“Listen to the sound of my voice,” Hayvik said, still using the warm husky voice that lulled my senses. I took another deep, steadying breath, then closed my eyes and let myself listen to his voice. I was going to try this. It was a risk, but it was also the right thing to do. I needed to meet Lo’Kryn.

I let my fingers rest on the warm wood of my staff. I shuffled slightly to seat myself more evenly across the hard wood. Then sighed before saying, “Okay, I am ready.”

“Quiet your mind. Listen to the breath as you inhale,” his voice paused while he drew a long breath, deep into his lungs and down to his abdomen. I followed the action, listening as the breath drew in through my nostrils, filling my chest and belly. “Fill yourself with the air of life. Let it flow through you,” Hayvik continued. “And then release it, letting your worries, your pain, your fear release from your open mouth. The world accepts your shadows. It transforms them, turning the darkness you expell into renewed vibrance. Trust that transformation as you breath deep and release.”

I drew another deep breath, slow, measured, and right down into the solarplexes before opening my mouth to exhale in equal measure. Tension eased from my shoulders and my fingers, which had been clinging to my staff, gentled to caress it.

“And again,” Hayvik said, drawing another breath.

I did the same, keeping pace with a long inhale letting air fill my body, then exhaling through my lips to release the pent up energy within. My mind swirled on the breath, hearing as if from a distance the creak of wood beneath us, the twitter of morning birds in the trees outside, the shuffle of furniture in the rooms above our head. I could smell the wax used to polish the floorboards and a soft incense that had long burned low.

“Very good,” Hayvik said, his voice warm with praise. I let the compliment flow over me. Keeping with the rhythmic breathing (Wisdom Check: 19+2=21). “As you draw your next breath, seek deeply within yourself. Look beyond distraction. Search for a waiting voice, a waiting consciousness. And draw it forth as you exhale. Entice our friend to the surface, where you can commune.”

In my mind’s eye, as my thoughts sought within, the details of my character rose appearing in my mind like the pages of character sheets I’d long been familiar with. I felt the information draw to me. Curiosity alighting. I’d looked at the sheets after I’d leveled up and had seen some minor changes. Now, other than a reduction to my hit points, it seemed just as I remembered.

“Seek beyond,” Hayvik said, his voice breaking through my curiosity as he repeated his words. “Look beyond distraction. Search for a waiting voice, a waiting consciousness.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I let my focus drift away from the pages. I drew another deep breath, trying to reach beyond, to seek deeper within myself. The pages fell away, fluttering around my mind as if discarded. I panicked for a moment, my breath growing tense, but the second I began to think of them the pages began to come together. I let the tightness in my lungs ease, exhaling the tension and drawing another deep, relaxing breath.

“Deeper, and deeper,” Hayvik’s voice continued, and I let it lull me back into the depths of my mind. Beyond the pages that had scattered again, and into the dark recesses. “Call to him, draw him forth.”

My breath continued, slow and even. In through the nose, deep into the lungs, deep into the belly, tingling through my limbs, then out through the mouth. In my mind I could feel something. It was timid, shy, uncertain. “Lo’Kryn?” I whispered. The words didn’t leave my lips, they caressed the shadows of my mind, seeking.

The presence within whimpered, drawing back with fear. I swallowed, sensing that same uneasiness. We shared this. I continued to breath, letting the feeling sit within us and then letting the breath take it, releasing it into the world where it would be imbued with light and healing.

“Lo’Kryn, please, talk with me,” my mind whispered to the shadow within. The hesitation continued. I felt my lips form words, broken, incomplete, “I can’t,” they whispered.

Across from me I felt more than heard Hayvik shift. “Be calm,” he responded, his own voice still soft and lilting. “Be patient.”

I drew another, long, slow breath, and waited. Hayvik had said Lo’Kryn was patient, and I could practice that, at least a little. I let my inner sight roam within the shadowed spaces where Lo’Kryn’s essence sheltered. It was dry and warm and quiet, but it was also etched in a strange loneliness and sorrow. Is this where I would go if Lo’Kryn took control?

My breath shuddered, chest tightening, but I forced myself to draw deep. I let my shoulders lift as the breath filled me again, and then release. There was still a slight knot in my belly but some of the tension ebbed away, so I repeated the action, feeling the knot loosen. “Lo’Kryn?” I asked, again, my voice gentle inside my thoughts.

“I am Lo’Kryn,” whispered back a soft timbered voice. There was a lilting accent to it, like a native Italian speaker might give when English is their second language. Within my mind I sensed the presence. It radiated with a golden resonance, warm, like a gleam of sunlight dappled through the trees of a great oak tree.

“I would know you, Lo’Kryn,” I said, keeping my voice gentle, welcoming.

