Shadows of the Lost, Hope in the Darkness

by NoFacesOnlyMasks

A followup/ side story to Bitter Escape. Paul and Hannah have found one another and are bound to Lucius. But the afterlife proves to be far more strange and horrifying than they ever imagined. This is their story, as they try to find meaning amid a bleak world. To do so, they must resist the pull of their inner Shadows and fight off Oblivion.

4. Chapter 4: Memories and Visions

I can't apologize enough for the interminable delay in publishing this. It was almost completely done two years ago, but I couldn't publish it, and have been rendered incapable of writing for just as long. But I'm back, and I assure you that this tale will rise from the dead. To all readers, old and new, thank you for joining me on this journey. Let's continue exploring the land of the dead together, yeah?

Paul climbed down the ladder behind Guiterrez, Hannah following behind and above him. Guiterrez reached the bottom and hugged the person who had opened the hatch, who climbed down below him. Right as Paul reached the bottom, he got a good look at the person Guiterrez had hugged, right as they broke from the hug and stared intently at Paul and Hannah. It was a woman, her face tan, her hair black and wavy and a bit wild. She was dressed in loose, padded leather armor, designed mostly for comfort and protection. She had a pair of goggles on, which she moved from her eyes to her forehead for a closer look at Paul and Hannah, revealing dark brown eyes that stared into Paul's with a fierce intensity that almost made him back up. He would have, if Hannah hadn't just come down the ladder behind him. He felt like she could see right through him, like her gaze could cut him. These were the eyes of someone hard, harder than anyone he'd ever met – and he'd known revolutionaries who'd gladly been arrested for a cause they believed in. He couldn't meet her eyes and looked away. A moment later, she turned to Guiterrez, asking him in a sharp Hispanic accent, "What the hell were you thinking? Do you know these two? Of course not! If you want to go out and recruit, that's excellent, but this isn't the place for new recruits! This is secret, it's sacred, it's-"

"Fate," Guiterrez interjected. "Fate brought them here. I'd almost given up on them, but the two newly dead souls found their way to the byway. We were close to the exit to this place, and there was a Maelstrom incoming. I had no choice. I couldn't have safely made it to the other bases. It certainly seemed like fate led us here."

The woman looked Paul and Hannah over, then raised her nose and sniffed disdainfully. Jeeze, and I thought the rebels would be understanding and nonjudgmental... She turned back to Guiterrez, her eyes hard again, and said, "We shall see. Only the elders get to decide that."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked away. Guiterrez gestured for the two of them to follow and they did without a word. Any questions they had they kept to themselves. So... what is this place? Why is it so important? I figured we'd just go to some secret resistance base, but this seems like something more. We were forced here by... what, a Maelstrom? No idea what that is, but it sounds bad. As thought the Tempest wasn't bad enough. So now we have to see... The elders? I thought the struggle was against the elders and old blood. What's going on? What happens if they don't like us? Fuck. I should have known it wouldn't get easy. I just dared to hope we were finally done with the struggle and suffering.

It's never going to be done. Struggle and suffering is the essence of existence. The only way to end it is to give in to Oblivion. Either accept that or quit your bitching. You're probably going to get kicked out of here for some idiotic reason. Welcome to the stupidity of humanity. You'd think, after everything you've seen, you'd be used to it by now.

Paul took note of his surroundings. There were hallways carved into the rock. At the bottom of the ladder, the hall ran straight, then it took a right and curved around the circular rock, spiraling downward. There were various hallways and doors at right angles to the main hallway, always pointed right, towards the inside of the circle, but they passed them and kept moving onward, ever around, ever downward. After awhile, when it seemed as though they must have descended deep inside the earth, the hallway ended in a flat wall, but on the right was a thick steel door with a wheel attached to it, like something out of a submarine or a vault. The woman turned the wheel several times, then swung the door open.

A dark hallway was within, ending at a set of curtains. Guiterrez gestured inside. "There are... this is a lot to explain, and I cannot, truly. There are two ancient spirits within. This place is theirs, was theirs long before we came here. All of us here, we are a part of a revolution, but we are also guided by something greater than that – our fate, our destiny, whatever you want to call it. We all were driven here, somehow, by the winds of fate. And all of us came to understand our purpose here, in the inner chamber. And it is here that you, too, will come to understand your place in the afterlife, as we have."

The woman snorted. "They weren't exactly driven here by fate, like we were. But sure, whatever. Let them inside. If they aren't chosen by destiny..."

Hannah looked to the woman with fear. "What happens to us then?"

Guiterrez turned to her, reassuring her, "Don't worry about that. I wouldn't have brought you here if I wasn't certain you both were chosen. This wasn't my first destination, but when I found the two of you against all odds..." He turned to the woman, angry. "This is where they are meant to be!"

She just shrugged. "If you say so. We'll see." And with that, she held her hand wide open into the hallway.

Paul didn't like any of this. What sort of shit have I led us into? From one prison into another? I've got to get out of here, this is a trap, Hannah and I are gonna be screwed again. I can't let that happen! Paul was starting to panic so much that he didn't even realize his Shadow was speaking to him. It merged seamlessly with his own thoughts. "I... you know what, no one told us about this when we came here. This is offer of sanctuary is bullshit. Thanks for the offer and all, but we're just gonna go. We'll find our own way."

The woman gave him a hard stare. "None of us knew the deal when we came here, either. There's no backing out once you enter this place. That's not how it works. We give up the illusion of choice to follow the path of our destiny."

Paul was liking these people less and less. "Sounds like a cult to me. I want out. Now."

Guitterez rounded on the woman, pointing an accusing finger at her. "No one made threats and ultimatums to us when we came here, either! This isn't how this is supposed to work! If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to drive them away! To have an excuse to put them in chains, since you seem to have some problem with them! So why don't you stop trying to manipulate the situation for your selfish reasons, and let things go the way they're supposed to! Aren't we supposed to get out of the way and let destiny play out? To put aside our egos and serve the bigger picture? Or have you forgotten that?"

