The impact D’Argen was waiting for never came. One moment he was falling, the wind whipping at his hair and robes and trying to steal Lilian from his embrace, and the next moment… he was lying down.

He refused to let go of Lilian even when they pushed against his chest. Then he remembered the sword and he let go of them out of reflex. Lilian sat up. There was no sword in their hands. They rested both hands on D’Argen’s chest, keeping him lying prone in that empty white space that surrounded them both. The strange sensations he felt before were gone. D’Argen felt like he was lying on sand.

“Why did you do that?” Lilian asked. Their voice was weak and trembling with the tears that threatened to spill out of their eyes.

D’Argen reached up and brushed under one eye. A few drops escaped when he put pressure on their cheek, and they soaked into the leather of his glove. They felt more real than anything he had experienced in such a long time.

“Stop that.” Lilian brushed his hand away, then wiped both eyes. “Why did you do that?”

“It felt right,” D’Argen answered with a shrug.

“That is not reason enough to kill yourself.” Lilian started to sound angry.

“I knew I wouldn’t die,” D’Argen lied. When Lilian glared at him, he corrected himself and said, “I believed.”

“I did not want you here,” Lilian said and crossed their arms over their chest.

D’Argen finally sat up though Lilian refused to move off his lap.

“I tried to get you out of here as fast as I could last time. You should not—”

“Where is here?” D’Argen interrupted them.

Lilian tensed and looked around them. There was nothing at all. It was the same white as before, lacking the cracks and the silhouettes D’Argen had seen the last time.

“You do not belong here. Not yet,” Lilian said with a frown.

“I do not belong there,” D’Argen tacked on then asked again, “Where is here?”

“It is… nowhere and everywhere at once.”

“Do not speak to me in riddles, Lilian. It does not suit you,” D’Argen said, speaking slowly and making sure to enunciate every syllable.

“Dying does not suit you!” They snapped back at him with another glare. “You should not be here.”

“Where is here?!” D’Argen growled out the question, finally feeling the anger and frustration taking over his elation at having Lilian in his arms again.

“It is the realm between realms,” Lilian answered. Their words drained all the anger out of D’Argen. “It is not where we came from and not where we are.”

“Between realms?” D’Argen asked. “What does that mean?”

“It is where we go when we die. To be together.”

D’Argen sobered up completely and looked around him again at the empty white. “Am I dead?” he asked.

“No. Not really. And you will not be for a long time, if I have a say in it. Which is why you need to leave here. Now.” Lilian finally got up off of him and then held a hand down to him. When D’Argen took it, they helped heave him up, but it felt more strained than D’Argen was used to. There was no breeze to lift out from under him and Lilian’s grip was so delicate.

“When I leave here, will I go back to…” D’Argen trailed off. As much as this space scared him, the thought of being with the false Vah’mor, the realm without Lilian and Thar in it, was even scarier.

“For just a bit longer,” Lilian answered.

“What do you know? What is this? Are you the Lilian from now or from before?”

“The now is not real,” Lilian said. “The place you will return to. It is not real. It never was and never will be. But you have to remain—”

“What does that mean? What is that place then?” D’Argen asked. “Which version should I believe?”

“All of it. None of it. Look, things are a lot more complicated than just—”

“Then tell me!” D’Argen interrupted them again, this time with a shout. “You clearly know what is happening here. Tell me before I truly go insane and lose myself to this.”

Lilian frowned. They crossed their arms over their chest again and looked around them.

“Come with me,” Lilian finally said. They turned around and started walking.

D’Argen felt his frustrations mount even higher. There was nothing here. “Why is that white spot different than this one?!” he yelled.

Lilian stopped and looked at him. After a moment, they smiled. “This is how I know you do not belong here. Not yet. What do you see around us?”

“What? Nothing. There is nothing here. It is just… white!”

“You do not see the river?” Lilian asked and pointed behind D’Argen.

He turned to see where they pointed and then startled. Gentle ripples were sliding through the white and he could even see the grains from the sand he felt earlier. All of it was still white, faint outlines only, but it was there.

