Prologue One - The Stars and Things Between
In the perfect middle of the sea of space, a large clock turns. This is not a normal place. Depending on what you call a place, this might not truly be a place at all. It serves no purpose - it holds no form. It is a crossroads, a thing-between, the dot that forms when infinite lines from infinite angles cross.
”It’s starting soon, you know.”
A tall, thin man stands on one edge of the clock face. He watches, peering out at space, staring at one place. The only place that truly matters in all this vast emptiness. He is pale - no. That word isn’t quite right. He is ablaze. A burning, brilliant white, like a star itself given form, so dazzling and so harsh that one can barely see his face.
On the opposite end of the clock face, his counterpart - his other - smiles. She is as dark as he is bright, as short as he is tall. A shadow given life, an empty hole in space, deeper and emptier than the space between the stars.
”You seem excited,” she replies, voice low, near silent. He laughs with the twinkle of galaxies.
”Are you not? It’s been far too long. Far, far too long.” Folding his hands, he regards the distant speck. So small he could engulf it in a single fist. So large, it took a whole universe to hold its potential. ”I’ve already chosen mine. I have high hopes this time.”
The woman tilts her head.
”You know what will happen if you lose,” she whispers.
”I know.”
The clock shifts, hour hand sliding to settle on its apex. Twelve hollow gongs ring out into space. As the last one settles, the clock is gone. The woman is gone. The man is gone. Nothing remains, there, in that space between -
And only silence echoes back.
Prologue Two - Dreams and What We Make of Them
This is not a story about the man and woman, however. This is not a story of that clock.
This is a story of you.
You are normal. Normal by all intents. You might be exceptional at one or two things - many people are, even if they don’t realize it - but if one wanted to find you in a pile of all other minds on Earth, they could spend a billion years trying and bear no fruit.
You have a normal life, with normal choices. Perhaps you go to a normal school. Perhaps you work at a normal job. After, you spend time with your normal friends, or normal lack-thereof, eat a normal dinner, and fall into a normal sleep. Perhaps you dream often. Perhaps you don’t. Whichever the case, when you fall asleep tonight, you can tell the dream you have is not normal.
Not normal in the slightest.
The place is dark and chilled. An empty expanse of nothing, the only something being the guarantee that the dark beneath your feet is solid enough to stand on. Then - the nothing gives way. Shapes. People. You stand in a circle, all twelve of you, eyes locked. Faces you’ve never seen before.
Faces that seem familiar.
A loud voice, sharp enough to cut through the cold, begins to speak. A string of random words, seemingly unrelated, yet -
One word of the tangle of nonsense speaks true to you. It settles in your mind. It takes hold of you. You look at the others. They look back at you.
The voice speaks again.
”Find each other. Midnight falls. Your time has come.”
And then you wake, body bathed in a cold sweat. It was a dream. Only a dream. But - was it? No, something about it seemed different. Something about it held true. And that single word, that burning title, still hums in your mind like an intrusive thought.
Find each other.
You’re not sure how you know, but you need to go. It’s urgent. It’s necessary. You book the plane ticket that night, and you don't look back.
Prologue Three - A Mirror in Word
Name: Who did your parents call you? Who do you call yourself?
Age: Any and all. Time plays no favorites here.
Gender: Heartfelt role in the play called Life.
Word: What settled in your mind.
Innocent. Orphan. Warrior. Nurturer. Explorer.Rebel. Lover. Artist. Jester. Sage. Magician. Royal.
Talent: No need to keep the crowd guessing, hm?
Virtue: If you were placed bare before your peers, would they love you for how you feel?
Sin: Would they forgive you for who you are?
Story: Yours starts here, this past is merely a footnote.
In the perfect middle of the sea of space, a large clock turns. This is not a normal place. Depending on what you call a place, this might not truly be a place at all. It serves no purpose - it holds no form. It is a crossroads, a thing-between, the dot that forms when infinite lines from infinite angles cross.
”It’s starting soon, you know.”
A tall, thin man stands on one edge of the clock face. He watches, peering out at space, staring at one place. The only place that truly matters in all this vast emptiness. He is pale - no. That word isn’t quite right. He is ablaze. A burning, brilliant white, like a star itself given form, so dazzling and so harsh that one can barely see his face.
On the opposite end of the clock face, his counterpart - his other - smiles. She is as dark as he is bright, as short as he is tall. A shadow given life, an empty hole in space, deeper and emptier than the space between the stars.
”You seem excited,” she replies, voice low, near silent. He laughs with the twinkle of galaxies.
”Are you not? It’s been far too long. Far, far too long.” Folding his hands, he regards the distant speck. So small he could engulf it in a single fist. So large, it took a whole universe to hold its potential. ”I’ve already chosen mine. I have high hopes this time.”
The woman tilts her head.
”You know what will happen if you lose,” she whispers.
”I know.”
The clock shifts, hour hand sliding to settle on its apex. Twelve hollow gongs ring out into space. As the last one settles, the clock is gone. The woman is gone. The man is gone. Nothing remains, there, in that space between -
And only silence echoes back.
Prologue Two - Dreams and What We Make of Them
This is not a story about the man and woman, however. This is not a story of that clock.
This is a story of you.
You are normal. Normal by all intents. You might be exceptional at one or two things - many people are, even if they don’t realize it - but if one wanted to find you in a pile of all other minds on Earth, they could spend a billion years trying and bear no fruit.
You have a normal life, with normal choices. Perhaps you go to a normal school. Perhaps you work at a normal job. After, you spend time with your normal friends, or normal lack-thereof, eat a normal dinner, and fall into a normal sleep. Perhaps you dream often. Perhaps you don’t. Whichever the case, when you fall asleep tonight, you can tell the dream you have is not normal.
Not normal in the slightest.
The place is dark and chilled. An empty expanse of nothing, the only something being the guarantee that the dark beneath your feet is solid enough to stand on. Then - the nothing gives way. Shapes. People. You stand in a circle, all twelve of you, eyes locked. Faces you’ve never seen before.
Faces that seem familiar.
A loud voice, sharp enough to cut through the cold, begins to speak. A string of random words, seemingly unrelated, yet -
One word of the tangle of nonsense speaks true to you. It settles in your mind. It takes hold of you. You look at the others. They look back at you.
The voice speaks again.
”Find each other. Midnight falls. Your time has come.”
And then you wake, body bathed in a cold sweat. It was a dream. Only a dream. But - was it? No, something about it seemed different. Something about it held true. And that single word, that burning title, still hums in your mind like an intrusive thought.
Find each other.
You’re not sure how you know, but you need to go. It’s urgent. It’s necessary. You book the plane ticket that night, and you don't look back.
Prologue Three - A Mirror in Word
Name: Who did your parents call you? Who do you call yourself?
Age: Any and all. Time plays no favorites here.
Gender: Heartfelt role in the play called Life.
Word: What settled in your mind.
Innocent. Orphan. Warrior. Nurturer. Explorer.
Talent: No need to keep the crowd guessing, hm?
Virtue: If you were placed bare before your peers, would they love you for how you feel?
Sin: Would they forgive you for who you are?
Story: Yours starts here, this past is merely a footnote.
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