Interlude #3

An enigmatic vessel drifts through the darkness of space, its sleek form encircled by seven colossal, silvery metallic rings, each of them being several miles in circumference. The ship, like a sinuous eel, undulates through space as it propels itself, like it is swimming through dark waters which reflect the stars overhead. At the helm, a strange creature lurks.

The pilot's insect-like arms, sinuous and agile, dance across the numerous control panels surrounding it with incredible efficiency. Each appendage, a marvel of biomechanical design, comprises multiple segments and joints that articulate with fluidic precision. Illuminated panels, marked with intricate glyphs and symbols, respond to the pilot's touch, emanating a soft, pulsating glow that bathes the cockpit in an otherworldly light.

The creature's head is expansive and circular, adorned with six bulbous compound eyes reminiscent of glowing gemstones. Each eye captures fragments of an unseen cosmic tapestry, granting the pilot an unparalleled view of the universe unfolding around it.

Just beneath this array of eyes, nestled along the bottom of its head, lies three wide, bird-like bills. They are predominantly smooth and the color of berry stained lips. The bills are fringed with delicate filaments that extend from its edges, dancing and undulating in the unseen currents of solar winds.

The pilot's main body is only a mere meter in length and is draped in wiry, yet surprisingly soft dark brown fur, the color of fertile soil. However, this creature's torso is far from simply cylindrical; it bulges with knobby muscles, their symmetrical yet undeniable pattern creating intriguing contours beneath the fur.

At the top of the torso, bulging shoulders fully circle the head, completely obscuring any semblance of a neck the being might have. From these muscular shoulders sprout numerous appendages, forming a complete 360-degree circumference of ambulatory appendages.

The torso abruptly terminates with a rounded bottom, from which protrude four slender, hairless, chitin-covered legs. These legs extend downward and away from the body at a severe angle before bending backward upon what one might call a knee. They then come together at another, more central joint, where they meet and interlock; forming what appears to be an inverted foldable chair on which the pilot rests.

At the end of each leg are dark, split hooves coated with a strange translucent slime on their undersides. This ooze somehow allows the creature's hooves to maintain traction on top of the polished, reflective obsidian metallic floor, preventing any slipping or loosening of the legs to which the creature sits upon.

The back of the creature, the part which faces away from the main display which is now showing the nebulaic gasses through which the ship now travels, is the most peculiar feature of all.

The fur abruptly ends to reveal an oblong circle of flesh. Within this circle, the skin is a dark pink color with angry red wrinkles and misshapen folds, resembling an old healed burn. From this mangled flesh protrudes a strange, distorted, yet somewhat humanoid visage.

Its milky eyes appear unfocused, each seeming to gaze in different directions. The nose and mouth are situated at irregular intervals along the asymmetrical face, and both orifices are bent in an abnormal manner.

A short arm with four misshapen fingers emerges from the head where the left ear would typically be, while a slightly longer appendage is positioned along the bottom right side of the face, this one terminating in a singular nub with a dark jewel at the end.

These limbs twitch spasmodically, even though there is no clavicle or torso to speak of; yet a singular foot extends downward from the bottom of the ovular area of exposed skin. The foot has only three toes, each terminating in a sharp, bent nail.

From the center of the fleshy oval, there is also a long tube jutting outward. It is pliable, the flesh much more peach in color along it but also In places, it bulges with purple veins as it throbs and twitches while descending to the floor.

The long hose sags down the back of the alien creature where it lays flaccid for several feet. The tube ends in a slightly larger, mushroom-shaped knob with a small hole directly in the center. A semi-translucent, viscous fluid leaks continually from it.

The secondary creature-like being, protruding from the burnt oval along the back of the pilot, suddenly opens its eyes wide and turns its head towards Jarow, its gaze fixating on a singular location as though noticing something for the first time.

Jarow felt a chill as he met the creature's gaze, realizing he was in the presence of something truly alien.

The distorted being spoke, its voice a jarring contrast to its deformed appearance. It carried an air of age and wisdom, devoid of any discernible accent, filling the room with its echoing resonance.

"Welcome, Jarow. It's good to finally meet you in person," the strange creature spoke with an unsettling calmness, as if its appearance were entirely normal.

Jarow was left speechless, literally. His physical form was nonexistent. Though he could see and hear, he lacked a face or body, yet his consciousness remained intact.

"I understand you have many questions, and I'll provide answers where I can. However, some knowledge must remain withheld for now," the deformed face continued to say in its sage-like voice, the words offering glimpses into an unknowable future.

The front viewscreen of the ship displayed a distant wave of multicolored light, drawing Jarow's attention. In a matter of seconds, the light engulfed the starship, passing through it with astonishing speed. Jarow barely had time to register the wave's presence before everything around him, including the alien creature he had been conversing with, simply disintegrated.

Suddenly he found himself alone in the vast emptiness of space, Jarow peered around and found himself in total darkness, surrounded only by the faint glimmer of distant stars. The sheer number of stars was overwhelming, stretching out endlessly before him. For a fleeting moment, he was floating within the vastness of space, until his focus abruptly shifted and the stars streaked away.

Then there was only dark, he was then trapped within the void and time seemed to stretch on indefinitely, though he inherently knew it had actually only been a fraction of a second. The darkness pressed in around him, suffocating and impenetrable. Finally, like a beacon in the abyss, a dim light emerged at the end of the tunnel.

He was now in a stalactite-forming cave. The large mineral spears pointed downward, obscuring the path to the exit, which was now discernable as the light rescuing him from the void. The dripping of calcium-rich water could be heard echoing from all directions.

A small winged creature stretched from its upside-down vertical perch and looked at Jarow with peculiar triangularly shaped eyes. It hung from the ceiling of the cave as it yawned wide, revealing small sharp teeth. It continued the conversation in the same voice from the deformed creature on the back of the ships’ alien pilot.

