The plague of heart and soul corrupts the world, and the Cure of understanding trails slowly behind. After all, the dead can only move so fast.

The Cure moved slowly, trudging through the inky void before him. Two dim lights in the distance are the only signs of existence. He had been here for... weeks? Years? Time seemed blasphemous to the nature of the void he found himself in. Only the two dim lights in the distance helped him keep any semblance of identity.

There was no ground to step forward on. He just intended to move closer to the light, and he knew that, while slow, the lights were getting brighter. As he drew closer to the lights, he began to remember. Harley's recollection of his name woke him from the deluge of his mind. His name was Harley M. Quinn.

With that revelation, his life flashed before his eyes. He saw himself growing up in the deserts of California. His loving family, of whom he cared deeply for. His years in education, learning about the world around him. The time he spent making children laugh during hospital work. His fiancée who had proposed to him. His death. He screamed at the memory of his death. He felt for the gunshot wounds that should be covering his chest. The blood marks still stained his clothes, but the wounds were gone.

Where was he? Almost in response to his question, the lights answered by flashing him with blinding lights. When his vision finally returned, he saw two old women sitting in wooden rocking chairs. The lights that had blinded him were relegated to one side of each creature. They were rocking slowly and rhythmically. Their faces both looked kind and patient, but neither was human.

The woman on the left had what looked like goat legs covered with crimson-red fur. The fur traced up her frame to her midriff. Above that, she wore a grey cloth tunic with a red trim. She looked human except for two curled horns projecting out of the top of her forehead. They glistened in a golden sheen and emanated a soft light.

The woman on the right looked human, but her pale gray skin was reminiscent of stone. She was garbed in a simple black robe. He would have thought she was a sculpture if she had not been moving. Protruding from her back was a set of black wings. However, as he looked closer, he saw that each feather was a different color. Each seemed to vibrate with an energy that sparked joy within Harley's soul. The collage of color was so seamlessly melded that the wings appeared black.

They both spoke in unison. Both were gentle but with a power behind each word that felt like their voices could burn worlds.

"Well Child, you are the first. Come forth, and let us look upon you."

Wait, the first? Harley looked behind and saw legions of men and women, all slowly drawing closer to the lights he was in the presence of. They all looked desperate. Each had an aura that felt commanding. He saw kings, generals, heroes, and legends. Looking upon the concourses of such influential figures, Harley felt small. Again, both voices called out to him.

"Yes, you are small, but legends and power are not what we seek. Come forth!"

This time, the request turned to demand, and Harley found his legs moving despite his desire to stay exactly where he stood. The two women saw him. Their vision dissected every part of his existence. He felt naked, exposed to the bone, and knew these beings knew everything about him. Their voices separated. The Goat-woman stopped rocking and leaned forward.

"His life was well lived."

The winged woman spoke up.

"So have countless others. A life well lived is not what we seek."

"I know that, but a life well lived is the start. Without it, what we seek cannot exist."

"Yes, these last few eons have made that abundantly clear."

Harley felt like an amoeba under a microscope. His very soul being examined and judged by some unknown criteria. That thought made him indignant. The feelings of anger were quenched when the women's voices synchronized again.

"Calm yourself Child. Yes, we judge you, but the task you have been drawn to is vast, and we must judge to see if you are what we seek."

Harley spoke for the first time in a millennia, his voice unlocked by the emotions of his heart.

"Task? What task? Who are you? What are you?"

"We seek the Cure. Together we are simply known as the Guardians."

The Winged Woman pointed towards the Goat Woman and said, "She is a Kell."

The Goat-Woman pointed likewise towards the Winged-Woman and said, "She is a Seralith." Then, their voices resynchronized. “We are the Guardians of our respective races.”

"Are you looking for a Cure?" Harley asked.

"Yes."

"A cure for what?"

"A plague as old as sentience."

The old women's voices slow down and deepen slightly. The Kell woman looks to her counterpart, her voice in an unconcerned tone.

"The Cure has arrived."

The Seralith woman spoke.

"I see that. He comes, but he knows not what he seeks."

"Too true; mortal creatures need to be told."

They both look at Harley, their eyes hungry for answers. Their voices synchronized again.

"Look and behold the plague of souls, Cure. So many illnesses spread forth on this land. Whom will you save? For whom would you live? For whom would you die?"

Behind the women, the two lights began to expand. Their forms elongated until they look like golden circles hanging in the air. Their centers no longer blinding. Harley looked at the sight behind the Kell woman. He could see a massive swath of people who looked like the woman. Fleeting in number from an army clad in steel. Their rhythmic marching starkly contrasted the chaotic retreat of the Kell.

The steel-burdened army of the Seralith advanced on the Kell. Death and blood followed in their wake. Harley could feel the screams and fear radiating off of the fleeing people. There was no clash between competing forces; this was a heartless slaughter. As Harley began to drown in feelings of terror and grief, the portal went back to its blinding glare. Once Harley's vision cleared, he looked toward the women in wide-eyed exasperation. The portal behind the Seralith woman beckoned for his attention. He turned his eyes away, fearful of going through a similar horrid experience. The women spoke up quickly.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"Now, Child, is ignorance what you seek? Would your brother have wanted you to hide from him when he was sick?"

Harley wheeled on the women.

In anger he yelled, "I would never abandon my brother!"

"Then why abandon them?"

Harley began to think. Why was he afraid to look? There were always people in need of help. He knew atrocities happened every minute of every day. Was it because he didn't know these people? He couldn't help everyone. He was sure of that. So why was he looking away? Was it less painful? Harley's chest began to grow tight. They were right. Harley opened his eyes and stared into the next portal.

