The fortress stands tall and majestic, a symbol of purity in a sea of green. Today, as always, I'm inside its flawless white walls, serving as the first brother.

My day begins with a quiet stroll in the courtyard, crisp air and dew-kissed grass under the morning sun. This place soothes me. The second and third brothers have their own duties, leaving me with these peaceful mornings.

I enter the grand hall with its towering alabaster columns. My fingers brush the intricate carvings, a reminder of the craftsmanship that built this fortress. Each piece tells a story, and I am their keeper.

My first task is in the library with ancient texts. To be honest, it's not really a duty; it's a way to pass the time. The shelves stretch endlessly, holding generations of wisdom. I study magical incantations, historical accounts, and prophecies, even if it's boring. Reading sharpens my mind, and it's a task I can easily do.

As the artificial sun climbs higher, I head to the garden. Amidst meticulously tended flowers, I find peace. Tending to white roses as pure as the fortress itself, each bloom reflects the harmony and beauty of this world.

The day passes slowly, marked by my daily tasks. I am the guardian of the Ivory Citadel, leading the fourteen reflection guardians of knowledge for the Seventh Sage. Despite the monotony, I have purpose.

"I have a purpose," I remind myself.

As the day's tasks wind down and the artificial sun sets on the horizon, the three of us convene in the grand dining hall. The responsibility for today's meal falls to the second brother, and the aroma of his culinary skills fills the air.

The long, polished table is adorned with exquisite white porcelain plates, gleaming silverware, and crystal goblets filled with a clear, sparkling liquid. Across from each other, we sit, our reflections identical in every aspect. The second brother, who is also Durant's reflection, stands at the head of the table, holding a platter of food.

We exchange polite pleasantries in hushed tones, surrounded by the fortress's pristine walls. Our conversations are familiar, perhaps even the same as yesterday or the day before, with the occasional joke that has been shared thousands of times over the past two centuries.

As the second brother places dishes in front of each of us, we are on the brink of enjoying our meal. The aroma is enchanting, and the first bite promises culinary delight. But just as we're about to dig in, an unsettling sensation washes over us simultaneously.

We freeze, our hands hovering over our plates, a shared unease settling upon us like a heavy shroud. It's as if an invisible thread connects us, and through it, we sense that something is amiss. We exchange knowing glances; there's no need for words. We just understood.

The fortress itself seems to hold its breath, the air growing still, charged with unspoken tension. The outside world feels distant, as if separated by an insurmountable chasm. Something has transpired beyond the citadel, beyond this world - one of our brothers has just passed away. But how can we be certain?

The second brother lowers his hand slowly, the platter of food temporarily forgotten. We sit in silence, our senses heightened, attuned to the subtlest of changes. It's a rare occurrence for us to be so affected, and it can only mean one thing - something significant has occurred in the real world.

"Which one of us... Which one of us died?" the third brother asks.

"I don't know," I responded honestly. "But one thing is certain: he held one of the keys to the Ivory Citadel. That's why we could feel the key returning to us, the remaining guardians of the Ivory Citadel."

"So... it could be the fourth, fifth, sixth, or seventh brother..."

"So, what do you two think happened? Was our brother slain by something?"

"Or someone." In that moment, the three of us exchange looks, our faces reflecting the same grim realization. Without further words, I turn to one of us and say, "Second Brother." No additional words are necessary. He understands the task ahead.

"I'll go," Second Brother declared.

"Be cautious out there; return to the citadel as soon as you find something or sense trouble," I cautioned.

"Understood."

With those words, Second Brother departed the room, venturing into the outside world—the real world. As he left, I turned to the third brother and suggested, "Since we all felt the disturbance, you should go and inspect their seal."

"And what about you, First Brother?"

"I'll join you shortly, but first, I need to check on him."

"Very well, I'll be waiting there."