Paul wondered if they were going to come to blows. Good, I'll use that opportunity to escape. Guiterrez seems nice, but I don't like this woman, and have no idea what's going on here. I'll have better luck in the desert. To Paul's surprise, though, the woman looked down, ashamed. "You're right. I think I let my Shadow get the better of me. I..." She turned to Paul. "There is no consequences for failing to embrace your fate. Though, no one who has come this way ever has rejected the words of the elders. I suppose, if you were to... we would make you forget about this place and send you away, and that would be that. If you want to leave, you can. So, go ahead, make your choice. No one can be forced to accept this path. That kind of coercion is something I've fought against my whole life, and my whole afterlife. Forgive me."

Paul was taken aback by that. I suppose I should be understanding about giving into one's Shadow. I already have a pretty bad track record when it comes to that. Still... What if it's a trick, to keep you from escaping? What if the disagreement is all an elaborate show? Paul almost thought those were his own thoughts, but a moment of reflection made him realize how delusional and paranoid that concept was. You're getting too devious. Fuck off. And that made Paul certain what he would decide. Before he could speak, however, Hannah spoke. "I'm going in," she declared. Then she turned to Paul. "We're going to do this. I've followed you through everything. Now, I need you to follow me. If you leave, I'm not following. These people are our last hope. But more than that..." she turned and faced down the hallway. "...I have a feeling about this place. I can't explain it. It's... something I haven't felt since before coming to LA. Something that I stopped believing in a long time ago. Like intuition, only more... certain. Let's go."

Hannah walked down the hall and Paul followed, a bit shaken. She's not one to be this assertive. Though, I mean, she has a point, just... what was that sensation she was talking about? I hope this is her, and not some sort of head game...

Hannah walked boldly up to the double curtains that hung down across the entrance and lifted up the left side of the hanging beads, peering inside. Paul walked up quickly and lifted right side of the curtain, not wanting to be left behind. They stared within.

It was dimly lit by a brazier standing in the middle of the cavern, shadows flickering across the perfectly carved dome. To the left and right of the brazier, respectively, was a woman and a man, sitting meditatively on carpets on the ground, their eyes closed. Hannah and Paul entered at the same time, and as the curtains fell the light from outside was cut off. Paul took a few moments to adjust to the dim, flickering light of the fire. He looked more carefully at the pair. The woman was large and voluptuous, wearing only a simple brown apron-like dress and a rough fur cloak over it . Her black hair fell in twin braids over her two shoulders, her dark brown skin was wrinkled and leathery, as though she'd spent years out in the burning sun. Her face was fat with jowls and covered in elaborate tattoos, lines radiating out from her eyes, a third eye on her forehead, strange pictograms all over. The man looked like a skeleton with skin stretched over the bones. His bald head only added to the impression, as did his bony hands. He wore a robe with elaborate patterns sown into the weave, mesoamerican glyphs and possibly writing Paul couldn't comprehend. Paul was about to open his mouth when the woman spoke in a raspy voice, "Come. Sit." She hadn't opened her eyes, nor had the man.

There were two carpets in front of the pair. Paul and Hannah walked up and sat in front of the man and woman, respectively. They both settled down, sitting cross-legged like the pair in front of them. They waited. For an uncomfortably long time. Again, just as Paul was about to speak, the man opened his eyes and spoke instead in a deep and clear voice. "I'm sure you have many questions. First and foremost, no doubt, are the questions 'who are you' and 'where am I.' Yet, we, too, wonder the same things – who are you, and how did you come to be here? We could converse, but there is a far more rapid and effective way for us to answer these questions. Then we can speak." The man held a hand out to Paul, palm-first, and another to the woman. She took his hand. Then he closed his eyes.

Paul felt his memories being pulled up, just as when he used the strange ability he'd gained at death to relive past moments – only this was being forced up into his mind, and being played forward at rapid speed. Paul was shocked, then angry, and tried to force it to stop. When sheer willpower didn't work, Paul decided to instead focus on a single moment, to relive it in a loop to stop the endless procession of memories, like a CD being forced to stop because it was skipping.

The man opened his eyes in surprise. "Very few spirits have any power over memories. My gift was unique even before the white men came and began to hunt those of us with the gift. Still, you have stopped my efforts. Why?"

Paul glared at the man. "I never said you could just look through my mind! I don't know who you think you are, but..."

Now it was Hannah who cut him off. "Paul!" She glared at him. "Please, don't do this. They just want to understand who we are." She turned to the pair. "Please, look through my mind. I give you full permission."

The man simply nodded, held his hand out to Hannah instead of Paul, and closed his eyes again, as did Hannah. Paul shook his head, irritated. I'm just trying to protect us. Though... I suppose at some point you have to let down your barriers. It's just... ever since dying, I've just had so much thrown at me. It's hard to know who to trust and what to do. Although... maybe it's just me. I mean, no one has really tricked us – the Legionnaires were straightforward, the dangers of the Tempest were obvious... the only one I really need to be suspicious of is inside me. I need... I need to relax. Since he was already in a meditative sitting position, he tried the methods Hannah had tried to teach him. Of course, a lot of it had been about breathing, and focusing on that to distract the mind, so that didn't help. It was hard to think of nothing, especially once the shadow started screaming and laughing right as he began to calm himself down. Right as he was starting to get bored and anxious, all three people opened their eyes. The woman spoke excitedly, exclaiming, "At long last. I have seen your coming since before your birth. Your grandmother contacted me across the veil and across time, speaking of her vision of destiny. You have forgotten your heritage, your blood, and yet that was what you were destined to do, that you may be right where you were needed. Tell me, now that you have relived your life again, what do you remember of her, of your family, your heritage?"

