It wasn't; the light was wrong. No, he corrected himself, that wasn't it. Everything was too right. What he could see wasn't brighter as much as clearer, and his surroundings—the trees, the grass, even the sky—seemed to have a vibrant internal luminance. This was beauty of a kind no planet could hold, pure and utterly serene.
He might not know what was going on, Tarlac decided, but if this was death, there was a lot to be said for it. He'd have liked to have a body, though, to let him feel and smell as he could somehow see.
There was a feeling of amused agreement, and he did have a body. So did the eleven Traiti now in the grove with him, three females and seven n'Cor'naya, all of whom shared the luminance of the grove. He knew without looking that he did too, and that he was dressed as his original body was, in open-shirted uniform. He also knew by now who these people were; their images stood on the upper tier of every Traiti altar.
"Welcome, Ruhar," said the one Tarlac recognized as the presence which had brought him here. The voice was as clear and pure as the light. "And welcome to your place in the Circle of Lords."
Tarlac recognized him from the statuettes and from his Vision. He took a deep breath of the sweet, vital air before he spoke. "My place, Lord Kranath? I'm human, not Traiti."
"In body," Kranath agreed, smiling. "In mind you are both, and have been since your conception. We insured that. The human body on Ch'kara's altar means nothing. Here you—and we—can be either. Think of yourself as Traiti, Ruhar."
Remembering his Vision of being Kranath, and before that the time at the altar when he'd felt as much Traiti as human, Tarlac did as he was told. There was a brief indescribable sensation, and when he ran his tongue over sharp triangular teeth, he realized that his experience as Kranath, impressive as it had been, was only a shadow of this— seeming?—reality. He touched his face, ran fingertips along the scars on his chest, extended and retracted powerful claws … yes, this body felt as appropriate as his own. And the grove's other occupants were now in human bodies.
His place, Tarlac thought bemusedly. He didn't think he quite liked that idea, and for a moment he let himself indulge in a fantasy that he hadn't died but was in the middle of a hypoxia-induced hallucination. It didn't last; he knew that what he was experiencing was quite real. He was in a Traiti body that fit him perfectly well, though he'd prefer the familiarity of his human form.
He felt the sensation of change again, and the glade's Traiti and human Lords returned to the bodies they'd first had. "One's original form is usually best," Kranath agreed calmly.
"You have accepted that we exist," Sepol—Lord of the Ordeal—put in. "And you have accepted the abilities of those who went before. Why, then, are you so reluctant to accept the fact that we have called you to join us?"