The younger ‘me’ led the both of us further into the seemingly infinite path. After several moments, the surroundings turned into white sparkles and scattered like dandelion fluffs in the wind, leaving behind a new environment that slowly faded into being.

We stood atop a high grass cliff that overlooked a large, empty grass field that was surrounded by large beautiful clouds. Amidst that field were the twelve-year-old versions of Vaelen and I, both dressed in loose Victorian blouses and wide pants, running across the area with bright, innocent smiles on our faces.

I reached out my hand towards ‘them’, only to be stopped by older ‘me’.

“Don’t bother. These are our memories. Intervening with them won’t amount to anything.”

As I slowly lowered my hand, he continued, his gaze fixated on our younger ‘selves’.

“How do you feel, seeing this?”

It was a strange sight, in all honesty.

Of course, me experiencing such a bizarre sequence of events after being ‘killed’ could only be likened to the sentiment I expressed earlier; That one would relive their past memories and etcetera. However, I never thought it would be this random.

This ‘memory’ seemed so… pointless. Me and Vaelen, at twelve years old, running and laughing together in a large grass field. And yet, it felt so poignant. Seeing this sight caused me to relax my face, a crestfallen expression washing over it.

“I… left him alone. I died… without fulfilling my goals.”

The older ‘me’ then let out a sigh through his nose, crossing his hands behind his back.

“I remember. You wanted to become stronger than Emory so that you could prove to everyone that you’re just as powerful of a Sequencer as they are, if not stronger.”

“I did, yes,” I responded, as the younger ‘me’ sat down, watching the two others play with a closed smile on his face. I lowered my head once more, and added,

“I wanted to eventually surpass Vaelen because I always had the impression that he was just…. Better than me in every field of expertise.”

After I said this, my surroundings dissolved into a different environment. The cold breeze I once felt dissipated instantly, replaced by a more warm and cozy atmosphere. I lifted my head and now saw slightly older versions of Vaelen and I seated at the dinner table, alongside Mother and Hel.

The three of ‘us’ were standing right behind the head of the table, where Mother was seated. Of course, this was yet another memory, so they were simply continuing with chatting and eating, unable to notice us as we were observing the past.

The older ‘me’ then watched the family engage in their usual wholesome chatter with a rather defeated expression on his face.

“I believe only Vaelen adhered his life to the orthodox church. Mother and Hel were not as committed to the Urdall doctrine, and we certainly did not either.”

“…Yes,” I muttered. Even though I never cared about religion, I still felt kind of jealous of him because of all the praise and attention he got from church members for being so… serious about it.”

The older ‘me’ turned towards me, and asked with a closed, bittersweet smile.

“What did you want to become when chained by the feelings of jealousy?”

A dark shadow fell over my face as I mustered the courage to get the words out of my mouth.

“I… hated him. I’ve hated Vaelen for my entire life. I couldn’t bear seeing people compliment him over me, even if it was about topics I never cared about. I wanted to become smarter than him, more revered, stronger…”

“…And it all seemed to have shattered, hadn’t it?” he spoke gently, ending my sentence. I nodded in concurrence and continued my anecdote.

“When I was alone in my bedroom, after being hurt by Emory for a second time, I realized just how inferior I was to not only him but everyone around me. Lunar, Declan, and Geneve. I channeled all that hatred towards Vaelen because… he seemed like the main reason why I felt this way.”

“Because everything from your childhood had been building up to that moment?”

“Yes, it did.”

“But you ended up climbing out of that gutter, no?”

…I remained silent in response. He continued.

“You discovered your purpose within that specific realm. You wanted to work hard enough to become stronger and prove everyone wrong.”

“…But… I lost that chance…”

“That chance has never been lost,” he responded, patting my shoulder. As soon as he made contact with my shoulder, the surroundings dissolved, and we were transported back into the misty realm of the infinite path.

“It is still here, right within your reach. For you to grasp that chance and indeed become the greatest Sequencer the world has ever seen, you must accept yourself for who you are.”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

His words were like stars that gradually fueled my body, enlightening it with… hope.

“I’m… not dead yet?”

“No, you’re not.”

The younger ‘me’ then clutched my pants, looked up at me, and said with a bright tone:

“You will only die if you want to become me!”

“…What?”

“He is right, Caelum,” the older ‘me’ added. Looking at the younger ‘me’ with a pitiful expression. “The young kid you see here is indeed ‘us’, but from ten years ago. Abandoning your future and hopes will result in you losing ‘yourself’. The memories we passed were foreign to him because he never ‘experienced’ them yet.”

I gradually widened my eyes, slowly raising my head to meet the older ‘me’’s eyes as he continued.

“His purpose here was to show you the significance of your memories, not the entirety of the life you’ve been living up until now. He needed to make you realize your past, and how it has created you. You’re not dead, but are you willing to lose everything you built up so far, just because you don’t want to accept yourself?”

…He was right.

These two ‘me’’s were never real. At least, that’s what I believed. The younger ‘me’ served as a symbolic representation of the person I would equate to if I never ended up accepting myself. In other words, the current ‘me’ would be dead.

