I thought I’d think of a memory with Emma, a time when she was smiling more and wasn’t locking herself inside her apartment, pretending that the rest of the world didn’t exist outside of the front door.

But I thought of dad. When he sat us down to tell us he had cancer.

I had focused so much on him that the rest of the people in the living room are black shadows. Not even I am clear, only a shadow that sits with the others in the sofa.

He’s shining brightly. I remember most things about him. And the parts that I no longer remember is covered in a thick oil, deep enough that I cannot even think of what could be hiding beyond it. It’s the same black oil that Laura had been covered in when I visited her world.

Me and Cerberus are standing in front of the living room’s threshold. Dad is sitting in the arm chair, leaning forward with a hard grip around his hands to the point they’re turning white. He never had a difficult time to accept death, it was what he left behind that worried him.

“How long?” says one of the shadows, I think it’s Emma.

The voices sound static, like they’re not really there.

The silence that comes after, makes me feel the same anxiety I remember feeling when he told us.

“Half a year. Maybe a year.”

When I hear how robotic and hollow my dad’s voice sounds like I have to bite my tongue to not react. I should have realized I wouldn’t recognize his voice when we’ve been dead for so long.

I listen to the conversation between my dad and the shadows until the scene stops. He’s stuck. Immobile. Like I’ve paused a recording. He’s on his way up from the armchair, with one hand gripped tightly around the armrest.

“Why did you choose this memory?” Cerberus asks.

I cannot figure out what the tone in his voice means.

“I’m not sure. It was the first thought that came up.”

“I was expecting you to choose a more positive memory when you had the choice. You can choose another one if you’d…”

“No,” I interrupt, “there’s no need.”

The look he gives me makes me feel like he’s pitying me.

I take a deep breath. “Is it safe to talk here?”

“Yes, let me take us to another scene.”

I don’t say anything even if I want to remain here. I try to remember each detail of dad before everything goes black.

It takes a few seconds before we arrive in the next scene. We’re at the top of a tall tower looking out over the gigantic city with light blue and turquoise buildings, the architecture reminds me of the famous buildings in Saint Petersburg and Moskva in Russia. Beyond the city lays landscape with green hills and overly large trees, in the distance I can see a snow-covered mountain chain.

I walk closer to the fence surrounding the tower. “Which book is this from?”

“None.” He stands next to me. “It’s a memory.”

A man stands on the other side of the tower. I can only see the back of his head and back. He has the same black dreadlocks – but shorter – as Cerberus.

“You showed me a very personal memory, Orchid.” He smiles. “So, I’ll show you this, one of the most important memories I still hold dear.”

I look out at the city. “Where are we?”

“My home.”

“And where is that?”

This place is not Arkaros. Not the Realm of the Dead’s capital.

“That I cannot answer. But no matter where it’s located, it doesn’t look like this anymore.”

“What happened to it?”

”I cannot answer that either.”

He leans towards the fence. “We’re safe here. We can talk about anything. No one is listening.”

I hesitate. ”If so, what’s stopping you from telling me what happened to this world?”

He’s not smiling anymore. “There are things I can say but shouldn’t. Then there are things like these. If I share these secrets with you, it’s very likely it would be seen as treason. I’m ready to share a lot with you to make sure I have what I need, but I cannot do what you’re asking me.” He moves his gaze to the city once again. “No, even if it hadn’t been treason… there are things you just don’t speak of.”

I don’t like that he brought me here, it feels wrong even if it’s just a memory.

“So what can you tell me then?”

“You told me you thought we were gods,” he says and for a while it sounds like he’ll continue, but he simply ends up furrowing his brow in frustration.

“And you told me you weren’t. Yet you didn’t want to explain what you were. Have you changed your mind?”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“No. I haven’t.” He hesitates. “A god… they exist without purpose – they have always existed. A guardian has a purpose, it’s to lead and protect. To rule. We were created especially for this purpose.”

“What created you?”

He avoids my eyes by looking out at the view once again.

“Another question you cannot answer?”

He nods.

“Are we… are humans created by something?” It’s hard to phrase it, even if it’s such a simple question. One that worries me to my core.

“Before I answer your question, I need a promise from you. When I ask you my questions, you cannot lie. You cannot withhold information. You’ll have to tell me everything you know, even if you think it might not be of importance.”

“I cannot agree to anything when I don’t even know what you want to ask me.”

“Clover,” he answers without hesitation, “my questions are about Clover.”

Somehow, I’m not surprised. Not after what happened in the Oak’s tallest tree. It wasn’t just me and Artemis that noticed Clover clearly was withholding something. At the same time, I’m terrified. I don’t want to create any more problems for Clover, even if he has avoided him since I pressured him for answers. Maybe it would be for the best if I asked Cerberus to take me back to the theater hall, but I convince myself there’s nothing evil in his face, nothing that tells me that he’ll hurt him.

“Okay.”

He gives me a thankful smile, yet I feel dirty.

“The answer to your question is more complicated than a yes or no, and I only have half of the answer. Your vessel, the human body I know nothing of. Despite my interest in you, I have little knowledge of your world or how it was created. But this,” he pushes a finger against my forehead, “has not always existed in your vessels.”

“What do you mean?”

