The sleeper dreamed.
Long ago, before science had declared dreams only the random firing of synapses, the ancients taught that Dream was a brother to Death, a guide to other worlds. Those visited by him would see terrors, wonders, and glimpses of lives not their own. They would see the gossamer curtain between worlds part, watch as the realms of fact and imagination intertwined, snatch fragments of truth from the joining. The sleeper dreamed and, in dreaming, witnessed.
A figure the dreamer recognized as his own, his back in bloody tatters as rats in the shape of men scurried around him. A monstrous shape, blurred by shadow even in sunlight, laying waste to an army beneath broken walls. A dark girl, broken and lost in grief.
A hand buried in stone, rising free with the molten haft of some weapon in its grip. Tongues of fire scything through the air, cutting men down like wheat. A figure fleeing through the woods, blood weeping from scores of wounds, the hunters closing in as it collapsed and lay still.
These and countless more drifted by, images dancing across a still pool without leaving so much as a ripple until, finally, something in the depths stirred.
A single image was caught, teased from the flow by his unconscious mind. A white star clasped in an inhuman grip, burning with fury and the pain of failure. A flicker of emotions, too many and too blurred to easily identify, passed through the sleeper's thoughts, and slowly a past unfurled that was not his own.
He dreamed of a child, a girl who inherited pride, beauty, and power that was the envy of all around her. A perfect life made meaningless by the knowledge that she could never have children. Fate had stolen the means from her, In denial, she swore to do what had been declared impossible: to craft a child and breathe life into it.
Her experiments raked her through the years, wringing life and wealth away until she was a hunched, hopeless thing, her only success a small gemstone she had imbued with a fragment of her soul. Small and skillful, it gleaned knowledge from her masters that she could not, hiding in corners and stealing glimpses of knowledge even they feared to touch. It was this knowledge it brought to her and to this knowledge that she eventually turned.
She began small, summoning spirits of logic and wisdom that only affirmed, time and again, that her quest was hopeless. In time her traps and summonings grew more skillful, but at a cost. Her cobbling, born of love but tainted by her own rising madness, urged her on ever quicker, more dangerous paths. All too soon servants disappeared, then the students of her peers, sacrifices to dark powers or vessels to entrap those unwilling to help. Finally, one of the masters themselves was bound and bled, his soul used to cage power beyond her means to contain. Even as her doors were battered down by the kin of those she had slain the demon broke free. Rather than let it run loose the woman, finally recognizing the what she had done, gave up her life to send the demon screaming back to the abyss.
Her creation grieved, dedicating itself to becoming the child she desired. In time, after countless centuries of experiments no longer bound by their master's fraying sense of morality, it accepted what she had not. To transmute lifeless substance into flesh as she had desired was impossible, beyond the power of magic. However, though a body could not be created one might be stolen. An infant, an heir to privilege just as its mistress had been, would be ideal. The demon that had killed the creation’s mistress would be broken to the task in punishment. Now only time was needed. Time, and a vessel...
The sleeper, disgust rising with every moment of the story, nonetheless found pity for the friend he'd gained and lost. The cobbling had taken everything, even his life, but wasn’t Jabberwisp only acting on compulsion? Hadn’t his warped creation all but forced the little golem to act as he had? The cobbling had done evil, yes, but was not beyond compassion or understanding. Nathan pitied him, grieving for the fate he had brought upon himself.
Nathan's last thoughts were of Maggie as his mind, finally ready, began to fade.
What Are You Doing?
The voice came from nowhere and everywhere at once, pervasive as the demon's but with none of its cruelty. It might once have seemed part of Nathan's thoughts, but after all that had happened there was no mistaking the touch of another mind upon his own. Something about it tugged at his memory but Nathan didn't care to follow that familiar thread, trying to ignore it and move on.
What Are You Doing?
Nathan didn't hold back his irritation at being interrupted. Life and death had brought him too much grief to bother with manners. Well, there is the little matter of my being dead.
Why?
You aren't going away, are you.
Why?
