The Flow, also known as the river of souls, is one of the strangest phenomenon I have ever encountered. It performs the unique task of recycling souls. Reliable information on it is scarce, mostly due to its effects on the psyche. As a function of its greater goal, it erodes all that makes up a soul, and chief among that is a person’s memories. And whilst reincarnators can carry memories from life to life, their resistance to the flow does not apply to the memories they might otherwise gain while traversing the Flow.

  The few accounts we have come from individuals that were strong enough to resist the effects of the flow, but not so strong of soul that they became reincarnators. When such an individual enters and then exits the Flow before the process has progressed very far they have the potential to remember some or all of the details from their trip.

  Through these accounts, including my own, we have been able to determine a few things about the nature of the Flow. Time has little to no meaning with it. Space also bends and shifts in strange ways. And finally, there is a pervasive and all-encompassing sense of peace and serenity that helps any who are awake to accept their fate. Some people believe that this is the only emotion the flow possess. I know, however, that that assumption is false.

  The flow is capable of indescribable wrath. It is only directed at those who substantially interfere with its operation, but woe be unto any who incur it. For the Drifters will come.

  Even I am terrified of what the Drifters are capable of.

  -Musings on the flow, by Abigail the [ERROR: DATA NOT FOUND]

  The last thing Abigail saw was the words on the page swimming before her. Her eyes lost focus as she slumped onto the floor. Darkness overcame her and her mind ceased to function.

  Then it came back. She couldn’t see, hear, or feel anything. Total sensory deprivation. Yet she wasn’t concerned about her situation. She felt calm and at peace.

  As she waited, she began to become aware of a strange sensation. It was as if she was drifting down a calm river. So she drifted.

  She became more aware, more able to perceive her surroundings, such as they were. All around her were what she could only describe as multicolored blobs of shifting light. After some observation, she found that she herself was also a colorful blob. The blobs drifted along some unseen passageway, guided by forces invisible and unfelt.

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  ‘Are those souls?’ Abigail asked herself. ‘Am I dead?’

   A presence entered her mind. It felt calm and helpful.

  ‘What? Who- Who are you?’

  

  ‘How did I die?’

  

  Abigail sat and absorbed what she’d been told for a while.

  ‘What happens now?’

  

  ‘So I’m going to lose my memories? How long will that take?’

  

  ‘A reincarnator? Could I become a reincarnator?’

  Abigail simply waited and watched as the Flow carried souls along. She watched as souls all about her began to shift, their outside becoming hazy while a pearl of existence solidified on the inside. Once complete, the pulsing orb would turn into a fold in the flow and disappear from her perception.

  She knew that that was her fate, to forget and to be reborn. She was at peace with the concept, likely due to the nature of the flow.

  She had begun settling in and preparing to enter her final slumber when something unexpected happened.

  A soul in what appeared to be a large silver bullet blasted through the river of souls, tearing the fabric as it went and knocking souls everywhere. The flow at the edges of the river became turbulent and dense, keeping souls from leaving its confines. Abigail was among the souls knocked about by the bullet.

  

  Abigail then slipped into one of the fissures in the flow and her perception fell into nothingness once again. She did, however, stay conscious this time. Perhaps she would become a reincarnator after all.