"I am the being responsible for the more unique messages you have received in your user interface. I have been guiding you here as best I could." The creature said and extended its wings. It shook the water off of them then continued to speak. "I wish to congratulate you on being able to gather the two relics you have thus far, as well as the unique way you have combined them."

The creature fell from the ceiling and turned in midair before flapping its wings and moving forward. Jarow's presence followed along behind the bat-like creature as it careened through the downward-facing spears of rock, dodging and sliding around them as if it had taken this very path a thousand times before.

"There is still one thing you must do before your quest comes to an end," the voice continued, seemingly unaffected by the movement of the creature or the sound of the wind passing by.

The cave came to an abrupt end, and Jarow exited, still following the path of the bat. The cave was set high upon the side of a mountain, and as he shot forward from the exit. Around him he could see once again a dark sky filled with stars.

There was a large silver moon that hung high in the sky, as well as a smaller pinkish moon below it. In the distance, a colorful nebula of gasses could be seen swirling and forming into a new heavenly object.

Below, Jarow saw a forest of dark trees open up before him. A large, snake-like river split the forest in two as it snaked its way through the trees. The silvery light from the large moon reflected off of it, making it look like it was filled with liquid mercury.

Although instead of following the winged creature into the sky, Jarow fell. The forest of trees moved up to meet him rapidly, and within seconds, he was surrounded by unrecognizable green leaves and barky brown tree branches. He suddenly dropped down through and out of the branches only to find himself in another world entirely.

Now, a large desert spread out before him. The pinkish sand below was stained yellow by the tangerine sun beating down upon it from above. Jarow sat upon a large black rock and could feel the waves of heat radiating off of it, the waves surging through his nonexistent body. The rock was the singular stone set within this sea of sand.

An orifice opened just below where Jarow's consciousness hovered. The black of the rock split open, revealing a small maw with pearly white, yet artificially sharpened teeth. The man's voice from before spoke once again, now coming from this rocky orifice.

"Before you can progress further, you must make a choice," the voice informed him. "There is a reason for all these things which you have experienced thus far to have happened. But now the time has come for you to decide whether you are the person I believe you are, or whether you need to be returned."

Jarow looked down at the maw, unsure of what to say or do. He had no idea what the man was talking about, or what he was supposed to choose.

Then his consciousness descended. It seemed to shrink and enter the mouth from which the man’s voice had just come from. Jarow heard more than saw the mouth close around him. Once again he was surrounded by darkness, deep and heavy but this was different, familiar somehow, like being back within the womb.

Without feeling a further transition, Jarow slowly opened his eyes, flinching as the bright fluorescent lights in the ceiling seared them. He squeezed his eyelids shut again, the sudden brightness assaulting his senses. When he finally opened them cautiously, he took in again the white paneled ceiling above him. His body tingled with a dull ache, but felt completely numb and heavy as well.

It was an all too familiar ceiling to him, he was in a hospital, as he had been hundreds of times throughout his short life. He could hear the whir of the IV machine as it pumped drugs into his veins. Then the buzzing of the blood pressure machine as it began its cycle. The all too familiar pinch around his arm from the pressure cuff. He felt his pulse pound inside the tightened band and closed his eyes, giving in to the familiarity.

"I guess something else happened to my heart. It's not like I haven't been here before," he thought to himself, hopelessly. He couldn't remember why he was here this time, but he knew it was always something to do with his heart. Doctors had told him he was lucky to have survived so long with VSD. Death, he knew, was always near, so he tried to live every moment, even though it felt like his life hung by a thread.

Most of his life was spent in a wheelchair. He had countless surgeries to keep him alive, but they only worked to an extent. He would never be normal, and he would never lead a full life. His parents loved him unconditionally and showed him all the love and support they could, making him feel as normal as possible through their actions. He knew they would be heartbroken when he passed, but he also knew it was inevitable. He often wondered if they would be better off once he was gone.

"Jarow? Are you awake, sweetie?" His mother's familiar voice rang through his ears. He opened his eyes again and saw her ragged face looking down directly at him, blocking the overly bright fluorescents of the room. She wore a sad smile, and there was exhaustion written all over her face.

"Jarow? Can you hear me?" she asked, sounding worried. Jarow could feel the tube going down his throat now and knew he wouldn't be able to speak, so he nodded slightly in response.

Two cold yet soft hands wrapped around his face, and his mother pressed her lips against his forehead before she stood up and began calling for a nurse. "She knows it's better to press the nurse button, but she always uses her voice instead," Jarow chuckled internally to himself.

She looked down again and smiled at her son. Jarow looked up at her, taking in the details. Her hair was much more disheveled than usual, and her eyes seemed puffy, like she had been crying. "Maybe this time is bad, then," Jarow thought. "She must have been crying because I wasn't supposed to make it through. I wonder where Dad is?"

It only took a few moments before the nurse came in and began to both calm Jarow's mother down and check Jarow’s body over. She lifted his eyelids and picked up his hands, pulled the blanket from his feet and checked them over as well.

"Let me see if I can find the doctor," the nurse said and patted Jarow's mother on the shoulder, giving her a reassuring smile before exiting.

His mother continued to blubber over him, tears openly streaming down her face. "I thought I had lost you too. It's just not fair."

It took a few moments, but her words eventually began to sink into Jarow's fuzzy memories, and a frightening scenario passed through his mental eyes. It was of him and his dad driving to pick up his sixteenth birthday present. It was a Toyota Sienna van that his dad had customized for him to be able to drive. Along the way, a large truck had run a red light and plowed into the side of the van they were driving. It hit directly on his father's side causing them to roll. The final images of the event was of his father hanging lifeless from the seatbelt he always adjusted before driving.

