QD woke up with a headache.
She remembered something.
“…Ammi?” she called to her as she walked into her room.
At her desk, swiveling her chair around to see QD, was Ammi. “Hm?”
“I think I remember something.”
Ammi smiled. “What is it?”
“Someone. I think Vera told me about them once.”
“…who is it?”
“I don’t know. But I remember they exist.”
“I wonder who it could be,” chimed Ammi, who already knew.
QD tilted her head. “Can’t you tell me their name?”
“It’s better if you find him yourself.”
The motive was clear. They both knew what that meant.
QD nodded slowly. “I’ll give you any details I can seem to remember.”
“That’s a good idea.” Ammi smiled once more, turning back to her desk as QD walked out of the room.
***
It felt like millenium… and everything still burned in pain.
Existence was entropic and imbalanced. It itself did not exist.
He could not see, nor could he hear or think. Not a single sense came to him.
But in existing without existence, he was. He was being.
He was everything around him, and everything around him was him.
And yet it was not.
All in the nature of duality, being true that the statement is false, and an infinite loop that loops within itself.
There was only one way to break this state.
And it came after forever.
Warren lifted himself up lethargically. Everything was heavy and yet light. His moves were slow, and yet his heart raced.
Stained in blood.
He knew that he had died.
Was this destiny?
This place was empty.
“…h—hello?” his voice broke as he called into the pitch black land ahead of him.
There was silence.
What else was there to say in a time like this except for nothing at all?
Warren slid back down into the position he had found himself in. Laying on the floor, limbs sprawled and everything aching.
He wondered how he had gotten out. He groaned as the pain began to subside.
A flower bloomed in the corner of his eye.
“—h?!—“ he sat up again, bringing a merciless bout of pain that was only natural to come from a jolting move an injured idiot would make.
But it proved to be not inherently a bad decision. He sat up, watching as the flowers, brimming with an eyesore of a teal and purple light covered him. Specifically his wounds.
They wrapped around his leg— or what was left of it— and crawled up into his stomach, where he had been stabbed, and sealed the gaping hole so tight that he felt like he could breathe again.
The flowers wrapped their little glowing vines around his entire body now, straightening him to stand up, relying on his leg and a half plus flower mass to do so.
He was standing.
He was alive.
And unlike everything else, there was no second hand.
No trick up a sleeve…
Surely, it felt like he was alive…
And the clock that ticked away at his life went back to ticking.
Warren felt a surge of excitement. Maybe he was right— this was the next location. This was part of his destiny, and where he had to be.
He tried to trudge along, move quickly, explore this desolate and darkened void, but the flowers held him back, tugging him to come closer, to refrain from snapping them.
Quickly, he obliged. Slowly, he walked.
The flowers branched their way out wherever he moved. It was easier to walk where the flowers were, harder to let them grow so that he could move beyond them. However, he eventually made good progress and grew the flowers well enough. Warren looked back to see his masterful work to be disappointed by the fact that he had not done much of it.
To himself, he thought, if this was destiny, then where do I go? Maybe this isn’t destiny at all.
But it was difficult to feel sad about any of it anymore. There was something new to do, somewhere dark to explore, flowers to learn about… he was needed.
Back in Aeronia, he was one in the same, indistinguishable, nothing special… not even remotely unique. And he wasn’t needed for anything.
Now, he was needed.
He left barely anything behind.
Warren closed his eyes in drowning thought.
“Hey!”
He jolted them open.
A twinkling, sparkling… slowly fading in and out, waving in the air, teal orb of light, shining its rays, floated its way to Warren.
He blinked. Something!
“Hello!” He responded joyously. Not exactly sure why he suddenly acted this way when he was feeling another way, he continued. “I’m Warren!”
“Hey, Warren! You’re exactly the person I wanted to find.”
Me? thought Warren. What could I be needed for?
“Do you know where you are?”
“Not entirely…” he washed away confusion and the natural reactions to a strange situation. However, he was still quite alert and paranoid, suspicious and watching.
The orb glimmered. “You’re in the memory pit.”
“Oh, I should’ve guessed as much.” he shrugged, the flowers clinging to his shoulders like little cousins pestering for a piggyback ride.
“You seem very okay with all of this… I actually expected a sort of… ‘where am I?!’ ‘Oh no! Am I dead?!’ or the casual ‘who are you?!’ ‘what is this place?!’ ‘I’m scared!’”
“But I’m not.” Warren commented with a plain shrug. “Do you need me for something?”
“…yes!” The orb concluded, whizzing toward him and orbiting him with spinning speed. It stopped, hovering annoyingly in his face. “Are you aware of your destiny?”
Warren nodded, once more with difficulty, courtesy of the flowers. “I know I have to carry it out… something about a book…. but I don’t exactly know any more than that.”
“Oh, well, you’re in luck! Yes, lucky day today! Destination: DESTINY!” the orb responded.
Warren tilted his head to the side with a smiling puzzlement.
“You’re finally awake, and so, you must continue with your destiny. Now is the time.”
“Hey, already? I can hardly wait!” but he figured a few more eons as a lifeless body wouldn’t hurt too much.
The orb whizzed again. “Yes, neither can I! It’s a good thing I remembered you. It was a little late, I’ll admit,” it spoke as it slowly hovered on, a silent prompt for Warren to walk, in his flowering mud, along. “it’s a good thing I remembered you at all! Usually… whatever falls here, I can never remember. Or so I’m told! I can’t remember forgetting anything!”
Curious, Warren spoke inwardly. A strange new place. I don’t exactly know how to feel about any of it… and… it’s all so strange…
“That makes sense,” shrugged Warren, who figured he had to respond.
“I guess so… but, hey, we’re getting off topic! We need to do what we gotta do. Are you aware of the Sea?”
Warren thought for a moment, still walking along. “Yes… I was on this… I think they called it a train, and there was darkness around, with speckles of colors and sparkling, colored dust in the sky… with a massive… thing… just emanating a strange aura in the sky. It was purple and black, sparkling and… it messed with the sky around it. It looked like a cut in clothing, tearing away at the sky like it was strands of cloth… and it kept growing. The— the point is… I know what that is. That’s what they called the Sea.”
“They?”
“Vera and Ade-Hiraeth.”
“Woah. Ade-Hiraeth???”
“Yes, do you know him?”
The orb glimmered, whizzing up and down. “Yeah, but we just call him Hira!”
That made Warren slightly uncomfortable. “…that’s sort of disrespectful…”
“We’re his friends, though. He likes it better to call him ‘Hira’.”
“We’re?” inquired Warren, figuring it was his turn to ask a question that included a singular pronoun (and verb, but…)
The orb waved around in the air melodically. “Mhm! Y’know… Vera and everyone else on the Train.”
“You must be someone from there. I’m forgetting your voice…”
“Take a guess!”
