My brief consideration of the Scholar's past and future paths came to a halt when Arvhek, not bothering to see if I was following, walked away from the niche housing the monument to Flourish, cloak swishing.

I followed, shaking my head in equal parts amusement and irritation. You'd have thought the crotchety bastard was still all brass and duty, expecting people to go along. But then, you didn't contemplate omnicide if other people's opinions bothered you. I knew, even if, at my worst, I hadn't dreamed of destruction a sliver as thorough as what he had brought upon the Ur-City.

Granted, I hadn't been aware of the things beyond my macrocosm, then...and I didn't want to think if I'd have finished what Arvhek had started, if I had.

Quickly catching up with the Lovelorn - a nickname I advise anyone weaker than me against using -, I said, 'You know you could undo it, Arv. Unmaking nothingness is a parlour trick for destroyers weaker than you've ever been after you saw nothing.'

He didn't reply, or react save for a subtle tightening of his broad shoulders. I waited until we reached the next niche before I grasped his shoulder; I had this feeling he wouldn't have appreciated being stopped in the middle of the walk.

'Your Empress could live again,' I said, softening my voice, just in case I'd sounded too accusing or confrontational. 'You could bring her back.'

A sardonic laugh escaped him in reply. 'And lessen her lesson? I think not. I think not, my heir.' Under his mask, I could see the outline of a smile like those sported by madmen when they managed to restrain themselves a hair short of biting your throat out, baring their teeth at the effort required. 'You think trying to make your peers happy will make the Mover lay off and not stop you from lifting the little people up? It won't even if it worked. It cares little for me, that creature. You don't love your a knife, however cleanly it cuts.'

Maybe it was how morose he sounded, or the fact I wanted to get this - whatever "this" was going to entail - over with, but I found myself not even wanting to crack a joke about Arv basically calling himself a tool. Before I could respond to his monologue, he said, 'You fret over your own beloved, Keeper. Leave Xialla's memory to me.'

'I'm just trying to help, man. You sound bittersweet whenever you talk about her-'

'It took her going to her end to make me listen, give existence another chance. I'm sure she'd be relieved to learn history vindicated her...'

I chanced a smile. 'Exactly! Imagine how worried she must've been as she disappeared? This would be a chance to make things right.'

Arvhek clicked his tongue, leaning forward to rest one hand on the outermost tendril of the Second Keeper's statue. 'I've learned a thing or two about disappointing the women I love. How to deal with the consequences was one of the first.' He looked at me sidelong. 'How about this: I might decide to think about bringing Xia back, to tell her she was right. I doubt she'd be surprised, with how she won all our arguments, but maybe her heart would be lighter than when my mantle of power ushered her into oblivion.' He closed his eyes, lowering his head slightly. 'It is not a worthless idea, I admit. Now, will you stop pestering me?'

'I accept you apology,' I said smugly, smirk only growing when he started grumbling about how I'd inherited Ned's passion for being a matchmaking busybody.

It's not my fault, everyone. I see people as...as crates. I can't help but ship them.

And Arvhek had been the death of both his wives and his paramour, in one way or another. If what I'd read was even halfway to the truth, the old warhorse had the tendency to have happiness snatched away from him right when he thought there no longer was anyone or anything capable of such.

I'd like to say I couldn't relate, but I prefer to be honest when bragging.

The statue was beautiful in the way certain abstract pieces sometimes were, when you could stop focusing on details enough to see the whole and notice patterns. Its tridimensional fraction would've appeared as an almost perfect tentacled sphere, two handfuls of tendrils pressed against the ground on either side, as if they were legs, while several more were raised.

The creature was a pale, greyish blue - not uncommon colours, when it came to DEATH and its Keepers -, speckled with lighter circles across its core and the tips of its limbs, which almost glowed white when light passed over them.

Even though this was only a faint echo of the Keeper who had been, I could still feel its love for those it had defended, and the dutifulness that had come with that. In fact, its whole aura reminded me of...

'Your Gardeners,' Arvhek whispered, reaching up to grasp a tentacle gingerly between his hands. The statue shone, illuminated from within, in response. I caught a ghost of a smile dancing across my predecessor's face, but it was gone as fast as the glow. 'They are always fascinated when they get to meet their uncommon ancestor.'

