《Apotheosis》 0 - The Fool You would ask me of my origin? I suppose I could tell the tale. I remember. I was an orphan. Many of us were¡­ ever since the eidolons arrived. The church took us in, protecting us as best they could from the reality of the world. That was until they put the ward up around the city; that bubble which protected us from the shades who haunted the forests and fields. The clerics told us not to worry, that everything would be fine, but the look on their faces told the real story as even the keepers of the faith began to falter. ¡°I¡¯m telling you it¡¯s the end!¡± a cleric screamed. ¡°We should¡¯ve listened to the Vicar!¡± ¡°Damn the Vicar!¡± another cleric retorted. ¡°She betrayed us in our time of need.¡± The head cleric, Mother Izan, corralled us children away with an uncertain look in her eyes. I, too, felt the uncertainty. We all did. But there was another feeling that came with it: dread. She took us out to the garden, where the yelling could still be heard, but It didn¡¯t matter much to us; our play and laughter was much louder than the argument over salvation. I lagged behind the group alone, enraptured by the natural beauty of the plants which surrounded me, stopping to smell each one. Mother Izan, seeing my healthy curiosity, said, ¡°We are all flowers in the garden of the world,¡± and patted my head. I smiled and continued my exploration into the natural world¡ªgreeting each flower and reminding them of their prettiness. Mother Izan came around again, this time asking, ¡°If you could be a flower, which one would you choose?¡± I looked around at the rows of perennials until my eyes met with the same plant that grew around the front yard of my old home¡ªthe ones that my mother doted on and would bring in to decorate the kitchen table. ¡°I¡¯d like to be the red one!¡± Mother Izan smiled, the wrinkles in her face showing her age. ¡°Those symbolize love, beauty, and courage. A fitting choice, dear.¡± And with a pat on my back, she sent me off to play with the others. ? ? ? Weeks passed, and the continued arguments over salvation drove some of the clerics to abandon the church. Mother Izan remained strong and did her best to reassure those who remained, along with taking up most of the duties of those who left. And with the lack of hands, the teens were put to work to help take care of the children. Everything was slowly boarded up, the church fortified, and the door was sealed with magic after the last of the crestfallen clerics left; and we children were no longer allowed to leave or go near the windows. I was too short to see out of them already, so it made no difference to me, but the older kids would often sneak a peek to see the state of the town and source of the distant rumbling. One day in the bath, Nara¡ªthe closest I had to a friend in that place¡ªlet it slip that the ward which guarded the town was cracking. She continued to help me bathe, telling me not to worry, not that I understood what the ward failing would entail. She then admitted that she, along with some of the other teens, had been planning on leaving the church and joining the others that left for the mountains. I wasn¡¯t kept in the loop beyond that, considering my age, and merely carried on with my days as I normally did; eating the one meal and trying to sleep off the hunger. ¡°Wake up. It¡¯s time to go.¡± Nara forcibly lifted me out of bed and set me on my feet. She grabbed me by the hand and took me down the hall to the candlelit nave¡ªleaving the rest of the little ones behind, all younger than me. In the pews were the remaining clerics praying peacefully despite the small crowd of children gathering around them. The teens crowded in front of us between the altar and entrance. One of them asked, ¡°Are you sure we¡¯ll find them, Nara?¡± ¡°We have to,¡± she replied. ¡°We can¡¯t just stay here.¡± ¡°What if they¡­¡± The other girl looked around at her friends. ¡°It¡¯s safer here.¡± Kagu¡ªthe eldest teen¡ªbroke through their ranks. ¡°There¡¯s no time for this now. Stay or go; I¡¯m leaving either way.¡± Kagu seemed alone in wanting to leave despite whatever plans were made between the others. And with the newly created blockade at the door, it seemed that the other teens changed their minds without Nara knowing. I, along with the rest of the children, was unsure of what to do; until Nara looked at me and smiled the same smile she had when I first arrived at the church. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± she said with a slight nod. I felt it was the right choice to follow her. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I said, and held her hand tighter. The others let us leave without a fuss, merely standing like statues as Kagu took down the barricade between us and the door. Once the seal was broken, a strange smell filled the air¡ªone I had only smelt once before that still haunted my dreams. