Chapter 1: Hanging Between Life and Death

When David Grant’s soul found itself inside the body of Charles Benton, he was dangling from an old, twisted oak tree, the chaos of the world flashing through his mind.

The rough bark scraped his skin, the night air heavy with the damp scent of moss and yesterday’s rain. Somewhere past the hill, police sirens wailed—a warning to the city, echoing all its broken promises. As memories of campaign rallies and lost parades spun through his mind, David felt history’s pulse—urgent, wild—driving him to the edge between life and whatever waited beyond.

He thought of Caleb Jenkins, who’d already fought his way to the city limits, and General Dalton, whose troops were still fresh. He remembered council members and corporate sharks who’d bled the city dry, and for one raw second, David nearly let himself go—just hang and be done with it.

The names echoed like ghosts through the branches—Caleb, Dalton, those scheming councilmen, the smooth-talking execs who gutted Main Street and let the city’s dreams rot. For a heartbeat, that betrayal weighed more than the noose. The air was thick with the disappointment of every citizen he’d ever failed.

But as David turned, he realized he wasn’t the only one who’d crossed over.

A chill shot down his borrowed spine. In the moonlit dark, shapes formed from the fog—faces of old friends and enemies, men he’d led to victory or watched die on cold ground. The air thrummed with their presence, as if history itself had gathered for a last stand.

Behind him stood his massive force: fifty thousand loyal, battle-hardened cavalry from the Liberty Campaign, veterans of five expeditions to the western plains, assembled in perfect ranks.

Their uniforms bore the stains of mud and faded glory, sabers flashing under flickering streetlights. Hooves pawed the earth, the sound of iron and leather hinting at forgotten battles. The battered American flag fluttered above them—a silent dare to the night.

A black-robed pastor stepped forward, smiling. “Mr. President, it’s been a long time.”

His voice was gentle, rich with the music of Southern sermons and midnight prayers. His hand hovered over his heart, a reverent welcome for a legend returned.