“…Ammi?”
“Nope! But you’re close~!”
Warren blinked. “I— I’m blanking on the name… Rian?”
“No Rians on the Train…”
“…there’s a woman with an R in her name…”
“…Rhine???”
“Yeah, that’s the one! Sorry. Are you her?”
“Nope.”
“Oh, will you really make me guess everyone?”
Chiming gleefully, the orb lacked a response.
With a sigh, Warren assumed he might have to keep guessing. “You’re not a boy or a man. I can hear it in your voice… but you might be like Vera, who says he’s a boy, when he clearly looks like a girl. I don’t understand it.”
“At least you respect it!”
Warren raised an eyebrow. “That’s just what he wants to be called. A boy. I don’t have any say or interference with that.”
“Well said…”
Warren racked his brain for names he could no longer remember. “…so who are you?”
“Hmm, now I don’t really wanna tell ya! You gotta keep guessing.”
“…oh.” he frowned.
“And plus, we got off topic again. So— you know about the Sea. Do you know what a god is?”
Warren shook his head. The flowers loosened their grip on him.
“A god is… a higher being. Usually, people offer things at special places for them… they have power and wisdom… know the future and past… are practically invisible, but always there… and send down special things to happen sometimes. That’s the premise— that’s what most gods are. Get it?”
“Mhm.” Warren wondered if the Elders were gods.
“Cool! Here’s the thing— Ammi, you know her— she’s a god.”
Immediately, Warren tested her with the requirements he knew of.
A higher being? She was shorter than him.
Offered things at special places? He wasn’t sure.
Power and wisdom? Surely, being able to whisk herself away from crumbling worlds and build them was power. Wisdom— she spoke in… such a way. He assumed it was wisdom.
Know the future and past? Anyone could know the past. He wasn’t sure that she knew the future.
Practically invisible, but always there? She seemed to be always there and rarely invisible.
Send down special things to happen sometimes? Well… there was that whole… ‘stopping time’ thing… time had never stopped before. That was really special.
Okay. Ammi ticked half the boxes. That was a hard no. She should’ve been able to tick all of them.
“Really? How is she a god?”
“She can do everything I just said!”
“She’s a ‘higher being’? Offered items at special places? Knows the future? Because— everyone knows the past— practically invisible?” Warren interrogated.
The orb spun around. “Yeah! She’s the second purest being in all the Sea— which means everything in existence— and she knows the future! And guess what— she’s with us right now.”
Warren looked around, pausing his walk.
The orb paused its floating.
They looked around.
“Where is she? Is she invisible?”
“Yes.”
“Ammi. You can come out.”
“…it doesn’t really work like that, Warren.”
“Really? I’ll take your word for it. And… is she offered things at special places?”
“Of course!” chimed the orb. “I occasionally offer her a slice of cake in her room. That’s a special place to her.”
Warren wondered what cake was. “So… she’s a god?”
“Yes. The very best.”
“But isn’t she second?”
“Second purest? Yeah.”
“So someone is purer. And so someone is better.”
The air was silent. The orb no longer twinkled aloud.
“…there… is someone better, yes.”
“Is this someone also a god?”
“Yes. She truly is the very best.”
Oh, you flatter me!!! Thank you!!!
“No problem!”
“Who are you talking to?”
Silence again.
“God.” breathed the orb, wistful and mysterious.
Warren raised an eyebrow. “Ammi? Or the better one?”
“The better one,” the orb responded.
“…is she also here?”
“Of course! She’s a god!”
“…so there are four people here with us today?”
“Okay. You don’t get it.”
Groaning, Warren continued to walk as the orb scrambled to lead the way. “Yes. It’s confusing. And I’ve never been a learner.”
“That’s too bad! You’re gonna have to learn a lot.”
Groaning again.
“But don’t worry! It’ll definitely be easier than any scholarly duties!”
“It really proves so now, doesn’t it?”
The orb twinkled. “You’ll get it in time. So, you know about the Sea, you know about gods. That thing in the sky— the growing one— that’s the Rip. Do you know about the Rip?”
“It destroys realities and worlds.”
“Do you know how it works?”
Warren was caught confused again. “…no. Rhine tried to explain. She looked at me strangely when I told her I had no idea what she was talking about.”
The orb hummed. “Well, that’s unfortunate. You’re gonna need to know lots about the Rip.”
“For my destiny?”
“Yes!”
“What is my destiny, anyways? I think I should know that by now.”
Silently, the orb began. “…that’s right, you should! Your destiny— you have to become a god.”
“…I’ll become a god?!”
“Yes! How exciting! You’ll get powers, future knowledge, be super wise and— you’ll get powers! I just love powers!”
Warren blinked, his trudging slowing. “Really? Being a god… sounds like a great deal. If it’s just like Ammi…”
“Mhm!”
“…are you a god?”
“Uhm…” the orb seemed sorrowful, answering with uncertainty. “…I surely hope so.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well— there’s also demigods— half gods. They don’t really have all this god powery stuff that gods have. I think I might be that.”
“Do you fit all the requirements?”
“Those requirements are loose, anyways!”
“But do you fit them?”
The orb also slowed— then picked up its pace. “Possibly! C’mon, let’s keep going.”
“Are you an orb or are you a person?”
“I’m a person. I just came to you in this form because it’s easier to communicate this way!”
Warren thought for a moment. “You must be invisible but here, then. And you certainly have powers. So, you must be a higher being— and you must have wisdom, since you know about lots of things I can’t comprehend— you sent something special my way, I assume you sent these flowers and this knowledge of my destiny— which is a vision of the future. You’re a god.”
The orb was silent. “…sure. I guess, then, I’m a god.”
“Do you doubt yourself about it?”
“No. I just seemed unsure.”
“Review your requirements, then. You are a god.”
The orb glimmered, confused with flattery. “Thank you?”
“You’re welcome.” Warren commented.
They walked their way through the darkness. A long path of flowers was soon visible through the shrouding void.
“…so you know about the Sea and gods… just the Rip you need…” the orb thought aloud. “Okay, the Rip— the way it works is— it’s like the cycle of life and death. Everything that goes within it dies, and it gets turned into something else that we’ll talk about later. But all you need to know is that every world that ever existed, Aeronia and others— it all spirals. Spirals into the Rip— the older worlds are closer to the Rip, like being closer to the end of life. New worlds that form form at the end of the spiral. It’s only natural that these worlds flow into the Rip and eventually are consumed by it— the cycle, right?”
“Yes.”
“But sometimes… strange things happen in Sea. Let’s say that you, from Aeronia, accidentally are transported a whole new world one day as you’re guarding Hira’s door. It’s completely on accident, and unwarranted— sometimes things like that just naturally occur! The Sea makes an oopsie-daisy-poopsie, no biggie. That’s called an anomaly. They’re also pretty natural— but super, duper incredibly rare. However… collections and pockets of anomalies can also occur, so— many anomalies all at once, everywhere. That’s BAD!” the orb concluded happily.