Paul shook his head, worried. Hannah had always been sensitive about talking about her grandmother and her life before LA. But Hannah's eyes were wide, staring intently at the woman. "I... I'd forgotten so much... no, I buried it. I remember her old stories. She said she was a gypsy! That she'd had to stop wandering when the other members of her wandering group, her... kumpania, all died. Something about riots and persecution in the forties, and a fight with... Shilmulo, I think... I... it all seemed so strange, and my mother always told me not to believe it, that grandma was crazy, but... mom always seemed weird and unpredictable, unstable, emotional. Grandma was way calmer, made way more sense. Grandma would just laugh at her, and tell her that she had burned out, and was just desperately grasping at the 'normal' explanation for life to feel stable again... God, I was just a kid, it was all so weird, I didn't know what to believe. But grandma's words always rang true to my heart. I... remember when she taught me tarot, when she foretold the future – she got it right, almost all the time! My mom said it was nonsense, but, but, grandma was right, how could she ask me to ignore what was right in front of my face? But still, she was my mom, and everyone in school told me the same things... when mom finally died, when I was eleven... you know, they didn't tell me what happened – they said it was an accident, but... I think they lied... she was so strung out at the end... Oh my god! I get it now! My grandma calling her a burnout, the way she got so spacey... she was on drugs! Oh fuck, how'd I miss it? Well, I mean, I was a kid, how was I supposed to know? I... God, having all my memories played back like a movie, it was just..." Hannah closed her eyes and hugged herself, shuddering.

Paul moved over to her, reaching out, concerned. "Are you okay?"

Hannah nodded, her eyes still closed. "I needed that. I feel... like I'm finding something I lost long ago. Something vague and undefined, something I was supposed to understand but never did. My grandma... she kept trying to teach me something really important. But my mom wanted to keep it from me, and then after she died I'd been in school too long and was just focused on fitting in and just laughed off everything my grandmother tried to teach me as crazy, and... and it's only now I'm starting to understand..."

The woman stared into Hannah's eyes, yet stared beyond them. "Your grandmother spoke of fate, and the roles you had to play in it. You were part of a chosen people, destined for great things beyond the mundane existence that passes for life in these dark times. Denied your birthright, you were made to become another piece of the fabric of normal society. And yet, you were always close to the supernatural. Your destiny was woven in strange ways for strange purposes. And now, you may yet have a chance to know it and truly follow it. First, we must explore what it means to accept fate and embrace it, that you might understand what you agree to – what you gain and what you lose."

This was going way too fast for Paul – his paranoia was kicking back in. What are we getting ourselves into? But... Hannah seems so sure of herself, for the first time in forever. She always did talk wistfully of how she had always known she was destined for something great, that she took comfort in knowing it, because it made her current life a lot more bearable, since she knew it was just a stepping stone to something far, far better. And then she died of a supernatural veneral disease after living her entire life as a whore. God, that's bitter. It would be nice, to think that we get another chance here. I just... can we trust them? I mean... at this point, given what's happened to us, do we have a choice? At some point I have to relax and accept things. I've come here, for better or worse.

The man looked into Paul's eyes and said, "You must learn to control your Mnemosymis, and to structure your memories. I can teach you these things, and reveal my memories to you, if you would but share your memories with me. Do you agree to this, Paul?"

Paul looked over to Hannah, who stared back at him, hard and certain. She nodded slightly. And Paul, for once in his life, decided not to fight, to maybe give something new a shot. For all his shouting about being a rebel, he'd been pretty stuck in his way of thinking for most of his life. Besides, he thought, I've burned every other bridge. Where would I go except for here? What would I do? I have to accept some sort of group at some point. I mean, I didn't try fighting the Kindred when I found out about them. That memory upset him a little – even though it never had in life. He nodded, saying, "I agree. I'm ready when you are."

The old man nodded. "Excellent. Before we got further, we should know one another. I am Sani, of the tribe of the true Dine. Long have I borne the memories of the lost, and I shall carry these burdens into eternity if I can."

The woman nodded, then spoke. "I am Toypurna. Be well, young warrior, and may you always remember yourself and your purpose." When she was done, Paul felt everything begin to fade, even as his mind started to feel like it was being pulled away.

… … …

Paul's vision slowly returned, and he found himself standing in the middle of a hut, vaguely aware that something was out of place, though he had a hard time putting his finger on what was wrong about this place. What's wrong and right any more, anyway? What am I, now? He was in a circular building made out of sticks and reeds, with a hay and straw roof above him. The hut was lit by a small fire in stone pit in the center of the dirt floor, smoke drifting up through a circular hole in the center of the roof. He looked around, seeing four doors evenly spaced around the sides. Sani sat cross-legged on a carpet near the fire pit. Paul walked over to him, asking, "What is this place?"

Sani looked up, his dark eyes reflecting the firelight but conveying no emotion. "This is my memory village. Each bearer of memories accumulates countless memories from many souls. They must be arranged and managed, or one can lose track of which memories are one's own, and which belong to others. The village represents the memoires, allowing me to keep them all in the proper place. Without this, you will quickly lose yourself."

Paul nodded, now starting to understand. "So this place, it isn't real. It's inside your mind."

Sani smiled. "The newly dead often think in terms of the hard and fast ways of life. What is real, in the world we now find ourselves? Are we real? Sit, and hear my words, young soul."

Paul shrugged, not sure what kind of philosophical diatribe he was going to be subjected to, but willing to listen. He no longer saw this man as a threat, and was always willing to hear an interesting perspective. Paul sat.

Sani pulled a pipe from within his robes. He took out a pouch with his other hand, placed it in his lap, and sprinkled some sort of dried plant material into the pipe, then closed the pouch and put it back. He then took out a string and held the end into the flames. It began to smolder. He took the lit end and placed it in the pipe, and began to inhale. He puffed, and streams of smoke began to rise from the pipe. He passed it over to Paul, who noticed as he took the pipe that it was elaborately carved wood, with scenes of wolves running along the bowl and hawks taking flight across the stem. What am I doing? Well... it can't be dangerous, he just did it. And... it's all in his head, so it shouldn't matter. He put the pipe up to his lips and inhaled. The smoke had a bitter taste, almost like burnt plastic. Paul coughed roughly. Everything began to swim, and Paul could see deep streaks of colors coming from Sani, emotional essences flickering like flames of auras. He'd been able to see them all the time since he had died, but these were far clearer, and it was almost as though he could hear the man's thoughts in his head, though they came out more as vague emotional impressions and flashing images. What did I just do?

