Many questions run in my head every hour.

Who am I? This has been answered.

What am I? This… also has been answered. At the very least, to everyone around me.

Where am I? Another question that has been answered. It was supposed to be. For my parents, my sister, this world. For me. Yet, I find myself having doubts. What if it is a dream? What if all this, this new life of mine, this place. Everything is nothing but a realistic dream, all formed to keep me away from something? I don’t understand why these words come to mind. I don’t know why I feel… so off.

I feel blank. Void. Empty. Feeling full of nothingness. If that last one even makes sense.

Remembering nothing about myself, yet retaining enough common sense to understand my surroundings.

A blank canvas. That knows how to stretch, how to interact with the paint, and how to dry.

That’s who I feel I am.

Well… such philosophical questions have to be put on hold now. After an entire day spent watching different types of grass and bushes, it was now time to see some magic. Or physics bending, whichever word suited the taste.

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The carriage that I had been travelling on for the past 15 or more minutes came to a halt; right in front of the soaring steps. I gave the payment to the driver before hopping off. The sun was nearly blinding; the rays illuminated the Pillars of Creation statues. Magnificent in all their glory, yet telling of a tragic tale. At least that's what I considered them as.

Taking quick strides — I was hungry for answers— I made my way to the giant doors. I stepped through the small opening with no obstruction. Unlike last time. I still did not understand why I had been forced to a stop in the entrance. And I didn’t have the presence of mind to ask anyone about it. Today was the day I would, I supposed.

A step in, and the world inside flourished before me, darkness seeping away to the corners.

I had given a proper look, a stare even, to the interior of this cathedral. Yet, no matter how many times I feasted my eyes upon this reality defying space, I could not help but shudder. What was all this made from? Magic? No a better question.

WHO made this? Do these people even have such strength? Such capability?

“Ah! Eon.” An elder nearly materialized behind me. Actually never mind; I was probably too busy admiring the scenery to notice when he had come up from behind… or not? Why would he exclaim after seeing me then?

I kept my questions to myself. Turning to the side, I bowed slightly. “Good evening elder. Though.. I believe it would be better if I had an actual name to call you by now.” Best to keep myself polite. This man is capable of materializing random things in this space, and I need answers that may or may not offend him. I do not want to test whether he can erase natural stuff from here or not.

“Veritas. Dux Veritas.” He told me of his name. “I will call you Elder Veritas then.” He nods, not really paying attention to me.

Still… Veritas eh? If I remember correctly — or at least believe the memories and information this body stores— Veritas stands for Reality in Latin. A priest… bishop? Whatever rank he is in this religion, he seems to be keen on searching for the truth. Following principals, searching for the shape of reality.

An Elder that guides you to reality. Elder Veritas. That has a very good ring to it.

“Can I request you to join me for a bit Eon? Let’s pray to the Pillars.” Elder Veritas gestured for me to follow him as he made way to the the center of this space. And so I did. We could take care of my questions afterwards. Still… are the prayer times different everyday?

“You seem to have forgotten bits of our discussions, young man. Time. It flows differently here.” He responded to my question in such manner. And he wasn’t wrong. For some reason, I hadn’t been thinking straight for the past few hours, caught up in the questions for my existence.

Elder Veritas came to a halt, right below the hanging, reversed cross. With a nod to me, he brought his hands near his chest, the palms and fingers gripping each other in their vice. With his head bowed, he slowly knelt on one knee, his countenance facing towards the statue of the little girl at the back of the cathedral.

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I copied his steps, and closed my eyes. Few moments passed. Soon, shivers crept up my spine, goosebumps crawling all over my skin. The once black, empty sight that accompanied my closed eyes now bathed in hues of golden. Clear and pristine water splashing as the backdrop. Sounds of gears turning occupied my ears, each turn breathing new life into my existence.

The gears kept turning.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

I kept counting, and time passed. Still kneeling in the same pose, praying — or rather — counting turns of the gears.