With those final words, I parted ways with my third brother. He headed toward the western corner of our finite world, while I made my way to the eastern corner. After flying for what would be several hours in the real world, I reached a substantial fortress. It wasn't as grand as our citadel, but it was still sizable by any standard. This smaller fortress was nestled within the vast Garden of Eternity, offering a striking contrast to our colossal, flawlessly white citadel at the world's center. Unlike our citadel, designed for dwelling, this fortress served a different purpose: it was a prison dungeon.

I entered through the main doors and encountered a set of large stairs leading to the dungeon's underground section. With a flick of my finger, I summoned light to illuminate my path and descended the stairs. After roughly five minutes of walking downward, I reached the bottom. The room had a towering ceiling adorned with eight large, white iridescent pillars. As I approached, the silhouette of a man sitting amidst the encircling pillars gradually became clearer and clearer.

He sat there in a lotus position, his clothing tattered by nothing but the relentless passage of time. To any observer, his stillness might suggest death, but I knew better. He couldn't be dead or killed like the two others. The best we could do was seal them in this ersatz world, with us, reflections of our originals, condemned to stand as their eternal guardians.

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Bitterness welled up within me; that much was undeniable. Yet, there was nothing to be done about it. I was created for this purpose, and so I had no choice but to fulfill it.

For a fleeting moment, I entertained the idea of saying a few words, but I knew, just as I had for countless millennia, that he would likely ignore me. So, I chose to conclude my visit and return to my third brother's side.

Turning away, I took a few steps, and with my eighth step, it happened again—twice, nearly simultaneously. Another keyholder, another Reflection, had just died, been killed.

The keys to the Garden of Eternity were divided among the creator, them, and five of us, fourteen reflection brothers in total. When a keyholder died, their key was redistributed among the remaining holders. The instant we felt the fragment of the key rushing back to us, we knew that one of us had perished.

"But now two? What's happening out there!?" Panic welled up inside me. It was at that moment that...

I turned around, my heart skipping a beat, and there he was, standing closer to me, right at the boundaries defined by the threshold formed by the three large pillars. His empty eye socket stared at me, and he tried to take a further step toward me but met with a clear, transparent, and iridescent barrier that resisted his touch, not letting him through.

"When did he move?!" Panic instantly gripped me. One moment, he was seated, and the next, he stood at the outskirts of the barrier created by the pillars. "What's happening here?" I internally panicked, but seeing him futilely attempting to break through the barrier gave me a moment to regain my composure.

Once I had calmed down, I approached him cautiously and began to say, "It's useless; this barrier is—" But I trailed off mid-sentence as I felt the fragment of another keyholder's key returning to me. "Another!" I exclaimed in a panic, but that was nothing compared to the astonishing sight unfolding before me.

"What the hell!" I couldn't believe my eyes. The man's breath hung in the cold air as he extended his hand toward the barrier. His fingers hesitated, quivering slightly before making contact with the shimmering surface. At once, a ripple of iridescent light spread out from the point of contact, creating a dazzling wave of color that rippled across the barrier like a stone dropped into a serene pond.

As his hand pressed against the otherworldly membrane, it appeared to yield and resist simultaneously, like a fragile soap bubble caught between worlds. The man's features contorted with concentration as he exerted a force of will upon the barrier, his fingertips feeling a strange, almost liquid sensation beneath them.

With a sudden and unexpected twist, the man's form began to meld with the barrier. It was as if he had become one with the very essence of the iridescent light. His body contorted and shimmered, mirroring the rainbow hues of the barrier. For a fleeting moment, he existed both inside and outside of it, a surreal blend of human and ethereal energy.

Then, with a final push, he passed through the iridescent barrier entirely. His form emerged on the other side, his outline wavering like a mirage before solidifying once more. The man now stood there, past the barrier and the pillars, free and staring at me.

