Suisei was the first to walk in first. He sat cross-legged on the central platform. From there, he watched three of the creatures tread into the room, like maple trees on the move. Once all of them were inside, Suisei got to his knees and bowed to them, bringing his forehead a hair's breadth above the floor.
Something amystery? one asked.
"I'm not worthy of the hospitality you've shown me," he said. "You have my eternal gratitude. Thank you…" He dared to raise his head and look at them. "Thank you for your kindness."
"I thought you said you didn't trust them?" I said.
"All the more reason to treat them graciously."
Do not guilthold, one of the aliens said. Rise and speak.
Lifting himself back upright, Suisei sat back into his cross-legged position.
"Apologies. I have taken so much from you, without giving anything in return, and now, I'm afraid I must ask for more."
Do not guilthold, the second said. You gifted us with talechain and newbeing. This has value.
You are lost and we have found, said the first. Do not guilthold over courtesy.
He felt nothing but warmth from them. They bore him no umbrage. They didn't hold him in their debt. Even so, despite their earnestness, Suisei couldn't help being wary of them. He knew nothing about them, after all, their intentions least of all.
Examining the three more closely, he noticed that the one that had "spoken" first was different from the others. Though all the creatures' light-cores shifted through many colors, the background was a rich orange-gold hue. However, this one's core had a deep green background. It also seemed… frailer? Its four lozenge-posts were not as thick as the others'.
Suisei wondered if it might not be some kind of elder.
"May I ask you questions? I have many."
Ask, one replied.
Mouthsounds, said the second.
Much like I had felt not long ago, Suisei was overwhelmed by the possibilities.
"What are you?"
Their mantle-cores glowed a little brighter, as if they were conversing.
We are what we are, said the first—Green-Eye, as Suisei decided to call him.
We are songstuff unsung, said the second. Once anyness, now elseselves and manyness, ever becoming more.
He chose to call that one Poet.
The third gestured at itself and its companions with its tendrils, which it spread out wide. We are a fading light in this longness of this now.
"Anyness? The… longness?" Suisei shook his head. "What does that mean?"
We are what we are, Green-Eye explained, but, before, we were one.
Unplaced, Poet said.
Everbright, said the third.
Suisei decided to call the third Everbright.
Now, Green-Eye continued, we are many. We are elseselves, and time-hounded.
And then, Everbright said something which had no human analogue. Even the sounds themselves nearly defied description:
=3@, Everbright said.
The experience crackled and shimmered.
The others repeated it, and moved their tendrils as they did so, like they were nodding in agreement.
=3@.
=3@.
Suisei tried to pronounce it, or at least make a sound that approximated it. "Erubossu-toru," he said. He pointed at them.
"I will call you Erubossu-toru," he told them.
Erboss-Tor? Everbright replied.
It is inaperture, Poet said.
The error is acceptable, Green-Eye said.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
They seemed to be in agreement with one another, though over what, Suisei couldn't quite tell. At the very least, they weren't opposed to the name he'd given their kind.
He let his hands come to rest atop his thighs. "How did I get here?"
We made a manypull, Poet said.
We dredged you from the sea, Green-Eye explained.
"How?" Suisei asked.
The air around Suisei began to quiver. Mirage-dipped patches appeared to his left and right, as if the surrounding space was about to dissolve away. The power thrummed in his senses, and throbbed in his chest. It made him feel like he was hanging over a molten pit.
"I'd never felt power like that before, Genneth," he told me, though the display vanished as suddenly as it had begun.
It took a little while longer for Suisei's heartbeat to calm. He stared and stared.
Fearnaught, Poet said.
They all chimed in: Safe. You are safe. Worry churned in their light-cores.
You are lost, their broadcasts told him. We want to help.
Suisei stuck out his palms. "It's alright. I know. I know I'm safe here." He bowed his head. "I'm very grateful for that."
The Erboss-Tor calmed down after that.
"If these beings were able to pull you into their world," I asked, "shouldn't they be able to send you back?"
"See for yourself."
Instead of answering me, Suisei directed my attention to his memories.
"Is there any way you can send me back?" he asked.
Once, yes, said Everbright.
The answer made Suisei's breath catch in his throat.
"Once?"
Yes, Green-Eye said. In the great long ago, when we were all. Then, we could have done it, and only then.
But power strength was lost, Poet said. Great change at great cost.
Waves of nostalgia billowed off the three Erboss-Tor. It was solemn and frank.
"I had the feeling that something great had been lost," Suisei explained to me. "But I didn't feel any regret from them. Only pride."
