Chapter Thirteen:
“A Void Between”
The black stairway ended not in a floor, but in silence.
There was only absence.
The path opened into a vast and silent expanse—deeper than any cave, wider than any hall, and darker than night itself. It wasn’t shadow. It wasn’t even darkness. It was nothing, humming with the presence of everything.
RW stepped forward first. Her paw touched the edge—and didn’t fall.
“There’s ground here,” she said. “Sort of.”
The others followed.
The Void was flat, but not still. It shimmered at the edges. Shapes moved in the far distance—slow, arcing forms that never quite came into focus.
And then the voices began.
Faint at first. A whisper of a whisper.
“I almost mattered.”
“I was born for a story that never came.”
“She was supposed to choose me.”
Billions of voices. All frayed. All layered. Some hopeful. Some furious. Some unfinished.
John looked around.
RW answered before anyone else could. “These are all of them,” she said, voice low. “Souls she never played. Souls that died on the board. Ones who never got the chance. Ones who had their time. They’re all here. Waiting. Remembering. Forgetting.”
Rai nodded, eyes scanning the formless dark. "She stores them. Like pieces she’s not done with yet.”
Roland stood at the edge of them all, barely breathing.
“I can hear them,” he said. “I heard them even before you pulled me free. For a while, I was one of them.”
He didn’t turn to look at them.
“I still might be.”
They walked until there was nowhere left to walk.
A platform rose beneath their feet. Smooth stone surrounded by more of the shapeless dark.
They stopped.
No one said it aloud, but they all felt it: this was where they’d rest. If only for a moment.
They sat.
Dorian stretched his legs out with a grunt. “Creepiest camp I’ve ever crashed.”
Helen didn’t sit at all. She stood at the edge, staring into the endless void, arms crossed.
John rested his blades across his knees and watched Roland.
Roland hadn’t moved much since they arrived. He sat with his hands on his knees, posture loose but not relaxed. His eyes weren’t empty, just unfocused—as if watching something only he could see.
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Rai was the first to break the silence.
“You don’t know who we are, do you?”
Roland didn’t look at her. “No.”
“Do you know who you are?”
That got a pause.
“I know pieces,” he said. “A sword. A coat. My sister.”
“Do you remember her name?” John asked.
Roland nodded. “Lily.”
He looked around at them, then beyond.
“I don’t know what parts of me were mine. Or hers. Or hers remembering me. It’s all tangled. Like I was left here to rot… but not disappear.”
RW padded closer. “You weren’t the only one.”
Roland didn’t blink. “I know. I heard them too. Still do.”
Dorian shifted. “So we pulled you out of the pit… How does it feel?”
“I’m not sure I am out,” Roland said. “This place doesn’t work like anything I've ever known. I’ve seen suns die and stars repeat. I’ve forgotten things I never knew.”
Silence fell again.
Then Roland asked:
“Why did you come for me?”
John didn’t hesitate. “Because your name mattered. Even three hundred years from now.”
Roland didn’t smile.
But something flickered in his eyes.
A platform shifted in the distance—rising from nothing.
And on it, a figure waited.
The platform across the dark didn’t move.
But the void between it and the group seemed to stretch thinner the longer they stared.
Eventually, they walked.
No one suggested it. No one led.
They simply drifted toward it, as if gravity had reversed—not pulling them down, but toward something they couldn’t afford to ignore.
The figure on the other side was sitting. Legs crossed. Arms resting on knees.
Not watching them.
Just… waiting.
John slowed first. His hand drifted to the hilt on his back.
But it wasn’t a threat. Not yet.
As they got closer, the features of the figure resolved.
A girl.
Young. Maybe ten. Maybe younger.
Blonde hair. Pale skin. Bare feet.
She looked up. Her eyes were wide and distant, and when she spoke, her voice was calm.
“I dreamed about stars,” she said. “But they all went out.”
Roland stopped walking.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t move.
RW’s voice cut the silence. “That’s Lily.”
John glanced at her. “Are you sure?”
RW didn’t answer.
Rai stepped forward slowly. “What is she doing here?”
The girl looked at Rai. “You remember too much. That’s how I know you’re not from here.”
Rai froze.
John looked around. Other shapes were beginning to form at the edge of the platform—some distant, some familiar.
A version of Rai, younger, holding a broken flute.
A girl who looked like Yumi but had never seen a blade.
None of them moved. But they watched.
And the Void kept breathing.
The souls didn't move.
They just watched.
Some sat. Some stood. Some faded when looked at too long. Others sharpened into detail—until the resemblance became undeniable.
Yumi stood nearest the edge.
Not their Yumi. Not the one who died for them.
This version wore plain robes. Her hair was tied back in a simple knot. Her hands were clean. She looked younger—and somehow older—without the firelight of battle in her eyes.
She stared at John without recognition.
“I don’t know you,” she said.
John didn’t answer.
“I think I was a gardener,” she added. “Or maybe it was a dream someone had once. Does that still count?”
No one replied.
The ground beneath their feet shifted. A ripple spread from where Lily sat.
A structure rose in the center of the platform.
It wasn’t a door. Not exactly.
It had too many edges. Too many faces. A frame that kept changing what it was made of—wood, bone, metal, flame.
A gate built from memories that hadn’t agreed on a shape.
Roland stepped closer, eyes narrowed.
“Is that… the way out?”
RW nodded. “If it lets us through.”
“What’s it waiting for?” Dorian asked.
“It wants something honest,” RW said. “It always does.”
The gate pulsed. A voice echoed from within—not male, not female.
“Do you remember who you are when no one else does?”
Silence.
John stepped forward.
“I’m John Graves. I was never meant to be here. But I came anyway.”
Rai followed.
“I’m Rai of Chiba. I remember what I lost. And I still choose to carry it.”
Helen: “I am Helen Athenidis. I survived. I fought. I keep going.”
Dorian: “I’m Dorian. No last name. No mask. Just me.”
RW: “I’m RW. And I was made. But I chose this.”
Roland stood still.
Then.
“I’m not who I was. I might never be again. But I’m still me.”
The gate flared.
It opened—sideways, upward, inward—all at once.
And the Void grew darker.
Roland lingered.
He turned back to Lily, still sitting at the edge of the platform.
He walked to her. Slowly. Kneeling to meet her eyes.
“Come with us,” he said, voice raw.
Lily blinked once. Then shook her head.
“Not yet,” she whispered. “It’s not my time. You have to finish saving yourself first.”
Roland didn’t move.
She reached out, touched his hand briefly, then let go.
“I’ll still be here,” she said. “There’ll be another time.”
Roland stood. Turned.
And stepped through.
