Foreigner motioned forward, watching the room around him rise and fall with each step, pillars synchronizing with his movements. They shifted in color, stark white to deepest black and back again, as mesmerizing as it was disorienting were it not for the focal points of the room; mainly the heavily armored individual in gleaming silver and the massive turquoise gate behind them. The armor was unadorned, simple streaks of white and black lines around joints running through limbs, the source being the thick web of lines at their chest. Their helmet obscured their face, an equally glimmering silver helmet in the shape of a snakes head.
All that could be made out from the slits in the helmet were the striking gray eyes, like ash having glazed and formed to glass as to stare into the soul hidden beyond the flesh. They were cold and unnerving and familiar.
“I’m not sure what game we’re meant to play aside from chess. There aren’t any pieces on the board though.” Foreigner stated, taking his seat on the cool slab of white rock. He pointed at the board and gestured at the lacking pieces to his stoic companion.
“I can smell it on you now,” the armored individual leaned close, so close to stare into the pits of Foreigners eyes, “And I can see it on you too. How disappointing.” Their final statement was pointed, their voice a boom through the room where its point of origin remained indeterminate. “To think that I’m still bound to our contracts when you clearly haven’t the faintest clue. It’s revolting to see you like this.” The armored individual slammed themselves onto their seat, cracking the black pillar beneath. They raised their arm up and materialized the piece, Foreigner on white and the individual on black. There was an individual piece on either side of the board, a floating crown circling around the living stone. The armored individual cackled from within their suit, throaty and menacing. “Look at our great vessel, reduced to some lowly, singular king. What dwindled might.”
“What are you going on about? What’s your name and what do you want with me? If you have questions then ask them!” Foreigner slammed his fists onto the board, cutting the laughter short. The armored individuals eyes narrowed and Foreigner could have sworn that in that suit was a wicked grin, a malicious intent.
“You’re right, you’re right. You’ve come here of your own volition. You even chose me over Thinker and Gardener, which is quite understanding, considering the headspace you’re in. Let me remind you, my little broken vessel, that I am Keeper at the Gates.” They gestured with their arm to the gate behind them, attracting attention back to them with a strike of their pommel onto the ground. “How much fun that it befalls me to be the first to put the pieces back together. If the pieces were even torn apart…”
“Would you mind not speaking in riddles? I was hoping you would be more direct with me than Snake on the Water. I was hoping you would have answers.”
“Oh how direct you’ve gotten since the last time we’ve talked. No I intend to be quite obtuse and quite roundabout with my deliveries. Moreso knowing how desperate you are for assistance I most certainly can provide.” Keeper was reveling in Foreigner’s clear discomfort. Had he made the wrong decision to confront such a clear antagonistic fish?
“Well if you’re going to behave like this, I’ll take my chances with the others.” He turned to leave but couldn’t. He could pivot his face, and saw the inky black waters had since dissipated leaving no exit in sight, but he could not lift his body from the seat. Foreigner felt his stomach sink as he was pierced into by the eyes of Keeper at the Gates.
“I’m afraid you’re stuck here with me. Stuck until we resolve our little game, until I am done with you.” Foreigner fidgeted around but was unable to lift himself up, squirming at the deadpan stare Keeper used on him. “I guess it isn’t entirely your fault. Or its not the fault of someone as incomplete as you. But don’t worry, by the end of this game, we’ll have picked up our pieces and all of my grievances will be aired.” Keeper snapped their fingers and at once, Foreigners gaze shifted. He looked around and saw the edges of the game board, looking up to see the gargantuan images of the empty suit of armor and himself overlooking the area.
“A grievance of mine, but perhaps the most ironic, is my hatred for your theatrics. Establishing contracts and games with each of us as if your control wasn’t absolute, your decisions final. And yet it is your indulgence in the theatrics that I am here and can lord over the punishment you’ll be subjected to.” At once, Keeper moved their piece with ferocity, halberd raised in hand to sweep in a wide arc. Foreigner attempted to resign himself to the muscle memory that had carried him forward in combat…
“Oh fuck!” Foreigner yelled, fist clenched around the length of his spear, as he leapt out of harm’s way with an undignified roll. He could not feel the tingling in his muscles the way he felt them when awake, like sparks guiding each movement and telling him where to go. Keeper slammed down their halberd onto the arena again, pillars shifting in a wave from the impact to send Foreigner flying.
“I could see you now trying to reach in deep for a skill that doesn’t even belong to you. You run around in the waking world, throwing yourself in harms way with a stolen capacity to inflict pain on others and avoid it yourself. You could have been so much more and you squandered it on this facade of a family man!” Keeper rushed forward to Foreigner once more. He scrambled to his feet and avoided being cleaved into with the first swing but had the wind knocked out of him with the back end of the weapon, uncomfortable heat radiating from his ribs to the rest of his torso.
“What do you want from me, Keeper! I can’t apologize for what I’ve done when I don’t even know who I am!” Foreigner’s voice was hoarse and frayed. He could feel the uncomfortable pressure from the lingering giants above, and the humanoid shadows that lingered at the edge of the board on his side.
