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Alive, so alive

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Swaddled in silk and carried away by the loving embrace of angels’ arms and then the light of Heaven itself.

 

That’s what it felt like to be taken away from this mortal Earth, and into the hands of God.

 

The warmth, The bliss. No suffering. No battle. Just a… spirit, entity, something , that existed outside the boundaries of time and space. 

 

How long had it been? How long had that been all Galahad knew?

 

Why did he want to come back again? Why is he here?

 

“Come forth. Your longing from long ago, will now be a reality.”

 

He’s burning. Air and fire rip into him as he’s removed from the fabric of Heaven, as he’s forcibly stitched back into the world of the living.

 


 

Everything hurts. It’s dark. The wind beats on Galahad’s shoulders, his back, everywhere. It’s all so much, so painful, so… alive. 

 

Alive again, Galahad finally realizes. 

 

What is this ringing in his head?

 

“Galahad, wait!”

 

“No, no. We can’t…. Goodbye.”

 

“Goodbye, my only friends. God bless you two.”

 

A stab in his heart. Was it? It felt like it. 

 

Regret.

 

There it is. His lone regret. He’d left them too soon.

 

“Bors, Percival…” Galahad barely recognizes the voice he hears coming from his own throat. It’s not until he feels the tears going down his face, the sob that wracks his body, that he remembers beyond all doubt. In the end, he didn’t want to go. Not yet. Seeing their faces as he was carried away by the angels changed his mind, the moment after there was no going back.

 

Where are they now, if he’s been put back on this Earth? Long gone? Probably. How will they react to seeing him again? Is it even possible anymore?

 

Wiping his face clean, right now it’s all Galahad can do to take a step, and another step. His head feels like someone swung an entire castle wall at him. His legs are like that of a newborn deer. How long has he had no physical body, that every movement feels so forced? He has to go somewhere, his mind screams at him, but where? 

 

Despite the pain in his head, he has some sense of his surroundings. Dark sky, the half moon amidst clouds, it’s night. They’re fainter than they used to be, or is that just him adjusting to having eyes again? The wet soil on his feet. It just rained—no, it’s still raining. Maybe that’s why he’s cold. There’s still ringing in his head, but it’s starting to fade. 

 

All of a sudden, he trips. Pain shoots up in his ankle, as if there wasn’t enough already. He hits his head against the bottom of a tree. Everything feels so much, too much again. The whimper from his lips almost sounds like another sob. 

 

Right when he stands up, a voice. He sees a person holding a strange light and umbrella.

 

The person seems to be asking someone else something when he turns around, his question hitting an abrupt stop as soon as he looks at Galahad.

 

“...Wait.”

 

He doesn’t say anything, instead looks at this person and inches away on his feett. How does he explain himself? Who is this? 

 

“Galahad?” 

 

How does this person know him? 

 

“Oh my God, it really is you,” 

 

“...Who--”

 

“Hey, don’t be scared,” The person kneels down. Galahad can see their face. They hadn’t talked much in his previous life, but even then he could recognize.

 

“Sir Bedivere...?”

 

Then that must mean Sir Kay could be near.

 

“Uh, I’m not a ‘Sir’ anymore, but yeah, it’s me. Come, we can talk at home.”