But… accepting myself… what could he mean by that?

“Look at me, Caelum,” the older ‘me’ spoke firmly. “I am able to relive these memories because I decided to accept myself. Let me go back to the question regarding Mother. That is what ‘She’ calls ‘Herself’ as, ‘our Mother’. Why did you not believe ‘Her’ to be our Mother?”

…No, I already knew that woman was the only way to accepting myself. Or, better said, ‘his’ way of accepting ‘himself’.

“…I never saw her in my life prior to that moment,” I said stumblingly as if every word I uttered were fragile fragments of glass vessels that could be broken with even the slightest counterargument. “Why would I accept the words of a stranger, whom I never had any form of prior connection with?”

This was of course a totally natural question any sane person would ask.

…And I still felt like I was being stupid.

“Then, if we were to show you the truth about your birth, would you accept her?”

My eyes gradually widened upon realizing what he meant. The truth of my birth would mean that…

…I had to accept his proposal!

“You wanted to know about this all your life, right?” he asked. “Well, you may finally witness it. The truth about your birth. However, we will need someone for that.”

…Footsteps foreign to me began to approach us from behind.

I slowly turned around to follow the source of that sound, and as soon as I noticed the figure standing right before me, my mouth was left open.

“…Father?”

I was overwhelmed.

Falling onto my knees, with tears welling up in my eyes, I grasped his attire, expecting him to perhaps embrace me in his arms. It couldn’t have been anyone else, not to me, not in such an otherworldly place, not in such a moment. This man was indeed my Father. His face seemed all too familiar to the pictures Mother would often show us.

However, as I lifted my head, I noticed that… he wasn’t reacting to anything. His eyes were filled with a lifeless void as if he had become a wax figure. I slowly shook my head, slowly growing frustrated for not being able to have my feelings reciprocated, but then, the older ‘me’ gently patted my shoulder.

“I understand how you may feel, but this is not the ‘real’ Emon you’d hope to meet. This is simply a symbolic representation of his recent memories. This is the Emon of 1884.”

…Of course he couldn’t have been real. I came to believe that this was ‘my’ realm, meaning that nobody else other than ‘I’ could be able to enter it.

Seeing his ‘figure’, standing right before me, now felt like looking at a picture of a man I had never met before.

As I stood up, my Father reached his open palm out to me, as if non-verbally asking for something.

“Take his hand,” the older ‘me’ said. “He will show you the events leading up to your birth, and your supposed death.”

“…Okay.”

Upon clasping his hand with mine, the surroundings melted into the living room of a small, modest house. A middle-aged couple were seated on a couch whilst being flanked by Emon and… Mother, who was scrutinizing something that seemed like a photo image.

I remembered being told of this scenario by Mother herself, as well as the numerous news articles surrounding ‘the man named Emon, First Administrator of Luria’s disappearance’. This was supposed to be during the ACM case, and Father would have been in a meeting with members from the Zephyr and Luria assemblies prior to this. An investigation of the deaths of two brothers was, at that point in time, rumoured to be connected to the ACM case…

…but it was later revealed that one of the brothers’ best friends had been the cause of their deaths. That person was the leader of a protesting group that was fighting against the government for not ‘performing well’ in the case. They were killed because they supposedly planned to reveal the secrets of the group to one of the elders within the orthodox church.

Them being killed in order to ‘obscure the truth’ bore no fruits in the end. After Father’s death, other individuals would replace him, and the ring leader was soon revealed to be someone named Alder Royden, who was given a life sentence in the Denevian jail institute without the possibility of parole. The names of the two brothers were Clint and Qlint, I believed…

Even after the rescue of the two church victims, some individuals were still hostile towards the Zephyr assembly because someone from Luria, an organization that did not stem from military purposes, had solved the case before they did.

Nevertheless, watching this unfold before my eyes still felt surreal. If I could put it into the right words… It looked as if I was peering into the lens of a camera, with the borders being made of a greyish mist. Even though these were Emon’s memories, I felt like I was witnessing history unfold before my eyes.

Not only that, but… I was witnessing the memories of the person I called my Father whom I never even encountered back in the living world.

The sight of him and Mother standing in the living room eventually blurred, and our surroundings morphed into an office room, presumably the Cyclone Cellar due to the attires the individuals were wearing.

Inside were Father, Mother, and Dark, their former colleague who had died not too long after Father’s death. Father received a letter that contained the location of the two final victims. This was, of course, also detailed by Mother, when she would narrate that part of her life to us. A letter that was sent by the actual perpetrator of the case. Anything past this moment was foreign to Mother’s knowledge. They would only be rumours and presumptions of events investigators and important figures assumed have happened.

The two victims were revealed to be Clara and Avani, the two ladies we met in that tavern. In their words, they were saved by Emon, but could not retell any memories of the tragedy that befell them, due to being under the influence of that Zealot of Mist Exorci. Not only that but Father would be secluded from all human interaction ever since his wife got pregnant with Vaelen and I.

Therefore, the events that would happen after this, were considered uncharted territory. Meaning that I would finally witness the ‘truth’ of what had happened before he died…