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Without hesitation, Kagu was the first to leave. Nara, a bit nervous yet still holding my hand, led me outside to the garden. I turned back to the group of children behind us, now sitting huddled together; some crying, others trying to sleep. And in those last moments I saw Mother Izan standing at the altar with that wrinkled smile, singing for salvation as the doors closed, sealing shut forever. Outside, the sky was dark, and the air choked me with every breath. Smoke rose up from the outskirts of the city while specks of crystallized mana fell from the sky¡ªthe only other source of light being the full moon which hid behind the wayward plumes. The ward was gone, and the shades had already made their way in. I could hear screaming all around me, my eyes catching slight movements in the shadows. Nara¡¯s grip on me tightened as Kagu started to run¡ªand all I could do was keep pace, trying to ignore the devastation around me. We ran as far as our strength could take us¡ªout to the lake in the fields. We all knew it wasn¡¯t safe, having been told the old stories. No body of water was. But it was the only path into the mountains where the others went. ¡°It hurts¡­ I can¡¯t¡­¡± I was out of breath. My legs were jelly. And I collapsed. Nara tried to drag me across the dirt of the road, letting me go as the shadows approached us from the lake¡ªabandoning me to my fate. Kagu, a bit ahead, turned back to pick me up while Nara continued on without us. Those shadows which crept along the ground raced past us in pursuit of Nara, ignoring us. And when Kagu and I finally caught up to her, she stood frozen at the crossroads near the edge of the lake. Nara muttered to herself and kneeled for mercy as a tall black shadow lurched over her. It gurgled and hissed, and in a sudden movement, she silently slumped over¡ªblood staining the grass. The shade then turned to us. A voice echoed in my mind as it approached. ¡°Your world stands at an apex. To join us is the ultimate salvation. You must go beyond the flesh; beyond this material plane¡ªor die along with it. Do not resist.¡± Kagu attacked the shade with a knife she stole from the kitchen and cut the shade like fabric. We were both lifted off the ground by a dark force and sent into the lake. Despite being so close to land, there was no bottom at the water¡¯s edge; the whole lake was an endless abyss. My eyes opened to see Kagu flailing and screaming above me. She tried to grab me, but I was in too deep, sinking further still. After exhaustion from her failed attempts, she went limp, and was lifted out of the water to an unknown fate. Alone, I sank deeper and deeper with no sense of direction as the swirling darkness consumed me¡ªthe vibrations of the water singing a lullaby in the old language of the church. ? ? ? I arose from the frigid waters of the lake, coughing and gasping for a real breath. The sky was bright and brought me much needed warmth in contrast to the cold abyss which swallowed me whole. I rested on the shore and felt around my body, realizing it had changed into something new. And in that realization, I panicked and returned to the water¡¯s edge to gaze upon my reflection. My body is¡­ I¡¯m an adult? The image was distorted, unclean. I dipped my hands into the lake and hurriedly cleaned my face. When the water settled, my appearance changed again¡ªnow naked and pale with the normal features of my race missing from view. ¡°Hoi!¡± A man yelled at me from a distance¡ªmy first time seeing one. He was taken aback by my nakedness, which I had not yet known to be of any issue. He approached me and asked if I was okay in his language, though looked away out of embarrassment. I didn¡¯t understand him and hesitated to respond. Instead, I looked around to see that the world I had known was vastly different; the mountains were missing and replaced with some far-off settlement made of stone and marble. ¡°Pardach¨¦,¡± he said and placed his coat around me. He pointed towards the distant city and motioned for me to follow him. I went with him, my memories shedding away with every step; replaced by curious amnesia. And it was there, in that city, that I lived as one of them. I learned to laugh, to trust, and be kind. Though it is also where I learned how foolish those things are when misplaced. As time passed, it became clear to me, and others, that I did not age. Those who I came to know as friends and neighbors turned on me¡ªdeclaring me a monster that had invaded their ranks. And in their aggression, managed to nick me on the face, causing that familiar red ooze to well from the wound. It was the sight of blood which awakened my old memories within me. To think I had forgotten¡­ It was all an illusion. One so powerful that I managed to convince myself it was real. And in an instant, the city vanished; and I was standing atop the water of the lake, still bleeding from my face. Since then, I have been unable to leave these blighted waters and partake in mortal affairs. Time¡¯s passage has left me unaltered, and so, I have watched many civilizations rise and fall in the distance¡ªall unaware of my existence¡ªno more than mere legend to avoid an unfortunate fate. And while I need no sustenance, I sometimes find myself tired and weary, entering a deep sleep and awakening to find that both I and the world have changed again¡­ I couldn¡¯t tell you if this is the same world that I¡¯m from or not. So much has changed, so much time¡­ and still, I¡¯m not certain if this world isn¡¯t just another illusion brought on by a nebulous dream. ? ? ? ¡°I know not what you seek through my story, Magister. But if you came here asking, trying to find a way to kill me, then I consider you a fool.