Warren blinked. “…so…?”
“Too many anomalies make the Rip go haywire. It eventually starts increasing in speed, swallowing worlds at catastrophic rates— and erasing them entirely. Remember when I said that once a world naturally falls to the Rip, it goes somewhere, and we’d talk about that later?”
“That’s now?”
“That’s now.” the orb agreed. “Worlds dying to the Rip naturally get turned into memories. They’re the stars, the white specks, you see all over the sky in the Sea. These memories can be either of worlds, or of something part of the pure conscious. Which we’ll talk about even later!”
Absorbing the information carefully, Warren nodded slowly. “I see… it… sort of makes sense… but where’s the science behind it?”
“RULE NUMBER ONE!” The orb screamed. “IT JUST DOES.”
“…it just does?”
“Yes. Don’t question it.”
“I think I might have t—“
“RULE NUMBER TWO! DON’T QUESTION IT!”
“…what?”
“Don’t question it!”
“…excuse me for questioning, but… is there a reason behind it?”
“Yes! I will answer this question because I also have to talk about the answer. The reason why we don’t question is because we want to limit information.”
“Why?”
“Just ‘cuz.”
“…I got it.” Warren, puzzled again, nodded and agreed, so that he wouldn’t get killed by this crazy orb.
The orb sparkled. “It’s true. That leads us to our mini tangent— watch your language.”
“Did I say something rude?”
“No. You just have to be careful of what you say, so that you don’t spill anything.”
“…do I lie to not spill?”
“RULE NUMBER THREE! NO LYING!”
“…why?”
“RULE NUMBER TWO!—“
“—okay, I think I got it…” Once more, Warren nodded. “…so watch my language without lying… how do I do that?”
“If you have no truth to say, don’t speak at all. Always give unsure, uncertain answers. If I say I’m probably not Ammi… then what do you assume?”
“You’re not Ammi. You told me before already.”
“This is god language! It’s different! Pretend I never said that before. So, am I Ammi, or am I not?”
“…probably not Ammi…” Warren repeated, stressing ‘probably’ strangely. “…I don’t know.”
The orb whizzed around his head. “I didn’t expect you to! Here’s the thing— in that case, I would be Ammi. If I told you I wasn’t Ammi, who would I be?”
“Anyone but Ammi?”
“Precisely! If you asked me if any gods were with us now, and I responded, ‘I don’t know’, what would you think?”
Warren immediately caught onto the pattern. “There are gods with us.”
“Yes! If I said that there was no better god than Ammi, what would you think?”
“There is no better god than Ammi.”
The orb chimed a little song. “You catch on quick. If you understand the pattern, don’t say it. I’ll always silently correct you if you get it wrong— just don’t say it!”
“Why can’t I say it?”
“There are more than just gods watching.”
Enemies? Thought Warren. How strange and confusing it is to be a god. It’s… fun? If we have enemies… it… makes it fun. Oh, secret important things…! Information hiding! How fun!
Warren felt a warm grin on his face. “I’ll keep it under control, then.”
“Hehe. Thanks! You’ll make a great god.”
Praise…!
A strange feeling— was it fun, like Vera explained, after torturous yesses and nos? Or was it something even greater? It surely felt so.
“So… where were we before god language…” the orb thought until it burst out into answer. “Yes! I know! We were talking about the science behind the Rip… just don’t bother with that. Anywho… when there’s too many anomalies, Rip goes crazy, swallows worlds too quickly… fun stuff! All those worlds swallowed suddenly just disappear— they’re completely gone, forever. Usually, world memories will eventually reform into a new version of the world they once were, all coming together— but through the Rip… it’s all gone. If left unchecked, the crazed Rip will eventually swallow everything in existence— reducing them to nothing but atoms, the particles that make them up, and an element that is currently unnamed. The element is categorized by being innate entirely… it has no special properties— it’s a solid white— and is sort of soft when you touch it. It sinks in… almost like a pillow, but it doesn’t sink— you sink. Get that much?”
Warren nodded for the millionth time, wondering how they got onto this topic.
“Good. That’s the end of the universe, yay!! The Rip is dangerous. Anomalies need to be checked. Worlds can come back. Got that down? Good, because we’re moving onto Codes.”
“…we’re going awfully quick.”
“That’s because we’ll elaborate on most of this stuff later! Now— listen closely.” The orb sparkled. “Codes are… like secrets. Your normal, average world of exploration— surely, there’s something hidden through thick walls and shiny spikes— and that’s what Codes are. They’re tools, concepts, places— things of the sort. Performing fantastical and magical capabilities, they’re like an extension of godly power, but able to be used by whoever wields it. They’re entirely constructed of the pure conscious, and are hidden all around the Sea. Sometimes, we have them in our hands, and other times, they’re lost for long, long, LOONNGGG periods of time. For example— Code 130, A Wayfarer’s Atlas— or, Atlas for short. It was previously believed to be lost for eons, hidden in deep memories. However… while… uhm… let’s say, embarking on a journey of self discovery, Vera managed to find it not so long ago. He used it to navigate the Sea and reach many other Codes, and eventually, his final destination.”
“…final destination? Did he die?”
“Nope! Just the final destination for that little journey. Annnyywho… Atlas manages to link itself to a guiding star, which are just really important stars in the Sea, and allows the wielder to locate anything in the Sea that they desire. I’d say it is an extremely useful Code, especially since the Sea has recently been expanding.”
“I see. Does that Atlas work down here?”
“No. There are no stars here. This is the memory pit! Oh, and, pro tip— anywhere without stars— that’s where the danger is. Of course, while in the Sea. In any other world… it depends.”
Warren hummed in understanding. “Do you know where you’re going?”
“Of course I know! Didn’t you say yourself that I was a god?”
“Yes… okay, then. We’re walking to the next place for my destiny, yes?”
“Mhm! And while we do so, I teach! So let’s continue.”
Nodding once, Warren was ready.
“Hmm… there’s also Code 92, Eraserdawn, which is also pretty important. All the Codes are important, really! Eraserdawn is sort of like the Rip, in a sense. It erases aspects of things— anything. We’ll talk a lot about that later.”
“Where did Eraserdawn come from?”
“It was hidden in a memory… not a world memory, just a memory. Far, far into the depths of the Sea. Do you know Jay? Er— well, when you met, he was still… Myst. Eugh, that was a long time ago…”
“I liked him. He was very polite!”
“Yes… he was on an expedition when he found Eraserdawn. He brought back all sorts of finds and useful information… there was also Code 143, Neverender… ah, but that’s for later! Enough about Codes… I should start telling you about what the next step is. We’re nearly at our destination!”
