Everly and Cedar, in a desperate attempt to protect themselves from the fiery glare of the descending sun, kept their eyes tightly shut. As they stumbled out of the exit, the heat was so severe that their skin turned a lobster-red, as if it might peel away from their bodies at any moment.

  They leaned against each other for support, bracing for what they believed was the inevitable end. However, their anticipated demise did not come. Instead, they noticed a change; the sun's scorching intensity seemed to wane, no longer feeling like the infrared heat was cooking them from the inside out.

  "What's it doing?" Cedar ventured, her eyes still firmly closed.

  "I don't know. It's too bright to see anything," Everly replied.

  "Did you try opening your eyes?" Cedar asked.

  "No, did you?"

  "No," Cedar admitted.

  "Well, one of us should open them."

  "You do it, I'm too high.”

  Everly made a characteristic grunt of displeasure at Cedar's suggestion. "Well, I'll need my hands for that," she remarked as she lifted Cedar's sticky arm from her shoulder and let it drop to her side.

  "You need your hands to see?" Cedar questioned, trying to regain her balance.

  "You're impossible.”

  "What? I'm confused. I'm doped up, lady,” Cedar slurred.

  "I'm going to peek out from under my hands, you dummy.”

  “Good plan, tell me what you see."

  "It's . . . Okay, this is weird," Everly responded, her voice trailing off in confusion.

  Cedar, still too apprehensive to fully open her eyes, mimicked Everly by cupping her hands over her eyes and peering through the gaps. Before she could discern anything, a distinct sound caught her attention—a slow, deliberate clap. She that clap.

  As Cedar dared to open her eyes, she saw Everly forming a fist and striking Ari squarely in the jaw.

  "I deserved that," Ari admitted, gingerly holding the side of his face and adjusting his jaw back in place.

  "I never want to see you again," Everly declared, raising her fist to throw another punch. But Ari was quick to react; he caught her wrist and pulled her close to him. In that moment, the world around them, including the smoldering fire in the background, seemed not to matter to them.

  Cedar observed a strange, intense connection between Ari and Everly as they locked eyes, their silence speaking volumes.

  "Excuse me? Am I interrupting something?" Cedar interjected, feeling somewhat overlooked.

  Ari and Everly remained fixated on each other, neglecting Cedar's presence.

  "What the hell is happening here? Hello?" Cedar's frustration grew.

  "Congratulations, Cedar," Ari finally spoke, though his gaze was still locked with Everly's.

  Everly yanked her arm free from Ari's grasp and took a step back.

  Ari shifted his focus to Cedar. "You made it."

  "How is this real?" Everly demanded. "How are we still in her subconscious?"

  "We're not in her subconscious. We're well beyond that," Ari clarified, digging into his bottomless backpack for something. "Here, drink these elixirs. The sun took its toll on you both," he said, handing them each a bottle.

  “Where are we, then?” Cedar inquired, uncapping the vial without questioning what it contained.

  "What's deeper than your subconscious?" Ari posed the question in a tone reminiscent of a teacher guiding a student.

  "I don't know . . . my void?" Cedar ventured a guess.

  "Precisely," Ari confirmed.

  "Her ?" Everly echoed, wiping her mouth after she finished off the elixir.

  "In all of us, there exists a void. Think of it as a soul, if you will," Ari began, his hand motioning as if preparing to delve into a comprehensive explanation. "And in this void contains all that is known and unknown in the universe. To put it simply, it contains all that there is."

  As Cedar listened to Ari, she noticed a change in her surroundings. She wasn't sure if her eyes were adjusting to the light or if the sun was actually receding to its normal size, but gradually, she found it easier to see and breathe.

  "Ari—" Cedar interrupted his lecture. "So, is none of this real?"

  "The short answer is, it's real to ," he nodded. "Since this is personal void, you're the only soul here. Everyone else lacks an imprint," he explained, then glanced at Everly and added, "Except for Everly. She followed you here. The people of this world are special types of NPC's, configured by the Fringe entities. They are merely figments, place holders in this reality."