He could see death and misery yet again. Instead of quick and violent deaths this time, he witnessed slow, agonizing endings. People were starving, their frail forms barely clinging to life. He saw the sick crowded into the streets of a forlorn city; anger, resentment, rebellion. Harley's soul was filled with pity and hopelessness. He wished he could help them. His heart called out to answer the desperation in their eyes. Then, like before, the portal grew bright and returned to its original form.

"Why did you not wish to see them as you did the first?" The women asked with a guiding purpose.

"Because my heart is tired."

For the first time, the grandeur of the women's presence lessened. They each raised one hand, and a full-length mirror appeared before Harley. He looked at himself. The image in the mirror showed spectral chains coiled around his heart like a snake, forcing the tight pain of grief through his soul. The chains extended out from his heart and into the void.

They smiled and, in a gentle tone, spoke.

"We know, Child. The pain of loss; the pain of helplessness; the pains of existence. As time passes, the heart is dragged down by the weight of lost connections. Over time, they can harden into the worst kinds of chains. If you could Child, would you go back? Would you choose to never forge these bonds?"

The mirror was gone, and Harley was keenly aware of the chains anchored to his heart. He began to count them. Twenty-five. Twenty-five pure black chains tied his heart to the void below him. He could feel the constant and inevitable weight of the chains, but as he looked closer, he could see that each chain had a name. He tried to focus on the closet chain and saw the name; Daniel. The first kid he watched over in the hospital; the first one who died. He then went from chain to chain, seeing the names of all the children he had ever cared for. The ones who died.

He wept as the pain of those memories flooded his mind. Then, he began to see the happy moments. The first time, he saw a smile from each of the children. He never failed to get each child to smile. All the small moments coalesced. The chains did not have to be chains. They were the bindings that connected him to those he cared for. He would not, for a second, think of giving up the time he spent with them.

"I will never break these bonds. They are mine, and they are precious."

As he spoke those words, all the chains morphed into ribbons of gold and wound into his heart. Oh, he would carry the pain; he would never forget it, but he would also remember why the bonds were there to begin with.

The women spoke excitedly, "So the Child has seen his life, and his heart is full.” Their voices slowed and took on a grave tone, “Now we ask again. Whom shall you save?" They gestured at both of the portals. "For to save one is to doom the other. Now is the time to choose!"

The Kell woman stood up from the chair, her voice solemn and low, "Should you help my people, I will grant you boundless strength so that you may protect those you come to care for. So that you may crush your enemies. So that any army may fear your coming. I will grant you a long-lived life filled with food, wealth, and happiness."

The Seralith Woman then stood with her voice proud and indignant. "Should you help my people, I will grant you Insights into the Arcane, the secrets of the world and its mechanisms. That you may gain the wisdom for the problems before you. So that any secret of this world can be found. I will grant you passage to the lands of the dead to speak to those who would speak with you."

At the mention of the last boon, the Kell woman protested in outrage.

"You have not the power to grant passage. That is forbidden!"

"I have been given authority to do so."

The Kell eyed her counterpart. Then, with morbid curiosity, she asked. "What could you have possibly offered for that?"

"Why everything, of course."

The Kell woman's eyes widened, tears erupted, and she wailed into the void.

"You can't do this --------!" Harley heard a name, but his head grew cloudy, and the name slipped from his mind's grasp.

"I already have."

As suddenly as her outburst had come, she returned to her serene face. The only evidence of what had happened was drying on her face.

"Well, what's done is done. Well, Child, the offers are set. Whose people shall you help?"

Harley thought to himself. The time he pondered what was asked seemed to last for hours, but minutes later, he said confidently.

"I wish to help both of your people."

The women froze and grew testy. They spoke together.

"You cannot help both."

"Tough, I am doing it anyway."

They looked at him like a mother about to explain something to a tantruming toddler.

"You must pick a people, or else both shall be doomed. Only one of us can assist you."

"If it means having to sacrifice one people to save the other, neither deserves redemption. I will not choose one over the other. I don't care about your gifts of power and magic. I don't care about the other benefits you offer. I will gladly throw them away for a chance to help them both."

"Without us, you are but one person. One mortal! What can you do for them by yourself?"

Harley paused for a moment in thought, then answered plainly.

"I can make them laugh."

He looked at the women, daring them to challenge his declaration.

Their eyes were glaring death at him. An aura of anger descended on him, and for a bit, Harley thought he perhaps had screwed up. Then the aura stopped, and the void began to rumble. The women looked surprised and were looking around in confusion. A deep voice echoed out from the bottomless void. Its tone was full of mirth and happiness, it filled Harley's mind and he realized the shaking of the void was laughter.

"Well, Harley, that is what you would do. Very well, I shall let you try. This will hurt. Prepare yourself."

Harley felt pain. He felt tearing. He felt a headache that split his mind in two. The agony was relentless, and he felt like he would die all over again. The pain ended as quickly as it began, and confusion took its place. His vision swirled, and he saw his reflection. It did not copy his movements. He looked in shock to see another him moving with just as much confusion. The voice spoke again.

"Guardians... I have split Harley soul, the conundrum is solved. He has scorned your offers. He has refused your gifts. What say you to this?" The women looked at both Harleys, their anger from his earlier answer gone. Replaced with gentle tears and mournful smiles.

"To this rude and brave Child, we offer guidance. We offer advice in hours of need. We offer passage to the dead thrice. We offer our thanks." The women disappeared. The void grew silent, the only sound a hum of the portals. All that remained was Harley and the two portals....and another Harley. He looked at himself.

"Well, you ready for this?"

"Absolutely not."

"Yhea, well, at least we aren't wearing red shirts, so we won't die immediately."

"Do you think the blood counts?"

"Nah."

They both leaped into separate portals.

The Void thrummed with the commanding voice once again.

“SO IT BEGINS!”