Bryce

  stood silently, the air around him humming with a strange tension.

  The ethereal woman, dressed in shimmering clothes that seemed to glow

  softly under the lights of the massive hall, motioned for him and the

  kids to follow. As they left the main area where they had first

  arrived, Bryce felt a shift in the atmosphere, a soft hum that

  tickled the edges of his senses. The quiet anticipation of whatever

  conversation awaited him weighed heavily on his shoulders, but for

  now, there was only the walk.

  They moved through the crowd, still in awe of the sights and

  sounds around them. Bryce noticed that, for all the chaos, there was

  an undercurrent of organization. People, no matter how different they

  were, moved with purpose. No one seemed truly lost, even though the

  place was so vast.

  The group was guided through a wide, arched doorway, which led

  them into a vast open space that stretched in every direction. Bryce

  blinked, momentarily stunned by the sight. What he had first assumed

  would be a hallway or some kind of office space turned out to be

  nothing short of a food court the size of a small city, a vast

  expanse that resembled a food court designed for an entire army. The

  space was colossal, stretching out in every direction, with a

  dizzying array of food stands and full-scale restaurants lining the

  walls. The scents wafting through the air were a tantalizing

  mix—spicy curries, sweet pastries, sizzling meats, and comforting

  soups—all competing for attention in a tantalizing, aromatic

  embrace.

  As they walked, Bryce spotted a few more curious things. There

  were clusters of people who didn’t fit into any one

  category—soldiers, civilians, and strange creatures all mingling

  together. One group in particular caught his eye: a group of tall,

  blue-skinned beings with intricate tattoos etched across their faces.

  They were laughing and eating at a stand serving what looked like

  skewered meat. Their laughter echoed through the food court, warm and

  inviting.

  Another group looked like they’d been here a while. They were

  dressed in long robes, some wearing jewelry that glowed faintly in

  the dim light. Bryce could feel the weight of their gazes as they

  watched him and the kids pass by. It was almost as if they were

  studying them, waiting for something.

  “Stay close,” Bryce murmured to the children, and they all

  huddled closer together, their earlier excitement dampening as they

  sensed his unease.

  Stalls and kiosks lined the central path, with neon signs and

  banners fluttering in an invisible breeze, all glowing with

  unfamiliar writing. Some of the signs above the food stands were

  colorful, written in languages Bryce couldn't immediately

  recognize—glyphs that looked like a blend of Egyptian hieroglyphs,

  Cyrillic script, and Japanese kanji. And yet, when he stared at the

  signs for a moment, something clicked in his mind. Somehow, without

  truly understanding the symbols, Bryce knew what they meant. It was

  as if the meaning seeped directly into his consciousness: "Fresh

  Noodles," "Meat Skewers," "Dragon’s Brew,"

  "Celestial Delicacies."

  He shook his head slightly, trying to wrap his mind around it, but

  the strangeness of this place wasn’t something his mind could

  easily grasp.

  “Hey, look at that!” Bossley, one of the autistic kids called

  out to him and the other kids, pointing to a nearby stall labeled in

  the hybrid script. To his surprise, he could understand it without

  knowing how. It read, “Mystic Noodles—Fuel for Your Journey.”

  The smells hit him next—a combination of sizzling meats, fresh

  bread, spicy curries, and something sweet like caramel wafting

  through the air. His stomach grumbled despite the surrealness of the

  situation. Around him, the children’s eyes were wide with wonder,

  and a few even seemed excited as they pointed to the various stalls.

  Clusters of people dotted the area—some looked like families

  united by fate, while others formed tight circles of friends and

  business partners. Bryce spotted a group of military personnel

  sitting together, their camaraderie palpable, reminiscing about old

  battles as they clinked glasses. The thought crossed his mind that

  perhaps they had all arrived together after losing their lives in the

  same conflict.

  As they navigated deeper, Bryce observed others who seemed to have

  been there for a while, lingering and waiting for stragglers to join

  them. The atmosphere was filled with an odd sense of acceptance—a

  recognition that, while they may have come from different lives, they

  were now united in this surreal afterlife.

  “Bryce, look at that!” one of the boys, Mason, tugged at

  Bryce’s arm, pointing at a small stand where an impossibly large

  creature was cooking something on a griddle the size of a car’s

  hood. The cook had thick, fur-covered arms and two small tusks

  protruding from his lower jaw. He flipped pancakes with a deftness

  that seemed impossible given his size.

  Bryce gave a nod, his eyes following Mason’s gaze. “Yeah, I

  see it,” he said quietly, still trying to make sense of everything.

  He could hear the children whispering and giggling, their curiosity

  replacing the tension they’d all felt moments before.

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  He looked around again, noticing similar clusters—people who

  clearly knew each other, sitting together in tight groups. There were

  families, with parents shepherding children from stall to stall, and

  groups of friends laughing loudly, as if this otherworldly food court

  was nothing more than a meeting spot after a day at the mall.