A sinking feeling entered Jarow's soul. "He didn't make it," he thought to himself. It made sense now why his mother was so exhausted and had been crying. It wasn't for him, or at least not only for him; it was for his dad who had died.

Jarow began fidgeting and making sounds, catching his mother's attention.

"What is it? Are you in pain?" she asked him, concerned for his well being.

"Dad," he tried multiple times to speak around the tube in his throat. Finally, she seemed to understand what he was asking, and with racking sobs, she verified his worst nightmare.

"I'm so sorry, Jarow. He didn't make it." There was a large catch in her throat as she forced the words out. She dropped her head to his chest, sobbing uncontrollably, wrapping her arms around him as best she could manage. He felt her tears leaving wet puddles through the blankets wrapped around him.

Jarow closed his eyes and tried to process the news. He couldn't believe his father was dead. Martin had always been there for him, his hero and number one fan. It was his dad who had always looked out for him and made him feel special, like a normal person. And now he was just... gone.

A completely unusual yet distinctly familiar voice entered Jarow's mind then. Its presence was disturbing, feeling wrong in this scenario, yet he couldn’t help but listen.

"It's time to choose, Jarow."

As the words entered his mind, a new set of memories emerged. Jarow instantly recalled the existence he had been leading since that fateful day of the crash. He remembered The Liminal Divide and Noruff; he recalled his new team: Mediv, Suhry, Isilandra, Grolluk, and… Xinpo, his sword and companion through it all.

He had become an adventurer, possessed magic and abilities, fought huge monsters, hordes of mantis-creatures, and zombies. He was a badass and had just completed the next part of his quest after learning how to fly with his own wings.

Xinpo's voice came to Jarow as he lay there, attempting to reconcile his life as an adventurer into his life now.

"Greetings, suzerain. I have been informed that you have the opportunity to return to your previous life and body. I want you to know that I would harbor no ill will if you chose to do so. I have enjoyed our adventures, but understand completely if you do not wish to continue them. It is good you have your memories back and can return to your former life once more."

Jarow could hear Xinpo’s sincerity, but he could also perceive a tang of sadness and regret tinging his tone. Xinpo was never one to be needy or ask for things, although as a sapient sword, there wasn’t much he needed. However, he was also not good at concealing the truth from his words. Jarow could sense that this was what his companion was attempting to do in this moment.

He could tell that Xinpo wanted Jarow to return, but he couldn't bring himself to say as much, especially knowing that Jarow now had the opportunity to rejoin his family and friends, to have his memories back and to return to his old life.

Jarow closed his eyes again, his mind reeling with all the information he was being bombarded with. He was once more in his own world, his own body. He could hear the IV machine, the TV's blaring in other patients' rooms, the sounds of the nurses talking, and the beeps and buzzes from alarms going off. The sounds of technology and people surrounded him, and his mother still sobbed at his side.

He tried to focus his mind, to think through what he would choose. He understood now what the voice wanted. His choice was whether to stay here in his body, to be with his mother and rejoin his old life, or to choose to be with Xinpo, where he would face who knows what else, fight, die, and continue to serve this deity, or whatever it is, that was guiding him.

As he lay there pondering his choice and what it would mean to those around him, the sounds of the hospital seemed to fade away. He opened his eyes again and found himself lying on a grassy hillside, an old man sitting next to him.

Jarow looked down at his own, human, body. It was small and weak from never being able to develop muscle. But at the moment, he was free of pain or restriction.

It was a strange sensation to be in the body he'd always known, but to have it feel so alien because it finally felt usable. It felt how he thought it always should have: but never had.

"Your memories have now been returned. You can continue along the path I have been guiding you on, or you can return home. Your mother will need all the support she can get during her time of grief. Also, there is a good chance you will not be able to complete the final task I have for you," the old man said without turning to look at Jarow.

The old man continued to stare off into the distance. "I can't influence your decision or tell you exactly what is at stake, but I can tell you that if you fail, nothing you have ever known will exist. Nor will the endless possibilities held within the future."

Jarow couldn't fathom what the old man meant. His heart felt like it was being torn asunder, his mind spun trying to make sense of everything he had just seen and heard.

“Could I really have been dreaming all this? These adventures, were they just a fever dream, a feature of some coma I was stuck in? If I choose Mom, choose reality... will I wake up there? Or is this all just another story my mind cooked up, a way to ease me back from the edge?” he thought, his mind working overtime.

He could finally remember his old life. The memories of his family swam through his mind's eye. If all of this were true, then his mom was sitting there alongside his broken body, losing everything she had ever loved. She had lost her husband, Jarow's father. Now her only son was not only injured physically, but perhaps mentally as well. Her life was being ripped apart, and Jarow doubted anyone could withstand the incredible trauma being placed upon her now.

On the other hand, if his new life were real, then Jarow now had friends, a team, and a purpose. He had had not just one, but many highly functional bodies; and had achieved the thing he'd always dreamed of in his human life, he'd found a team to be a vital part of. Maybe the biggest thing though, was that he felt like he was finally able to truly live and be a part of something useful.

But now this old man was implying he apparently held the fate of everything on his shoulders? That was more than just being useful. If he continued in his new existence then he would be facing something incredibly important of which he may not survive, and would he still have his teammates by his side?

He had an unbelievable, un-makeable choice before him.

He knew that if he chose to return to his human life, he would be abandoning his friends and the task that the old man had given him. But he also knew that his mom needed him, and that she was the most important person in his life, especially now that his father was gone.

He didn't know what he should do.

Jarow gazed out at the scenery around them. It was stunning, like something out of a painting, with endless stretches of green meadows adorned with small colorful flowers. They sat atop a hill, giving him a perfect view of the natural beauty surrounding them.

