The Gatekeepers: The Carnival of Chaos, #3

By Elie James Wile

What happens after death?

Thea's fate is far from what she ever expected as she experiences the phenomena of time, space, and multiple realms. Ghosts from her past return, while the threats of her future remain.

A war is brewing back on Earth. Thea's friends fear the worst. Unlikely allies fight for her survival. This new, dysfunctional family needs her now more than ever.

Thea must find her strength as the dangers of her world come closer to converging on hallowed ground.

Nowhere is safe anymore.

But as they say in the carnival, the show must go on.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Euphoria Publishing
• Release date: Mar 23, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224931323

Book preview

Carnival of Chaos

The First Trilogy

The Lightworkers

The Shadow Guard

The Gatekeepers

Coming Soon

The Second Trilogy

The Peacemakers

The Third Trilogy

For A.K.

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When I was a child, my teachers told me that when you die, you go to heaven. Heaven. A glorious place up in the clouds...or beyond the clouds—somewhere up in the sky where we couldn't see. Astronomy contradicted the exact placement of heaven, but I was assured it was a place where I'd see loved ones again. Where I could run along streets of gold, trip, and not scab my knees. I tried asking more questions, but they told me I talked too much and changed the subject. It wouldn't have mattered their answer, though. Because no matter what they told me, they would have been wrong.

What is this place? I ask my mom.

My mom. I never in a million years thought I'd have the chance to know her, let alone talk to her, directly to her. And see her. Really see her.

This is a watchtower, Thea. One exists above every gate, and they're all connected to one network. See? She leans out over a railing that overlooks, well, everything. Everything you could ever imagine existing beyond the planets and solar systems. This is the universe. This is our cosmic home.

We're standing at the top of a lighthouse. But by standing, I really mean floating, existing, in this space; and by lighthouse, I mean a huge pillar of brilliant light that connects us to this extraordinary energy.

When I look out into the vast sea of nothingness, I see the same golden tendrils that lit up and flitted through the lake in Colby Park. I see the same sparkles of light that would sometimes get my attention back at home. Only, here, everything is connected in this unbelievable geometric form. Light bounces and bursts from one point to another. Other pillars freckle the geometric grid, highlighting the other gates that lead to other realms, other worlds.

From here, we can observe the energy density of the different gates. We monitor them from this side, and work with those who belong to those realms to stabilize and protect it. All this, she motions with her hands, a warm smile on her face, all this is our life force. It's you, it's me, it's every living being, plant, animal, molecule that's ever existed. It's all here in a place where time and space mean nothing.

How did I get here? I ask. "How did you get here?" In my own mind, I add, And if you've had access to all this for the last eighteen years, why didn't you come back?

She turns and goes back inside the watchtower. In the large open space through the doorway, plush white seats and a small round table await. It's set up to be comfortable, conversational, a place to rest. Judging by the subtle shimmering of all the objects in this room, a part of me knows they aren't real. They're comfort items for me. There's a lot she's not telling me, but I don't blame her. How do you explain all existence in an elevator pitch?

Mom strides past me and sits on a large plush loveseat, patting the cushion next to her. I obey. We look like old pals lounging here, catching up. I try to think back to the events that led me here, but it's all a blur. I was in a sea of nothing. Mom showed up. Then, she took me to another sea of nothing. But there's no timeline to track. No method of transport to chronicle these events.

We saw the portal open. It was unusual. Most open at gates. They're stable and uniform. This one was disorderly. And it appeared in a random location. We investigated it, and we found you. It was bound to break apart. Everything within it would be lost. So I made contact with you, and I brought you here. She knows I want more information. I want to know everything. My arrival here was a little different. There was a plan in place, and I'd made contact with those beyond the gate to receive me. See, when there are parties in connection between two realms, they can transfer energy between them.

And people? I offer up my own understanding, trying to prove I'm catching on, so she'll tell me more.

"People are energy. Her eyes twinkle as she looks at me. You've grown into everything I knew you'd be. I'm sorry I couldn't be there, but there was a threat we had to contain."

Natalia, I say.

Yes. And more than just her. My part of the plan was to constrain her—ensure she couldn't do more harm.

Should I tell her that it was all in vain? She got back out. There was this— I'm sorry. It was my—

No. It was not your fault. Nor was Sloane's death. She sees the disbelief on my face. She already knows all this. I saw it all, and I know it was hard for you, but you did everything right. You even saved your friend. I was so proud.

I shift on the loveseat, facing her direction more. If you saw it all, then why couldn't you come to me sooner? Why didn't you—

It's complicated. All this is very complicated, and at the same time, it's so simple. You just have to look within your heart to really understand. We were together the entire time. But down there, you don't realize how much exists beyond the human experience. What you see and hear and feel is only a small glimmer of what exists. Down there, you're so sure of reality, while here, you develop an entirely new understanding.

