We have to make a detour, and we must hurry."

Nathaniel found himself walking behind Carmela's visage, following the path drawn by the ribbons of light. The man reflexively crossed his arms as if to brace the colder temperature. However, he didn't feel cold despite wearing the thin hospital pyjamas provided.

He had many questions to ask Carmela's visage: What happened to her shadow? What is that lamp? Why is everyone unmoving as if locked in time? Is he dead? Why~

"I cannot answer your questions if you do not relent from asking more."

The spectre of his daughter spoke matter-of-factly without even turning to look back. Her curls were bobbling delicately with every step.

Befuddled, Nathaniel stopped walking. " I was only thinking about what to ask you. I didn't say them out loud." Nathaniel's assumptions ran amock free from brain fog, and he grinned with childlike astonishment.

" Can you read people's thoughts as well?" His slippers clacked against the tiled floor as he hurried behind the phantom again.

"I have no such ability." She was quick to refute this time.

" In this realm, everything separated by what the living perceives as value or status slowly becomes equal. "

Everything is separated by what the living perceives as value or status.

Nathaniel's heart reiterated what it heard.

"Similarly, we judge others by their actions but assess ourselves based on our thoughts and intentions. Here, both become equal, and your thoughts gain a voice and form. If it was meant to be expressed, so it shall be."

Nathaniel quickly quipped back, "But I haven't heard anything from you."

"Because I do not think of such things." There was a slight inflexion in her voice. " I do not think of other things. It is neither my-"

"-nature or purpose.." Nathaniel finished her sentence for her with a sigh of defeat.

There was a brief silence after that. Their footsteps filled the void of sound.

"This Carmela must have been awfully loving and patient to deal with you," she muttered, her voice tinged with irritation.

The man couldn't help but belch a laugh. "Now that's more like -"

The mistress of the lamp cut their banter short with a raised hand. The lantern creaked, and the soot rising from her arms vibrated. Before Nathaniel could speak, he was taken aback by the figure's sudden stillness.

He heard a myriad of whispers weaving past his ears. Indiscernible words from a foreign language formed a lullaby-like aria. The ribbons of light and music bound with the phantom's soot, creating a 'curtain'. The cloth slowly fell and enveloped the phantom's body, causing her to change shape. A more apt description was that her body became a moldable paste capable of transformation.

Like before, the visage stood motionless with her eyes closed, looking slightly upwards. She had shrunk a generous amount of inches, matching Nathaniel's diaphragm. Her hair straightened, becoming winter white, brushed with ashen grey. Carmela's youthful face became rubbery, pecked with mottled pigmentation and wrinkles. Her sunkissed skin turned pale, and her arms blushed red from what appeared to be chemical burns.

When she turned to face Nathaniel, her lenses had become charcoal. The man could see the milky patches in her eyes.

"This form's name is Fatima." The phantom croaked. "Fatima Impestan, the mother of the soul we are visiting." She turned the knob of the door to her left and gestured for Nathaniel to follow. The lantern swayed as she waddled.

Nathaniel's perpetual loss for words was further aggravated by what he saw when he entered the room.

A few years junior to his Carmela, a young man was lying transfixed by various implements on a gurney. His right leg was missing a foot, while the other seemed gravely deformed with protrusions due to multiple open fractures. He had a visible tattoo on his left arm that was cornered by bloodied bandages and soaked gauze. His stomach was streaked with contusions. The light in his eyes was waning, unresponsive to the bright lights that flashed on his face. Trails of dried blood traced down towards the sheets from his ears.

"It hurts," Nathaniel could hear a soft, tremulous voice.

"It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts."

"I'm scared. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts."

"Mama...Papa...I'm scared. It hurts. It hurts."

Nathaniel clenched his fists until they were pale. He realised that there were still things far more dreadful-more painful than the surgeries and cycles of chemotherapy.

Tears began streaking down his eyes. What the hell happened here?