After what felt like an instant yet also an eternity, after nine hundred and ninety turns. Elder Veritas spoke. Nay, he prayed, he sung. His voice shimmered through the waters, ripples spreading throughout the space.

[You break, you creep, you cry.

You stake, you sleep, you try.

Taken from the abyss is your name,

Taken from the heavens is your game.]

Each word enunciated, each word held with strength.

[You awake to grant strength, yet your sleep breathes life into the world.

You awake to grant wishes, yet your delusions are the fate that has been foretold.

Heads bathe in the rising dusk, each wishing for a better day,

For some it succeeds, the rest bleed in rejections and nays.]

I slowly slipped into a trance, the hymns and prayers clearing my mind.

[Oh, the Goddess of Wishes, a mortal has bespoken your name.]

Goddess of Wishes. I now knew the official title for the little girl.

[Oh, the God of Dreams, a mortal has bespoken your name.]

“…”

“…”

How? Why?

[Grant your child your blessings, through the fierce and the tame,

With your grace on our shoulders, may life forever remain the same.

May life forever remain the same.

May life forever remain the same.]

I pried my eyes open. Well, I tried to. Yet they remained shut. My posture remained unmoving, uncaring of my mental turmoil. I could not even grief for my lack of control, my mind remained in peace. No matter the questions, no matter the revelation, no matter the doubts. No matter the deceptions. Always, clear.

Time passed. How long? I did not know. It could have been 20 minutes, or it could have been 2 hours. I did not care, nor did I have the ability to. I needed answers. With the debilitating silence and peace roaming rent free in my mind, I succumbed to a trance once again.

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Soon, I found the strength to open my eyes. Slowly adjusting to the scene, I stood up. A breath in, and a breath out. The transparent water rippled and splashed with every step, the dark gold and black ambience striking ethereal beauty into one’s heart.

“…”

“Elder Veritas.” I called out to the old man in front of me. He stood silent for a bit, eyes closed.

“Is your mental turmoil calmed, young man?” He spoke after what I could only feel to be akin to eternity. As for my mental turmoil…

“I have questions. Many of them.”

“Your mind is calm nonetheless. Is it not?”

“It is.”

“Did you feel the strength?”

“Strength? Oh, yes. I did.”

“Great. Give me a minute.”

I stepped aside, watching him unfold his hands and work his magic. The water splashed and rippled once more, space warping and whirlpooling. All gave way to a table set. We took seats on either sides of the table, as we had once done yesterday.

“Is this how it looked in your visions?” He asked as he manifested a tea pot and and two cups.

“…aside from us being inside a cathedral, and drinking tea, yes.” This was weird. Why did he suddenly focus on those visions? Sigh.

“This is how it looked. But it is not the focus of my inquiries.” I stated while straightening my posture.

“No problem young man. Ask away.” Okay. Here is the first question.

“This faith of ours, does it treat the humans and the demons equally?” My discussions yesterday had given me much to think about, much to brood over. Knowing that demons were more than simple tales and pictures to send children to bed, many possibilities and theories opened their doors.

The Elder stared at me for quite a bit, then resumed his drink. A sip or two later, he answered.

“Why do you ask this question?”

“The pillar of creation, [Goddess of Wishes], as you have said-....?"

Cough! Cough!

I expected him to stay silent, let me complete my words. If not, at least stop me from evoking the name of the mythical being in a casual manner. Or berate me for not showing respect, or guide me. There were a multitude of things he could have done, or not done.

But expressing enough shock and surprise to choke on tea? Staring wide eyed at me, waiting? Waiting for what?

“…”

“Is there any problem, Elder Veritas?” I asked. The silence had grown uncomfortable with just the gears turning.

He blinked. Once, twice. A few times more before he closed his eyes and put his cup down. Adjusting his seating once again, he told; far solemnly than I had ever heard.

“Young man… you are the only one I have seen capable of evoking the name of the Pillars outside of prayers.”

“…”

“The only one.”