Some cheerful yet silent walking later…
The orb presented Warren with nothing but the void.
“Ta-da! Here it is.”
“…there’s nothing here.”
“Oh, there’s more than meets the eye! We’re in the center of the memory pit… even though this place is technically endless.” explained the orb, whizzing a few feet in front of Warren in a circle. “Did I tell you about the Infinity Tree?”
“If you did, I didn’t remember.”
The orb twinkled. “Okay~! So… the memory pit hasn’t been… very… on top. It’s been lacking. And the Sea has been, too! It needs to… expand! And there needs to be someone to expand it! That’s what we’re doing here— we’re going to plant the Infinity Tree!”
Warren slowly nodded. “What does it do?”
“It’s what will link realities together. If the Sea was all the little strings that make up cloth, or whatever… the Infinity Tree would be how it weaves together! I’m also kinda thinkin’ that it could be called Recuva, because of the nature of its growing… whaddya think? Recuva: The Infinity Tree?”
“…uhm… sure, it sounds nice.”
“OKAY! RECUVA: THE INFINITY TREE IT IS, THEN!!”
Oh, really? Warren jumped, the thought bubbling to mind. Just like that? Surely, this is something important… I don’t know how it could just be brushed off that easily!
But sure enough, it was!
The orb shimmered excitedly. “Nice! Now. Step one. Take this.”
A glimmering, soft and blinding white branch in the shape of a Y fizzled into the air, sparkling and crackling like an electric star. It floated into Warren’s hands, which opened to receive it.
He examined the branch, eyes full of wonder. Being dead and brought back to life— then following destiny in all so quickly without question— it surely seemed strange, and…
“It looks cool, right?”
“…yeah…”
“This is from our current Infinity Tree. However… it’s not a very sustainable process… so we have to actually grow a real tree! And this is how we do it.”
“I see. So, what’s the first step?”
“Crouch down and make a pile of flowers. Do you know how to control them?”
Warren shook his head as he crouched, the orb following his descent. “No. They sorta just walk where I do.”
The orb whizzed right up in his face, making him stumble back and land on his bottom. “WELL IT’S EASY! You just gotta think! That’s how all magic and powers work!”
“…think?”
“Yeah! What do you want it do to?”
“…I don’t know. Do I have to do something with these flowers to plant?”
“Mhm! Make a little circle of flowers for the tree.”
Warren smiled nervously. “…okay… I’ll… make a circle of flowers for the tree.”
Chiming, the orb played a little song in excitement. “Yesss, this is where it gets good!”
So, very carefully, Warren thought of making a circle as he pulled his legs underneath each other to sit. Maybe his hands could guide the flowers… maybe he could make the flowers crawl and creep…
When he took a moment to notice his surroundings… he found that he was doing it! He was controlling the flowers! And best of all, it was incredibly easy!
“…look! I’m doing it!”
“Yeah! See, it wasn’t so hard! Now— stick the branch into the ground!”
Jittery and full of anticipation, Warren stuck the branch in the flowery ground.
It shone magnificently, an array of flowers and light bursting with wonder.
“…this is amazing!” Warren gaped, so lucky that he was now meeting his destiny.
***
Warren did all sorts of things to help the tree grow. He learnt how to sing, so he could sing to the tree. He learnt proper care for the tree, and how it grew. He watched the branches unfold into life— the same Y shape growing at each end of the tree’s branches at precise angles. He even told it stories. The stories of the Golden Scrolls… stories of how he could never really become a scholar, how he was too stupid… but how he really, really wished he wasn’t…
Unfortunately, the tree became his sole confidant. The tree now knew everything about Warren.
And Warren now knew something of his own— water leaking from his eyes was normal. Often, when he got into touchier subjects, like how his parents abandoned him at the guard’s training center to make him learn a lesson on behavior and to show him the real struggles of life, this odd occurrence would spring to life. It was overwhelming, it was new, and he didn’t know exactly how to respond. All he knew was that it came at ‘sad’ times, and that he should wipe away the water (which tasted quite good, mind you).
Soon… the tree grew, and Warren began to learn lots about the Sea. He took total mastery over his powers, had his hands on a few Codes, and ultimately became what he figured was a god.
He could do all sorts of things— he knew everything, was incredibly talented with his powers, felt himself to be a somewhat higher being…
He ticked off all the boxes.
He even learnt of emotions, and learnt of other worlds and how they worked.
The orb, who had yet to reveal its full identity, was extremely proud of him.
Little by little… the memory pit was full of flowers, thin, wispy roots from Recuva, and held thousands of stars in its barren wastes.
The hard work was done.
“We did a great job!” The orb chimed after much time had passed. “There’s still a lot left to do, though. Remember? The memories.”
Warren, who had been tending to the tree, nodded, and grinned wide. “Yes. I remember.”
Previously, the orb had explained that there were a few memories to link to Recuva in order to stabilize the fabric of reality. That shouldn’t be too hard to do, Warren dwelled. After all… everything else has proved to be simple when given enough time. What challenge can a few memories pose?
However…
With all this power…
…
Warren missed everyone else.
He understood that he might not be as important to them as they were to him— of course, he was only on the Train for a short amount of time. The people there could care any less for him, especially since it had been so long ago since they had spoken.
The unfortunate part came in when Warren knew this, but still cared for them a lot.
They were his first introduction to the world beyond Aeronia— something he had never even thought of, because he believed it so bizarre and impossible— how could he not care? How could he forget?
It was so painful to believe that he could just be as minuscule as he thought.
He was still Warren.
He still had his aspirations, his hopes, his dreams.
Goals he wanted to look forward to.
He was still a person! He existed!
But was his existence simply a number, or was it a feeling?
Did anyone ever truly care?
Did he ever really matter?
And, here, where he worked towards these unbelievably mind shattering goals… these great feats, transforming the existence of everything he knew, becoming a god— him, out of everyone—
He knew he should be grateful.
And yet there was dissatisfaction.
For a moment… he thought…
Did I really want to find my destiny? Did I really want to become a god? Become almighty?
Did I really want to? Or was I just excited, being fresh out of Aeronia— or was I just accepting my death, falling into this pit, with the only way I knew would make it seem… alright? Worth it?
Maybe my destiny is down there.
Don’t worry. Just keep going. Leave me. My destiny could be here.
My death won’t be all that bad.
You have to keep going.
Warren pondered.
…his death would not be all that bad… but…
Because, who cared?
Who even thought of him as anything more than… an event? Something that came and went? Disposable?
A god? With powers? With knowledge? Doing incredible things?
It was so strange— so strange to be anything at all.
Secretly, he wished that he, as a god, would descend upon the Train, claim and tell his stories, explain— ‘I am here! I have arrived! I am a god! Offer me your attention.’
