As the light swallowed her, Sam felt a sense of contentment like no other. Was this Heaven? Did this mean that despite all her doubts and pessimism, God had accepted her anyway?
But then, how had she died? She'd definitely read accounts of people who had almost died in accidents and saw a bright light just before waking up in a hospital, but there had been no near-death experience for Sam. The sensation very much resembled her experience floating through outer time, only instead of darkness, all was bright, and instead of distant lights, there was…snow?
She landed face first in the soft cold glaze, and in an instant the light disappeared. She scrambled to her feet and tried to get her bearings in the sudden darkness. How long had she been out of it? It certainly wasn't snowing when she last went outside, and the snow was up to her knees here. Was she even in London anymore?
Then the glow returned, as lovely as ever, and revealed a beautiful garden full of frosted hedges and crystal fountains. Though she'd only seen this landscape in the summertime, she knew immediately where she was. The magnificent grounds of Versailles were lovelier than ever under the sparkling white. Outwardly she shivered, but the cold didn't register. The light filled her insides with warmth, a friendly embrace. She could not fathom why, but deep in her soul she sensed that it held answers—answers to all the questions she'd carried through her life; in its entrancing glow was a promise that she would finally understand who she was, where she belonged, why she even existed.
"Who are you?" she murmured. Something about it felt alive, sentient even.
The light flickered, as if winking at her mischievously, then darted away, past the glassy oval basins of the water garden and toward the palace.
She charged after it. "Wait!"
It glided through a row of stone arches, down a flight of stairs that led her inside the palace. She hardly had a moment to wonder why the entrance was unlocked in the middle of the night, because the light dashed around a corner and up several more flights of stairs. She begged it to stop, to acknowledge her, but it fled onward; into a hallway lined with classical white statues in arched alcoves. Her shoes clicked loudly on the tiles, but she barely noticed. All that mattered was reaching the light. "Please, don't leave. I need answers."
Even when it left her line of sight, she felt its presence, waiting for her to catch up in some whimsical game of hide-and-seek.
She chased it through gilded galleries, opulent bedrooms, ornate halls. Past portraits and pillars and candelabras. She should have been exhausted, but her legs carried her effortlessly while her mind and soul steered her further into the palace's grandeur. She thought she heard music, a phantom symphony whisking her off the ground until she was gliding, soaring toward something earth-shattering and wonderful. She could taste the epiphany, tangy and exquisite and so near.
The light finally halted inside a grand hall, and in one sweeping motion, it expanded and burst forth in a brilliant crescendo of golden sparks. Sam skidded on the hardwood floor as rows of candelabras ignited one by one down the long gallery, and dozens of chandeliers suddenly blazed overhead. The Hall of Mirrors had never before shone with such splendor.
But the gold and crystals were of no importance compared to the faces that smiled back at Sam through the long panes of glass that lined the wall. The figures stood at varying heights; some looked as young as three, while others could have been nineteen. Their clothes and hair ranged from styles of the mid-1700s to the early 1910s. They were all very different, yet at once completely identical. They reached out their hands and she shed happy tears at the sight of her previous selves joined together, welcoming her with open arms.
Light shimmered into longing and memory. Sound became silence, and silence buzzed into music. The tears stung her cheeks as the symphony played on, a tune that seemed to emanate from her own heart. She wished to belt out in harmony until her voice reached the stars and she was one with the sun and moon. She wished to become the wind and carry the breath of every dreamer on earth. She smelled grass and ocean and sweet pollen floating from petal to petal. She tasted morning and midnight, felt the tug of the future, and heard the distant call of the past. Her rich velvet gown morphed into white chiffon that billowed all around her, and the airy fabric was so soft, she hardly felt it at all. Pain vanished into comfort, and she danced as the floor and ceiling evaporated and left her suspended in the twinkling dreamland, surrounded by the ghosts of who she once was. At last, she belonged