  "Fringe entities? What are you talking about? Is this place real or not?" Cedar's voice cracked, her dry throat struggling for moisture.

  Everly, with a resolve that matched her frustration, set the now empty vial by her feet before laying in, "I need answers. I've played along with this charade long enough. I didn't complain, I didn't question—but now, I need answers. I'm not leaving here until I get them."

  Ari regarded Everly, eyeing her up and down. "You didn't complain or question, you say?"

  "Don't be a smart ass," Everly retorted. "Just answer the question; is this real or not?"

  Ari remained patient. "How many times must I explain? The void contains . We've gone over this again and again. It holds a blueprint of all the events and elements necessary to create you, Seed. It's all here—the world's majestic wonders, all the love ever felt compiled across eons. It represents your lineage, your origin, your story. Your soul the universe, Cedar. Don't you get it? It takes an entire universe to create you. Yes, this universe is real, but this one in particular belongs only to you."

  "Something like this isn't plausible," Everly argued. "I need to know more. How and why this place exists, and where is this so-called universe in relation to the real one? And why was the sun descending here?"

  "One question at a time, yeah?” Ari replied. "I'll do my best to answer all of them, but you have to understand that some truths can only be felt, not heard."

  "I'll understand as long as your explanations are logical. Feelings don't have anything to do with scientific understanding," Everly countered.

  Ari took a deep breath before answering. "The void is designed to provide everything a person needs in order to evolve. Its primary purpose is to facilitate our evolution. In this universe, Cedar's universe, the void calculated that for her to advance to the next level, she had to confront the complete annihilation of everything she knows and loves. She had to face it, accept it, almost embrace it. That's why the destruction stopped when the both of you stepped out of the prison. Cedar confronted her greatest fear."

  "So, I did it? I've ascended?" Cedar asked, a note of hope in her voice.

  "It's not that simple. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn't be able to ascend until your corporeal form has perished. As long as your body is still alive, you're essentially in a limbo state here, in the in-between. It's like purgatory in the biblical sense, stuck in the madness of your making. Some religions might call it hell. Even those who have died can find themselves trapped here for eternity, or until they're ready to let go."

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  "You're telling me that this place is hell?" Everly asked.

  "In a way, yes. It's a purgatory that exists solely within Cedar," Ari clarified. "Well, and inside me, technically. Since we share the same soul.”

  "This is overwhelming," Everly admitted. "How can I be here if it only exists inside Cedar and you?"

  "You were able to enter her subconscious," Ari said with a swagger and a raise of his brow. "Tagging along into her void isn't much different. It's all interconnected."

  "I understand that, but how am I able to travel here in the first place? There are gaps in our current understanding and I've always wanted to know," Everly pressed. “How am I here?”

  "I want you to consider the nucleus of an atom, okay?"

  "What about it?"

  "If the nucleus were the size of a peanut, the rest of the atom would be as large as a baseball stadium. Do you agree?"

  "I do."

  "People are made of atoms, meaning most of our bodies consist of dead space, yeah? Given that we are made from empty baseball stadiums that contain only a small amount of nuclei."

  "Yes, that's true," Everly acknowledged.

  "If we extracted all that empty space from our bodies, what remained would be the size of a particle of lead dust. A , you understand? If we did this to the entire human race, we could all fit inside a sugar cube."

  "I suppose that's correct," Everly agreed with a nod.

  "Now, consider this: if your entire physical body can be condensed into a particle, how small do you think your consciousness is?"

  “You're saying that I'm just small?" Everly asked, trying to grasp the concept.

  "Your consciousness can be both infinitely small and infinitely large. I won't delve into that paradox now, but understand that there are no absolute truths. Your consciousness is free to roam because, being infinitely small, it can fit into infinitely small spaces. This allows you to traverse other dimensions, much like any quantum element can." Ari concluded with a bow, signaling the end of his explanation.

  "How do I get out of here without killing myself?" Cedar asked, changing the subject. "Do I have to kill my physical body to ascend?"

  "Forget that," Everly dismissed. "I still have questions. Lots and lots of questions."