Sami's voice seemed to echo from a thousand directions, and yet was quiet. "That pipe was not real. I had one like it while I lived. When I died, it was destroyed with my body, becoming a relic. Yet the pipe itself is gone. The relic is just an echo, a memory. And that relic is sitting in the chamber, while we appear to be unconscious to all outsiders. What you just smoked was my memory of my relic pipe, a memory of what it felt like – an echo of an echo. Yet it is real to you. As real as the Tempest, where one's thoughts direct the whirlwinds. As real as a Harrowing, where the darkness within creates an absolute reality, which cannot be escaped from until the underlying spiritual malaise has been cured. It is not like in life, where there were fixed constants, where there were things that most definitely were, and were not. What, then, fixes our new existence in place?'

Paul was having trouble concentrating, as the room began to undulate like smoke from a fire, and the man in front of him now seemed to light up the room with aural flames. His perspective was now shifted , as his mind seemed better able to grasp at strange new ideas, though it was hard to hold on to them – or any thoughts for that matter. "I... everything seems to shift here. The Shadowlands are set, but not really, because of the Tempest. I... what was in that pipe?"

Sani smiled. "Nothing. Look in your hand. There is no pipe." Paul did so, and found his hand was now empty. He wasn't sure what happened to it – he stopped paying attention to it as the... whatever it was kicked in. He looked around on the ground and found nothing. Sani went on. "We spirits, we are memory. It is memories of life, our old passions, that connect to this existence, that hold off Oblivion. That is the first thing you must know before you can understand this afterlife, or indeed before you can understand yourself. We, as we perceive ourselves, do not exist. We are our own memories of ourselves, lingering in a place where such things are possible. We are here because we remember ourselves well enough. Once you understand this, once you can accept the fact that you do not exist except as a collection of memories, then you will understand the power we possess. For we are the keepers of memory, and in a place where we are all simply memories, that is a great power."

Paul nodded, sort of comprehending. The idea he didn't really exist was unsettling and alien, and yet... "What am I then? An echo? Can I accomplish anything, change at all? Am I doomed to just keep fighting the same fight, doing the same things I used to do in life? Is there any hope of something new?"

Sani replied, "You may find those pieces of yourself that were never expressed fully, and develop into what you once hoped to become. Here, we are shifting and ephemeral as an echo. Yet the root of our echo is always the sound that produced us. And thus, the root of any memory structure – for me, a village, for others, a fortress or other building – is the memories of our life." Sani gestured to the door behind Paul. "In life, our huts always had a door that faced south, which was considered the direction of life and vitality." Paul turned, and saw that around the door frame were woven scenes of sunlight and desert, animals moving among plants swaying in the wind, with embedded turquoise stones throughout the frame. "Through there lie the memories of my life. I invite you to walk through the door, to see who I was and know my inner essence. In exchange, I ask that we may journey through your living days, that I may come to know you, and help you construct your memory structure. Do you agree?"

Paul's head was still swimming, and suspicion floated across his mind. Yet... "Yes. Sure. That's fair. I mean... I want to understand who you are, what this place is. I think... I think after seeing your life, I can trust you. There's no better way to be sure of anyone than to see their memories, now that I think about it. And you need to know if you can trust me, accept me, so you need to see my memories, so... I agree."

Sani nodded, then rose. He held out his hand. Paul took it and rose unsteadily. "Come. Let us walk through time and know one another." And with that, Paul followed Sani through the door.

Images and sensations flew by Paul in a blur. He had a general sense of Sani's early life, rising each day in a simple hut, running and playing games with other children in the village, doing chores, mostly work in fields growing crops. The memories slowed down and focused on a particular time when Sani was in the fields, pulling weeds. The other children saw a coyote and chased after it. Sani chose to stay and keep pulling weeds. After a short time later, two of the adults approached and asked Sani where the other children had gone. They were upset. When he told them the others had run off to chase a coyote, one of the men laughed, but the other left to organize a search party. Sani went back to his work. A short time later, the Gaagi, the Singer, the Priest, the Shaman of the village, approached him. He was old and weathered, with long black hair running down to his waist, done in a braid. He wore the traditional robe of the Singer covered in stories of old legends, woven with protective words. He sat down outside the field and just watched Sani, who began to get nervous. Finally, Sani stopped pulling weeds and turned to the Gaagi "What do you want? Have I done something wrong?"

The Gaagi simply smiled. "Do you think you have? I am merely curious why you do not chase after the coyote with the other children. Are you not excited to hunt?"

Sani thought. He considered saying what he thought Gaagi would want to hear, but decided to be honest. He said, "Of course I want to hunt. Everyone loves to hunt. It is exciting. Much better than pulling weeds."

Gaagi asked him, "Then why do you stay? Are you afraid of punishment?"

Sani shook his head. "I would stay even if the adults got mad that I did. Niyol, he stayed because he was afraid. The other boys made fun of him and hit him, and now he runs with them. No, I stay because someone has to. When we all leave, the crows come and eat the corn. So I tell the others someone must stay when everyone else runs off, or we will go hungry, but no one wants to stay. So I do it, because someone must." Satisfied at his answer, Sani went back to weeding.

Gaagi nodded, looking Sani over appraisingly. "Wise. One must often suffer that the rest of the tribe can be happy. What have your been told about the spirits of the dead?"

Sani looked up, alarmed. "We... we are not to speak of them. If we think of them or speak of them, we can bring them back. They can haunt us, and make life miserable. They go on. We know not where. We never will. And that is all there is to say on that."

Gaagi nodded. "You are correct. Yet someone must perform the rites of death, to make sure they do not stay. Someone must be with the spirits to help them pass, even if it means they may be haunted. Do you understand?"

Sani thought, then nodded. "Is that why only the Singer may know the dances? To protect the rest of us from the spirits? They must be dealt with, but no one wishes to do this."

Gaagi nodded, very serious. "If one dies correctly, death can be lighter than dust upon the wind. But the duty, to deal with death, is heavier than the four sacred mountains."

A gust of wind blew through the field, and Sani saw the dust from the desert fly into the air, light and swift, and the memory blew away with it.

All flew past in a blur. Learning to hunt, to make tools, to fight, to work in the earth, what plants could heal and which could kill. The memory settled down on an adolescent Sani, who ran with the wind across the burning desert.