The phantom slowly made its way to the boy's thrashed body. The azure flame rekindled in the lantern and began its dance.

"Mama is here, Jasper." The phantom coarse voice tried to soothe the ailing soul. The visage in the form of Jasper's mom, Fatima, slowly reached out to touch the palm of his hand.

"Mama," the voice sobbed. "It hurts. I can't move my body. It hurts."

"It's okay now, Jasper. You don't need to be afraid. Mama is going to take away all the pain." The phantom perfectly mimicked the mother's coax.

Nathaniel stared at what was unfolding in front of him. Witnessing the shadow change forms to perform its purpose was terrifyingly strange. He did not expect Death to be this way.

"Where is Papa?"

"It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts."

"Jasper, my baby. Papa is on his way now. I'll wake you up when he arrives. Sleep for now, sweetheart". The visage spoke as if it was stroking the boy's hair.

"He isn't coming, isn't he, Mama? You're lying".

Nathaniel was startled by the grim tone the boy took. Was he able to see through the visage's facade?

The blue ember popped and crackled at the boy's statement. It was as if the tiny dancer had lost its rhythm mid-pirouette. Nathaniel could feel the shift. A malevolent miasma suffocating to the spirit emanated from the dying Jasper.

"It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts."

Misery crept into Jasper's core, entwined with his fixation on the sensuous aspects of existence, and began to putrefy him.

"He won't come to visit me."

"What's going on?" Nathaniel tried to communicate with the visage through his thoughts. I can hear the sound of curtains violently flailing. Is there a storm inside the building?

Nathaniel braced himself against the wall. Agonising voices invaded his head. Hurtful words and sorrowful howling flung around aimlessly misdirected.

Jasper's body was languishing. However, his soul was restless and impetuous.

"This boy's soul is refusing to leave." The phantom spoke as Fatima.

"Jasper's once unspoken thoughts and emotions have been given form."

"Why can't you change into his father?" Nathaniel shrieked. He commiserated with the boy. It was cruel and shattering for his end to be so harsh.

"I cannot be two forms at the same time." The man would have applauded the visage's deadpan expression. It shifted perfectly between the warmth of a mother's voice and its detached nature.

Why would Papa come? I haven't seen him for so long.

"Let me do it". Nathaniel responded in haste. The man's paternal instinct took hold. He just wanted the boy to stop hurting despite not knowing what such an ordeal would warrant. His conviction was resolute.

Jasper's cries and pleading reverberated across the room.

"It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts."

"Papa...Papa... It hurts. It hurts."

Fatima was quick to rebuke Nathaniel's request. "It is not permissible. You are not read-". Her frail voice betrayed the rigidity of her message.

"Listen, you." Nathaniel hissed. "As a father, it is my nature and purpose to see him through!"

"Your words are self-serving. I find no merit in indulging your request."

His words and thoughts resonated with the same empathy as he called out again to the mistress of the lantern. Compassion quickly extinguished the anger welling up inside him.

"Please, whatever you are..." Nathaniel felt as if his ribcage would shatter and cave in.

" Let me see him through."

"Such a thing has never been done before, Nathaniel."

The phantom deliberated intensely behind the emotionless gaze she held. Nathaniel's sincerity was aligned with both thoughts and emotions. The man's soul had nothing to gain from helping Jasper pass.

Still, Fatima's facade was apprehensive.

What would happen if the power of the embers touched a living soul? How would the realm react to such a soul? How would the other beings react? How would it reflect on the phantom?

"If Jasper were my Carmela, I would bend reality to see her through."

The phantom felt mysteriously compelled to oblige.

It was as if adopting Carmela's form influenced it to act out of its usual tendencies. Memories from his daughter's form showed a man who was not power-hungry nor madly driven by his ego. A man who loved both his family and music. A man who was teeming with emotion yet stifled by a painful childhood and unhealthy social conditioning. A man healed by love. A man who wanted to heal through loving.

If Jasper were my Carmela, I would bend reality to see her through.