  "Hold your horses now little lady, one thing at a time," Ari responded.

  "Little lady?" Everly bristled, crossing her arms with an annoyed huff.

  "To move forward, Seed, we need to venture into the Fringe before you can properly ascend to the spirit realm. And no, you don't need to kill yourself. That would actually negate everything," Ari explained while he reached inside his backpack, retrieving a dazzling knife. The blade shimmered with rainbow colors, much like an oil slick on water, as if a fragment of a rainbow had been captured and forged into the steel.

  "Technically, anyone can visit the spirit realm during an out-of-body-experience, but it's only temporary. Only those who ascend can come and go as they please," Ari elaborated. "But it takes a special someone to cross into the Fringe. The Fringe is essentially the coding house of our existence; it's like the programmer of our reality."

  "Our ?" Everly interjected. "Are we back to the idea of this being virtual reality?"

  Ari, choosing to ignore Everly's question, continued, "In the Fringe, there are entities that function like cells within a body. When there's a task to accomplish, a new entity is created specifically for that purpose. Just as DNA dictates the creation of cells for specific functions, our universal collaboration determines which entities are formed and their roles.'

  'These entities are responsible not only for creating this universe in your void, but also for the entire multiverse. They are the architects of everything we see and experience."

  "So God?" Cedar asked.

  "Think of them more as the brain of our universe, like hardware," Ari clarified. "We provide them with information, such as, our perceptions, and they manifest that information into reality. The energy we invest our thoughts and desires is used by these entities to bring about corresponding events. They act as if we are gods, not the other way around. Their primary objective is to facilitate our evolution while maintaining the delicate balance of life, ensuring our continued evolution without catastrophic consequences."

  "And why do they want us to evolve?" Everly pressed further.

  "You ask that a lot, you realize," Ari noted. "The answer hasn't changed: we don't know. One theory suggests that since these entities act in accordance with our desires and beliefs, it's actually who yearn to evolve. They're like agents of our collective will, fulfilling our deepest wishes. Think of them as genies in a bottle, but without consciousness—they're more like robots programmed to act based on our inputs and aspirations.’

  'We want answers, and evolution is our path to obtaining them.”

  "How do we get to the Fringe?" Cedar asked, eager to expedite Ari's lecture. She began to feel an unexplained stiffness in her body, causing cramps in her limbs. She tried to alleviate the discomfort by rubbing her biceps and stretching.

  "The fastest way in corporeal form would typically be through DMT," he said, considering their situation. "But for us, I have something more suitable."

  With a flourish, Ari twirled the rainbow-colored blade in the air, tracing an intricate design as if drawing a pattern in the ether. His voice took on an ethereal quality, unlike anything Cedar had heard before. "Sekaray," he intoned, slicing the blade vertically through the air. Sparks of electricity crackled, reacting against the force of the knife.

  As Ari completed his gesture, a bright orange strip, about six feet long, materialized where he had sliced the air. It glowed and pulsed as if alive. Ari reached into the strip, pulling it open like a piece of fabric, revealing a glimpse into another realm.

  "Whoa . . . " Both Everly and Cedar gasped in awe.

  Beyond the opened flap, Cedar could see a version of their world, but it appeared digitized, as though viewed through a computer lens. It was as if she was looking at her own world, yet, with a veil removed, revealing a hidden layer beneath.

  "All this is just fabric?" Cedar asked, swinging her arms through the air. "We can slice through this? All of it?"

  "With the right tool, yes," Ari affirmed, wielding the rainbow blade to make additional incisions, each time repeating the word "Sekaray." The initial slit expanded into a jagged, rectangular portal, gaping open to reveal a gateway to another world, large enough to function as a doorway.

  Everly reached out to touch the edge of the opening, her fingers brushing against it as if it were a sheer curtain. The pieces of 'fabric' that Ari had cut away lay on the ground, blending in with the colors of the earth beneath them. Cedar picked up a piece of the fallen material, marveling at its transparent, weightless nature. She couldn't be entirely certain that she was holding anything at all.