“And the forest before me?” Lilian’s voice brought his attention back to them and then over their shoulder where he saw the numerous outlines of trees.

“We are not safe here. We are at the centre, so they will find us soon.”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“Who?” D’Argen asked, but he still followed when Lilian started walking again.

“The dead.”

He hit a tree.

“Are you not one of them?” he asked the question quietly.

“I am still new here,” Lilian answered with a familiar grin over their shoulder. “It does not have a hold over me yet. Not as strong as the others. And especially not when—”

“It? Who? Who are the others?”

“Look, I know you have a lot of questions, but my answers are even more. Just know this: when we die, we come here. This is not the gods’ realm – it is not our home how I thought it would be. But at the same time… it is.”

“You’re making no sense! Why are you speaking so cryptically and—”

“Because I remember,” Lilian interrupted him. “I remember everything. I remember when we fell and before that. I remember the realm we lived in before we destroyed it and came down to the mortal one. I remember what caused our fall and why we do not remember it until death. And I know that you do not, so speaking without context will confuse you even more.”

“What?” D’Argen barely breathed the word out. A shiver ran down his spine.

“I do not want you to stay here too long. I am not sure what will happen, but I feel that if you stay here too long, it may actually kill you.”

Lilian stopped walking suddenly and though the outlines of trees had not changed since D’Argen first saw them, he watched Lilian reach into one of the trees and pull it apart. It turned into a door and the outlines bled away to become a wall. When D’Argen stepped in, he was standing in Lilian’s rooms at the castle of Evadia. The same place where Lilian—

“I apologize for how much it harmed you, but I feel comfort in this memory,” Lilian said.

D’Argen saw the upturned settee where he had been waiting with Yaling and Abbot to hear about Lilian’s status. The wallpaper and curtains were ripped from their winds. There were dark splotches on the carpet from their blood. D’Argen turned his eyes away. Lilian opened the other set of doors, the ones leading to their sleeping chambre, and D’Argen startled.

The first thing he noticed were the colours. Then he saw himself sitting at the edge of Lilian’s bed and holding their hand while Simeal bandaged the other arm. The Lilian not lying in the bed and devoid of colour moved to a chair in the corner and curled up in it.

“Is this… is this place your memory?”

“It is everybody’s memories,” Lilian answered. “It is the mahee’s memories.”

“What?”

“The mahee is one. You know this.”

“I know this.”

“Well, the mahee has always been one. And, long ago, it was not split apart as it is now.”

“Okay. You’re going to have to stop speaking in riddles and just—”

“Just listen,” Lilian interrupted him with a glare. “Look.” They pointed to the bed.

D’Argen did not need to relive this memory. It was terrifying enough the first time. Yet he remained quiet and watched. The doors opened behind him, and he stepped out of the way just as Acela strode into the room. Then he saw something that made no sense.

Acela spoke though her words did not reach his ears, but the scent of her mahee became a visible thing. It was tendrils of black, like whips of ink in the air, that spilled out of her and reached for D’Argen. They wrapped around him as Acela ordered him to leave. Then D’Argen watched his coloured version say something and those tendrils turned to wisps of smoke, dissipating in the air between them. Acela startled. D’Argen listened to what the Lilian lying in bed said, then stood up.

The world blinked and Acela was no longer in the room. The coloured version of D’Argen was sitting and holding Lilian’s hand once more and Simeal had started bandaging Lilian’s other arm all over again.

“What was that?” D’Argen gasped.

Lilian said nothing.

The doors burst open, and Acela strode in. The black tendrils came out to reach for his coloured version then dissipated again. Acela startled. D’Argen rose. The world blinked.

“What is this?” D’Argen asked the Lilian sitting in the chair in the corner.

“My favourite memory of the mortal realm,” Lilian answered after the third time the coloured version of D’Argen made the black tendrils turn to wisps of smoke. “This was you, rejecting the mahee.”