He wore very little. Only a loincloth, and several rope harnesses across his waist and torso, with loops to hold his few possessions. He was on the hunt, the ritual for a boy to become a man. He could take with him only what he made – so he had woven the ropes from hemp stalks, his loincloth from the skin of a rabbit. In his hand he held a bow he had made from a young sapling, very flexible, strung with goat intestine made into string. On his back was a wooden quiver, with arrows he had carved himself from yew. Next to the quiver was his spear, topped with a flint head he had carved himself, tied to the shaft with vines and more goat intestine. At his waist was a flint and oak knife and hatchet, both set into loops in the rope belt that held his loincloth.

He was very good at making tools. Not as good at hunting. But that was the idea of the hunt ritual – to test all aspects of being a man. To show one could survive on one's own without the tribe. That he was strong and wise, and could survive no matter what may take place. So every boy was sent out of the village with nothing but what they could make themselves over the last three days, and told not to come back unless they had killed a large animal.

It had been two days since he had set out. Sani was very hungry. He had managed to sustain himself with some roots and herbs, but his stomach was mostly empty. He had trouble tracking, looking for the subtle signs, but he had lately begun to develop a new sense, an understanding of the patterns of life. He could sense when something passed by. It had been very vague before now, just an understanding of where various animals had come from and where they were going to, but the desperation of being hungry, the fear of never being able to return home, these had driven his gift to the surface. Yet despite this ability, he had failed to sneak up on one animal without frightening it, and had shot and missed several others. So he had spent the morning in the shade of a rock, practicing with the bow, recovering the arrows when he had shot them all. He had practiced before, but here there were no distractions, and fear sharpened his senses and skills. Now he had picked up a sense of a large stag – a great prize indeed. He ran, following the trail, racing the setting sun. He needed to kill this while he could see – another hungry night and he might be too weak to keep hunting. And those who didn't come back... they were cast out, refused food, rejected completely. The elders, the Singers said it was needed, to strengthen the tribes, and as part of an ancient agreement with the people of Heaven. But all that mattered now was finding the stag and killing it.

He began to slow down as grasses appeared on the ground, which had been barren until now. This is the most critical time, he thought. I have to be silent like a shadow. My arrow must be swift as the wind, straight as the path of the sun. Soon the grasses were bushes and foliage, and as he crept carefully forward, he found himself among dense trees, in a forest. Sani wasn't familiar with forests. He had only heard of them, in tales of his tribe's journey from the north. In this land trees were few and far between, though not so rare they couldn't find wood for what they needed. This was strange. It's empty desert for miles around, why...?

Sani peered out through the foliage under the trees, and saw a small lake, surrounded by dense vegetation. The word "oasis" would have accurately described it, but Sani had no such word in his vocabulary. He overcame his bewilderment and looked around carefully. Then he saw it by the shadowed light of the setting sun. The stag, huge, majestic, with twenty points in its massive antlers, standing by the water, calmly drinking.

Sani froze. This was it. His moment, his kill. The moment he became a man, or was cast out forever. He drew an arrow without making a sound. He drew the bow as slowly as he could, never taking his eyes off the stag. He held the arrow next to his eye, aligned it with the stag, using the meditative technique of a fire within a void to focus himself. And then he saw something that distracted him even from the hunt – a silver wolf stalking silently along a rock above the stag. If I kill the wolf, I will gain much honor. But it is a sacred animal. We are told not to hunt it, that the people of heaven often walk about in wolf guise. But if I kill the stag and not the wolf, he will kill me. I have no choice. Sani raised his arrow a bit and aimed for the predator.

Right as he was about to release, he sensed something. It was similar to a sense he had developed lately that allowed him to understand the true intentions and thoughts of those around him, though such insights only came in brief flashes. But this projected out to him as a series of images and sensations, that his mind interpreted as words. He knew it came from the wolf. "The human dares to hunt in this sacred place! He does not know I see him. I will wait until he releases the arrow, then I will kill him for defiling the Cairn."

Sani's eyes widened. He knew this was a sacred spirit, and his life was a mere moment from ending. He thought quickly, on the edge between life and death. He knew, in that moment, there was only one thing to do. He drew his arrow forward, relaxing the string, taking it away from the bow. He held up the bow and arrow in each hand as he raised them, and desperately tried to silently project his thoughts towards the wolf. Sacred one, I apologize. I did not know this was a sacred place, or that you were a sacred spirit. I should not have aimed for a wolf – I simply feared you would kill me if I killed the stag. I offer myself to your judgment. I beg you to be merciful.

The wolf looked up, directly at him, right into his eyes, and he stared back into its bright yellow eyes. It radiated surprise, followed by demanding anger. "How did you...? Who are you? What tribe do you come from? Why are you here? Answer me now, and you may live."

Breathing quickly, struggling to contain his fear, Sani sent back images and impressions. I am Sani. I have a gift, where I can sense the emotional essence of other spirits. I am from the Dine' tribe. I am on the hunt, a ritual each boy must go through to become a man. I must bring back this stag. I have been hunting many days and grow weak with hunger. Please, let me kill this beast, I beg you. The stag drank on, oblivious.

The beast sent back laughter. "The 'Dine' tribe? That just means 'the people.' Silly humans, always think their tribe is the greatest, the only chosen one, better than the others. What makes your tribe so great?"

Sani knew his answer to the question would decide his life. He thought carefully, but answered honestly, repeating the words of Gaagi, the wisdom of his tribe. We are greatest because we keep balance with Mother Earth. We do not grow too large or too weak, too wild or too destructive. That is why all must go on the hunt – to prove themselves strong and resourceful, to spend time alone with nature – and so the weak may die off. We were sent from the harsh north long ago, and remember their wild ways. Yet we gained wisdom from the south, and no longer wander as we did in days of old. We stand between the four sacred mountains, and this is our land, given to us by the people of heaven to use, but we do not claim ownership of it. It is not our land, but we are of it.

The wolf sent... a sense of contemplation. "Ah... you are of the Navajo tribe. You do not call yourselves by that name, but that is the name we gave you long ago. And it turns out your tribe does, in fact, have a true reason to claim its greatness. Very well, then. Kill the stag, if you can. I will follow and watch, but not interfere. Prove yourself worthy of your tribe."