  Then there were those who looked like they had been here a long

  time, their expressions patient but weary. Some stood near the edges

  of the massive space, occasionally glancing at the escalators and

  ramps, waiting for someone—perhaps a friend or loved one—who had

  yet to arrive. Others were engaged in quiet conversation, their

  voices blending into the hum of the crowd.

  Bryce saw movement above them and realized that the food court

  wasn’t confined to a single floor. Multiple levels stacked up

  toward the ceiling, connected by escalators, elevators, and even more

  fantastical means of transport. He saw a group of people stepping

  onto what looked like floating carpets, which whisked them upward to

  the next level. Transparent tubes, much like those used at drive-thru

  banks, sent others shooting up and down in small capsules. Ramps

  wound around the perimeter of the food court, with people walking

  leisurely between the different levels.

  A loud clang caught Bryce’s attention, and he turned to see a

  group of what looked like medieval knights in full plate armor

  standing near one of the larger food stalls. They had removed their

  helmets and were busy tearing into massive turkey legs, grease

  running down their hands as they laughed heartily. Beside them, a man

  with the head of a lion was talking animatedly with a dwarf whose

  beard was so long it dragged on the floor.

  Bryce couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer variety of beings

  around them. Not just humans, but creatures straight out of myths and

  legends. Elves with pointed ears and flowing silver hair strode past,

  their movements graceful and otherworldly. A gnome, no more than

  three feet tall, hurried by with a stack of papers in his arms,

  muttering to himself in a language Bryce didn’t understand.

  Dog-headed humanoids, cat-like beings, and even what appeared to be a

  small dragon were mingling in the crowd, as though it were the most

  normal thing in the world.

  As they continued to explore, Bryce’s attention was drawn to the

  vibrant interactions happening all around them. Groups of people

  animatedly exchanged stories, while others sat quietly, lost in

  thought. The melding of cultures and backgrounds was palpable, a

  tapestry woven from countless lives lived and lost.

  “Look at those people,” one of the girls said, pointing to a

  group of towering figures draped in heavy furs. They were discussing

  something earnestly, their voices low but resonant.

  Bryce nodded, realizing that this place was a microcosm of

  existence, reflecting every imaginable aspect of life. Yet, despite

  the overwhelming differences, there was a shared understanding—a

  bond formed by the journey each individual had taken to arrive here.

  “Do you think we’ll get to go back?” one of the kids asked,

  their voice tinged with uncertainty.

  Bryce paused, the weight of the question settling heavily on his

  heart. “I don’t know,” he admitted honestly. “But I think we

  have to find out what comes next. We’re all here for a reason.”

  They continued to wander through the food court, discovering

  stands selling everything from enchanted pastries to ambrosial

  smoothies. Bryce marveled at the contrast between the bustling energy

  of the food court and the solemnity of the earlier sorting areas.

  Here, life—whatever form it took—felt vibrant and alive.

  Suddenly, a ruckus erupted nearby as a group of kobolds and dwarfs

  began playfully arguing over who could create the best dish from a

  nearby stall. Their laughter rang out, a joyous sound that pierced

  through the hum of conversation and clattering dishes.

  “See? It’s not all serious,” Bryce said, grinning at the

  children. “There’s joy to be found even here.”

  The kids watched with wide smiles, their earlier fears beginning

  to dissipate in the warmth of the community around them. Bryce felt a

  flicker of hope. They might not know what awaited them, but they were

  together, and in this extraordinary place, they could forge new

  paths.

  “Is this heaven?” one of the kids, Rachel, asked quietly, her

  voice filled with awe as she looked around.

  “I don’t know,” Bryce replied honestly, glancing down at

  her. “I don’t think so. It feels… different.”

  "Bryce," one of the boys, James, said, his voice quieter

  now. "What do you think those people are waiting for?" He

  pointed toward a group standing near one of the escalators, their

  eyes locked on the entrance as if expecting someone any moment.

  Bryce followed his gaze. The group consisted of what looked like a

  family—a father, mother, and two children. They were standing

  silently, their faces filled with hope and a little sadness. Bryce

  felt a chill run down his spine. Were they waiting for someone who

  hadn’t arrived yet? Was this a place where you met the people you

  lost?

  “I think…” Bryce started, but his voice trailed off. He

  didn’t have an answer. Not yet, anyway.

  The ethereal woman leading them stopped suddenly, turning to face

  Bryce and the kids. “This way,” she said, her voice smooth and

  calm, gesturing toward a quieter path that veered off from the

  central food court. It led toward a door nestled between two large

  restaurants—one of which had a sign reading "Café Elysium."

  The ethereal woman led them to a quiet corner, away from the bustling food court to a small, secluded seating area. There was a

  table waiting for them, surrounded by comfortable-looking chairs.

  Bryce hesitated for a moment, then motioned for the kids to sit down.

  They all settled into their seats, some of them still looking

  around in awe, others clearly starting to feel the weight of the

  situation. The air here was calmer, quieter, and the overwhelming

  sensory overload from the food court seemed to dissipate a little.