Argrave expected much of the meeting with the suns. Would they be fiery twins, perhaps? Would they be warm, life-giving, generous? In the end, all of these assumptions were based on the idea that they were anything like a human being. That had been an entirely incorrect conclusion, to put it mildly.
Argrave had sought Lorena for some advice, seeing as she had conversed with the moon. She had claimed rather bizarrely that it was like swimming for the first time. That sensation of being stripped away from air and submerged into water challenged a lot of her preconceptions about the world. Argrave certainly didn’t recall receiving such a lasting impression from swimming, himself. This, however…
Upon connecting with the suns, Argrave quite literally exploded into light.
Argrave—rather painlessly, fortunately—was atomized, and exploded out into the entire universe as rays of solar energy. He could tangibly feel everything that he fell upon, and with the aid of the ‘cognizance’ of the suns, could also piece together what it was he was feeling well enough to construct a mental image. Their light, in one way or another, made it to everything. It saw all, even the unseen. It was probably the single most unsettling thing that Argrave had ever experienced, and considering his history that was saying a great deal.
It took him a very long while to be able to notice the presence of the suns all around him. Their existence was a vast network with a central nexus—that nexus being the giant balls of plasma they all saw in the sky from the planet. The existence of the suns wasn’t something that could be constrained with definitions such as thought or physical being. They hadn’t transcended life and death. Rather, it was as though they were a third category, a third state of being, removed from it all. When Argrave pried at it, seeking truth, he realized that to understand fully what they were would be to become it. He rather liked his present form too much to toss it away to be among the stars. Perhaps later.
The stars didn’t have desires, per se, but they did have functions, purposes. In a sense, it was a manifestation of what they were. They came into being like all life—not knowing how or why. But unlike living things, they knew their purpose and carried it out immediately. Their purpose was their life cycle itself; to come into being, to undergo countless reactions dictated by nature, and eventually reach the point where they ceased to be any longer.
Argrave could tell that, behind that seemingly meaningless existence, was something much larger. It was like being able to see only one thread of a grand tapestry. Argrave might be able to take a step back and view the grand weave of all existence, but in so doing he would lose what gave him that desire to learn of it. He would become like the stars—omnipresent, omniscient, yet simultaneously devoid of so much as to be essentially nonexistent.
Argrave did not embrace their way of being. In so doing, he retained the concepts that allowed to declare himself ‘alive.’ And by retaining these concepts, he was able to bring it forth before these two stars. They were unable to differentiate between rocks and people or animals and water. He showed them the difference, using his own soul as the bridge. More accurately, the corpse of the silver knight created of Lindon’s psyche was the bridge. Without it, this would never have worked.
Teaching the suns how to think was a very dangerous game, certainly, but fortunately they couldn’t do it without the presence of a third party that could. The silver knight acted as a medium of sorts for the both of them down below. The moment that he’d introduced the concept, like children, the suns tried to imitate it. The brainless beings couldn’t think—they could only carry out thermonuclear reactions inside their bodies like the big lovable idiots they were. They kept on trying to think without success, because they couldn’t learn that it wasn’t working. Again, he thought on their behalf, teaching them that they needed his soul to be able to think.
The moment they learned Argrave was necessary, it was like two great giants began to grasp at him. Their souls grabbed him, tried to squeeze the thought out of him like he was just a fruit with precious juice instead of a living thing. His undying soul made their efforts fruitless—as infant thinkers, their grip was about as strong as cotton candy.
Argrave crafted deliberate pathways of thought that he allowed the two stars to travel down. He hoped to extract information out of these all-seeing existences, to ask them questions, and to receive a satisfactory alternative to the proposal that Griffin had made to him. He knew there’d be an alternative path—he just needed light sufficient to see it, hidden away in the dark as it was.
In response… Argrave received elaborate reconstructions of paths their sunlight had travelled. They showed him truths that he’d never thought he’d have access to. It was a silent movie, and so difficult to understand as to be incomprehensible… but through them, he did eventually confirm something for himself.
The Heralds needed a soul to anchor to.
At first, it was only further confirmation that Griffin might’ve been right in what he suggested. Souls were what kept someone alive, kept someone able to think. Without them, they’d be as Argrave was—detached. And without his undying soul, he’d perish in moments, fading away into nothingness beneath the weight of the world. The only beings exempt from that were gods. They lacked souls entirely—their body was its own existence unto itself. That was why, when injured, their flesh turned into spirits.
Stolen novel; please report.
Eventually, though, Argrave came up with a rather unorthodox answer too all of this. With some finessing, some finagling, some selective application of thought, he decided to help the suns along on their pathway of change. These stars wanted to—or at least, their purpose was to—go through their lifecycle, right?