Nathan sighed, or thought of sighing. He let his mind dance along avenues of memories both his and more than his, some part of him marveling at the purity of his knowledge. Each thought brought the experience back to life, sending sensations dancing along the phantom contrails of his mind.
Because a blind, beautiful woman was contracted to go to the old world, find a wizard, and bring him back so a little shit made of sticks and a shiny rock could use the wizard to summon a demon and become a real boy. Nathan paused. Girl, actually. The duchess told me it was going to be a girl.
Is There Not Another Reason?
Does there need to be?
... Fine. Is it because I was driven out of my own body?
Is There Not Another Reason?
I don't...
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Suddenly Nathan recognized the voice. It was the same voice that had comforted him when the demon had tormented him in his dreams. The same voice of gentle strength, a mountain's rumbling lullaby.
Did You Not Learn From Your Brother's Will, From Your Time With My Child, That There Are Many Kinds Of Death? Your Brother, Locked Inside What Was Left Of His Body, Had No Wish To Live As A Blind, Deaf, Voiceless, Featureless Remnant Of A Man. He Understood His Choice Before He Even Had To Make It. The Long, Torturous Death Of His Soul Or The Quick Passing Of His Body. He Chose.
Your child...
My Daughter. The voice gave a warm chuckle. Do You Not Remember, Nathan? All Who Are About To Die Are Met By One Of My Kind.
Bobby... Then I am dead. Nathan was absurdly outraged. But I didn't kill myself!
Dying. Not Dead. Not Yet.
I don't understand.
I Am Here Because You Are About To Make A Choice. A certain wryness bled into the aspect's voice. For My Daughter's Sake I Intend To See You Make An Informed Decision, Lest Your Death Be Without Merit.
I'm not choosing to die, my body was stolen. Shouldn't you be, I dunno, Possession or something?
Yes, Your Body Has Been Stolen. You Still Have A Choice. Fight, Or Let It Happen.
Fight? Nathan laughed. I already did, and I lost. Badly. Besides, I dealt with it.
Your friends will not be enough. The aspect spoke with absolute knowledge, and Nathan knew better than to argue.
I... I... What can I do?
Fight.
How? It tore me down like a house of cards and now… well, you're here. Even If I could, what could I do? The thing you are suggesting I fight was old and strong when King Arthur was still a twinkle in Merlin's magic ball.
I Did Not Say You Would Win.
Then why? You're telling me not to accept that I'm dead now only so I can die later. Suicide either way. If it doesn't matter, why should I bother fighting?
Suicide. The Word Colors Your Mind Poorly, If Rightly So. Even In Your World Everyday Language Marks It A Sin. As You Understand It, Perhaps It Is.
Something beyond exhaustion bled into Nathan's thoughts, the echo of memories spanning countless lifetimes. I Look To My Existence And Would Despair As Maggie Does, But I See What She Does Not. Maggie Does Not Understand What She Is. Who She Is. I Am Old, But Even Though She Had To Teach Me Humanity I Am Not The First. Our Duty, Hers And Mine, Is The End Of Life By Choice.
Ours Is A Dual Existence. With One Hand We Lead The Careworn To Rest, Mourning Them. With The Other We Bear Heroes. Suicide Is Not My Only Name, Nathan. Martyrdom. Heroism. Sacrifice. Maggie Has Dwelt Too Long On Grief And Pain, Perhaps Because Of Her Time With Her True Father. I Myself Had Forgotten Those Names Until Maggie Came Into My Existence. A Chosen Death, One With Meaning, Is Among The Greatest Gifts Humanity Is Privileged To Know. Your Father's Faith Teaches This.
Greater love hath no man than he who gives his life for his friends.
Just So.
And what does that have to do with me?
You Have A Choice. Submit And Die Broken Or Die Proudly, Fighting Until The Bitter End.
It doesn't sound like it matters much.
Of Course It Matters. Why Do You Think You Were Chosen?
Me?
You Were A Tool In The Work Of My Child, Herself A Pawn of The Wretched Thing Called Jabberwisp, Who In His Turn Was A Plaything Of What You Choose To Call A Demon. Moves And Countermoves In An Ancient Game.