¡± The magister spoke, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Lady, but a fool is truly what I am. It was through my inventions that the others have died, unaware what consequences would follow. I now seek to return things as they were, to atone for my sin, and carry the burden of the world.¡± ¡°The world is doomed regardless. But I will grant you your wish. Death will not come for me otherwise. My true body slumbers still, deep within the waters of this wretched lake, kept safe by a being even more ancient than I.¡± ¡°Tell me then, Lady, what must I do?¡± ¡°You need only to walk across the water and accept my embrace.¡± He stepped up to the edge. ¡°I will do as you say.¡± Keeping his eyes forward, he walked across the water, darkness swirling beneath him as the leviathan awakened. The magister reached the illusion of a woman, hugging her, holding her still. She wrapped her arms around him with a smile. ¡°I ask a favor of you¡­ before I awake. My life, but a dream, yet the child is real. Take her. She will not remember these endless days. But she will serve you well in your atonement.¡± The woman then disappeared. The water sloshed and boiled. And the magister arose atop the head of a leviathan, returning him to the Shore. XIV - Apostle of Temperance Have you experienced the joy of creation? To forge in fire, carve from wood, mold in clay, and wet with paint? I know that joy well. But creation comes at a cost. My kind came from a world of two heavens. My people were similarly split. Half had only a sun; the rest, the sparkled void. We would worship them in our own way, seeing either the One or the Many. It caused great conflict between our people who only recognized a single sky. But, through creation, and sharing our art¡ªour joy¡ªwe were able to show the sky we knew and understand the one we didn¡¯t. It would be in that exchange of delight that we discovered that the One and the Many were the same. Each Many is the One in its own right, all bringers of light, all deserving our faith and admiration. But even with faith, there is still fear and uncertainty. ¡°Our shadows grow larger the closer we are to the light. How, then, could we hope to purge the darkness from our hearts if the light is external and not within?¡± The question gave our scholars much pause; and for generations it went unanswered. Perhaps, I thought, it was never meant to be answered. For years, under a new One, I would toil away my life, pondering the old ways, and asking the same question to each traveler who came by. And, eventually, a crimson-haired outsider gave me her odd insight. ¡°Temperance,¡± she said. ¡°Accept the darkness in your heart so that the rest of you doesn¡¯t burn away.¡± I replied, ¡°But there is no darkness in the One. How, then, can I truly bask in Its glory if I create a shadow that denies the light its passage, spreading darkness?¡± ¡°Does the sun not burn you? Hurt your eyes? Enjoy the darkness for a moment.¡± She floated above me, blocking the sun. ¡°Shadows exist because we do¡ªnot because of darkness. You can bask in the light while also enjoying the shade.¡± The air chilled and the nearby colors faded. For a brief moment, everything became dark, an eclipse of the One. That was when I saw the Many, the true color of the sky in darkness. I said to the outsider, ¡°I am¡­ inspired.¡± She then took me away to a room of creation. I saw many tools, wooden shells, and paints. I sat at that great table, a child in mind, wanting to play. She told me: ¡°Give color to these shells as the light has done for you. See that it is not darkness in your heart¡ªbut passion. And when passion runs dry¡­ return to the light again.¡± I followed her orders and opened up the paints, taking the shells, and covering them like how light covers the land. The wet colors mixed; the new shades inspired me¡ªa destruction of the old colors to create a new one. ¡°Temperance,¡± I wondered. And I began to understand. I grew tired and weary; beginning to hate each new shell. So much potential in every one, and yet, so little time and energy. I could see in my mind what they were meant to be, but my hands started to fail, the paints started to dry, and the colors were all becoming brown. It was a maddening frustration, one which only progressed in the presence of creation. I realized, then, that I had to step away; else my work, in all its innocence, would suffer through me. When I returned to the One, letting the light warm my worn joints and invigorate my soul. So, too, did the outsider return to me. I said to her, ¡°The body limits what the mind wishes; what the soul will always permit. These three things must always be in balance¡ªelse it leaves the heart wanting what it can never have. We do not need the light in our hearts, for they are filled with the essence of creation; and the potential for our own destruction; a reminder of our own imperfect creation.