Sani let out a breath he had been holding tightly since he had seen the wolf. Realizing he could survive this, he felt elated. Then he sobered, remembering his hunger, his deep need. It all meant nothing if he could not make the kill. He put the arrow up to the bowstring and drew it back to his cheek. He entered a place of absolute cold, of a oneness with the moment, and aligned the arrowhead with the stag. The stag looked up, seeming to notice something. Sani didn't hesitate, nor did he shoot too early. At the right moment, right as the stag looked away from Sani, he let the arrow fly. It caught the stag between the neck and the shoulder, and the beast let out a deep scream before fleeing away.

Sani didn't waste a moment. He began running, jumping down from his position onto the small beach that surrounded the lake, and sprinted after his prey. He saw where the stag had crashed through the foliage and followed. He ran through the path that had been carved by his mighty antlers, and followed him out of the woods, into flatter ground. It wasn't until he burst from the woods that he realized the wolf was following him, and then running alongside. In that moment, it didn't matter. Nothing did but the hunt. The sun touched the horizon and the shadow of the stag grew longer and longer, a giant shadow stag leaping forward, Sani's giant shadow chasing afterwards. Right as the sun set the full moon rose, and the wolf stopped to howl. Sani didn't. Sani kept running. His vision was heightened by the intensity of the hunt, and in the full moonlight he saw the trail of blood the stag had left. His pace slowed, the intensity of the moment fading, his energy leaving him. He still moved quickly, but realized that the stag would inevitably slow down, that this was now a contest of endurance. The wolf was by his side, not guiding him, but simply following. After a about ten minutes of tracking, he was aware that he was coming close to his prey. It was on the other side of a rock, hiding, hoping he would pass it by.

"You will not be able to shoot it with an arrow. You must fight it tooth and claw." Sani nodded, accepting the wolf's advice. He set down his bow, and drew his spear from the rope harness across his back with his right hand, his hatchet from his belt loop with his left. He crouched low, carefully placing each footfall, sneaking slowly up to the rock. He kept the spear extended, ready to repel any attempt by the stag to gore him with its antlers.

Sure enough, right as he stepped around the rock, the stag charged him, lunging at him with its massive antlers, knocking aside his spear. It was all Sani could do to stop the advance with his hatchet – he was still knocked backwards and stumbled a little. He regained his footing, realizing the next few moments would decide who lived and who died. He made a brief feint toward the stag's face with his spear, and it predictably lowered its head and thrust its antlers forward. Sani pulled the spear back and stepped around to thrust from the far right side, hitting it in the shoulder. Enraged, the stag swung its head to its left, knocking the spear out of Sani's surprised grasp before slamming into him. Sani's hatchet barely blocked the blow, and he fell onto his back. The enraged stag came over, trying to smash him with its antlers, Sani blocking the blows with the hatchet while pulling the knife from his waist. But the stag kept flailing at him, and he panicked and was unable to loosen the rope holding the knife. He flailed, desperate, bitter that he had come so close only to fail.

A low growl caused the stag to look up in fear. That was the only opening Sani needed. He plunged his hatchet into the stag's neck. The stag took off, screaming in terror, but it only went a few short steps before it started to stumble, then flail, then fall beneath the moonlight. It was done. He had finished the hunt.

Only then did he realize how intensely he'd been breathing, been shaking. Exhaustion fell upon him like a thick blanket, and he sat down, at last able to rest.

"Not so fast, cub. You need food. Which means you need fire. Drag this one back to the Cairn. You may use dead wood to make a fire, cook this meat, cure the skins, so on."

Sani nodded. He felt so tired he could sleep for days, but he knew what must be done. He gathered his spear and bow, pulled his hatchet from the stag's neck, then grabbed his kill by the antlers and began dragging it across the ground, the wolf leading the way.

Thank you for your help, Sani thought. Though I am shamed. I was supposed to make this kill on my own.

A sense of laughter was sent back to Sani. "All I did was growl, and that wasn't even intentional. I was upset. I had thought, perhaps in the heat of the moment, of the fight, you might change..."

Change?

"Forget about it. I had thought, with your gifts, perhaps you were... Ah well. It was not meant to be." They went the rest of the way in silence.

By the time Sani made it back to the lake, he was exhausted. He realized he would have had trouble finding this place without the wolf to lead him – it was in a low point in the ground, but even so, the trees should have been visible. Yet it simply wasn't. It seemed to be surrounded by a shimmering, almost like a desert mirage, which made it impossible to see until one was already on top of it. He set the body of the stag down on top of a flat rock, and fell to the ground, exhausted.

"You plan on sleeping there, cold, your kill free for any scavenger to take?"

Just... give me a minute to rest...

"Another minute and you will be asleep. No rest yet, cub."

Sani pushed himself up to a sitting position indignantly. "I am a cub no longer. With this kill, I am a man."

"Not if scavengers take your kill. You must present it before your tribe. Protect what is yours. But make fire only with wood that is already dead."

Sani stood up, even though every muscle felt both on fire and like lead weights. He took his hatchet and went in search of downed wood. Thankfully, there was a tree that had crashed to the ground some time ago. The wood wasn't too wet anymore, so it would burn well. He began breaking the wood apart, taking sticks and small branches for kindling, dead dry leaves for tender, and large branches for proper firewood. He gathered everything up in a few trips, then arranged the sticks into a teepee shape, the large sticks forming the structure, the small sticks below it, the dry leaves at the bottom. He used his flint knife blade on the hatchet to make the sparks and start the flame, carefully nurturing it until it began to grow. Soon it was dancing wildly on its own, casting light across the stone. Sani grabbed a couple solid sticks and made a stand next to the fire. With his hatchet he cut off the stag's head, which he placed on a stick near the fire, neck down, for the fluids to drain out. That would be his trophy. He peeled the skin off the body and laid it across the stand, the inside facing the fire so the heat could cure it. He would wear the skin with pride, a reminder of his first hunt as a man. And finally, he began to cut off hunks of meat and set them to cook over the fire. At long last done, he gathered leaves for a bed and laid down.

The wolf wandered over to the meat, sniffing. Of course. Apologies. I was inconsiderate. Sani cut a few haunches of meat off the carcass and handed them to his new friend, who gladly began to tear the raw flesh apart.