Such a special thing…
Everyone would recognize him. He wouldn’t have just been for nothing! He would’ve lived, survived—
Was he even dead or alive?
He would’ve been alive. In Aeronia, for all he cared. Living a simple life.
Although it was plagued with worries… they were nothing compared to now. He just wanted to be quiet, calm, in the middle of nowhere, absolutely isolated—
But he wanted to matter.
He wanted to be something.
There were so many ways he looked at such a predicament— so many things that could appear, there could happen.
But he was so sure that…
This was not his destiny.
What even was that word?
What you were going to do when you were fated to do it?
Your whole life— mapped out— just like that? And that was it? And you couldn’t even choose?
And you weren’t even important?
If I’m so unimportant, he riled himself up, then I don’t need to have a clear destiny. My fate would not affect anyone else’s.
I can choose what my destiny is. Isn’t that so simple? I’m a god! I should be able to!
He dearly missed Aeronia. As cold as it was— as harsh as he was told it was— it was home.
He was no god.
He had no power.
He was Warren.
Warren was regular.
Warren wanted to be seen— Warren wanted to matter—
Warren wanted to be alive.
He wanted to feel the halls of Aeronia, each pillar on his fingertips, and the carpet and the ceramic tile under his feet. He wanted to breathe its air, to have his lungs collapse and blow up again— he wanted his flowers to rid themselves of his closed wounds, to unfoil from his stub of a leg, and— somehow, with his godish powers, grow it back— and he wanted to exist. At home. Alive.
Part of something bigger. As a guard, you are part of something bigger. As a god, you are part of something bigger.
Then, you would matter, right? Where you belonged and where you wanted to belong?
No more.
Warren examined Recuva as he wandered around, lost in thought.
No more god. No more playing. No more hiding.
Recuva, you hold the fabrics and realities of the Sea.
You hold every concept, everything that has come into existence— you have grown and operated under silence, in secrecy, with me— you have opened up realms of endless possibilities, your branches holding each a piece of a time that once was and once is.
What would happen if we joined? If I melted our consciousnesses? What if I connected myself to your reality?
What if we matched our sounds and our frequencies, and what if we mattered, together?
What if they would look up at our branches for eons to come?
What if I found the reality of Aeronia, and transferred myself to it?
Made the memories of this life a beautiful star?
What if I continued to exist, but as who I wanted to be, in Aeronia? What if I went back? What if I was there?
If my soul was wiped clean— if you took it in your hands at the cost of going back— living in Aeronia— knowing it was my home, truly, and being content to return and explore whenever I wanted— would that be alright?
Would you allow me to?
Give my force of life to another.
Connect me back here.
Let me be connected to every part of everything.
I just want to go back.
I just want to be alive.
I just want to avoid my destiny.
I just want to go home.
I just want to exist.
I just want to matter.
I just want to have that—
Just once.
If I became pure light, pure energy, a star, whatever you wanted me to become in exchange for a second chance— a shot at redoing it all— would I get it?
Get my wish?
What I truly asked for?
Would I be able to reshape my destiny?
Warren dipped his head, eyes pointed upwards, kept on Recuva intensely.
I know I ask for too much.
I know I don’t have the right to even ask in the first place.
I know I don’t matter much.
But if you let me…
Go back…
Redo this all…
Be alive, life— hold it truly in my hands— this gripping, agonizing hold, this life, full of struggles such as this, but so, so dear to my heart—
Would you wipe my soul and give me another chance?
It doesn’t even have to be me.
I simply want wherever I end up…
…to be in Aeronia.
He harbored these secret desires as he entered a memory through Recuva with the orb.
Surely… he would get them one day.
“Alright! The job here is to fix a few anomalies and cracks… nothing you haven’t seen before! There’s a couple more memories that link to this one that need some repair, too. Just a little more practice before we finally get finished with all of this.”
Warren nodded once, examining the memory. Soft… pink…
Oh… he knew where they were. He had been here before.
It brought back… memories…
Here he was, with Vera, exploring and trying to fix the anomalies with Ammi.
It made sense they had to do it with her, now…
Although the realization made him want to stop and think, sit down and ponder, he had something to do. He might as well just do it.
So, little by little, with simple waves of his hand, he began to piece together the momentary cracks in the sky, the fissures in the ground.
There was a memory of… well, something he had seen before. The rainbow arc that he and Vera helped Ammi fix. It seemed that this memory was constantly on the verge of breaking. Another memory, full of something called ‘songs’, which Warren had quite the time digesting and understanding. They were all tiny and quaint memories, little things full of nicer times and innocent, pure moments to be cherished and protected.
That is, until the orb appeared once he was finished.
“Hey, Warry, I wanna just. Like. Y’know. Ask you for another favor. Like I have been.”
“What is it?” Warren pulled his flowers from the ground, back to control around him and tightly wrapped on his leg.
The orb fizzled nervously, whirring in place. “Well… you know about FIXING memories… but not actually DESTROYING memories. I need you to destroy a memory.”
“…destroy a memory. Alright, how do I do that?”
With a sudden jolt, the orb blinked. “Oh. You’re fine with it?”
“It’s what needs to be done, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. So…”
“I’ll do it. How do I do it?”
“Well, instead of pulling and snapping the fissures together… you… break them apart.”
Warren blinked.
“If you can’t get out in time, then don’t worry— you’ll fall into the memory pit. However, it’s different than last time, thanks to your hard work. It won’t be a harsh landing.”
“Okay.”
It all felt so similar.
“Have your responses gotten plainer? I could’ve sworn you were a little more enthusiastic yesterday!”
Warren shrugged and ate a smile. “I don’t know… I guess I’m so excited to finally be done with all of this that I’m sorta in my own head.”
“Makes sense!” The orb chimed. “Anywho… you should know how to get to that memory. When you’re there, just… destroy it!”
“Alright.”
“Good luck! See you back at Recuva!”
Warren gave the orb a nod as it fizzled away. He turned from where it had once been and straightened up, manifesting his energy—
—and appeared in the specified memory in a flurry of petals.
Oh… how recognizable.
A theater… and to be fair, the memory was already breaking down.
The smile that barely retained on his lips teetered off the edge and fell. He could see why this memory wanted to be forgotten.
Maybe it was because it was… well, one of the unfavorable ones. Maybe because he was there? Maybe because they just wanted to forget him, too. Maybe make sure that the old Warren never existed.
He wanted to see everything, really— that was what it had been— but not like this.
He knew he had to start all over again.
So, he churned his desire into the energy he would use to tear this place apart. Just as he wished to rip his own soul apart and put it back together, completely different and all new, he tore apart the ground of the memory with springy and light flowers.
The pit was bottomless and clearly visible with every fissure. It crumbled apart to display beautiful little metal beams, cold hard and rusted, winding and twisted yet straight like a screw and a nail— with really no purpose to be twisted at all.