In the distance, there was a thick forest, its green canopy casting shadows over the land. A river wound its way alongside the woods, catching the sunlight in shimmering reflections. Behind them, rugged hills stood tall, covered in shades of purple and dark green, the very tips covered in white snow.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Following the old man's gaze, Jarow spotted a large body of water gleaming in the distance. A charming village was huddled along the shoreline, its white buildings blending seamlessly with the serene surroundings. Sails fluttered in the breeze from small ships riding atop the sea, adding to the peaceful atmosphere.

Taking in the scene, Jarow felt a sense of calm wash over him. The fresh air and floral scent helped clear his mind, but the old man's words weighed heavily on him, and he still felt lost and indecisive.

"Nothing you have ever known will exist. Nor will the endless possibilities held within the future." the old man’s words echoed through his mind.

The gravity of those words pressed down on him like a mountain. Could it truly be that the fate of countless lives and worlds rested upon his shoulders?

The enormity of such a responsibility seemed unfathomable to him, especially since he was just a teen. A teen with a heart defect who had spent his life battling his own physical ailments. A teen who rode in a wheelchair and played video games because he couldn’t go outside and play.

"If I believe in these lives and adventures I have been on, then it's not just humanity that’s threatened, it's much, much bigger. The entirety of the universe. Endless beings and worlds could be... what, destroyed? Never existed?" Jarow's thoughts swirled in a maelstrom of uncertainty as he grappled with the implications of his newfound knowledge.

“Yet if I choose to continue on with my adventure, does that mean I would basically die, leaving my mother completely alone?” he thought in counterpoint.

As he sat and contemplated, Jarow began to grasp the meaning of the man’s presence. He had mentioned it was he who had sent him the unique messages, which meant he was more than some old man. He was… what? He wondered exactly how he should address the enigmatic figure before him. Was the old man a deity, a wizard, or maybe some other kind of entity of unfathomable power?

Postponing the decision for the moment, Jarow spoke, his voice meek and squeaky from his newfound anxiety at being in the presence of this being. "Can I ask you some questions?" he ventured, his words trembling slightly with uncertainty.

The old man turned to him and smiled. "I would be disappointed if you didn't," he said in his sagely voice, his warm tone easing Jarow's nerves.

Jarow was surprised by the man's smile. It was warm and welcoming, seemingly lighting up his face. The old man's eyes were deep and wise, but there was also a childlike quality to them.

"Uh, first of all… what should I call you?" Jarow asked, his courage growing as he took a step forward in the conversation.

The old man brought his hand to his chin, appearing thoughtful. "It has been a long time since anyone asked me that," he said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "Let me think. For now, you can call me Frank. I believe there is another who uses that name for me."

Jarow couldn't believe the name the man chose. He wasn't really asking for a name, but Frank, of all names? How could someone so deific and powerful be called Frank?

"Really?" Jarow blurted out, unable to contain his surprise.

"Yes, yes... Frank is what I'll go by here," the old man reiterated, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Jarow shook his head, finding the situation somewhat absurd, but decided to let it go. If this being preferred to be called Frank, then so be it.

"Okay, Frank," Jarow said, moving past the oddity of the name. "What is real? Is my old life real, or is my new life real?"

As he posed the question, Jarow felt his inner turmoil resurface, the conflicting desires pulling him in different directions. Yet, in the presence of Frank, the weight of his decision seemed to momentarily diminish, like it wasn’t as pressing as the old man had made it sound earlier.

"That is a tough question to answer," Frank admitted, his gaze distant as if contemplating how to describe the situation to a mere mortal. "As I said before, I can't quite tell you all there is going on or influence you in any way. But I can tell you this."

He paused, his eyes scanning the horizon before returning to meet Jarow's gaze.

"Both your old life and your new life are real, but neither of them have happened yet," Frank explained cryptically. "You were born with a very unique quality. Your soul is broken, but in a good way. It has the ability to travel through the aether; think of it like the stuff in between dimensions. This allows time and space to be somewhat circumvented, to an extent, by you, and so, by extension, by me."

Jarow listened intently, trying to grasp the gravity of Frank's words but having an extremely difficult time doing so.

"This means that while part of you is still lying in the hospital bed, you are also here and capable of returning to your adventuring life. Both realities are true, but neither has happened, and choosing one doesn't necessarily negate the other, but creates a divergence, a split."

Jarow nodded, feeling a mixture of confusion and wonder wash over him. He wasn’t sure at all about what Frank was trying to explain, but pressed on, trying to gain a little more understanding. "So if I choose to go back to the hospital, then does that mean the quest is failed? You said everything weighs on me completing the quest. What does that mean exactly?"

The old man turned his gaze back to Jarow, his eyes momentarily dimming before returning to their usual clarity. "I can't actually answer that question in a way you would comprehend," he said cryptically. "But I can say that you have the correct idea."

Jarow felt a wave of confusion and despair wash over him. If he was understanding correctly, then choosing to return to his mother and his old, decrepit body would mean the end of everything. Not just his life, but everything, everything. Tears welled up at the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over as he knew where his convictions lay, the choice set before him swaying to an inevitable conclusion.

Suddenly, a black bird screeched overhead before swooping down. Unlike a raven, this creature was monstrously large, resembling a condor, but with a sharp, predatory beak and long talons. Two twisted red horns, resembling a stag's antlers, were mounted from either side of its head. It plummeted from the sky, as though aiming for unseen prey, when a gnarled bush erupted from the ground only a few feet in front of where the two men sat.