"Think nothing of it. I thank you for sharing your kill with me. You hunted well. You do your people honor." Sani nodded, barely awake. In fact, only his deep hunger kept him from passing out. He turned the meat, then checked it a few minutes later. It was cooked enough he wouldn't get sick. He tore at the flesh with teeth and hands, blood from the rare steak running down his chin. He looked over at the wolf and thought blearily that the two of them weren't as different as humans liked to think. He wanted to think over how strange it was that he was aided by a sacred wolf spirit in his hunt, but he was already laying down, his exhaustion falling on him like a blanket as he drifted to sleep.

The next day, Sani awoke long after the sun had risen. Normally he was up with the dawn, but overwhelming exhaustion had kept him unconscious long past the point where his instincts normally forced him awake. It was warm, as the sun was well up, but not the burning heat of the desert that normally forced one awake within an hour of the dawn – here there was shade, and cool breezes drifted off the lake. Sani pulled a blanket up close to his chin, enjoying its softness. Wait, I didn't have a blanket. I went to sleep on a rock... Sani looked around, bleary-eyed, until he noticed a man tending to the fire – he was naked except for a rope belt, was tanned and very muscular, and had long black hair down to his waist.

Sani sat up, pulling out his hatchet, screaming at the man, demanding to know, "Who are you? Where did the wolf go?"

The man calmly turned and looked over at Sani with his grey eyes, then laughed. "Silly man. Does not understand. I am the wolf." Then, when he was done speaking, he looked right into Sani's eyes and spoke to his mind. "I am the same friend who helped you in the hunt last night. I was never just a wolf. Just as I am not merely a man, now."

Sani's eyes went wide. His mind was unable to grasp the concept of being many things at once. There was only one story that could give him context. "You are truly one of the sacred spirits – the people of heaven! One of those able to change forms, to move between this world and the spirit world!" Sani lowered his head. "I apologize if I was rude or foolish. I simply thought you a great wolf spirit, I had no idea..."

The man laughed again. "I am not some human priest, to make others bow and scrape. You respect nature and its creatures, and you did not knowingly violate the sacred spaces. That is enough. I respect you, Sani. I am Tlingit." With that, Tlingit turned back to the meat he held over the fire with a long stick, pulled it out, sniffed it, and decided it was cooked enough. He handed Sani some, then grabbed his meat with both hands, biting into it, the blood streaming down his chin.

Sani relaxed a little, then began to eat his meat with both hands as Tlingit did. It felt good to eat rare meat with his hands – he remembered the brutal fight to kill the elk, and and he felt connected to the primal essence of the hunt once again. For a while they both ate. And when they were done, they both went down to the lake to clean themselves and wash down their meal. Sani filled his waterskin and then walked back to the rock. He began to pack up, placing the remaining meat over the fire, tying cooked meat to hemp ropes and tying it to his rope belt or the ropes on his back. He pulled the elkskin off the rack and tossed it across his back. Then he turned to look at the wolfskin that had been his blanket last night.

Tlingit turned to Sani. "I give this gift to you. It has great power. It is not a thing given lightly. Most of my kind... we see you humans as little more than animals too clever for your own good. We are the ones that hunt your kind, thinning your numbers when you grow to great. At least, that is how we do things among my tribe, to the north..."

Sani's eyes widened. "I thought all the people of heaven acted as one. There are tribes among you?"

Tlinglit chuckled. "It could never be otherwise. All who think and speak will disagree. We Wedingo, to the north, are the warriors, the hunters, the young brother. The Uktena, who rule in the hot lands of the south, are the wise older brother. Sometimes too wise for their own good."

Sami scratched his head, confused. "How can one be too wise?"

Tlinglit shook his head. "You humans do so all the time. To posses knowledge without understanding how it should be used." He sighed. "You may understand. Come, sit, make yourself comfortable. I will tell you a story, the story of this land, and how it died, and was reborn, and perhaps then you will understand the meaning of my words... and the meaning of this gift."

Sani sat, ready to learn. He knew these words would be some of the most important he heard in his life. Tlinglit took out his hatchet from his rope belt. It had a built in tobacco pipe, the stem running through the hollow shaft to the butt, from which he inhaled, while the bowl, where he placed the tobacco, was on the end of the shaft, opposite of the blade. He lit it with a twig from the fire, then passed it to Sani as he spun his tale. "You know of the Pueblos, the people to the south of you, who once lived in this land?" Sani nodded. They were considered foolish and weak, yet had much food, and his people had learned the growing of corn from them. He passed the tobacco back to Tlinglit, who inhaled, then spoke again. "They learned how to manipulate the Earth Mother, Gaia, to their own ends, rather than serving her. They came to understand the physical and spiritual means of bending the earth to their will. Their elders thought this was right, for it protected their people, let their lives be easy, and soon they grew too numerous for the land." Tlinglit smoked from his hatchet, then passed it back. "Well, the Uktena, the older brother tribe, wouldn't do their duty. We Wedingo, as soon as we saw the homes carved from stone, the warping of the rivers with irrigation, the dying of the wild animals that the humans might thrive, we would come with tooth and claw and kill until the humans fled. It is that simple. The Uktena, they didn't see it that way. They wished to teach the humans, to guide them." He shook his head, smoking more from the hatchet, then passing it back. "We try to teach those few of humans who show promise, but most of you... must be herded. Well, the Uktena let this land be used to the brink. The humans did not learn, and the Uktena wished to learn the secrets of how they twisted the land. And Gaia cried out for justice, and struck back, and dried the streams, and took away the rain, and killed all but the hardest crops, and most of the soft Pueblos fled." Sani nodded, passing the hatched to Tlinglit, who smoked and then returned the hatchet. He had heard a version of this story, though not one concerning the role of the wolf-people of heaven. "Once, most of this land was as this Cairn is, lush and full of life. This is one of the few reminders of the way the land once was. Well, the Pueblos who remained turned to dark arts, sacrificing animals and humans to dark powers to force the rain to come. The Uktena knew something must be done, but they would not hunt the humans, and would not let us on to their territory. So we Wedigo, warriors of the north, used your people, the Navajo. Of all the humans of our herd, yours was the strongest, the wisest. You never needed to be culled – you culled yourselves, with rituals such as the hunt. So we gathered you and sent you south to take these lands. The Uktena would not interfere or let us, but they left a fight between human tribes alone. And you won – despite their great magic, your strength and conviction won through, driving the Pueblos from this land forever. You have kept to the old ways, hunting and gathering, never taking more than you need, keeping your villages simple. You have learned to grow crops from the Pueblos, but you accept that sometimes Gaia gives small crops to keep your numbers low. You have restored the balance." Tlinglit smoked from the hatchet, then passed it back to Sani as he looked him over. "Or so I have heard. We Wedingo are allowed to come to your lands which were once Uktena. This is shared territory between our tribes now. So I came, to see if the legends were true. And now you have shown me they are. And for that I give your respect. Most humans, you give them food and shelter, and soon they forget the harsh lessons of nature and seek to place themselves above Gaia. Your people have had that chance and chosen a wiser course."

