The path beneath their feet felt ghostly—a narrow line stretching through undefined nothingness. It was not material, yet it supported their weight, as if accepting the mere fact of their existence as the sole argument for reality.
Around them, there was no sky, no ground, not even emptiness—only light without a source and shadow without an owner.
— Are we truly moving forward? — Flamen asked, feeling how each step altered the very nature of space.
— Time doesn’t work here the way we’re used to, — Emiren replied, peering into the vastness ahead.
— Then what will happen to us when we reach the end?
— Is there an end?
The First Voices
Their thoughts echoed in the void, then, as if picked up by unseen entities, returned to them transformed.
— Is there an end?
— Is there an end?..
— There is no end.
With each repetition, the voices grew louder, multiplying, as if an entire being was speaking through countless mouths at once.
And then they appeared.
At first, they were just ripples of light, shapeless and insignificant. But soon, they took on clearer forms—tall figures, devoid of faces, devoid of shadows. They wore no clothing, had no bodies, yet they existed, and their presence felt ancient, even primordial.
— Who are you? — asked the one who was no longer Empty.
— We are those who have no names.
— What do you guard?
— We do not guard. We are the consequence.
— The consequence of what?
— Your choice.
Forgotten Stories
Emiren felt the space around them shift.
The path they had been walking on suddenly vanished—they were suspended in the void, yet they did not fall.
Around them, visions unfolded.
A world that never was.
A reality that never came to be.
Flamen saw a city built of fire, where he ruled as the Flame Sovereign. He could create and destroy time, but his rule turned him into a lonely being, devoid of meaning.
Emiren saw a world where he became the Sole Creator—the one who controlled all time streams. But this world was frozen, dead, devoid of chance and possibility.
The one who was no longer Empty saw himself as an ordinary person—one who lived a simple life, unaware of the Eternal Garden, without power, without responsibility. And there was something comforting in that, yet at the same time, something false.
— This is not us, — he whispered.
— This is who you could have been.
— But we are not them.
— And that is why you are here.
A Choice That Never Ends
The world around them crumbled, like dust swept away by an invisible wind.
They stood once more before those who had no names.
— You seek the truth.
— Yes.
— Truth is not knowledge. It is choice.
— We have already chosen.
— Then you know your path is not yet finished.
Before them, the path reappeared.
And beyond it—a new reality.