Soon, the sky in the memory reddened, and the theater began to fall apart. There was no smooth transition from its walls to the sky anymore— no soft pink, no light clouds. A messy backstage appeared, chaotic in nature and unbelievably unsightly. It looked like a malfunction in the very laws of the universe.
Just as predicted, a low rumbling sound. Soon, everything began to fold in on itself— no divine intervention needed.
Warren pulled his flowers from the ground and retracted them back to himself. He watched the skies as they fell, like a fake wall draping onto the floor, cascading green screens that, on any editing processor, roughly displayed pixels of what was overlaid onto them. Dropping to an amused and yet unsurprised sit, Warren put his elbows on his knees and his chin on his palms as he waited for the memory to crumble apart.
The exit appeared in front of him.
However, now seeming like a taunt rather than a safety measure encoded in the very being of this place, Warren gazed at it with a stale look. Where was it back then, so near to reach, so easy to take a hold of? He couldn’t quite believe that he had to leave Warren all behind. Not a trace of him left, except in the memories of people who had shortly forgotten about him.
He felt bad leaving.
He would be gone— prove himself to be unimportant— then what? Oh, how sweet it would be to start over, to not have to be a god of any sort— but prove the very thing you fear true. It just couldn’t be possible that there wasn’t a special place in the universe for Warren.
Wasn’t there a special place for everyone?
But, even now, he wished that he would live the way he used to, a special place in the sky allotted to all but him.
Wouldn’t that be better?
And in that situation, he would be ungrateful.
How cruel! What an unsaveable situation.
Warren hoped that, if any, versions of himself in universes and minds beyond would be better off. They would spend their time doing what he could only wish he could do now.
The memory waned, and he felt himself wane, too.
Is there anywhere, he thought, that I belong? I don’t quite feel at place in life or death.
Maybe it was just ungratefulness.
But he didn’t feel like he belonged anywhere. Any state of being— alive, dead, nonexistent, forgotten to everything, remembered by all, a star of a memory…
His poor consciousness would never be at rest so long as it had existed.
And it had existed.
So the ground beneath him dropped, and pulled him with it…
He planned to hit the ground just as hard as he had before.
***
The memory was gone, and he was congratulated for his work. However, it felt more like the destruction of something that mattered— as terrible as it was, being so… he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he felt embarrassment from it— rather than a good deed. It was a sort of erasure done in a matter of quick thinking, a regretful action. A coverup of the truth, a shun of growth and realization that you are allowed to be an idiot, make mistakes, and just generally be annoying about them. Either way, the deed was done, Warren the harbinger of its doing, and there was nothing more to say on the matter.
So came another bout of silence, another quiet day spent waiting to be given a task, to be proclaimed a god after some cheering on and explanations.
…The orb was nowhere to be found.
Warren glanced at Recuva.
It had grown massive since its planting, and Warren was gently taking care of it everyday. He walked to it now.
“…You must have some sentience, right?” He asked it aloud. “You and I should have a sort of connection. I planted you.”
Of course, as it was just a tree, Recuva did not answer.
“That should be the case. I… I want to ask you for a favor. If we connected— if something like that was even possible—… you control reality. Could you control mine? Could… I… go back?”
There was a favor, alright.
Warren knew if he wished to have never existed at all— Recuva would never be planted. There would be some Sea-ending anomaly, tearing it all apart faster than the Rip ever could. Everything would be gone. And for who, him? Just one existence to be set back? And it would never even satisfy him. Such was the nature of a deity.
He would never plant the tree. He would never not exist, but he would never not not exist, either— so he would exist, and therefore, plant the tree— and he would want to never exist again.
How did it work? Would it all continue? Then, he would never have existed in the first place— and Recuva would have to be there— so he would never truly be gone.
And thus it was unfulfilled.
Warren lowered his head.
Something burned inside of him. Fury.
The flowers tightened.
He was trapped. This must’ve been a trap—! He was trapped— and that orb must’ve been a villain. Swearing it was for good, swearing it was all for purity and righteousness. Being a god must’ve been a good thing, yes?
So why was this much more sinister than what he imagined?
Ammi must’ve been evil— that god must’ve been evil— the orb, a god, he insisted— they were all evil.
Something behind all of it.
His desire to leave it all behind was even greater.
Maybe, for all the people governed by such corrupt beings, being torn away from their lives— destroying everything to ever exist— so grand, so extravagant, everything—! It was so— too much to explain, to realize— everything. A soft smile on a father’s lips would be gone, or the breath of a bloomed valley. Even the bad— a memory of being taken from what you love, bittersweetly wandering into long lost times, your family and best friends, the time you skipped rocks on a lake or sung a special song that your mother taught you, that you taught to others, performed with such pride, with a cracking and shaking voice because it was all gone—
Really, even that couldn’t quite capture it— of course, it was not enough. Barely scratching the surface.
It would all be gone, all that good— but away from the rule of such evil beings.
But even away… it would be gone forever. It wouldn’t be safe— it wouldn’t be anything. Being would not— could not exist.
You.
You, yes, reader, look at your life—
Could you imagine anyone else’s as complicated as yours? Possibly not. It must be difficult to imagine.
What did you do today? What fraction of a thought passed your mind earlier today?
Think of that, but to an infinite amount. All of you, but many of you, specific and heightened and lowered to create thousands of unique people. And think of where you live, who made what to get you to where you are now. All the lives created to create… you.
What if all of that, and unquantifiable amounts more, just disappeared? Incomprehensibly never even coming to light— never becoming. If it had never happened.
It does not seem like much because it is impossible to imagine.
So, reader, if you were I— if you were the single spark between the total destruction of all to have been, and desperately considering it—
What would you do?
Warren thought hard.
Was it selfish? Was it liberating? They could live in evil, yes, but minuscule and to them was the good and the bad, the nuances of their lives. It was impossible to understand what was happening at the core of it all— at Recuva— here, the fate of everything teetering at an edge.
No one would have guessed that it was all in the hands of Warren. It would never cross anyone’s mind.
But there it was, the impossible possible. And happening.
Warren wondered if he could even begin the process in the first place. If, he imagined, he could save those lives, from the careless destruction (which, he thought of again— and realized he was a tool in this selfish plot— erasing the memory, as he thought of once already, was a world ending crime in its own— and no one would know, such a big part completely gone from everything ever— he grew sick of the subject) of these gods, could he do it without erasing it all as they did so carelessly? Could he keep everything and erase only him?
Surely, being as unimportant as he was, his erasure could surely be less than world ending. Surely less than a molecule shifting. An atom barely jittering. At absolute zero, less than moving at all.
Eraserdawn.
Warren needed Eraserdawn.