Well… perhaps it was time to accelerate that, no matter how many laws of nature that they needed to break. He’d gained access to a grand network that spanned the entire world—and it would be a shame not to take advantage of that.
#####
Anneliese watched the two suns, ever a constant in her life, violently collide. The event was of such a scale that she did wonder if Argrave had lost his mind up there, and decided to destroy it all to beat Gerechtigkeit to the punch. The flares of bright light had come first, and after them, sound and shaking.
Intense heat ravaged the world. It felt like an oven, and it smelled like the atmosphere was burning. The only thing keeping her from doing something in desperate fear was Argrave standing there, smiling brightly, as if the light didn’t burn his eyes and the tremorous heat didn’t bother him.
Eventually… it did subside. The only thing she could hear was a constant ringing in her ears, and her eyes danced with dappled grays and whites as they were finally spared the intensity of the light. Her vision was the first thing to return, and when it did… it felt as though everything had grown dimmer, darker. The sky began to change, as if in a sunset. The suns remained just above, in the position of midday. She dared to look at them again, only to realize that they were no longer ‘them.’ Rather, a single, solitary sun stood high in the sky.
And it was fading quite quickly, leaving only empty sky behind.
“In the business, they call that a ‘merger of equals,’” Argrave said in joking explanation, his voice barely piercing the ringing in her ears.
When she looked around, Anneliese realized that she was among the small few still standing on their feet. Raven, too, watched the sun above. Beyond that, everyone had sought cover.
“What did you do?” Anneliese asked, her voice trembling.
“Made physicists everywhere turn in their grave, mumbling curses about the formulas they need to rewrite,” Argrave said. “I just gave the suns some commands, that’s all. You can do a lot with thinking stars. A little direction, that’s all. But the best is yet to come.”
“It’s fading,” Raven said neutrally. “Why is that?”
“It doesn’t generate light anymore,” Argrave said. “Rather, it takes. And I’m not talking about light.”
Right before Anneliese’s eyes, she saw Argrave’s soul leave his body. Her eyes widened in alarm, but he didn’t collapse—rather, he stayed as he was, sitting down, staring above with wonderment. She followed his soul with her eyes, before she saw her own dart out of her body. Instinctively, she grasped at it… yet her hands met nothing. She felt deprived of nothing, despite the evidence before her eyes.
“What is this?!” Raven shouted.
“Relax,” Argrave calmed casually. “You’re fine, aren’t you?”
As Anneliese watched, millions, billions, trillions of souls started to flow up into the air as brilliant tendrils of gold. In time, as the others gathered their wits and looked up to the sky, she realized she wasn’t alone in seeing this. Everywhere, all around the world, souls rose up into the heavens. They replaced the fading light, casting a brilliant golden hue upon the darkening skies. Streaks of gold filled a dark sky, giving light where there once was darkness.
It was one of the most beautiful things she’d seen.
In time, Anneliese saw these wispy tendrils of gold converge where the suns had been. A brilliant golden disc began to take shape in the sky, gleaming faintly. It gained light second by second as more souls rose up to join it. Eventually, only wayward dots of gold joined it… and the new sun became just as bright as both had once been.
“The Heralds, Gerechtigkeit…” Argrave said, standing over the silver knight. “They need a soul to interface with. Now, the only path to do so lies through me. The suns—or whatever they’ve become—capture the souls of every living thing that is and will be. They take them away, keeping them safe, and allow people to access them through the network of light. So long as the energy that was inside those two suns lasts, nothing will ever again have the option to interfere with the lives of living beings. From the smallest cat, to the tallest man… the only way to speak to them is to speak to me. As for myself, well… let’s say I took some direction from you, Raven.”
Argrave touched the silver knight’s body, and it crumbled to ash. Anneliese could see no more power remaining within it. Rather, it had all migrated to Argrave. Where his brilliant soul had once been was a gateway to something unimaginable.
“What does that mean?” Raven questioned.
“Anything that even tries to touch my soul will be met with the might of every living soul, all at once.” Argrave smiled. “A deluge of mental energy enough to wipe away anyone.”
“You took the souls of every living being?” Elenore asked quietly, still somewhat in shock.
“I… nationalized them, let’s say. Every living being can access them through the energy of the new sun above. But they’ll never again be accessed by something else.” Argrave looked around until he saw Orion, then helped the man rise to his feet. “It’s not without flaws. Druidic magic, soul magic—it no longer exists. But it also means that the Gilderwatchers are free. It means the Heralds can’t ever again make their voice heard, to anyone.” Argrave exhaled, like a great weight had been lifted off him. She could tell from his expression he meant to shoulder another burden. “And lastly… it means we’ve got a hell of a lot to do.”