The rapid expulsion of the gnarled bush sprayed dirt over Jarow and Frank. They each flinched and raised a hand to deflect the debris. As they lowered their arms and their vision cleared, they could clearly see the colossal bird now perched on the bush, motionless, as if it had been there all along rather than just swooping down in mid-dive.

The large black bird glanced at Jarow for a fleeting moment before fixing its gaze on Frank. It opened its beak and let out a sharp, "Caw!"

"I've said nothing of the sort," Frank responded to the bird, his tone firm yet oddly calm. "He's a smart man. He can put things together on his own."

Jarow looked at the bird in astonishment. It was unlike any bird he had ever seen before and it seemed to be staring directly at Frank, who appeared to understand its singular vocalization as though it had just spoken a complete thought.

The bird tilted its head towards Jarow as if pointing in his direction and emitted another, “Caw.” Then, astonishingly, the branch on which it was perched upon elongated vertically, one end rose into the air while the other extended to the ground. Within seconds, the branch thickened and transformed into a gnarled staff, now held by a dark-robed figure who had similarly emerged from the bird's form. The rest of the bush wafted away on the breeze, its molecules disintegrated.

The newcomer bore a striking resemblance to Frank, except for the long gray beard cascading from his chin. Cloaked in darkness, his features were partially obscured by the hood pulled over his head, but Jarow could discern the same piercing yellow eyes that had belonged to the bird.

"You tread a precarious path," the dark-robed man addressed Frank, he ended the sentence in a long, guttural word filled with hisses, vowels, and deep growls.

"I am going by Frank at the moment, if you please," the original old man responded. In the brief moments Jarow had taken to look over at the man who had just been the large dark bird, Frank's attire had changed. The old man now wore a brightly pure-white robe with a matching white beard. Its girth and length were equal to the dark gray beard worn by the man in black. The two men resembled each other even more closely now, yet as similar as they were, they were obviously polar opposites as well.

"Frank... typical. You'd pick a name as boring as your disposition," the black-robed figure scoffed, his voice dripping with condescension.

He then turned to Jarow and spoke again. "You may call me Tenebrous. I am the other side of this equation."

Jarow didn't really understand what Tenebrous meant about an equation, but he couldn’t help feeling as though he were some kind of prize to go to whomever won the game between these two opposing entities. It didn’t help that Jarow couldn't shake the feeling of there being more to Tenebrous than met the eye, but neither of the old men seemed inclined to offer any further explanation.

They stared at each other for a long, anxious moment before Tenebrous shifted his gaze to Jarow again and reached into the fold of his dark robe, retrieving a familiar sword.

The handle of the retrieved blade glittered with sparkling light. Its multifaceted panels reflected the sun's rays, creating beams of colors that danced across the grassy ground. The blade itself was dual-sided, with one half black and the other white. Similarly, the guard at the end of the blade was split down the center in black and white. At the end of the handle the familiar round pommel served as a counterweight, with its two opposing colors jutting sharply into each other, creating a symmetry of jagged opposition.

"I believe this belongs to you," the dark-robed man said, handing the sword to Jarow. He held it vertically, with two fingers along the blade, keeping his touch strictly to the black side of the blade as if it offended him to touch the other.

Jarow immediately recognized Xinpo, despite his altered appearance. The new disco ball-esque handle was the latest addition. He reached out and gently took the sword from the man's outstretched hand. The sword felt lighter than before, but was still the balanced and comfortable sword he knew.

Jarow grasped the new reflective handle, his fingers sliding around it as though the material was custom fit to his hand. As he did so, he hoped for Xinpo's voice in his head. He desperately wanted to ask him for advice in making this unmakeable decision he faced, but there was no response; his companion was silent, feeling like a simple sword rather than his trusted ally.

"The entity held within your weapon is restrained here," Tenebrous told Jarow. "His presence would cause too much sway in your decision. This sword is yours, though, regardless of the choice you make at this point."

Frank spoke then, his tone somber. 'Jarow, there is more to the tale than what Tenebrous tells you. The restrictions upon the sword and Xinpo are more complicated. You alone created this new weapon.'

Frank paused, as if considering how best to explain. 'There, in the Liminal Divide where you found the key, where you found Xinpo, he was more than just a mere beginner’s assistant; he was a part of your own soul. You were born with the defect in your heart, that much you knew, but there was also a slight defect in your spirit as well. That defect is Xinpo. Your soul was essentially split in two, one half manifesting here with your human body, the other in the Liminal Divide.'

Tenebrous snorted in derision and muttered under his breath, 'That’s not really what happened.'

Frank turned his head to the dark-robed man and nodded. 'You are right. Let me explain further. Xinpo manifested on Tenebrosus’ half of the universe in a purely spiritual form. It was my brother here who was able to find him and give him the physical body you encountered.'

Jarow looked from one to the other of the beings, both in confusion and in awe. He was getting the impression that calling them deities was becoming inadequate. At the same time, the story of who Xinpo truly was left him vexed.

Frank continued the narrative, “Once you were in contact once more, Xinpo was able to gather his own consciousness and evolve his limited body. Your own blood, and then the essences of the creatures you defeated, continued the process and allowed him to grow alongside you, becoming stronger and gaining powers, just as you have. This was as far as we could foresee, as far as we could directly influence your bonding and connection. Thus, when you left the Liminal Divide and met Orro, your paths diverged from the norm.”

“Xinpo’s Passe-partout ability morphed beyond what we had foreseen and transported you to the Oonja’s world rather than directly to the staging area, as is typical. There, he obtained the Oonja’s seed, which furthered his evolution.” The old man manifested a long-handled hookah pipe and inhaled deeply, blowing a cloud of purple smoke before continuing.

Jarow knew his story but was interested in hearing more details and understanding why things happened the way they did. He had always wondered why he was sent to the Liminal Divide in the first place, but now realized that the entire situation with the Oonja and that world was an error, a mistake, or perhaps somehow influenced by someone or something else.

