Preincarnation unfolds in a whimsical, ethereal waystation where souls study before reincarnation—a Saint School with floating classrooms, chalk-dusted bodhisattvas, and a serene lakefront that remembers every life that's ever touched it. The tone is playful yet piercing, marrying magical realism with philosophical fiction.

Maya, weeks from flunking her 99th year in the Sainthood program, is blindsided by a cosmic glitch that erases her past. In the void the glitch leaves behind, a single thunderclap of a truth remains: everyone exists solely to help her achieve enlightenment. It's absurd. It's intoxicating. And it might be true.

Our whimsical, self-sabotaging protagonist—equal parts earnest seeker and class clown—now stripped of her history, her study notes, and the stories she used to call "self." The glitch forces her into a spiritual scavenger hunt through classes on Compassion 201, Advanced Detachment, and Improvisational Karma. Her arc asks whether "enlightenment" is mastery over others' roles in your journey, or surrender to the idea that you are just as much a role in theirs. Without a past, she must choose a future that isn't built on self-importance masquerading as self-realization.

A Naga-Woman with coils like silk and a best-friend grin, Bali is Maya's mischievous map through the maze. She's fluent in the school's riddles and bureaucracy, wielding cosmic red tape like a ribbon dancer. Bali helps Maya interpret the glitch's clues and, in the process, reveals her own secret longing: to graduate from designated "helper" to someone whose story isn't just scaffolding for someone else's awakening. Her arc reframes what "service" means when you can feel the weight of your own desires.

The mentor figure in immaculate robes, a perennial authority grading souls with quiet exactitude. But as the glitch destabilizes the curriculum, his authority begins to wobble. His arc peels back the veneer of certainty: beneath the grader is a student who hasn't taken his own test in a very long time. When Maya questions whether this world is a benevolent machine designed for her, the Examiner must confront a more dangerous possibility—that it's designed for all, and he's been hiding behind the rubric.

The core conflict centers on the seductive logic of the glitch. If Maya accepts that everyone exists solely for her enlightenment, she can use people as stepping stones—and she might pass. But she risks becoming the very opposite of a saint: a spiritual narcissist. If she rejects the premise, she might fail her 99th year, lose Bali, and reenter the cycle none the wiser.

Meanwhile, the glitch spreads: classes desynchronize, karma tallies misbehave, and the lake's reflections stutter between lives, threatening to collapse the School's carefully held illusion of order. To restore balance, Maya must discover a paradox: even if the cosmos conspires to wake her up, the only way through is to wake up for others too.

In an age curated by algorithms and amplified "main-character energy," Preincarnation is a timely, joyful provocation. It satirizes the self-help arms race while offering a genuine path through it—connection over consumption, humility over hustle. With its blend of humor, heart, and spiritual inquiry, this story invites audiences to laugh at their own cosmic ego trip, and then step off it together.