I quirked a brow at his phrasing, and he nodded, indulging my curiosity. 'Most of the beings who would become the Gardeners were not like this one. And yet, several of their thought-lines could trace their ancestry back to if, if they cared to.'

'It was flesh. Deathless flesh, but still an organism. It was not wholly of the mind.'

'Not even when DEATH lifted it up,' Arvhek agreed. 'For its desires, though altered, still echoed those of its former life, and so many other lives.'

'Heard it turned itself into a colony,' I grunted, crossing my arms. 'Had people burrowing into its skin and organs, sheltering them in exchange for favours.'

'It brought benefits, though I doubt most would agree with such an existence. Think of all the bacteriophobes scared of the little things inside them, which they can't even feel. Now, imagine being able to sense both them and their thoughts.'

I laughed. 'You're making it sound almost selfless.'

'Not at all,' Arvhek replied. 'It was no effort at all to house those smaller than itself. When you dwarf most intergalactic empires, it is easy to contain multitudes. And their gratefulness certainly sweetened the deal.'

The proto-Gardener had not been greedy, exactly. If one wanted to ascribe humanlike emotions to it, you could've said it'd craved appreciation. The Bountiful One (as Bounty went by formally, after its tenants named it so) had been able to feel every grateful thought of those it had shielded from the dangers of its long-gone universe: the terms of its deal, and the payment it had asked for in exchange for protection.

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Many had accepted its offer, literally carving out new homes into the cosmic being's innards, feeding upon its inner flora and fauna. Thankfulness had been its coin and its meal, and the arrangement had lasted until DEATH had come to the living ark with an offer of its own.

Bounty had all but pounced upon the deal: now, it could feel everything across creation! It wasted no time in taking up the mantle of Keeper, a process during which it turned itself inside out to cast its inhabitants into the void. When DEATH had voiced its disapproval at the demise of decillions, Bounty had talked it down, saying it had put off the ends that would've been theirs if not for its generosity forages. The Idea of Endings had not fully agreed, but, with some grumbling, it had begun training Bounty.

The Second Keeper's records were rather sparse; I had the feeling DEATH was somewhat embarrassed about the glory hound it had hired, even if it had been competent at its job, which was more than you could say for most divas.

Bounty had come up with a few ideas, too, I thought as I metaphorically jotted down the type exchange it had favoured. It was more palatable than some of the currencies I'd glimpsed in Earth's futures, and I knew I could refine it.

'You don't sound like you disagree,' I pointed out.

'With Bounty's methods? Or its results?' He shrugged. 'My boy, I could not care less what the common folk worship. I'm no longer in the business of purging people for thinking wrong.' For a moment, it was like a cloud hung over him. Then, he set his shoulders and stood up straight again. 'And it did decent work. I'd say better than Flourish, but almost anything is better than nothing, when it comes to Keeping life and death.'

From his bitter tone, the Lovelorn still hadn't got over his irritation at the peaceful First Keeper. I wasn't sure how I felt about it, myself. Ture, it was a damn shame that the Ylvharnii had let themselves be slaughter, but I'd almost let everyone die because I and a handful of those I loved had suffered. Could I put my selfishness over their fixation on cherishing life?

Of course you can, fool, my strigoi side hissed, sounding something between affronted and exasperated. And you should. They all draw breath only thanks to us. We envisioned salvation. We rallied them. Everything there is, everything we could want, is ours, by right of conquest!

I inwardly gave it that patient look I reserved for insistent idiots. My mirror was one of its favourite hangout spots. And? You're saying like there's something we want but aren't taking. Before it could proclaim its privation, I went on. Mia loves us, and lets us love her. She has even agreed to build a family with us. I choked a little, briefly closing my eyes. Being the guardian of the magna-macrocosm was one thing, fatherhood quite another. I knew Mia was still scared of whether she'd make a good mom, but my love was just being silly. I knew how warm her heart was.

I, meanwhile, was an impulsive bastard who tended to fly off the handle the instant someone I knew was in danger. Brooding fucks with a tendency to snap didn't usually make for model dads, but I'd change. I'd do my best.

To be honest...back in my human life, I hadn't put much thought in romance, besides a few flings in college. I'd seen the drama too many couples got into and sneered, telling myself I'd have time for love after I made it big, if I still cared about it.