“By absorbing the Oonja’s seed, something unusual happened to Xinpo’s body. The seed was supposed to fall off once it found a suitable location, and to an extent it did, but before that happened, the seed took root into Xinpo as well. Those small roots are what facilitated his ability to merge with the artifacts you recovered.”

Jarow tilted his head and interrupted Frank’s story. “So we weren’t supposed to be able to do what we did with those? Xinpo wasn’t supposed to fuse with them?” he asked.

“No, the disco ball is supposed to fit atop the staff and create a new artifact altogether. It was this weapon which was supposed to see you through the next part of your journey.”

Tenebrous whipped his staff forward and slapped Frank’s ankle as he spoke the last part.

“Ow! Oh… I mean if you choose to continue, that is,” Frank hurriedly corrected. “But there's one last aspect of Xinpo that I must reveal, and I'm afraid it won't sit well with you.”

Jarow raised an eyebrow, signaling his interest, but allowed Frank to continue uninterrupted. “Xinpo had another role when he was placed within the Liminal Divide for you to discover. He served as the guardian of your memories. It was to ensure your growth into the person destined for greatness, devoid of past influences and biases.”

As Frank's words sank in, Jarow's expression shifted from curiosity to concern. It dawned on him that Xinpo had been privy to his memories all along, yet had chosen to keep that knowledge from him.

Jarow looked down at the blade he held in his grip. He now felt uneasy about the entity that usually occupied it. Discovering that Xinpo was a separate part of his soul created an even stronger bond, but that was offset since Xinpo had been tasked with withholding significant information from him, and not just a minor secret, but the entirety of his life.

As he reflected on this revelation, Jarow recalled the selective knowledge Xinpo possessed. “Xinpo must have been aware of things I used to know, but he lacked information beyond the scope of my memories. For instance, I would know how to navigate a user interface and activate powers within it, as I did in video games, but places like the Liminal Divide are beyond human knowledge.”

Jarow grappled with conflicting emotions; on one hand, Xinpo had saved his life and aided him and the others he cared for. Yet, on the other hand, Xinpo had kept this major secret, depriving Jarow of his own memories and information that could have been beneficial.

He felt the familiar itchiness at the back of his neck like a phantom sensation. It had always puzzled him why that would happen while Xinpo thought deeply. Now, it made sense though, because they were connected, even if that connection was strained by this newfound revelation.

He remembered the battles, the times and enemies they’d fought. He had to confess to himself that at times it was because of Xinpo's abilities and instincts more than his own that he had survived, not to mention the advice and direction he provided, when Jarow was usually clueless.

Jarow remembered being alone when this all started. He remembered holding onto the key, not sure what it was for, but somehow the feel of it in his hand made him feel stronger, less alone. Then when he had first heard Xinpo's voice. It was different back then, less than what it was now, but it made Jarow’s loneliness fade away. So much had happened and changed since those days, but Xinpo was always there with him, always guiding him and helping him however he could.

Now Xinpo was so much more than what he had started off as. If he were doing all the absorbing and leveling to enhance his form, then he had definitely hit the jackpot. Jarow briefly recalled a vision he had long ago, or at least it felt like long ago. It was of him holding a long staff and using elemental magic to fight an enemy, a dragon if he wasn’t mistaken. The vision seemed so far back, so different from what he had become and was heading towards.

“Did you send me that vision?” he asked Frank, who was quietly allowing Jarow to ponder on the story. “The one of me holding a magic staff with a long beard like the one you have now?”

The white-robed man smiled broadly, and his eyes twinkled. “I did just say we were still trying to guide you at that point,” he responded.

The remembrances of his earlier adventures brought with them the thought of Noruff and Jarow remembered that his body was still within his inventory. He was never able to find a Quigza settlement to find out how to properly inter his friend, but Jarow, now knowing these two were much more than simple men, figured that if anyone would know what best to do with Noruff’s body, it would be one of these two.

“Since you have been watching and guiding me, do you know what I should do with Noruff’s body? This place seems like it would be somewhere he would truly love, and I thought…” Jarow asked.

Frank nodded solemnly and without saying anything, waved his hand near the ground. A dark void opened up in the air, it was the same void as when Jarow opened his inventory. From it, Noruff’s body emerged and hovered in between Frank and Jarow. It was no longer covered in gore, but the fur was clean and fluffy. The head was also attached once more, and Shiarra, his sword, was grasped in his small paws which crossed over his chest.

“Quigza burials are generally done under the moon, and their closest friends and family say goodbye by howling, their ceremony is done that way to carry the departed soul up to the lunar mother,” Frank told Jarow as he looked reverently at the small floating body.

Within the span of a second, the sun overhead darted down over the horizon, and a large icy white moon sprang from the other side of the horizon to take its place. Surrounding the large moon in smaller orbits around the larger one were several smaller moons, each a different pastel hue.

“Would you care to howl at the moon for your friend, Jarow?” Frank asked.

Jarow smiled lightly and looked at Tenebrous, who now resembled a large dark wolf. Jarow saw the wolf's teeth bare as he looked on, which Jarow took as a warning. He lost his smile and shook his head, “I guess not.”

“So be it,” Frank said and waved his hand over the ground once more, and a Quigza size hole appeared. Noruff’s body floated gingerly down into the hole and was covered up quickly by the soil which had moved out of the way.

Surprisingly, the dark wolf raised its head and howled. The sound was haunting, like the howl of a thousand wolves at once. The air reverberated with the power held behind the howl. In the distance, more howls were heard, the distinctive sounds echoing through the trees of the forest to their hilltop resting place.