"I want to understand. I'm here now. Help me understand it. I want to cry, but no tears stream. So many feelings rush me at once—sadness, anger, desperation. As soon as I acknowledge them, though, they float away, leaving me feeling...content. Silence takes over, and with it, a calm unlike any I've experienced before. But I do want to understand. I look around the room. All of this is fake. It's not a question. I know it, for sure. Why?"

I wanted to welcome you and give you a space that felt familiar. Would you like to see what it all looks like without the illusion?

I nod my head.

Take my hand, she says, so I do. Don't be alarmed.

As fast as a blink, everything of matter vanishes. The loveseat beneath us, the chairs, the table. Other decorations and embellishments I hadn't even noticed are now gone—a rug, paintings on walls, the walls themselves. The watchtower is now filled with the same beam of light that I'd seen outside. We're in it, immersed in the light. It washes over me, filling me with peace and giddiness. All I can feel is an unconditional love for everything and everyone. I almost don't notice that even my mom has vanished. Where she sat, now exists a cloud of sparkling energy.

Mom?

I'm still here. She squeezes my hand. This is how we really exist—even you.

I look down and find my own body is gone, replaced with the same energetic swirl.

Slowly, I see myself return. My legs, my arms, my clothes. I let go of my mom and run my hands through my hair. My physical form comes back, fully intact. So does Mom's.

It's a little intense, right? she asks.

All I can do is nod.

That's why I created the room. Everything, everyone, everywhere is all energy. At its purest form, it's brilliant—a little boring—but limitless and beautiful. We can manipulate that energy, just as you use your magic, to create whatever we want. Once we put our attention on that object or idea, it comes into reality. Try it, she says.

I shrug my shoulders. I don't know how.

You do. What are we sitting on?

Nothing. She just proved that.

She laughs. What should we sit on?

I feel like I need a little more direction. I don't know. Bean bag chairs?

What do they look like?

Those huge ones made of cloth, not vinyl. And they're blue and purple tie dye. Maybe if I make all this too ridiculous, she'll see how I'm not grasping her point.

She nods her head. So these bean bag chairs? Patting the space below her, she turns my attention to the mass forming beneath me.

In a span of seconds (maybe, since time doesn't exist, apparently), the bean bag chairs form exactly as I'd described. You did that, I say. She's the one who can transform energy, not me.

She patiently shakes her head. Nope. Try again. Give us a table. What's it look like? This time, don't say it out loud. Form it in your mind and place it.

This is crazy. All of this is just...too much. I think of a table. A low one, square-shaped, painted neon green. I envision it in arm's length from us, and as I do, it forms right in front of us. My eyes go wide.

I did it. Incredible.

That's... She pauses. A horrendous color.

I burst out laughing.

Hungry? she asks.

I'm not at all. Do you eat in this place?

Not exactly, but you can. Give us some food on the table. What's your favorite snack?

I think hard. Sloane used to make amazing chocolate chip cookies. They were chewy and warm with big chunks of chocolate. Thinking of them, I can taste them, smell them. I think of them on a tin tray, and on the table, the tray forms, piled high with Sloane's cookies.

Can I eat them?

Mom says, Yeah. You won't be literally ingesting them, but you can enjoy them all the same. It's a memory you're making a reality. You can do that with anything here. All this energy, concentrated at enormous quantum levels. It's kind of like your own personal playground. Or... you can make it all go away, turn back to pure energy. Then, you can start again.

I pick up a cookie. It feels real enough. Chocolate smudges my fingertips as I bring it to my mouth. I take a bite, and it's warm and perfect. A glass of milk appears on the table just as I need it, and I take a gulp.

Mom sits and watches as I experiment with this newfound power. I target different areas of the room, adding a huge saltwater aquarium in one corner. Glowing, pink zebrafish dart around a forest of water plants. A miniature orca flips and plays. Seahorses swim in unison, as though rehearsing a synchronized dance. It looks like one of my old picture books has come to life, and it all sprouted from my imagination. On the wall in front of us, I think up a bookshelf filled with ancient texts towering up beyond any fake ceiling. Books fly into place like hundreds of birds landing after a long flight. As soon as they settle, I focus on the first book on a middle shelf, knocking it to the side and creating a domino effect that topples the books from left to right. The last book on the shelf drops and creates the same effect on the rows above and below, defying any logical rules of physics. Amused, I reset the shelves and add posters of my favorite movies and bands to the walls. In moments, and with minimal effort, an entire room solidifies, as real as anything I could buy and build down on Earth. This would've been a nice ability to have when I was still down there.

It doesn't work on the earthly plane, Mom says, reading my thoughts. "The energy back home is thinner. It sustains life and keeps the Earth spinning. You're able to access more through the gates. Extraordinaries have that extra oomph. That's where the magic exists, but you'd