A plan formulated—
Recuva was reality… simply erase its trait of… Warren… keep it all… and…
He was unsure how sound his logic was.
But no matter— he needed to find Eraserdawn. If it was on the Train— which, he had actually never considered he would be able to go on— then…
He could go to the Train.
A newfound freedom, all too late?
His fury washed away, and he grew a smile.
“I’ll be back,” he put a hand on Recuva, whispering.
Then, he wasn’t quite sure how— but he clicked onto the reality of the Train and materialized within it.
He felt lighter— of course, he couldn’t be there— but there was an instance of him there.
He glanced around.
Eraserdawn… there must’ve been a place to store those codes?
The Train was dark. No one was around, so lucky him.
He spent some time searching, then found a room full of Glass.
Immediately, he recognized all of them. It was like a little glint of light was all that was needed to give him insights to all the worlds that the Glass held within it.
Kinda cool.
He looked around once more, shifting boxes to the side, pushing little containers of Glass to the side to peek around. Nothing.
He stumbled into a lab, but that surely held nothing— so he left.
Someplace with a coffee table and a window.
…oh, hey, Vera’s room! Some noise was coming from it. He slowly shut the door. Hopefully Vera hadn’t heard him. Though, he wished he did.
Warren took small peeks into every room. He could barely recognize whose they were, but many people were sleeping— he figured, at least— and he felt like he was disturbing the peace.
He wandered into the atrium. Then, the kitchen. They wouldn’t have what was needed.
Warren wandered back to the hall full of rooms. Then, he wandered to an empty hall, where he found a library unfolding beyond an arch. Of course, he walked in.
Little blue, physical and holographic entries lined shelves— less industrial seeming, but more of thin metal, painted a sheen white— something one would see in a library.
Strangely, there were— Warren instantly knew them as binders, but not how he knew them as such. Then a little box of… they were USBs.
He knew them now as Hira and Ammi’s.
…
Wow, how strange of anything of theirs to be together at all!
It was concerning. The moment Warren waltzed onto the Train, information he didn’t even know he had came to him.
“H-hello?” A raspy voice called to him.
Warren turned around.
“…are…?” it was Vera. He was in pajamas. He tilted his head, obviously confused that he was seeing any Warren at all.
Warren glanced at himself. He realized he was a thinly glowing, transparent, deep blue silhouette of what he looked like, dotted with tiny sparkles like stars.
“Vera?” he asked.
“Warren?” was the answer.
“…yes, I’m Warren.”
Vera rubbed his eyes. “Wake up,” he muttered.
“I am very much awake.”
“What a Warren response. Can I fly?”
“…I don’t think you can fly.”
“WAIT A MINUTE IM GONNA TRY IT.”
Vera got a running start— then jumped and promptly fell.
Warren watched him fall. What.
“…owww…??? ‘Can’t fuckin’ believe it— not even in a dream?!”
“You’re not dreaming, if that’s what you think you’re doing. How strangely staged your behavior seems…”
“Staged?? Am I not dreaming??”
“You’re not dreaming, I hope.”
“YOU HOPE??”
“I do.”
“Wait. Is it— if you think you’re dreaming while you’re dreaming, doesn’t that mean you’re dead? Or is that the same thing but with mirrors or whatever?”
Warren paused. “…do you know where they keep the Codes?”
“…oh, nope. Fuckin’ Ammi always keeps everything a secret! Trust me, I…” Vera’s face went blank. Slowly, his eyes traced down to Warren’s leg.
Warren blinked. He glanced down at his leg.
“What about it? I managed to fix it. Does it look jarring?”
“—uh-uhm.” Vera muttered, covering his mouth and slowly crawling his fingers to his stomach, which he clutched terribly hard.
Warren stared at him. “Vera?”
“…I— wait, sorry, I’m—“ he shuttered. “—if I was dreaming, I should’ve woken up by now!”
“Are you scared? I'm not a ghost. I’m alive.”
“…but you shouldn’t be. I made sure you were dead, so I wouldn’t feel so bad…!” his voice rose. “I’m never getting out— I need to tell QD about this—“
Warren watched as he staggered away, then broke into a run— out of the library.
Vera wanted him dead? He never got to say how much he missed him.
Maybe he was really unimportant, after all. Maybe Vera just thought he was dreaming, and maybe it was messing with his mind.
Maybe he cared.
Warren broke into bitter tears. To even imagine to assume that someone cared about you— how lowly of an existence! Even as a god, he could come nowhere near.
He trembled, running through the library aimlessly. Codes must be somewhere around here.
It took much self-loathing, tragic thought of the Sea utterly being erased— the sudden remembrance that it would be good— he needed to do it.
After some time, he found the codes, and as easy as that— he found Eraserdawn and materialized at Recuva.
***
He thought about it long and hard.
It would be terrible to erase everyone for his own sake.
In fact, he would be no better than those gods that erased whenever they felt fit.
No more. It would be no more. Soon, nothing anymore— ever!
He felt awful.
He wanted to be free from his limbo of existence, but to feel happy, he would have to remove everyone’s happiness, everything—
What a price!
No one asked him if he wanted to pursue his destiny. He, all excited and far too innocent and uneducated, pursued it himself. He was never warned. And now, look what!
But he assumed it was destiny.
It would’ve happened any way.
There was really no escape, was there? From this past, that present, and that future over there.
He groaned, clutching Eraserdawn in his hands, clawing at his face and feeling his knees buckle.
What a pointless existence!
And yet, he wanted to be anything unlike them. He wanted to be kind— disappear without a trace, leaving nothing but Recuva and a spared timeline behind him.
Must there be a reality where he failed? Surely, in none.
It must be a guaranteed thing.
Leave, leave and now—
He wanted to simply be gone forever! How imprisoning was mortal flesh and haunting death. There was no way to describe the wake of destruction, the crushing of his feelings.
He trembled.
“—is there any way to be free? Oh, I’ve made such a mistake— I only want it all to be liberated, safe— and for me to go back, to have my soul repurposed into something new, beyond me— I am only a step in this staircase, a cog in this winding clock of me. My existence, this higher being— will I ever see myself again? I don’t want to look at my hands. I only want to move forward. Beyond beyond. Indescribably beyond. I want to recycle into this next world, this next plane, whatever that future holds.”
“…well, if you’re so sure about that…” the orb sparkled behind him.
Warren snapped around, clutching Eraserdawn like a madman.
“Woah. What are you doing with that? Put it down.” The orb sternly commanded. “Did you go onto the Train? I was told you were there.”
Warren’s eyes widened. “QD?”
“…great guess.” QD fizzled. “I’m so sorry I can’t appear to you in the form I wish to be in— the pit is very limiting— but look, here’s the thing.”
Warren now narrowed his eyes.
“I don’t want to fight you. Rather— to explain that you have no idea what you’re doing.”
