “No me without you, remember?” he smiles. “If one of us made it and the other didn’t, I…” he pauses, shoving a hand through his already disheveled hair. “It had to be together.”

“Okay,” I agree easily. Despite my fear and my insistence that this escape plan is fruitless, I know I feel the same. I know I am not whole without him. Above my head, the gaping dark laughs at my ignorant hope.

“You first,” Jeremy insists. We’ve made our way to the end of the sidewalk until we are both just a few inches from the stone Wall. Despite its size, it is not well-made. Pieces of stone stick out at random intervals, and halfway up is a small ledge rimmed with barbwire. The second half of the Wall transitions from stone to chain-link. If we can make it that far, the climb becomes significantly easier. But neither of us knows what awaits us on the other side. We are told it is a wasteland, a place for the outcasts and the savages who threaten the ‘Perfect Lifestyle’ cultivated inside the city. And it is true that life has improved over the last several decades. There are no more guns. There is no more petty theft. But even so, Jeremy and I have both seen the violence that persists inside the Wall, the hatred that does more than skitter along its edges. We will take our chances on the Other Side.

I examine the wall, trying to figure out how best to make the climb. But before I can think for too long, the night lights up.

Sirens blare from every side and long, sweeping beams of red and white light tear across my half-covered face, blinding me. I cry out in surprise, shielding my eyes from the glare. Beside me, Jeremy stiffens for only a moment before he is shouting at me, his fingers laced together at knee-height in front of me.

“Go!” he screams, nodding down at his interlocked hands. “Push yourself up and go!”

“You’ll be right behind me?” I scream back, panic pushing against every bone and muscle.

“No me without you,” Jeremy promises.

I push off from his hands, pulling myself up along the wall and losing my hat in the process. Beside me, Jeremy is climbing, too.

This is a violation, the alarm begins to blare. Escape is impossible. Return to your home and await punishment. This is a violation….

“Keep going,” Jeremy growls beside me, surpassing me with his next foothold. I try desperately to keep up.

“Careful!” I warn above the noise and the glaring lights. We are reaching the barbwire in the middle of the Wall, and I begin to unwind my scarf from my neck, wrapping it around my fingers before continuing the climb. Beside me, Jeremy continues his own ascent, letting out a few small gasps when the barbwire opens up shallow cuts along his hands. We reach the chainlink, and my head begins to pound in anticipation. We are so close.

I reach the top first, though Jeremy is only a few steps behind, his hands leaving bloody streaks along the chainlink. I swing my leg around to the other side of the Wall, and that is when Jeremy slips.

His foot skids against a spot of blood and he yells out in surprise as all of his body weight is suddenly transferred to his ruined hands.

“Jeremy!” I scream, reaching for him. Somehow, he manages to hold on long enough to get his feet back under him, pulling himself up until he can reach my hand. I pull with everything I have, exhausted muscles screaming along with the still-blaring sirens. Looking down for the first time, I can see that a crowd has begun to gather below us. I recognize a few drowsy neighbors and old acquaintances, all staring up at us from where both of us now sit, straddling the top of the Wall. There are no police officers anymore. Everyone is supposed to keep everyone else in line.

For a long, frozen moment, no one speaks. Even the sirens seem to fade into the background as Jeremy and I look down at the people gaping at us. Before I can react, Jeremy is kissing me.

We have never kissed where anyone else would see. No one is allowed to know, and part of me is shrieking to pull away, to run in the other direction. But we are at the top of the Wall, and we do not know what awaits us on the Other Side, and the only thing I have ever wanted to do was kiss the boy I loved. And so I do.

After a too-short while, Jeremy pulls away, smiling at me. Below us, I can hear people murmuring in horror, their faces slack and pale, caught in the reflections of the red and white lights.

Jeremy’s spine straightens as his gaze shifts to the people down below, determination suddenly clear on his face. “This is not wrong,” Jeremy shouts to the dumbfounded crowd. “Love is never wrong. Don’t let them take it away from us!”

And with that, Jeremy swings his other leg over the Wall, finding his footing on the other side. He holds out a hand to me, waiting. I hesitate for a moment longer, looking down at the people below.

Escape is impossible, the siren still screams. Return to your home and await punishment. This is a violation…

“Trevor?” Jeremy urges, thrusting his hand out even further. “We gotta go.”

I take Jeremy’s hand and haul myself the rest of the way over the Wall.

The night they met the two were smitten.

And so, in the stars it was written.

A dance to outlast the progression of time

a fox trot, box step, dip, divine.

Intimately they twirl and sway

To a tune only they hear play.

Lost in each other eyes she said

“I’m so glad I chose this tread”.

Sensually he caressed her face

“Fancy meeting you in this place”.

Each has a moment to take the lead

Fate and Free Will in harmony.

Fate was glad she decided to come and see

and Free Will believed it was meant to be.

Everything flickers like a lightbulb gone dead, a stunted stutter that blinks once, twice, gone.

There is nothing but space, here. A canopy of white that holds her in its grasp as a candle holds a flame. She blinks at the wall-less room, lets her fingers drift along its nonexistent edges. She begins to walk, feet moving without her permission.

The air is tasteless and the floor feels like smoothed glass beneath her bare toes. She glides along it like a figure skater on ice, reveling in the grace of her own stride. She has not moved with such ease since before the accident that left her with a permanent limp at age twenty-one. But here, there is no heaviness in her bones. She doesn’t know where ‘here’ is, but she thinks she might like to stay.

