Literature
Pedestal: Chapter 147
"I'm dead." I looked around me. This world wasn't black or white, but a static-y gray. I had to be dead. I remembered, with vivid clarity, what had happened just seconds before—but what already felt like years. It felt so apart from me. I felt detached from everyone, everything, even myself. It was odd, but even that, I couldn't bring myself to care much.
"No, you're not. Not quite yet." I looked down and found Who sitting in a meditative pose next to me. He was suspending his charm in midair in front of him, swinging it with his mind.
"That's a relief," I deadpanned, hardly meaning it. "Another dream?"
"Of a sort. You are actually in
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