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Keeper scoffed, “Apologies? I want nothing as empty as that. I want your anger! I want your fire! I want you to devour the world the way you promised me in the beginning!” Keeper threw their halberd at Foreigner, with the man barely avoiding getting his head decapitated. Foreigner bared his teeth and rushed with his spear, thrusting forward to have Keeper pivot to the side and punch him in the gut once more. “You’re a conqueror!” Keeper yelled as they grabbed onto Foreigner’s arm and flung him onto the ground, blood spurting out of his mouth. “It should be me struggling right now, having to deal with the power of the others. A testament to my skill and yours! A dance well practiced and caked in blood and sweat and pressure. You can feel it building as we stare at ourselves from above, right? The single minded ambition.”
There was something like music dancing in the veins of Foreigner as he stood, watching Keeper gloat and circle around him like the insect he felt like.
Keeper was right. He felt a primal desire clawing for freedom, a single minded motivation to prove himself and win. Nothing else mattered than his need for victory. Nothing.
Foreigner yelled his voice raw, spear lifted in one hand like a javelin, his other hanging limply to his side but he would not yield. He flung his own weapon at Keeper, getting them to pivot as they had once before, and swung with his good arm at their side. The impact reverberated through Foreigner’s body, setting his teeth on edge, but the feeling reassured him. He watched Keeper slide on the ground with the force carrying them. He pressed his advantage, grabbing the Keeper’s halberd, firmly planting his body onto the ground, before releasing the halberd in a circular motion. Foreigner reached for the spear on the ground and-
The air came out of him with a hiss, his body becoming limp as it was lifted with the end of his spear, blood draining from the point down to the other end, coating Keepers glove in a thick crimson.
“You lost, Arenas.” Foreigner felt his mind drift once more, jolted into being as his eyes readjusted to the view of the board from his seated position. The pieces were frozen in place, Foreigner’s piece impaled by Keepers with a spear. “It’s been a while since you’ve lost, but I didn’t expect much from you as you are now. The king that I yield to still lingers within that soft family man you hide behind, but don’t worry. We all have our moments of weakness when finding glory.” Keeper lifted themselves from their seat and waved at the board, allowing the actions that played out to occur in reverse, until there were two pieces standing firm on either side of the board. “There was nothing for me to learn from such an indulgent confrontation. But I am a slave to the rules you set about and must adhere to them even if they are of no benefit to either of us.”
Foreigner lifted himself from his seat, feeling numb and pained from his loss in a way he had never felt before. It was a confrontation that he was not intending to lose and he understood how stacked the deck was against him if he needed other pieces to even be on the same playing field as Keeper, and yet there was nothing like the ache of losing that hurt more for Foreigner in that moment. The two locked eyes and Foreigner could feel the acknowledgment of his feelings being reciprocated, however frigid, by the person in the silver armor.
“What was I like when we first met?” Foreigner asked with a mumble.
“You were defiant, impatient, and radiated heat like the sun. There was nothing I could have done to stop you from your goal even if I wanted to.” Keeper looked longingly at Foreigner before breaking eye contact, choosing to face the gate with Foreigner at their back. “It was strange, coming into being one day and being told that I would help on a grand and personal mission. It was my divine right to assist and protect a budding slayer of god. I laughed at the statement. It was ridiculous even to me in my nascent form, and yet you said it with such resounding conviction, with the others merely looking forward that I just couldn’t help but submit to the idea.”
“Is that why my mind was targeted by enemies? Why I was left to die without knowing who or what I am?”
“This was the best they could do against someone so far along the process of divinity. The pieces slumber within you and until your voice can reach them, your dream will remain out of reach. It was all they could do to keep you from taking what you wanted.”
The two of them sat in silence with one another, a pregnant pause in their conversation that told Foreigner of their deep involvement, a history that spanned for quite a long time.
“As to what you are, do you really care to know? Will understanding make all of this struggle any more necessary? Whatever information I give you, you’ll still push on and reconvene with your memories. Morphing back into what we need in a vessel, in a master controller, a leader.” Keeper looked to Foreigner and awaited his response.
“If we have history then you know my need for answers is of the upmost importance.” Foreigner replied, a voice filled with a foreign resoluteness. Keeper sighed and beckoned Foreigner forward, beginning to walk to the gates.
“Then follow me. We have reestablished our connection and your access to me is absolute. If I am to help you with your revenge, we must move quickly while the night outside is still vibrant with monsters.” Foreigner nodded and ran to Keeper’s side, their strides short as the world behind them crumbled to nothing. “They thought you were crazy, to split your mind the way you did. A monster, they called you, and you didn’t disagree. It was the stuff of nightmares and fiction that struck fear into the hearts of gods and you were willing to do anything for power if it meant devouring the unflinching gods outside. Such madness can only be expected from someone so devout to their craft and ambition that they would even compartmentalize their humanity away from their work.” The two of them stood at the gates, the ancient faded turquoise stone shuddering with anticipation.
“There’s more to this than you’re telling me.” Foreigner stated, hoping for Keeper to continue but nothing further came out. Keeper at the Gates stood with the same cold and cunning stare, turning around to stare at the inky abyss that had consumed most of their realm.
“I need you to wake up. There is work to be done.” The Keeper at the Gates slammed their weapon onto the ground once, twice, thrice, and Foreigner jolted up from his slumber with a start. He stared at the darkness, at the slumbering people around him, a lingering familiarity clinging to their forms.
“There is work to be done.” Foreigner whispered in a cold and alien voice, draping a long tattered coat around himself, clasping at the stolen cudgel with frenzy for violence building. He disappeared in the blood of the night.