Her walk ends at a doorway that towers high above her head. The door is painted in a glossy purple, an elaborate, swirling pattern carved into its wood. Two brass knockers hang ominously, level with the tops of her shoulders. She glances around at all the nothing that surrounds her, weighing her options. There is only one. She lifts one of the knockers and lets it fall once, twice.

Before her second knock is done, the door begins to open, just as smooth as the floor beneath her feet. It does not creak. She moves cautiously into the room, eyes wandering to each and every corner. The walls and floor are cotton-candy pink, made of some strange material that seems to pulse out into the rest of the room, encapsulating everything in soft, pillowy comfort. When she takes her first step fully into the room, it feels like silk beneath her feet. A giant, oak desk filled to the brim with manila folders sits in the center of the room, and there is a man peering out from between the stacks who looks to be no older than thirty. He wears a thin, black tie and a suit to match, not a single blonde hair out of place atop his head.

"Hello!" he greets cheerily, his booming voice cushioned by the airy walls. "Please, take a seat."

She sits in the chair across from him, letting out an involuntary sigh as it seems to mold to every part of her, as if it was meant only for her. The man in front of her smiles, reaching for one of the files in his infinite pile. He places it in front of him and flicks to the first page, making a small tsking noise as he skims the words.

"Ah yes, Madeleine Elaine Borsch!" he exclaims, as if it is the most interesting name he's ever heard. Across from him, Madeleine smiles and shrugs, not quite sure what she is meant to say. But the man continues before the silence stretches too long. "Okay, so. First thing's first: I must inform you that you are dead." A slight pause. "Do not be alarmed. Death is part of life, as it is for all. Your clock has simply chimed its last. And now we move on."

"M...move on to where?" Madeleine asks. The words the man is speaking make no sense, and yet she knows them to be true. If she were still alive, her heart would be beating ferociously inside her chest, but as it is, her ribcage stays silent, her breaths slow and even and perhaps unnecessary. The chair she is sitting in seems to wrap itself more snugly around her, and she relaxes into it a little.

"Well that all depends on you, dear," the man behind the desk grins, wiggling his eyebrows at her. "If you have lived a life up to standards, you will begin The Ascension. If not, we must choose a Den for you."

"The Ascension? What is that?"

"All in due time. All in due time! Let me just..." the man begins his laborious tsking once again, his eyes moving quickly through the pages of Madeleine's file, licking his fingertips each time he flips to a new one. The file is at least six inches thick, and the man reads for a long time. Somehow, Madeleine knows better than to interrupt. She sits as silently as she can, fidgeting in the comfortable seat, fingernails scraping against her jeans. Finally, the man looks up from the file, grinning. Madeleine smiles back timidly.

"Good news!" he beams. "I will not have to begin the arduous process of explaining The Ascension. I believe I have found the Den best suited to you."

"The De...wait...what?" Madeleine stutters, her useless heart suddenly as cold as death's hold. "You mean I haven't...but I was a good person!" she insists. "I got top marks. I made the honor roll, graduated summa cum laude. Owned my own business, stayed out of trouble. This can’t be happening!"

"Oh my darling, you misunderstand," the man insists, waving a long-fingered hand dismissively. "We don't quite care about all of that."

"Then what do you care about?” Madeleine asks, the panic evident in her tone. “Because I...I gave to charity. I tutored for free sometimes, I..."

"Madeleine, dear. Please allow me a moment to explain,” the man insists. His tone is light, but there is a flicker of impatience in his eyes. Madeleine closes her mouth and waits.

“I will explain it the way I have explained it to countless others, so listen closely, for these words are true. You were born into your World as a child, and you may leave it still a child. Your body grows, and so does your mind, but your soul is perhaps still at its beginnings, an infinite light that has only just begun to flicker. Each life you live helps to solidify that soul, to grow its light inside of you until it is bright enough to Ascend. Each Den or ‘Dimension,’ as you may know them, provides you with another life, another world or set of worlds to explore. Are you beginning to understand?”

“So it’s not a punishment?” Madeleine asks, her voice shaking. “I just need more time to...to grow my soul?”

“Yes,” the man nods.

Madeleine swallows. “How long does it take to get to the end? To the Ascension?”

“Every soul is different,” the man explains, as Madeleine imagines he has explained countless times before. “Some need exposure to only a few Dens to reach their Ascension point. Others take longer.”

“And how many Dens have I visited?”

The man shakes his head, but he is still smiling. “Oh my dear, I cannot tell you that. It is not for the soul to know its own age. And even though your mind will forget this conversation, your soul will not. So we must speak our words with great care, and we must not disturb the process.” He stands abruptly up from the desk and walks around to the other side, reaching out a hand. Madeleine takes it, and the chair she’d been sitting in unfolds from around her, allowing her to rise more easily to her feet.

“Are you ready?” the man asks, a hint of sympathy in his inhuman eyes.

Madeleine bites her lip. “I’m not sure,” she answers honestly.

The man’s grin widens as he walks her to the door. “That is one of the very best things to be,” he says. There is no creaking, but the door begins to open. The man clasps Madeleine’s hand tightly within his own for one, brief moment before letting it go. He slides back a few more steps as the door slides all the way open.

Everything flickers like a lightbulb come to life, a shivering stutter that blinks once, twice, and fills the room.