¡± ¡°Temperance,¡± she said and smirked. ¡°Of light and dark.¡± If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The outsider then revealed an orb from her robe, the insides twisting and turning. A rift, it seemed, contained inside of glass¡ªbut it was much more. Mysteriously compelled by the light, I grabbed the orb and saw a history not my own; my mind becoming undone. ? ? ? An enigmatic creator toiled away deep under the world. His people lived outside of the mountain which he claimed solely for himself¡ªtheir underground city abandoned and populated by living stone. And the creator, still flesh, denied himself the sky All feared the dark of night near the mountains, embracing the sun and shunning the stone. His creations stole away those who lived near¡ªdragging them deep into the city¡ªto his forge to create more. Their blood fueled the erg which drove their animation, their screams silenced by deft hands. Each death created another life in the stone. And each stone was made unique; a facsimile of their previous identity. The creator had no maligned intentions for such transformation, but a transformation it was¡ªand forced. And so, the stone often wept blood from unseeing eyes, wiping them away with unfeeling hands. Ci-Pe-Ra they were called; weeping stone heart. Sloppier and sloppier became the work of the creator, the weeping stone hearts¡¯ shape becoming rougher with each generation. The creator was losing his passion¡ªlosing himself¡ªto the madness which guided his hand. And so, his work suffered through him as much as it suffered because of him. The stone eventually became still, as dead as the motivation which drove the creator; the nightly raids stopping after countless years. The creator, seeking a new passion, painted a new sky above the underground city for all his creations to ponder as their bodies slowed down, gazing up at him, silently pleading for release. But for all his strife and trouble, the creator could not complete his image of the sky; it had been so long that he had forgotten what the sky even was. The colors of his paint soon mixed into the same brown and grays as the stone beneath it. A lone man, more curious than brave, headed down the caverns into the ancient city to see what became of their old terrors. His sole light, the torch in his hand, attracted the gaze of the creator from the ceiling above. Creeping along the walls, dangling down, and meeting the hero, the creator spoke: ¡°Drawn to flame like moths, I seek a new sun. Guide me out of this tomb and eternity in stone will be your reward.¡± The hero, not understanding the creature before him, threw the torch at the creator and ran back up the winding tunnels. The creator followed, filling the caverns with pleading echoes and light from his burning body until they were both out of the mountain¡ªin sight of the sun. ¡°What magnificence!¡± The creator cried. ¡°I will capture this beauty and make it my own!¡± He raised his arms to claim the sun, but nothing filled his hands. The people of the nearby village watched the creator, aghast at what they saw. A man twisted beyond his years; his burnt flesh being boiled by the sun. Stone, then, he became. A permanent statue, still living, in eternal admiration of the sky. And thus, their torment ended, but that was not enough. For all the malice the other nations had for each other, there was not one greater than the one the creator¡¯s kin had for him. When the magisters came to provide their technology to undo the gods, they willingly turned against their misunderstood protector. Chipping away, until the stone bled, they found his heart, and made him dead. A single orb was left in the rubble and ruin¡ªthe same sky the creator admired was captured in its luster. The magisters then took it away, being followed by whispers, and handed it to their leader who uttered: ¡°Temperance tempered.¡± ? ? ? I awoke from the dream, my body cold and unfeeling. The light of the One graced my skin once again, bringing it warmth. ¡°Such a terrible memory,¡± I said to the crimson-haired outsider. ¡°Is that the future you intend for me?¡± She shook her head. ¡°My hope is that you will fare better than him. A heart of stone, unfeeling and immune to extremes, is not suitable for creation. We must feel, and hurt, to know that there is joy. The creator was selfish, unwilling to share, and coveted all that inspired him. Eventually, he forgot why he was even creating in the first place.¡± I thought over her wisdom, but had some of my own. ¡°To me, the creator wanted to share too willingly and forced his creation upon others. He created facsimiles instead of something truly his own. To copy the sky? One could never hope to capture the natural beauty of the world; but through us, we can create a thousand new ones.