“Does that mean I know what exactly what I’m doing?”
“You still have a lot left to learn, then…” QD hummed. “I was just about to tell you that you would move onto the next step, too. Become a full-fledged god! A deity.”
“Stop it. I don’t want to be a god anymore. I don’t want to pursue my destiny! I don’t even want to BE!”
“That would be a mistake. Just wait for a moment. I promise you, there is a way out planned. It might not be way you want, b—“
“—is it all planned? Is that what destiny is, then? I can’t make a choice that won’t be predetermined? It’s all recorded from the beginning?”
“…I knew you would say that.” QD chimed, sadly teasing.
Warren burned with a spree of hatred— how cruelly she answered!
“There IS no way out! I could NEVER be given that way out— you don’t know what it is— I just know you could never even come close— to guess— in nothing—-“
“Just let go of Eraserdawn, and we can talk about this. I told you I didn’t want to fight.”
“Are you scared? You told me you’re not a proper god. Am I? Is that what this is?”
QD barely flickered.
But the light in Warren’s head did.
“I’m going to fight you on this. I’m going to get my way one way or another— just let me spend my existence on what I want rather than what was planned for me— just once.”
“I’m sorry. That’s not what’s supposed to happen.”
“Supposed to? But what if it did?”
QD silently whirred. “I think some terrible things would happen. Only a guess. However, according to you, I’m not very good at that.”
“Well, then. Surprise me. Guess what I’m about to do next.”
They were silent for a moment.
QD stifled a chuckle. It sounded sad— knowing. Prepared.
Warren steadied himself— and commanded Eraserdawn to destroy the present.
Everything flashed for a moment— erase the present, while in the present— an irrepressible and infinite loop. It was almost like it all disappeared in an instant.
However, the stars visibly disappeared, the flowers— and behind him, Recuva became smaller and smaller.
Light refracted and crashed— the orb, QD’s form, flickered— just as Warren’s own. For a moment, he thought he could see her hold out her hand.
“DO NOT DO THIS! IT’S NOT WHAT YOU WANT!” she screamed.
Warren, however, knew better.
QD tried to repress the power as best as she could. But Warren guessed right— she was too weak, unable to— just not good enough.
Eraserdawn began to fold in on itself— exponentially, no— quadratically? It didn’t seem right. In many ways at once?
QD staggered back— he could see her now. The memory pit flashed colors until it was bottomless black. It faded into that dreadful, sickening white— nothing.
Then it flashed back again.
They were back to where they were.
QD pushed forward.
Recuva was back— the stars in the sky flashed again, the flowers— wind picked up. It billowed around them violently, slapping loose ends around them toyingly.
“STOP IT BEFORE IT BECOMES INFINITE!” QD warned. “PLEASE, JUST LISTEN TO ME!”
Warren didn’t know if he was doing the right thing. This was simply a distraction.
He felt an utterly rotting sense of bad. He was no better than them.
He erased his erasure— it all split off into its own branches now— and it was moments before the orb had revealed itself to him, moments before he had spoken aloud.
Eraserdawn was in his hands now.
Even if his sudden panic, sudden madness was erased— it was still a part of him. No matter what he would do from now on— his conscience would be guilty with the matter.
The new problem weighed on him. But at least it practically didn’t exist anymore.
It never happened, and yet it did. And he was still innocent yet dirtied.
If he, who also existed in the silver that danced across life and death, happened to be defined by those two paradoxes along with it— then, surely, his existence would have no effect on it all?
For a moment, he calmed himself.
What was he doing with Eraserdawn, anyways?
Oh, that’s right.
He looked inwardly in mere fractions of seconds.
He felt he had a pure heart. He had only been trapped, panicked and scared. He truly did not want anything to happen because of him— but he truly did not want him, either.
He only wanted to disappear. Have a fleeting moment of returning back to what he used to be— be pure despite it all.
The thought of his suddenly rewinding mucking up his purity and innocence rose high.
After all, was anything truly erased?
As long as he existed— no.
But if he didn’t— then yes.
It was a shame he had to leave with this feeling.
He wanted to leave kindly, without a trace.
“Recuva, do you forgive me?” he asked, placing a hand on Recuva.
Recuva must’ve said so. He felt somewhat at peace. It was only an accident.
Moved to tears, he decided that now was the time.
The sudden mess he was dragged into— and what he decided would become of it— all replayed.
This replayed.
Messy, as it all was, he observed. But it was time nonetheless.
With Eraserdawn in hand, he fought impossibilities to link his conscious with Recuva, to intertwine their beings.
They were connected already, weren’t they? His flowers grew Recuva— and it managed reality, and reality included him. If they connected into a circle of whatever it must’ve become— what then? Uncertainty…
He wished only to erase. To cut himself off of existence. To recycle his and become someone else’s. To stop being and to stop using ‘to be’.
It didn’t take much effort, being a god and all. The orb wasn’t even there.
Would anyone remember?
Would his recent mistake come to light? His destiny be repaved by he who had to exist?
He hoped not.
His life now replayed before him, as he managed the reality and erased its traits— tying loose ends as he did, finding those pockets of the Sea’s purity, sharing its wealth in his own way, fixing places where he must’ve been in the future, fixing it so that he was— really, he figured— there. Able to be remembered, but no longer existing at all. Another strange sense of limbo, another paradox he was defined by.
They would still remember him as he patched the broken ends. Only— never see him again.
Did that make sense?
Dear reader, it does not make any sort of sense— but Warren knew quite exactly what he was doing. Of course, I may make myself appear to be an idiot, and by telling you I am an idiot, you believe so— but it is because of me that it makes no sense and not Warren. So when I explain that it makes no sense, know perfectly well that I say it, and it is only said, not meant.
A fruitless, dry and tasteless end to Warren, it seemed. The moment he fixed the final, fatal error, he felt torn apart, light. A weight was removed. His chest brightened. Heavy as it was, his existence lifted itself from his shoulders. No more.
In his final state of being, after feeling past the physical and into the mental and or spiritual, he recalled what he wanted in the very end.
Repurpose.
Somewhere in that patched fabric, he sewed the hope that his new purpose would enjoy the life he wanted to give to it. The new life he wanted, whether the fruits he wished from it were given to him and realized or not— hopefully…
Hopefully it could enjoy its life just as he wished he could enjoy his.
The small climax dissipated, and Warren was sure it was not so full of tension or of glory. However, he never wished his life to be so grand, and was glad he could die out with such a mediocre extinguishing.
Everything was alright.
Recuva still existed.
So did all the Sea— he ensured so.
The only thing missing was him and that future over there.
Left behind was that memory.
***
With much wait…
His soul was soon repurposed.
He had learnt everything he wished to have learned.
And he was reborn on a staircase, knowing nothing of who he once was.