It was the pride of a wounded soldier's victory, exultant, even as he lay dying from his injuries.
It struck an unexpected chord with Suisei. Even if they were proud of what they'd done, that didn't mean they deserved to suffer for it. If anything, it made their loss that much more unjust.
Suisei spoke up in protest, only for the aliens to cut him down with a different emotional emanation.
"But—" His sentence stopped midair. The mood in the chamber immediately shifted.
The aliens didn't just sense Suisei's despair. It was as if they felt it along with him.
Sorrow, Everbright said.
And Suisei began to cry. Tears trickled down his cheeks.
Regret, Green-Eye said. We cannot.
"You… can't send me back?" His voice nearly cracked
Regret, Poet repeated. We cannot.
"But… I have to know! Did I stop it, did I stop that monster?"
We cannot. We cannot. We cannot.
The creatures pushed against each other as they clustered around him. They shivered. The glow in their churning, yolky nuclei dimmed, like a countenances turning sullen.
Suisei shook his head.
"So, you're telling me I'll never be able to know? I'm here now, and I'll never know if it was worth it?"
Regret.
Suisei slapped his hand on the platform and rose to his feet. "Stop it! Don't give me that! I don't want an excuse, I want an explanation! Why this? Why can't you do this? You've done everything else! Look at this!" He spread his arms. "I… I'm an alien to you. You know nothing about me." He slapped his chest. "And yet, in the blink of an eye, you made air for me to breathe and water for me to drink, and so much more that I can scarcely begin to describe. If you can do all that… why can't you do this one thing?" He scowled at them. "At least tell me this: is it something you can't do, or something you won't?"
Impraxtible, Poet said.
Can, but mustn't, Everbright said.
Please, Green-Eye said, forgiveness from you. Forgiveness. Forgiveness.
Suisei clenched his fists.
"I have a family!" he yelled. "I have a wife and kids! I've given everything for them! I lived a secret life filled with pain and death so that they'd never have to worry about any of those things. I want to see them! I want to know that they're okay! Do you understand that?" He shook his arm. "Do you understand children?"
Explain… children, Green-Eye asked.
He thumped his chest again, pressing on the dark body armor. "More of me. A new self from myself. From myself and another, someone I love. They are my legacy. My future."
Future? Everbright asked.
The colors in their cores changed. They churned, as if discussing something amongst themselves.
No, Suisei realized, that was exactly what they were doing.
The minutes dragged on without them replying .
"What is it?" he hissed. "What are you saying?"
We are history, Green-Eye said. We are songstuff and story. Once, we gave. Now, we remember.
To give is to help, Everbright explained, with a wave of one of its tendrils. To help is to give.
Suisei shook his hands toward himself. "Then help me! Help me in this one, most important way of all! Or do you not lack even a shred of honor?"
Green-Eye took a single step forward. Suisei felt the vibration beneath his feet. It raised a tendril up high, as if to strike.
We are not dishonored! The light from its green core darkened to violets and browns. The tendril quivered mid-air. But then it retracted.
"Then why can't you help me?" Suisei asked.
We have no children, Green-Eye said. It spoke with deepest pain. It shook to and fro. Its pipes let out a lugubrious bellow.
The architecture resonated with the sound. It made Suisei's chest quiver like a singing cello.
Childhood's end, Poet said.
Everbright's core swirled in agreement. We are at the end of forever, This place is remembrance of what was lost.
We gaurden prospect and memory.
"W-What?"
We can make self from self, Green-Eye said, but all elseselves are old. It raised a tendril. Erboss-Tor is water, flesh is riverbed. We build flesh to carry the water.
We are powergone, Poet said. All is remaintenance. To help you, a manyness would be deathcaught, and into silence, fade.
The finality of the creature's broadcast took Suisei aback. He staggered back, and thought again, and double-checked it twice.
Had they meant what he thought they meant?
"Are you telling me that sending me home would kill you?" he asked.
Yes, Green-Eye said.
Lost in fragmentality, Poet said. Irreparable. Irreparable.
Too much has been sacrificed, Everbright said, in a plea for forgiveness. It staggered forward. You ask too much. Forgive us! Forgive!
"There has to be another way!" Suisei said.
Cannot send back, they said. Cannot cannot cannot.
Great sorrow. Great sorrow.
"I couldn't ask them to kill themselves for my sake," Suisei told me, "not after all they'd done for me. It wouldn't be right." His head hung low. "That was when I knew I would never see home again."
And in the memory, he wept.
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