He pulls back his hand. “Your vessels existed long before your souls. The question for your answer is – yes, this part of you is created. But I cannot speak of the physical human body.”

“What created us?” I ask; the words are heavy, almost incomprehensible on my lips.

“The same entity that created me. More I cannot say.”

“But… why? What was the purpose of our existence?”

When only silence accompany us, I realize it’s another question he cannot answer. I slide down on the floor and focus on the man who cannot be anyone else but young Cerberus. He’s still having his back towards us, but he’s moving. Not immobile. The scene is still playing.

Cerberus observes his former self. “We don’t have a lot of time left.”

I can barely believe it. I was created by something, not my body but my soul. After I arrived in the Realm of the Dead, I had realized something had to exist. I had thought that the guardians might have been gods. But this is something else completely. I belong here and was sent out to a place that has nothing to do with me. I was created here – not in the living world.

But why? What was the point of creating us to live inside of something foreign that didn’t even belong to this place?

“Ask you questions,” I answer, unsure I’ll even be able to gather my thoughts.

“You have to be honest with me, Orchid.”

“I know.” My voice breaks. “Ask.”

Cerberus sits down beside me. I have no desire to even look at him at this point.

“Clover is suspected to be involved in the theft that happened in Arkaros.”

I’m surprised of how open he is about it. The last time I and Clover had asked about the theft, they had told us we had nothing to do with it. Yet, now he gave me the information without a slight hesitation that it could be a bad idea. Was he that desperate to gain any possible information that he ignored the very possible danger in telling me all this? What surprised me the most is that I’m not shocked by what he’s saying.

“I thought you suspected the fractured ones,” I say and pull my sleeve; I still don’t want to look at him.

“We did to a beginning. We thought he was cooperating with them. But we couldn’t admit our suspicions about him, not without evidence. So we focused on the fractured ones.”

They had already suspected him when they interrogated us, and I hadn’t had a single clue.

“I don’t know why you think I’d know something,” I say but I must have not sounded convincing enough.

“It’s important that you’re honest with me, Orchid.”

I bite the side of my underlip. “What did he steal? It’s important for me to know.”

This time Cerberus hesitates but gives in and tells me what I need to know, “he stole one of the four artifacts, see it as a key to a lock with multiple keys. He cannot open the door with only one of them, but there is nothing stopping him from finding the others.”

“What is he trying to open?”

“A gate that has been closed for a very long time. One that we should keep closed until it’s ready to be opened.”

I look at him this time, and it looks like there’s a liquid in the iris this close up.

“And what happens if he does open it?”

“Nothing good. Chilly roses will be the last our problems. It’s locked for a reason.”

I cannot imagine that Clover would open a gate that would hurt us, not after I’ve watched him reap. He had made sure that no souls would end up stuck as a specter or a wraith. It made no sense.

“It doesn’t sound like Clover.”

Cerberus gives me a sympathetic smile that doesn’t reach his eye. “I know and that’s what’s worrying. Maybe Clover believes he can lock the gate once he has what he wants, but when it has been opened it cannot be closed. Not by us.”

I focus on the hands in my lap. “Are you sure it was Clover?”

“I have my reasons why I believe he’s involved. First agrees with me for the first time in a long time. But both Blomst and Vrana are sure we’re wrong. Blomst is too blinded by her love, she has too much history with Clover to even think he’d betray us. Vrana says he believes it’s only the fractured ones, and that we do our soul wanderers a disservice if we start to suspect every single action they take.”

I cannot force a single sound out of my mouth and in Cerberus’ eye I can see desperation.

“If you have something, anything. It doesn’t matter how small it is, you need to tell me. It is important. If he is innocent you have nothing to worry about. But if he stole the artifact, and if he finds the other keys, nothing good will come out of it.”

I turn away my gaze. I had truly planned on telling Cerberus what he asked about. I want to tell him Rampion saw him at the well, but I cannot. I know I cannot fully lie either, that would be too easy to see through.

“I haven’t noticed a lot,” I begin carefully and hold my wrist tightly, “but he has seemed stressed and worried about something.”

I’m thankful he didn’t take me to the well, then my voice would have broken and the parts of the truth I try to keep away would come forward.

“Do you know what he’s worried about?”

I shake my head.

”Is this all you know?”

“Yes, I haven’t noticed anything else,” I lie.

I’m stuck in the middle of two people. I want to tell the truth, but I cannot.

“I understand.”

He doesn’t sound satisfied with my answers.

“Cerberus,” I begin carefully, “if Clover is the thief, do me a favor and find out why. He might have a good reason.”

It’s a fragile attempt to convince Cerberus to not be too hard on Clover if he did steal the artifact.

Cerberus quickly turn his head when Blomst comes up from the stairs. The brown hair is braided with white flowers. She wears a beautiful, but innocent smile as she approaches the younger Cerberus. He turns around and he doesn’t look like he does today. There’s no scar, and instead of one single blue, gleaming eye there’s two dark brown ones.

“Cerberus, he’s waiting for you,” she speaks. She sounds a lot younger, and more naïve than she does today.

“We need to leave,” says Cerberus – the one who I came here with.

He firmly grips my arm and the scene in front of us fills with water, and in a blink of an eye we’re standing on the stage in the empty theater hall.

“What has been said will be between us. I promise you that.”

It’s as much as a warning as a reassurance.