“You are Nik,” Lo’Kryn said within me. “My chosen.”

I nodded, and felt my head nod. I wondered if he knew I’d made the motion but I sensed a tickle of humour from him.

“We feel all together,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Why do you hide here, Lo’Kryn?”

I felt a sudden wave of guilt. I couldn’t be sure if it was mine, or his. But when he spoke to me it wasn’t guilt in his voice, there was a taste of frustration, but mostly a respectful deference. “You are very,” he paused, seeking the word, “loud. And I sensed you would not welcome me.”

The wave of guilt ebbed and flowed again and I realised it was mine. Even before he’d replied to my question I’d known his seclusion was my fault. I’d come into him like a wrecking ball. At least initially that hadn’t been my fault. I hadn’t realised what was happening to us. But when I did know, I’d continued to keep a tight clutch to our consciousness. Loud, it was a kind way to describe it.

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“I am sorry,” I said, truly feeling it.

There was a well of energy from Lo’Kryn. It flooded me with a deep wave of relief, of instant forgiveness. “We are as infants, Nik. This is new, and there is fear. I sense how you long to return to your home, to your world. It is not fair that you are called to this.”

“Or you,” I countered. “You didn’t ask for this either.”

“No,” he agreed, his voice held a knowing acceptance I didn’t feel myself. “But I have been called before, so I know what it is to be put on a path and have no concept of its destination.”

“Called before?” I asked, not sure what he was referring to. Suddenly, across my mind there were flashes of Lo’Kryn in his youth. Long before he came to Talazen there was a knowing within him that he would train in the way of the Rise.

“I didn’t know then, either, that path would lead to this one.”

“Don’t you wish your life could be your own?” I felt a wave of anger within the question. I hadn’t realised how often since coming here I’d felt like I couldn’t act within my own power. I’d let Lo’Kryn’s instinct guide the body we shared, but every time I acted before thinking I’d felt apart from the decision. Like I didn’t own the skin I walked in. Which of course I didn’t. And that was absolute bullshit. Who the fuck would put up with that? I swallowed, feeling Lo’Kryn within me as an energy leaning against my chest. He was reminding me to breath. I drew a breath, letting the heat of my anger go with the exhale. It still simmered, but my mind came back where it could hear Lo’Kryn’s response.

“Do you believe in destiny, Nik?”

I shook my head, knowing now that Lo’Kryn would feel my response. I felt his smile, and gasped as within my mind’s eye he stepped out of the shadows. His face was the one I’d been wearing since I’d arrived. He stood taller, more comfortable with his broad shoulders.

Lo'Kryn [http://www.rebeccalaffarsmith.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/LoKryn.png]

“I believe in destiny,” he said. “And in that belief there is room for a life to be both preordained, but also empowered to choose.”

My brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

Lo’Kryn gestured lifting his hands to where a sky would be if we weren’t within our mind. “All around us, life unfolds. There are set paths. Patterns. Divine intent, and I don’t mean that of just the gods, but beyond them, to the meaning within all things.” I went to express my confusion again but Lo’Kryn lifted his hand, silencing me. “Each of us has our part to play. But we choose our words. We choose our actions. You and I? We have been called to a great quest, but we could walk away.”

“Is that what you want?” I asked, knowing deep in my core that of course he didn’t. There was honor and responsibility within Lo’Kryn. I knew, deep within, I didn’t want to run either. I didn’t really think I was the right person for this, hell, I didn’t even know what this is, but I knew I wanted to do the right thing. I wanted to protect this world, even through it wasn’t my own. I wanted to protect these people.

Lo’Kryn simply smiled at me, perhaps sensing all that had passed in my mind in the heartbeat after I asked the question. “The point is, Nik, we could choose to. You know as well as I that we will not choose that path. But we could.”

“What does it mean then? Could I choose to go home?”

Lo’Kryn’s brow furrowed at that. He wasn’t sure either. These rules weren’t clear to any of us. But eventually he responded, “I believe you could. Choice is important, especially to the Pantheon of Balance.” There was a nervousness in Lo’Kryn that caused me to feel a tingle in the muscles of the body we shared. He wasn’t certain that I’d choose to stay, despite what he’d said earlier about us both not walking away from this. “Is that what you want?” he asked.

I hesitated. Yes, a big part of me wanted to go home. I was about to say so when Lo’Kryn’s fear washed over me.

“No,” he said, “don’t answer that. Let me say something first.” I nodded, and let him continue. “As I showed you, this path has been mine since I was a child. The Way of the Rise that is, not of the traveller. But the Way of the Rise is the yearning to bring balance and order to Essaedris and to myself. I have trained for years in this way, but I am a fledgeling, and I do not have your courage. There is a lot I know and a lot more I have yet to learn or understand.” He drew a long breath, glancing up as if seeking the words to continue. “You’ve touched the surface of the history of travellers, Nik. You know this is a dangerous path. That the evils this world has faced have been great and that the balance between Life and Power is tenuous.” I nodded, my teeth worried at our lip as he continued, “I fear I could not succeed without you.”