D’Argen stared as the memory looped once more. The black tendrils that came out of Acela and reached for D’Argen. They looked so much like how the mahee looked during the conference when they all combined and became one with Acela’s spell. He watched those tendrils dissipate in the reverse of how the silhouettes turned from outlines to black shapes the last time he was in the white space.

“That is her mahee?” D’Argen asked when Acela burst in again and the tendrils appeared.

“That is the mahee,” Lilian corrected him. This time, when the loop ended and the world blinked, the room was devoid of both people and colour. Lilian got up from their chair and sat at the edge of the bed, right in front of D’Argen.

“Explain. Please,” he prompted.

“The mahee has always been one. It just… split itself up into different parts. And that was before our fall, before we came to the mortal realm and each piece of the mahee gained a container like those around it. Before we gained our forms, as we have them now, delicate and breakable. Yes, hard to break, but possible.”

D’Argen’s head started pounding. “Then what is the purpose of the statues?” he asked.

Lilian smirked and nodded. “Finally, the right questions. Mahee calls to mahee. When one of us dies, their piece of the mahee searches for a likeness and joins it. A drop of blood from the original container is stronger than a whole new container. The blood vials, the ashes, the entire ritual and the statues, they prevent the pieces of the mahee from merging together.”

“And then to come here?”

Lilian nodded in answer.

“And, sometimes, the mahee itself knows that it should be here when it already is merged with another.” Lilian’s words only made his head hurt more. “My piece of the mahee is not here, nor in any statue keeping it from merging with the others,” Lilian answered then smirked. “Well, it is now, but it should not be.”

“What do you—” D’Argen cut himself off when he noticed Lilian’s eyes focused on his chest. He reached up and clutched at it. The vial of Lilian’s blood—he remembered when Lilian gave it to him centuries ago, asking him to keep it safe. It had become more a part of him than his hair and his nails and his bones. He often forgot it was on him. Then he remembered the scrap of paper with Lilian’s and Thar’s names scrawled on it. That was not real. Even when he clutched at his chest, he could not feel the crinkle of worn paper.

But he knew neither of those was what Lilian was looking at.

“Your mahee,” he gasped out. “It’s inside me.”

Lilian nodded. “And Thar,” they added on. “I reached for you without thinking. My mahee reached for that vial you always carry. But you… you and Thar did something. I do not know what, I still do not understand it, but instead of the vial my mahee went into both you and Thar. And I am so glad it did, now that I have seen this place.”

“What does that mean?”

“I am here, but I am not all here. My… my container is here, but not what made me part of the whole. Not what made me part of the one. Not most of it. Which is also, why, I am not one of the dead here. Not yet.”

The room around them shimmered and the outlines and edges turned into gentle waves that faded away. Lilian stood up just as the bed under them disappeared. “They know you are here. They found you.” Lilian gasped and they sounded scared.

“They?” he asked. “The dead?”

“Come. I do not want you to stay here for too long, but if you want answers, we must run.”

“From whom?!” D’Argen asked, at the end of his rope. “They were our friends and—”

“Too long,” Lilian interrupted him. “Too long ago and they have been—” Before Lilian could explain more, the white around them shimmered and a silhouette appeared. It cleared and colour bled into it, the soft lavender and pink that Tassikar liked to dye his hair and the matching amethyst of his eyes. A moment later, the colours faded to the grey D’Argen was more familiar with.

Tassikar. The first of them to die. The one who had been in this place the longest.

Lilian grabbed D’Argen’s hand and whispered, “Run.”

D’Argen did not even think to question it. He reached inside himself and opened his mahee as wide as he could. It screamed and tore but it also laughed. The white around him shifted as if he was standing on the spot and Tassikar faded away into the distance. Lilian remained by his side even when D’Argen finally realized what was happening and Tassikar’s figure disappeared from view.

Somehow, he stopped, though he felt like he had not run at all.

“That was Tassikar! Last time he—”

“That was not Tassikar,” Lilian corrected him.