I swear I used to be dumber than I remember every time I look back. I should've taken Mihai and Adriana as examples, or Lucian and Bianca, not the worst relationships. Just because Alex, who'd been so altruistic it hurt for as long as I'd known him, hadn't wanted to "burden" a woman by growing close to her, I shouldn't have, subconsciously, gone along.

Not that I'd had much in my head, back then.

My worse half wilted at my response, walking to stand beside me in our mindscape and laying a hand on my shoulder. I am, of course, beyond happy that our beloved lets us adore her. And we will care for our little ones, just as we have dedicated our existence to serving her. Its eyes gleamed wildly. But meekness will bring you nothing, David! You have heard my words. Still, you do not heed them.

I'd heard them, all right. My instincts wanted to, essentially, get everyone in one spot and make them bend the knee, one way or another, before making them worship me like the Unbeings did - in addition to giving them the order to slaughter everyone who did not believe fervently enough.

Which was, in my opinion, more proof that a strigoi's instincts were the evil within their hearts, not their "more honest face". Whoever had come up with the nonsense that our angry, hateful moments represented who we "really" were needed to pay me a visit in DEATH Keep, so we could discuss psychology.

As for my worse half...I was never going to let it have free reign.

'True enough,' I agreed. 'But DEATH didn't take long to grow displeased with it, too.' Bounty had one day come up with the idea to, among other things, piece the minds of godless ghosts back together, not out of kindness, but so they could worship it, and it could feed on their joy. I could practically hear the pulsing of its throbbing body, grown fat and strong on psychic feed.

DEATH might've let that slide, since it hadn't really hurt anyone, even if the motive had been scummy. But then...

'You know,' I said, unfolding my arms and resting my back against a wall, 'the balls on this guy were almost funny. Avoiding torturing those DEATH deemed wicked so they could thank it for its mercy? It had to have known it wouldn't work.'

'That would've been embarrassing enough,' Arvhek chuckled in agreement, 'but the fact its Keeper brushed off several warnings and a mountain of advice did not help the old husk's mood. But I'm unsurprised it wouldn't write that down.'

I nodded. Bounty's ego trip had only ended out of necessity: with DEATH stripping it of its powers, the proto-Gardener had been reduced to its a shadow of what it had grown accustomed to.

Worse, actually. Even if people had been willing to live within it again (and no one was that gullible or that much of a thrill-seeker: they feared the Bountiful One would send them on a surprise spacewalk the instant it got something shiny dangled in its face), it had made plenty enemies in its tenure as Keeper, who were eagerly waiting for it to act up.

Nowadays, the Bountiful One hung around the edges of the Multitude of Minds, begging for admission. But, while the alien alliance had several neighbours they protected in exchange for being allowed to sample their thoughts, not even Bounty's descendants, the children of its fellows who had seen the births and deaths countless universes during their evolution, were charitable enough to welcome the telepathic leech into the fold.

'Say what you will about the Gardeners,' Arvhek said, as if picking up on my line of thought, 'but they can at least put some steel into their spines when necessary. That it took so long for them to find unity of purpose was deplorable, but not as much as what was done by this...attention whore, I believe you call such people?'

'Yeah,' I agreed absently. Then, narrowing my eyes, I said, 'Hey. I was just thinking about the Gardeners, the Multitude. Did you guess...?'

'I must've read your mind...' Arvhek breathed, the fingers of one hand twisted into an arcane gesture.

'Telepathy jokes. Ha,' I replied flatly, but my mind was already elsewhere. I've stepped in trash I had more sympathy for than Bounty, but...it had even been barred from going to the Deep Thinker, despite its insistence that it no longer wanted to live, and that it wasn't strong enough to kill itself. Literally or in terms of willpower, it hadn't said.

The Multitude's god in all but name was the result of their members' minds forming a gestalt when they grew weary of existence. A few of their allies had been extended the privilege, after earning the telepaths' respect. Over time, the psychic creation had grown more powerful than most Archetypes, being completely in sync with the Idea of itself as well.

I wondered...had Bounty grown enough to accept fading into the Thinker, losing its sense of self save for when someone called for one of the wrought god's departed components? If it was allowed to be part of the Thinker, for a moment, would it want to go back?

Would it find peace?

Arvhek took a step back from Bounty's monument, letting his hand linger for an instant before retracting it with a sigh. 'Now, then,' my predecessor said. 'I could not speak of the Third without speaking of the Empire we built.'