The next instant, I saw him rushing toward me, and in reflex, I backed away in a panic, frantically summoning my arcane powers. But before I could unleash them, I felt an excruciating pain surging through my chest. I glanced down, horrified, to see an arm piercing through me from behind. When I turned to look behind me, I met an empty eye socket staring back at me.

"How... how?" I stammered, coughing up a mouthful of blood. At that moment, for the first time in nearly two and a half millennia, the man finally replied, "You, your creator, and your brothers seem to have forgotten the initial purpose of the Garden of Eternity."

In my agony, I aimed my hand and unleashed my arcane power at him, but I ended up attacking nothing but thin air. Just as he had appeared out of nowhere, he disappeared, only to reappear a few meters away. He casually tossed a bloodied mass to the side—my heart. It was still beating, and it was mine.

It was in that horrifying moment that I felt it again for the fourth time in a row—another one of us was dead. And this time, I could clearly discern which one of us fourteen brothers had been killed. It was the third brother.

"I see," the man mumbled, his empty gaze lost in the distance. "So you two have been unsealed as well... Just wait a bit for me."

As I struggled to regenerate a new heart using my power, "Chaos Vitalis," the man extended his arm toward me and said, "I know each one of you has your own reasons, which is why I apologize. But you all must die, and let your deaths be a message. For your creator, whether in the past or the future, retribution has arrived. I am back."

I desperately attempted to summon my arcane powers to fight for my life, but deep down, I already knew the truth— in that moment, I was already dead.

***

In the middle of nowhere, on the desolate plains of the southern continent, a peculiar disturbance rippled through the air. The atmosphere crackled with sudden tension, like the world itself held its breath. Then, as if tearing through the very fabric of reality, a rift appeared, allowing a figure dressed in tattered, ancient clothing to pass through. The rift opened and closed almost immediately behind him.

The figure, who had been cast from one world into another, landed on the ground with an appearance of exhaustion. His eyes closed, and he lay there, his breathing labored. Time seemed to stretch, and then a smile cracked across his face. It was a smile that soon turned into maddened laughter, echoing across the barren landscape.

As he opened his eyes, what was revealed were empty sockets, devoid of eyeballs. He laughed as if he could see everything, after thousands of years, finally free, basking in the light of a true sun, not the artificial one he had known for so long. It wasn't exactly happiness he felt; it was a sense of relief to be out there, in the real world.

He remained there for a moment, soaking in the warmth of the sun, before stirring himself to a sitting position. "I have caused quite the trouble to free myself from the Garden," he muttered, his voice tinged with anticipation. "No doubt, he'll come for me soon, but also for the one responsible for the carnage that allowed my escape."

In that moment, he turned his gaze northward, his expression darkening. "Is it you again, primeval nightmare?" he muttered to the wind. "Another of your corrupted vessels... Such an irony. For me to be freed in that manner, no doubt fate will make us meet again."

The figure, whose head bore a crown of gleaming silver hair, like moonlight reflecting on a calm, silvery lake, rose gracefully from the ground. Despite his tattered clothing, his appearance defied the march of years, suggesting he was in his late fifties but exuding an air of vigor and vitality.

As he began to walk, the world stretched out before him in all its vastness and uncertainty. With each step he took, his appearance underwent a remarkable transformation. He got half a decade younger with every stride, and the years seemed to melt away, leaving him looking increasingly youthful.

After merely three and a half steps, he came to an abrupt halt. He sensed that taking another step further would be morally questionable. With a thoughtful expression, he reached out to touch his face, muttering, "I wonder what you'll be feeling when you see this face again, old friend."

A strange mix of emotions swirled within him—anticipation, resolve, and a touch of nostalgia. He knew that his journey, bound by an already-established promise to an old friend, was still far from its end. This was merely the beginning of a path that would take him through unknown lands and confrontations he couldn't yet fathom.

But for now, he would venture forth, driven by an unyielding purpose and the unwavering desire to uphold that promise. It was a promise made in the distant past, one that had been buried in the depths of time but had never lost its significance.