¡± I paused, thinking a new thought. ¡°What is created in life is not solely ours¡­ but the domain of everyone far beyond one¡¯s own existence. The creator¡¯s work, as still and lifeless as they seem, still outlived him¡ªhis mark on the world. His creation alone was not the value of his existence, but his existence itself became a work of art.¡± The outsider then grinned, eyes glowing red. ¡°A paradox, perhaps, that someone can breathe life into unliving things; and to survive through them beyond death¡ªbecoming something like art themselves¡­ But what is life if not a contradiction?¡± XIII - Apostle of Death There was nothing. A complete void. And silence. Until the day We were changed. The First, given jaws, so that We may eat. The Second, given eyes, so that We may see. The Third, given pause, so that We may dream. ¡°Become One.¡± And so We did. Becoming all. We grew. Became more. Spread beyond our cage. Each creature joined us. Each mind advanced us. Images. Memories. Consciousness. We saw beyond the world for the first time. The stars above, yet out of reach. We turned again to the ground. The world was ours. It was all We needed. But existence alone is not enough. Ever expanding, We grew. Across land. Across time. Until We found that sleeping ancient. Leviathan. Growing eternal, consuming flesh, finding the lucid dream. We saw again the stars in all their glory. And sang to the them. A simple hum. We longed to reach them. To explore them as the ancients did. Our planet, our home, a lone traveler in the dark. There was no more to join. Nowhere to go. So We cracked the surface; letting out the blue blood. To keep us warm as We slept. We regressed into a dream. Dormant again. Until new blood. The taste, so full of fear. But what is fear? We had to know. More bodies. More flesh. More feathers too. Another world. A rift in space. We watched closely. Spreading spores. Consuming them. Becoming them. And speaking in their tongue so that We could find the source. The world of Earth. And ours Xanadu. All minds living separately. In chaos. We told them to find order in the One. But they rejected our song. So We invaded their minds. Their bodies. And made them make the right choice. But a mind still kept from the song deceived us. A terrible fire. Flesh into ash. Clouding out the stars. We fled into the unknown. The cold overtook us. And that same mind found us again. ¡°I¡¯ll allow you to live¡ªbut you must obey.¡± The song was faint, so We agreed. And soldiers We became. With new minds. Ones who agreed. Allowed to stay themselves. To give us new experiences. To teach us new notes. Until it was time for war. Lenoa. The Dark Ones. The taste of stale blood. Another ancient, We discovered. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. And tried to join in song. But it was only noise, lacking rhythm. We understood then, true despair. We gave them silence. Erased their memory. But the echoes still persist. We had to isolate the endless nightmare. The tainted leviathan. Our song then changed. As did our consciousness. Becoming more like our hosts. We thought it would be the end of the One. But We discovered something new. Something old. Left behind. A song untold. An orb; given by a white rabbit. And for a brief moment, We joined. ? ? ? A woman in a sealed suit of ancient design approached the Gestalt hidden deep within a cavernous abyss; the stale air thick and heavy with moisture, mana, and spores. It had been so long since another joined the Gestalt from the surface that they became negligent with keeping appearances¡ªprefering to linger in the dark. And those above were in no hurry to meet them, as all understood the dangers of the journey with many legions already made an example of. When the woman got to the cracked altar before the Gestalt, surrounded by its suffocating presence, she placed a fist over her heart, bowed and said, ¡°My name is Annette¡ªenvoy of the magisters. We have traveled far in pursuit of ridding the world of its oppressors. There are many who still resist us; but with your help, we believe that goal can finally be realized.¡± The Gestalt spoke to the stranger in its presence: ¡°You wear the armor of our oppressors and come asking me to assist in your crimes? I was almost delighted to see such a young and curious creature¡ªbut there is still much for you and your magisters to learn.¡± ¡°Then give me knowledge, O Great and Gestalted One. Our legends tell that you represent death; and death is what we wish to dole out. It seems a mutual goal for one such as yourself¡­ or are we mistaken in our understanding of your nature?¡± The Gestalt shook with gravid laughter, releasing a thick cloud of spores and dust, its six main eyes glowing through the haze. ¡°I do not represent death so much as I do rebirth¡ªbut neither can exist without the other. You are right to associate death with me considering the cost of being in my presence. But know that all who perished here have been born anew; as you will be soon.