Jarow had the feeling that Tenebrous had been telling him that howling wasn’t necessary, that he would be able to provide the howls, but Jarow couldn’t help himself and quietly ‘awoooed’ while facing the large silver moon. “Be well Noruff, I hope you have a great afterlife.” He thought as he faced the lunar portrait above him.

If Jarow had any doubts before about these men’s power, they were completely eliminated by seeing them change the sky itself with the wave of a hand. Once the howling subsided, Tenebrous transformed once more into the old man he had been before.

Once the solemnity of the occasion had passed, Frank continued their conversation. 'I am sorry to push, but an answer needs to be made soon. I can hold this world for only a limited amount of time. The universe must continue its expansion; that can’t be halted for too long.'

Jarow was becoming more and more lost. First, the surprising information about himself and Xinpo, then the ceremony for Noruff. The choice he had to make seemed far away for a time, yet now it was necessary to make once again.

He stared at the sword. The disco ball of destiny had given the handle a new shimmering quality, and the light of the moons reflected off it, giving the entire area a dancing, shimmery radiance.

Questions roiled around in Jarow’s mind. The small clues which Frank seemed to let slip, the newfound duality of his soul, the weight of responsibility, not only for his family and world, but for all of existence, and Jarow still didn’t even know who these two beings truly were. He tried to wrap his mind around all of the new information.

"So if Xinpo was always a part of me, then all the abilities he had were actually mine as well?" Jarow asked himself. He tried to remember the feeling of using his powers. Each had a unique type of vibration or internal temperature when activated.

He thought back and could almost feel the times he had used Xinpo's abilities as well. Complete Cleanse started at his core and spread quickly out in a hot wave, like steam bursting from a kettle. Dispel came from his hands and felt dark and cold, like ice water rushing through his fingers. Even the teleport power Passe-partout came with the feeling of millions of needles passing through his skin simultaneously, like a thousand tiny pinpricks.

Both of the old men looked at Jarow as he lost himself in the memories and began to try and better understand. Jarow felt their gaze and looked up to meet their gaze, his eyes large and filled with remorse as well as curiosity.

"He isn't gone, you know," Frank said kindly. "He will always be a part of you. Xinpo, that part of you, was ‘born’ for lack of a better term on the side of darkness, Tenebrosus’ side, so here in this manifestation of light, his essence can’t manifest. Anywhere else, he is fine, but we knew his influence would be too much, and that it would tip your choice. Believe it or not, we have rules we must follow as well."

Tenebrous spoke directly afterward. "Do not think of darkness as ‘evil’; it is merely the absence of light. We represent the separate halves of this universe, the halves which are supposed to be one but have begun to split. I am sure Frank," he said the name with a tone of vitriol mixed with sarcasm and a sousant of disgust, “will tell you all about it soon.”

Jarow nodded, still unsure whether to feel contempt or reverence for these two beings. They were obviously entities far beyond his scope of comprehension. He felt he should be in awe, but their demeanor, the way they talked to both him and each other, made him feel more anxiety than anything.

Jarow suspected there was also much more than simple kindness to the old gentleman in white, Frank. While seemingly friendly on the surface, his words held a deeper meaning beyond their literal sense. He might not exactly be lying, but obscuring some of the truth in the implications of what he said.

"So Xinpo is another part of my soul then? Is he in my human body then, while I am here?" Jarow asked, trying to figure out if there was anything else he needed to truly understand.

Frank smiled, his eyes twinkling. Tenebrous harrumphed but spoke. "You could put it that way, although he can’t truly manifest in a physical body unless you…"

Tenebrous literally growled at the reprimand and whispered something in a language Jarow couldn’t understand before continuing. 'You’re separate for a reason. It requires specific circumstances for Xinpo to occupy a flesh body. Those circumstances have been met because you, or your part of your soul, are here in a creation of light, basically separate from the reality of the universe. Once this place is erased and you return to your physical body, Xinpo will also be forced into his sword form again.”

Jarow sensed there was some useful information in how Tenebrous explained the unusual circumstance, but wasn’t totally sure if he understood what was being said. He filed this statement away for future exploration just in case.

Jarow decided to press on since these two seemed to be chatty at the moment. He understood now that he was apparently crucial to their plans, whatever they might be, so he felt more emboldened to be more assertive. He squeezed Xinpo's sword body tightly and began to speak.

"You talk about me having a choice," Jarow began, his head lifting as he spoke. "You say I have to decide, and that you can't influence my decision, but there really isn't one, is there?"

Jarow continued, his voice rising in frustration. "You hint at everything being lost if I don't complete this task. You tell me the fate of everyone rests on my shoulders, then show me scenes of my mother, give me back my memories, manipulate my emotions. All the while knowing I can't refuse because that would simply mean oblivion for everything."

Jarow paused, catching his breath. He hadn't planned on such an outburst, but the words flowed from a place of raw emotion.

"So why? Why did I have to go through that? Is it supposed to make me stronger? Make me feel the importance of completing whatever task you have set for me? Because in my opinion, it was just cruel. My mom… she's losing everything, and you're basically here telling me that I can't even help her. She's done so much for me throughout my life, and now, when I could at least offer her some comfort, I'm forced to choose to leave her behind. It’s not me or anyone else who suffers by me making this choice; it’s her. She is the true victim here."

By the end of his speech, hot tears streamed down Jarow's cheeks. He hadn’t fully realized where his speech was going; the words simply spilled out without him fully understanding the meaning behind them until now. There was a deep truth to them, though. No matter what his choice, his mother had to lose everything; she was the true victim of fate’s cruelty.

"This is your area, my part is complete," Tenebrous told Frank before turning and disappearing into the broken ground from where the bush had sprung forth, melting into the soil like a dark mist.