And that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? Because this is the way it had been for generations. The Pantheon of Balance called travellers because there was something about this union that swung the pendullum. Maybe Lo’Kryn, Cambrin, Ceylas, and whichever other hosts had been chosen could do this, but if they could, why bother with us at all. I had no idea what I brought to the table, but the gods believed Lo’Kryn needed me.

I took a breath, filling our lungs, then sighed and in our mind I fixed the vision of Lo’Kryn a look deep with honesty. “I do want to go home,” I admitted, then lifted a hand when he went to interrupt. “I do want to, but I see you Lo’Kryn. I don’t know what I am meant to bring to this, but I’m willing to walk this path with you.”

The image of Lo’Kryn tipped his head. There was relief and gratitude in the gesture.

“I’m afraid,” I admitted. “I’m sorry that you’ve been stuck here,” I gestured to the shadows of the space we stood within our mind. “I’m sorry you’ve been trapped here, but I don’t want to reverse the role. I can’t let go like that. I can’t let myself become lost within you.”

Lo’Kryn sighed, shaking his head. “I was afraid, too. But the stories we read yesterday, and the way Cambrin and Ceylas spoke of their host, the way Fenlyn holds her own, the way Hayvik and Siria both spoke of us connecting, uniting. I believe there is more than one or the other. I believe a union is possible.”

“How is that possible?” It didn’t make any sense to me. Two minds couldn’t rule a single body. There would be discord, confusion. “If I went to move one way and you the other we’d fall over our own feet.”

Lo’Kryn chuckled. “You are prone to that even without my interference.” He shook his head, growing more serious, “No, I mean a uniting of mind and purpose. A oneness.”

“Oneness,” I repeated with an anxious hiss of breath. “Right.” That had been the word Hayvik had used too. I had no idea what that would look like. Or what it would achieve.

“At least be willing to try it, Nik,” Lo’Kryn said. For the first time I felt like he was losing patience with me. “I risk as much as you do. More even, since my body is the one with a life to lose.”

“Mine might too. We have no idea what happens to visitors when the host is lost.”

“We do not know, but you have a body to go home to. This, the gift I give us both, is all I have.”

I swallowed, realising he was right. He was attempting to trust me with a lot. The least I could do is meet him part way. I chewed my lip a moment as I thought it through, eventually nodding.

“Oneness,” I said again. “How do we do that?”

“Listen, to Hayvik,” Lo’Kryn said. There was a drawing back of his presence and I realised as the outside world rose up within our mind that Hayvik had been speaking. The birds were still tweeting, the wood still creaking. Time had been passing.

“Own your unique selves,” Hayvik was saying. “Rise up together, from the depth of your being so that you stand, side by side, in the skin of your senses.”

Okay, so that sounded a bit gross, I acknowledged, but beside me I felt the warmth of Lo’Kryn’s humour. I felt his energy like a fine blue buzz of static raising the hairs on my skin.

“Bring your souls alongside. Allow your edges to meld. Like the yin and the yang your souls embrace.”

I felt Lo’Kryn lift slightly and my own consciousness rose with him until we weren’t side by side in our mind but were instead two souls on a shared journey. The discomfort of feeling the intimacy of our connected energies lifted and instead there was simply a radiance and belonging that filled our heart with joy. I wondered how close to ascension this feeling was. I’d read about that, in stories where death was just a step into the next unknown. This wasn’t dying. We weren’t detached from life, but embraced within it.

“Feel your united wholeness. Feel your oneness in your souls’ embrace of one another. You are distinct, but you are in sync, united, one symbiotic union of purpose,” Hayvik’s voice continued, dry and raspy.

My breath rose and fell without effort, filling me with warmth and light. I felt a soft click, deep in my belly, that rippled up my core like the flicker of a holy flame of light. I was still myself, but I no longer felt out of place within my skin. My movements flowed. My chest rose and fell as if each breath was a part of the next. Fluid, natural, right.

I opened my eyes, seeing the world more brightly, more clearly. Across from me, Hayvik was watching. He gave a brief nod, his lips curved. “Yes,” he said. And somehow I knew he sensed the change, as I did. “Welcome home, Lo’Kryn.”

And for once, although I knew it wasn’t the name I’d been given in my world, it no longer felt like it wasn’t mine. I was Lo’Kryn, just as Lo’Kryn was me. We were one, with a twin purpose, a united path, a shared destiny.