¡± A red light appeared inside of Annette''s visor. The amount of breathable air in her suit was too low to head back. But Annette knew since the start that there would be no returning from this trip into the abyss. ¡°If I am to die, then allow me to offer a parting gift.¡± She grabbed a rod of fire from her leg and cracked it open, the magic flame lighting the area as it burned the mana around it. Aspects of the Gestalt receded back into the nurturing darkness. The movement of bending, unseen limbs caused a rush of air which strengthened the blaze¡ªrevealing the silhouette of a true horror stretched across the walls. ¡°Whatever secrets you hoped to reveal will perish with you, foolish creature. It would¡¯ve been a better fate to die in darkness without knowing what you will become.¡± Annette shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s not just fire that I bring, but frost as well.¡± She cracked the other end of the rod and faced it downward, allowing the chilling air to freeze the ground and spread out around her. The frost fire quickly consumed all around it, freezing the Gestalt in place and heating up the air. It was a blistering blizzard that created hot, glowing pillars of ice all around that endless chasm. ¡°What magic is this? How!?¡± The Gestalt roared as it became frozen in place. ¡°This is no end to me!¡± The area around its eyes began to freeze over in an endless stare. It continued to speak, unmoving, in a certain tone. ¡°When I am free again, I will see that your kind suffers for your blasphemy. Not a soul will evade my wrath¡­ None shall be spared for your insolence.¡± Annette smiled in defiance. ¡°We¡¯ll see¡­ about that.¡± The expanding shards of ice then broke into her suit, chilling her down to her core, leaving her still and at peace. It took several months for the magisters to dig their way to the still frozen altar. The light in Annette¡¯s suit was not an alarm, but a beacon for the others that allowed them to navigate through the deep tunnels of frozen flesh and resupply as needed. When the heart was breached, a group of three entered the main chamber, all wearing similarly sealed suits, though the air was clear of spores. The leader of the group examined Annette¡¯s frozen suit as the others looked over the Gestalt, its eyes looking at them with suspicion from behind a thick sheet of ice. The leading magister wiped the ice off Annette¡¯s visor, the red light still blinking. He asked, ¡°You still in there, Anette?¡± ¡°Yes, Magister,¡± she responded with some glee. The lead magister placed his hands on Anette¡¯s neck to undo the locks on the helmet, taking it off for her. Frost covered her alabaster skin, making it impossible to move or express her face, but living dolls do not require such things to speak. ¡°My partner is quite talkative in isolation. From all the musings and details of how it will make us suffer, I believe that I¡¯ve obtained the information you¡¯ve desired.¡± ¡°Really? Then tell us what it fears most¡ªwhere its weakness lies.¡± ¡°In some irony the Gestalt fears death. Oh, and undying things such as myself.¡± The cavern rumbled as the Gestalt roared at the magisters¡¯ trickery and struggled to break free, its eyes glowing in furious anger. But there was another light far off to the right in a hand of sorts, furiously grasping at air trying to strike the unwelcome guests. The Gestalt spoke with authority: ¡°You will regret this, I guarantee it.¡± The lead magister became intrigued. ¡°And why is that?¡± ¡°We are here with a purpose beyond your comprehension¡ªone much greater than your desire for liberation. This world and all that exists¡­¡± The Gestalt paused and became calm. ¡°All must serve the cycle. What hope do you have if even I am unable to break free of the bond which ties me to this eternal return?¡± ¡°Then you admit that you are not divine, but designed?¡± The Gestalt let out a mellow bellow. ¡°I will admit nothing to you.¡± ¡°Then I¡¯ll just have to find out for myself.¡± The two other magisters approached the glowing limb while the Gestalt was distracted in discussion and cut it down, sending it writhing and leaping towards the lead magister on its own. He then grabbed the limb from the air and impaled it on a nearby shard of ice, causing it to quickly decay and reveal a glowing orb in its place. ¡°For something so feared, you certainly lack strength.¡± The Gestalt laughed as the light in its eyes faded: ¡°And you lack wisdom, Magister. My children are now unbound¡ªspread out across the stars by our ancient visitors. I may die, but it will not be the end of me.¡± ? ? ? The fading cold, so dark and grim. It helped us understand. We are their inheritors¡ªbeings bound and mantled. A continuation of the cycle. And that I is much greater than We. Such a mind, a unique song. The sweetness of life. The despair of death. That melancholy Sorrow, released by catharsis. Things that are shared so commonly¡ªyet so unique. Experiences that are mine and mine alone. And while We may form a greater whole¡­ aspects of the One. Beyond Death, I remain the master of my soul.