  "This world is a hologram, it's not real. Neither is the universe you come from," Ari explained, jutting his chin at the doorway. "Out there— the real world."

  Everly observed the scene through the portal. "It looks CGI," she remarked. "It's all geometry—mathematical."

  "Look closer," Ari prompted them.

  Both Everly and Cedar peered through the doorway, their eyes taking in the vivid colors, shapes, and intricacies of the world beyond. For Cedar, it evoked memories of gazing into the coral reef, rich and vibrant with life.

  "Do you see it?" Ari asked after a moment.

  "It looks more real than real," Cedar observed. "How is that even possible?"

  "It's raw code," Ari explained. "Everything in there, if you look close enough, you'll see a tag on everything."

  "A tag?" Everly questioned, skepticism coloring her tone.

  "Before you say anything," Ari said, fixing a knowing look on Everly, "I know what it looks like, and I know what you're about to say."

  "I wouldn't believe it anyway. We can't be a computer code," she asserted. "We just can't."

  "Everything is heavily coded, there's nothing in existence that isn't accounted for. This coding is in our very DNA. Without it, life as we know it wouldn't exist; the physical plane couldn't sustain itself," Ari elaborated with a sense of profound understanding. "The fabric of everything is held together by the Fringe. In our physical plane, we perceive this cohesive force as gravity. Gravity is an emergent property resulting from the interaction of energies between our three-dimensional space and that of the zero-dimensional realm, the singularity."

  Ari motioned towards the doorway to the other reality. "Out there, all things are bonded by transdimensional energy, which requires our three-dimensional space. The physical and the spiritual realms are not separate; they're interdependent, each requiring the other to exist and function."

  "Explain," Everly ordered, not liking to string useless words together if she didn't have to.

  "You know why, Seed. Can you explain it?" Ari turned to her, challenging Cedar to piece together the puzzle.

  Cedar shifted uncomfortably, her mind working to connect the dots between the physical and spiritual realms. After a moment, a realization clicked. "Because consciousness can't exist without time. It can only exist where there's space for it. In that world," she gestured towards the doorway, "is chaos without time?”

  Ari gave a nod of approval. "Exactly. Without us, that realm would lack definition. There wouldn't be any blades of grass or blooming mushrooms. Did you know it took trillions of failed universes before we evolved separately from something as simple as a banana?"

  Overwhelmed by the enormity of the information and the physical strain, Cedar chose to sit down on the pavement, crossing her legs. Standing required too much effort, and she needed to conserve her energy to process her thoughts.

  The thought of having evolved from a banana conjured in Cedar's mind the image of the tree of life, a concept she had learned about in elementary school but only now truly grasped the significance of. The phrase 'We came from bananas' echoed in her mind, leading her to ponder her own evolution. What was she evolving into next?

  "It doesn't make sense," Everly interjected. "If the two worlds are dependent on each other, which one originated first?"

  “Ah yes, the chicken and the egg conundrum," Ari pointed out.

  "The egg came first," Everly responded with characteristic sharpness. "What's the equivalent of the egg in this scenario? The spirit realm, or the physical?”

  "Definitely the singularity," Ari answered. "It's the origin point, the beginning of everything, from which all complexity in the universe unfolded."

  "But where did the singularity come from? Where did its energy originate?" Everly pressed on, seemingly transfixed on finding answers.

  Cedar, feeling overwhelmed, rested her head in her palms. "Oh dear lord . . . "

  "What?" Everly looked at her. "I have a right to know. We all have a right to know where we come from—why we’re here.

  "This lecture will take forever. I know it," Cedar lamented, her head throbbing with a burgeoning headache.

  Ari nodded in understanding before responding, "The true genesis of the singularity is difficult to comprehend without being emotionally connected to it. After ascending, we're shown our beginnings through a series of visual and emotional experiences—almost like hallucinations. The void communicates this story in a manner that seems straightforward, almost as if it's common knowledge. But it's nearly impossible to articulate our origins in human language, especially English."

  "Can you try? We have time, don't we?" Everly persisted.

  Ari blew a raspberry as he thought about where to begin.