A/N: [Secured an Honorable mention in Choose Your Own Miracle contest on the @magic profile]

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"Unbelievable!" interjected Nora.

"Yes, very helpful," said the Professor, brushing aside the stray remark, "Now, to focus on the situation here,"

"Freaking unbelievable!"

"I think we have all noted how astounded you are, but we need to..."

Nora cut the Professor off mid-sentence, "No, I mean I'm shocked. That woman over there, Shaman Nivera, I thought all my life she was a sham. Mom once hired her for an exorcism and she said there was a restless spirit residing in our attic. She did the whole incense and incantation thing to get rid of it. And all the while I was thinking, she's cheating my mom out of her money. To think she actually had powers all this time!"

"Clearly, seeing how the barrier spells in her front lawn just sent Rim back to the Underworld, I think it's beyond doubt that she is more than capable of delivering on her words,"

"But it's so unreal, you know, the whole escaping from the Underworld then finding out they have an actual system for capturing and sending us back down there,"

"Deal with it!" That was the first time they heard the Soldier complain, "We all escaped for a reason. I'm not asking you yours but if we want to fulfill our objectives, we need to find a way around these spirit traps. This place is infested with them."

Nora had to agree. They were looking at a new world. Or rather a new perspective of their once familiar world. Death was nothing like they imagined.

Humans had been painting some version of the afterlife in almost every culture but the reality was far stranger than anything they had seen or read about in any human media.

It was somewhat unexciting to say the least.

For one thing, the world of the dead was not lit in any visible spectrum. Fellow dead souls did not have semi-transparent bodies representing how they looked before they died.

They were amorphous entities, no visual cues separated the appearance of one soul from the other. Yet, they could intuitively distinguish each other.

On their passage to the Underworld, all dead souls were required to cross their equivalent of the Lethe, the river of forgetfulness.

Some crossed it on a bridge, some swam, some were ferried or carried by agents from the world of the dead.

It was difficult to state with accuracy what the mechanism was since each soul experienced this 'Initiation' rite according to their own beliefs and upbringing. After the 'crossing', however, the Underworld simmered into an uniform broth of vibrant energy – colorless, yet pulsating with life potential.

Or at least that was how the place, if you could call it a place, looked like from the other side of the Lethe.

Nora and the others had never crossed. They had escaped the notice of the psychopomp mechanism, which guided the freshly deceased souls to the Afterlife, long enough to realize what was happening and struggle back to the living world.

When they returned, they were faced with an unexpected reality. Ghosts could hitchhike across the country with ease on free plane rides and cruise boats, move into any old mansion they found or throw tantrums in the middle of the night while rattling on spooky chains. That's how the media represented them.

Instead they were forced to realize the dead were unwelcome in the world of the living. A spiritual immune system sieved out the souls of the dead from amongst the living.

Dead souls could barely touch anything, let alone throw objects like a poltergeist. They could not move around much either.

The world was covered in an unforeseen smoky layer of energy. It hung from rooftops and light posts like fine cobwebs on Halloween decor. The frail webs were transparent enough to be near invisible to even the dead but they were far from weak as they soon discovered.

Nora and the others had started as a group of sixteen. Now they were down to the last three.

After losing half a dozen excited 'escapees', they realized the webs trapped souls and absorbed them into the fabric. What happened to the souls afterwards was anybody's guess. The Professor surmised they were being returned to the Underworld.

The last member they lost, Rim, was the victim of a more uncommon trap. It was one they had seen around the houses of some practicing psychics and certain religious places. A few houses had it too.

It was a transparent, clear plastic-like barrier that covered these places in a spirit-proof dome.

The Soldier and the Professor had returned to plotting the best way to navigate their way through the cobwebs. Their unfinished agendas required them to travel outside the city.

Nora, on the other hand, had no particular objective in joining the rebels. This was the same town where Nora had grown up. It was nostalgic to return there in a non-physical form.

"Well kid, are you coming or not?" The Soldier asked.

"Huh?"

"You could try paying attention to your surroundings, you know," the Professor stressed on each word, "How was it you met your Fate? A car accident?"

Nora was about to protest but there was no time.