What game?
You Were Told That It Is The Nature Of All Things To End. This Is True. It Is Also The Nature Of All Things To Begin And To Be. Therein Is The Mystery. Therein Is The Game. Call It As You Like: Game, War, The Label Of The Conflict Is Immaterial. It Raged Long Before The Stars First Filled The Black And Will End Only When The Last Firmaments Of Reality Have Tumbled To Dust. Humanity Treats In Countless Tales Of This Unending Struggle, Of The Battle Between Existence And The Cold, Empty Dark.
Who is fighting?
Everything.
I don't understand.
Everything Fights Nothing. Good Fights Evil. Energy And Entropy, Light And Dark, Reality And Nonexistence. Do You Understand?
Yes.
And, As The New Religion Of Science Tells You, For Every Action There Follows Reaction. The Enemy Has Made Its Play In This Theater. You Were Ours.
Ours? A little weird, don't you think, for death to fight on the side of life?
Call It Job Security.
Nathan laughed. Why?
Why Make The Play?
Why me? Why was I chosen? An idiot who can melt things. Why not a hero? Was there no one else?
There Are Others. There Are Always Others. Maggie Could Have Taken Someone Else And You Would Have Been Left In Peace. If Given The Chance, The Foreknowledge of What Was To Come, Would You Have Stayed?
Nathan pondered the question, dwelling on it as only dreams allow. No. No, I suppose not.
Why Not?
I don't know, Nathan replied. I... It... It had to be done.
Exactly. The aspect replied. Why You? Why Not You? Perhaps You've The Will To Shoulder This Burden, Perhaps You've The Strength To Succeed. It Is Unclear, In Truth, If You Have Either. And There Are, Of Course, Many With Both.
You Were Chosen Because You Have Bravery Enough To Try, Not Because You Want This Burden But Because You Feel You Must. Duty To Right, To Others, And Above All, For That Which Makes Your Humanity So Precious. For Love.
You, Nathaniel Seldon, Understood This The Day You Saved Your Brother From The Fate He So Feared. You Saved Him, Not Because You Wanted It, Not Because You Would Be Rewarded. You Knew The Decision Would Haunt You, But Did Not Suffer Your Love To Be Compromised. You Chose, When Others Faltered. When Others Let Be, Hoping For A Way Without Pain To Themselves, You Acted. Today You Must Act Again.
Why You And Not Others? Because There Are Many Called Heroes, But There Are Few Who Chose To Be.
The Aspect paused, respect edging the mountainous voice. The Time Has Come To Chose, Nathaniel Seldon. You Have Been Brave. You Have Earned Your Rest. The Path I Urge You Toward Is Harder Than That Which I Stopped You From Taking.
What... what comes after... all this?
That Is For You To Learn, Not Others To Teach. I Do Not Think You Will Learn Today.
No. No, I guess not. A warmth that in life would have been a smile lit Nathan's mind, but he couldn't tell to whom it belonged. I have a mess to clean up.
I Shall Guide You Back When You Are Ready.
I'm scared.
You Would Be A Fool If You Were Not. As You Said, However, You Are Already Dead. Or Rather, You Have Already Died Once. You Know Whether It Is A Thing To Fear.
But I still don't know what comes after this.
It Is What You Make Of It.
Hah! It would be, wouldn't it?
Indeed.
Just one more question, um... sir.
Bobby Will Do. I Am Fond Of That Name.
Bobby... You're cheating, aren't you?
Cheating?
Maggie told me how it works. Aspects do not interfere. Aspects guide us to our fates, they only rarely cause them and they never interfere. Fate, not choice. I was set to go and all you had to do was watch. Aren't you stalling my timely demise? Aren't you keeping me from my death?
The warmth pulsing from Bobby's mind became a long, loud bellow of a laugh. That laugh came with such frigid clarity of fulfilment that, terrible though it was, it somehow charged Nathan’s soul with savage confidence. He heard Bobby’s parting words and, though unable to see it as the dream faded, knew that the two of them were sharing a predator’s smile.
I Never Said I Was Here For Your Death, Nathan.