Chapter Text
Shadow survived.
Shadow survived the Eclipse Cannon's explosion.
“How…” Shadow stared at his white gloved hands.
He picked himself up, dark fur kneeling on the gritty charred ground. A cloudy pink and orange sky darkened as the sun lowered beyond the horizon. This must be one of Earth's prairie biomes. There was nothing around him but stalks of tall brown grass.
And the huge crater he was sitting in.
But Shadow was fairly certain his crash landing had created the crater.
He stood. Beneath his air shoes, dying embers from the crash glowed as he walked toward the gold inhibitor rings laying in the blackened dirt. He reached for one of the rings.
He couldn't pick it up. He physically couldn't touch it.
“What on Earth is going on?” Shadow scowled at his hand. He tried again. And again. But it was no use. He couldn't touch the inhibitor rings, or even the dirt. He couldn't feel anything.
Trying to pick up the rings was a waste of time. Unlike a certain blue hedgehog, Shadow didn't bother with attempting the impossible. He sat down on the edge of the crater and stared at the sky.
Okay. Shadow hadn't survived the explosion after all.
“I’ve become one of the ghost creatures the red knucklehead feared,” Shadow mumbled his thoughts. “The Eclipse Cannon's explosion must have killed me.”
He was dead.
But being dead didn't sound like such a bad thing. It sounded… peaceful. No one would bother him because no one would see him. He was free.
Shadow watched the sun disappear into the distance, taking the warmth that he couldn't feel with it. Time continued after Shadow's time was up. Nocturnal creatures of the prairie— owls, moths, and bats— awoke as the night grew later. Shadow couldn't hear a single sound they made. He was watching the world, not a part of the world.
Death was quiet.
Shadow thought he wouldn't mind the quiet… but…
It was too quiet. Too lonely. Was this really the end? This was the afterlife? Loneliness. Silence.
Had Maria become a ghost after her death—
Shadow looked up at the constellations of stars, and the shattered edge of the moon. “Ah, that's right,” Shadow winced, “we damaged the moon.”
“So YOU'RE the one who broke my favorite celestial body!”
Shadow jumped to his feet. He turned to face the outraged voice behind him.
It was a Mobian like him, wearing nothing but white gloves and white shoes. But unlike him, this being was hovering in the air with feathered white wings. And they were slightly angry.
“How very dare you!” They swooped down and shoved their intimidating face inches away from Shadow. “Now I'll never ever get to eat yummy toasty marshymallows under a full moon ever again!”
Shadow stepped back. “You can see me? How? I thought I was dead?”
“You're dead,” they scoffed, “you're not special.”
“Then how—”
“Actually, maybe you are kind of special,” they said with a glare. “I've never had to deal with the dead soul of someone who broke the moon. Don't worry. I'll take you to a very special place to spend your afterlife.”
“So the afterlife isn't just wandering aimlessly across the Earth— wait!” Shadow took another step back as the glaring being approached him again. “Where are you planning to take me?”
“The only place where someone who intentionally ruined the moon for everyone else deserves to go,” they said. An eerie smile stretched across their face.
“I didn't intend to damage the moon,” Shadow raised his hands in what he hoped to look like a sign of peace, “I intended to destroy the entire planet Earth!”
The winged being landed on the ground. “That's… not any better.”
“No no,” Shadow sighed, “allow me to explain.”
“Not sure what else you could explain. World destruction is a pretty straightforward explanation.”
Shadow sunk his head into his gloved hands. He already missed the silence.
***
“Oh my heavens!” The white feathered Mobian sobbed. “What a change of heart! What a backstory! What character development! A villain turned good! What a noble sacrifice to save the world and humanity at the sacrifice of your own life! The morally gray character with a secret soft heart trope at its finest!”
“Can you stop,” Shadow asked, “or at least wipe your dripping face?”
“Do you have a tissue?”
“Uh, no.”
“Then deal with it Mr. Morally Gray.”
Under the light of the broken moon, Shadow squinted at his arm. “I'm more black than gray. You might want to get your eyes checked. Or perhaps the tears blurred your vision?”
“My eyes are fine,” they sniffled, “I can see that you aren't such a bad person after all— well, you used to be— but not anymore.”
“Okay?”
“And so, you deserve a second chance!” They spread their wings and took flight. “A chance to live as a good person! A new life!”
“What are you going on about, feathers?”
“Angel,” they smiled, “I'm Angel the Dove.”
“An Angel who can see ghosts.” Shadow crossed his arms. “What are you really? The angel of death or something?”
“Something like that,” Angel said, “but today won't be your departure from this world.”
“In case you hadn't noticed, I'm already dead.”
“Your body's dead, but your spirit isn't.” Angel folded their hands. “Don't worry. I just need to find a living body with a dead spirit. Then, I can transfer your soul and give you a second chance at life!”
Shadow stared at Angel. He blinked. “You say something like THAT and expect me not to worry?”
“Exactly,” Angel said, “I'll take care of everything!”
“No, you will NOT!” Shadow growled. “ABSOLUTELY NOT!”
“Huh,” Angel's head tilted to the side, “so you want a living body with a living soul? Mr. Morally Gray, I know you're new to the good side, but that's kinda unethical…”
“No! I don't want a new body— whether the spirit is dead or alive or whatever nonsense— and I told you my fur isn't gray! My name is Shadow! A shadow like a cast of darkness. Dark as the color of my fur. Black! My fur is black! Do you understand?”
“So, you want your new body to have black hair.” Angel snapped their fingers, sending a flock of flying white feathers towards Shadow. “I'll do my best, Mr. Morally Gray Shadow!”
“No, you birdbrain, I don't—”
White feathers circled around Shadow. Faster and faster. Feathers blocked his vision. He lost sight of Angel, the burnt prairie ground, and the broken moon. All he could see was white.
***
Shadow opened his eyes and stared at a white ceiling. A hospital ceiling.
Shadow lifted his head. He was lying in a hospital bed in a human body.
Human. Body.
“That damn Angel,” Shadow said in a voice that was not his own.