Fingers of smoke floated around the Professor, latching on to the shapeless soul. The struggle was over in seconds. The Soldier leaped clear of the smoke only to get entangled in a low-hanging spirit web.

"I knew it," it was a familiar voice, "I could feel my bones tingling. No pesky ghost is getting into my home."

The woman began to frantically fan the burning substance in her handheld incense pot, spreading the smoke toward Nora.

"Nivera, please stop," Nora stepped back to avoid a weak tendril that had spread too close for comfort.

"Who are you? How'd you know my name, evil spirit?" the woman accelerated the fanning.

"I'm not evil, Nivera. We've met before, I'm Nora."

"Nora?" she stopped trying to re-kill the ghost, "Nora Sue?"

"Yeah, that's me,"

The Shaman stopped, "You're the brat from the Sunshine House that called me a scammer when I went down to your place for an exorcism last month,"

Nora muttered an inaudible, "Yeah, I was wrong."

"What was that, brat?" the Shaman tilted her head in fake interest, "I didn't quite catch you,"

"I said I was wrong,"

"That's all?" The Shaman held up the incense pot, ready to attack.

"I'm sorry,"

"Cat got your tongue? I remember you being pretty loud when I saw you last month,"

"I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have judged you or your abilities on something I didn't know back then. So please don't send me back to the Underworld," if Nora still had eyes, there would have been tears.

Those words did the trick. Nivera covered up the pot, "At least you're a sincere brat, I'll give you that,"

"So, you'll let me go?"

"Why not? You're not a harmful one, and besides, with your clumsy moves, I'd give you a week before you're caught in the nets."

Each word was more insulting than the last. Nora could not hold back, "For your information, I've been out here surviving for ten days now,"

At that, Nivera raised an eyebrow, "Surviving? Well, color me surprised, tenacious aren't you? Might need to use the incense after all,"

Nora took a step back.

"Woah, careful tiger," the old woman snatched Nora away from a loose strand of the energy web.

It was Nora's turn to be surprised. "How'd you touch me?"

"Got a few tricks up these ol' sleeves," the Shaman considered, "What did you say you returned to this world for?"

"Nothing, I followed the other escapees and ended up here,"

"Didn't you want to see your family?"

"Not really," Nora's voice was a low hum, "I wouldn't know what to say. It wasn't the best of days I left,"

A quick memory of sharp words and angry hand gestures flashed through Nora's mind. Maybe if they did not fight that day, if Aunty had not come over for dinner, if Nora did not run out of the house in a rush, if only one little detail was different...

Nevira mulled over something and seemed to come to a conclusion, "Tell you what, I'm getting a little old these days, couldn't hurt to have an assistant."

"An assistant?"

"A Shaman with a spirit assistant sounds like a great sales pitch, might do wonders for the job,"

Nora perked up at the implication, "Are you saying you'll hire me?"

"Well, you'll be on probation first," the Shaman pushed back her braided gray hair over her shoulders and removed a string of beads from her neck, "Take this, it'll keep you from sticking in those nasty webs,"

"I can't touch..." but even as they spoke, Nora's hand made contact with the beads. It was the second physical contact that had happened in the time since Nora's death.

The spirit began to morph, the amorphous mass molding into a midget teenager clothed in jeans and a casual t-shirt, the way Nora looked on the day of the accident.

"How'd you do that?"

"Tricks," the Shaman grinned pointing to the long sleeves of her white blouse.

"Why are you helping me?"

"Can't help feeling a lil' bad after you apologized and all," Nivera sucked in a breath, "That, and the fact that I scammed your mom with the attic incident,"

"You what?"

"Good for her, rats don't like that incense either," she retraced her path back to the house, "Come along then,"

Nora trailed behind the Shaman, crossing into the barrier surrounding her house. The beads worked, nothing happened to the new spirit assistant.

Maybe things would sort themselves out, thought Nora. Maybe she would finally work up the courage to apologize to her family and reassure her mom that it was not her fault.

Heck, she could take Nivera's help to do one of those dream messages that everyone talked about.

All that could happen in good time, but for now, Nora was relieved – she had a tomorrow to look forward to again.