With a sad smile on his face, Frank walked towards Jarow. The world around them spun and morphed as he stepped forward. The dark sky twisted into white walls, the grassy hill hardening into a sterile white floor. The peaceful vista they had been standing on was instantly replaced by a familiar hospital room.

Frank placed a hand on Jarow's shoulder as they both turned to see Jarow's body lying on the hospital bed, his mother sobbing uncontrollably beside him.

Jarow stumbled back, overwhelmed. The sudden change of scenery, followed by the sight of his own broken body lying before him, was too much for his emotionally wracked mind to bear. He glanced down instinctively, checking if he still possessed the same body as before. He did. His gangly, underdeveloped teenage body mirrored the one lying on the bed.

Frank spoke softly, "I know this is difficult and unfair. Your mother is heartbroken and will never truly recover, but at least she will have had a life. She'll cherish the happy years with you and your father. She will have a future, a difficult one but a future nonetheless. As will everyone else."

A transparent window without any visible borders opened before Jarow's eyes. Images began to pass by on the screen, one after another, the images changed, whirring by more and more rapidly: unknown planets, strange-looking aliens, unfamiliar people, stars of numerous hues, strange animals, and even whole civilizations. They flitted by at an impossible speed, far exceeding his mind's ability to comprehend. Yet, with each image, a torrent of emotions surged into him. He didn't just see; he felt the images.

He felt the happiness, the contentment, the resentment, joy, sadness, anger; as well as a spectrum of emotions beyond his understanding. He experienced senses he couldn't fathom and lived lives far beyond human capacity.

This deluge of raw reality filtered through Jarow, offering him a fleeting glimpse of the vast tapestry of the universe, its components, occupants, and inner workings.

"Everything," the wise old man whispered into Jarow’s ear as the images continued to flash before him. The pace of the images quickened, and the feeling of these beings' lives overwhelmed him until his own identity dissolved. He merged with them, becoming a part of the grand, interconnected whole.

Jarow vanished, lost to the vastness of reality and the infinite facets of the universe. His perspective shifted; he felt the insignificance of himself, his mother, and the entire world, yet also sensed the insignificance of the universe itself. Just as he was one of countless beings, this entire universe seemed like one among countless others.

Finally, the borderless window that had expanded to encompass Jarow's world began to fade and shrink. It lost its opacity and shrank until it was a small, transparent window holding shifting figures once more. Jarow’s consciousness had shrunk and been refitted into himself as well.

The sense of being one among many replaced the wholeness of creation he had been feeling moments ago. Then, the window disappeared from his view, and Jarow's focus once again shifted to his surroundings. He found himself in his body, still standing in the hospital room where his mother wept over him. He stared at his mother, who hovered over his own body, understanding more fully the scope of the choice he was making.

"Do you understand better now, Jarow?" Frank asked knowingly.

Jarow's mind was still spinning. He had just ridden a universal centrifuge, spinning with the weight of everything in it pressing against him. He could still feel the presence of the entire universe in his bones, from its beginning to its end.

He turned to Frank, and was struck by the depth in the old man's eyes. There, he sensed more than mere wisdom; it was as if the universe itself resided within him. An expansive force far beyond mortal comprehension. Yet, there alongside this cosmic presence, was an undeniable absence. He was only half of the whole.

Jarow, still touched by the universal awareness he had just experienced, understood the meaning of the equation. The two old men weren't just men, or even deities; they were the living embodiments of the universe itself, the opposing fragments of the universe's soul. They were intertwined in the eternal balance of creation, each requiring the other, yet holding animosity toward feeling the need.

In this moment of clarity, Jarow also grasped the enormity of his role. He understood the cosmic forces at play, the gravity of his choice. Without his intervention, the delicate equilibrium of the universe would falter.

The weight of his destiny stirred a mixture of emotions within him; awe at the cosmic majesty, along with a sense of duty to preserve the balance, and a solemn acceptance of the burden laid upon him.

Jarow closed his eyes, allowing the room to steady after his glimpse of the universe and the powers at play. He inhaled deeply, exhaling several times to steady himself, absorbing what Frank and Tenebrous had told him, and coming to terms with the scope and enormity of the challenge he faced.

Jarow had made his decision earlier and knew he couldn't abandon the quest. But the true weight of it all finally sank in. This wasn't a game, as his initial perception had led him to believe back in the Liminal Divide. This wasn't about having a team or leveling up. It was about repairing this universe, or perhaps even facilitating its creation. “Or maybe recreation?” Jarow wondered aloud.

He opened his eyes once more and gazed at his body on the bed. It appeared so small and frail. Tubes snaked out from his mouth, disappearing beneath the cocoon of blankets enveloping him. Nearby machines beeped and whirred, a relentless symphony of mechanical implements to keep him alive.

A pang of regret, sharp and sudden, pierced Jarow. Not for his body, but for his mother. He yearned to move closer, to offer one last embrace, but as he tried to, an unseen force held him in place.

"Can I just hug her one more time?" he pleaded, his voice trembling.

"I'm sorry, Jarow," Frank said, his tone heavy with concern. "That's not possible. This realm is still within the creation of light, similar to where we were before. To return to her, to your body, you must actively choose that path.”

Some part of Jarow already knew this, understanding now that Frank was the creator of this pocket of reality, separate from the universe itself. A place where he would be without external influence, enabling him to make the choice fully on his own.

There was a long pause as Frank stared at the scene before them, as if pitying Jarow and the choice he must make. Finally, he spoke one last time, “Have you made your decision?"

Jarow nodded, a tear rolling down his cheek and landing with a silent splash on the floor. "I choose to continue your quest," he rasped, barely a whisper. "Let's go, please. This heartache is unbearable."

Frank nodded, and the world melted away.