Sani spoke as Tlinglit smoked. "It is because of the dancers, the keepers of knowledge. I have long known it was my place to join them. To guide our people. Tell me, what knowledge can you pass on to me, that I may guide my people?"

Tlinglit smoked and passed the hatchet, shaking his head. "My tribe, we do not often teach you humans. We let you run free, and if you act foolishly, we hunt you and herd you. We are of you, but also of nature. We are of this world, but also of the spirit world. We sit at the balance point, caring for all aspects of the world yet being a part of none of them. Some among humanity show signs of true wisdom. But often you come close, only to use your knowledge to gain power while disrupting the world, and you justify this, saying it is for the good of your family, your tribe, never thinking of the good of the world. The Uktena seek to teach you and guide you. Yet I have heard stories of the almost-wise humans far to the south, who build great temples rising to the sky, and yet also bathe those temples in blood, sacrificing victims to perform rituals to bind spirits to force the land to give forth more than their fair share, that they can prosper, and feed great armies, and conquer and dominate, to gather more victims in an endless cycle. If this is what you humans do when allowed great knowledge... perhaps it is best you are kept ignorant, as close to the animals as possible. And yet... your people have shown wisdom. You have shown wisdom. And that is why I give this to you." Tlinglit held up the wolfskin, and passed it to Sani in exchange for his hatchet. He smoked the last of the tobacco, then put his hatchet away onto his belt. "This was my fur, my skin. It will let you see into the spirit world, and commune with the creatures of the wild. Keep this hidden. Show the elkskin when asked about your hunt. Show only the other Dancers my skin. You will need to wait until you are trained in the ways of spirits, or your may lose yourself, wandering among the outer realms. They will take it as a sign and see to it you are set upon your path and trained properly. Tell only them of me, though. The rest of your tribe... not all humans can truly understand. It is your place to herd them... so we do not have to."

Sani took the skin, then set it across his shoulders, under the elkskin, hidden. He smiled. "So the only thing that truly matters is maintaining a balance among all things. There is no single set of rules, yet a straight and narrow path. I see. Thank you, Tlinglit. I will remember your words for the rest of my life." Sani rose, then, bowing towards Tlinglit in a sign of respect, before throwing all sticks in the fire, then sweeping the burning embers towards the water with a branch.

As he did this, Tlinglit replied. "And perhaps beyond. Be one with nature, and the world of spirit, my brother." And with that, as Sani finished sweeping aside the fire, Tlinglit changed into a wolf, fur growing from every inch of skin, his mouth extending to a snout as ears poked from his head, and for a brief moment Sani glimpsed a giant wolf-man, terrifying, setting off some primal sense of terror in the back of his mind of the hunter in the night. A moment later, the wolf-man was on all fours and had shrunk down to a large but reasonably sized wolf. The wolf looked him in the eye, then thought to him, "Remember the path of balance. Your people rely on you to keep them from our righteous wrath." And with that, Tlinglit bounded off into the wilderness, and Sani's memories fled with him.

I... who... how... Paul's thoughts floated out of the memories, finally disconnecting from the life he had experienced. Paul had nearly lost himself in the vision, nearly forgotten who he was. And who am I? It feels like... a lifetime ago, a dream. Was that real? It was. I know it. Hannah, and Lucius, and... Yes, I remember who I am.

Paul sat once again in the hut, and Sani's body appeared in front of him. "Yes, you have found your way back. And now you understand why you must build a memory palace, to place the memories of others within, to avoid losing yourself." Paul nodded. He understood how easy it was to get lost in someone's memories. He could only now begin to process them. Was that... a werewolf? I heard stories about them from Nines, but... they were made out to be insane killers, but this one seemed kind and wise... well, then again, he would have killed Sani. And I can't imagine they like any of this modern civilization stuff. Or the vampires that come with it. Paul shook his head and pulled himself back to where he was. Sani continued to speak. "Now, let us move through your memories, and remind you of who you truly are. Sani placed his hand on Paul's forehead, and Paul felt himself pulled away again, into his own life.

He remembered growing up in a lower middle class neighborhood, a small run down house where both his parents struggled to pay the bills and the mortgage, to make ends meet. He remembered the spoiled kids in school, the ones with everything they wanted and a sense of entitlement, and his bitter resentment towards them. He remembered gaining his basic sense of social justice in High School, but it wasn't until college that he began to understand that the struggle for justice would define him. There, he began protesting, activism, working for the school newspaper. It was there that he became himself, and it was there he was most fully himself.

"Then," Sani said to him, a disembodied voice interrupting the flow of memories, "this should be the form of your palace, this place that was the core of your life."

It made sense to Paul, who was feeling more and more solid and certain of himself, and beginning to understand the importance of this entire exercise. Memory shapes and defines us. Lose that, and you lose everything. Especially as a spirit, when remembering who you were in life is all that keeps you connected to the world...

After college, Paul saw a series of bitter compromises. First to get his job, then to serve the Kindred. They were Anarchs, true, but Paul had been dedicated to spreading truth, believed that secret power structures were the main reason for the injustice in the world. And yet he had become part of a secret power structure that propped up an elite, even if they were an elite fighting against and even more tyrannical elite. And the bitter hypocrisy of it all made Paul shudder, as he was forced to reexamine his life from a new perspective. And he finally understood that addiction to the blood and supernatural manipulation had made him utterly abandon his principles without thought.

"Believe what you will about your life. You will have plenty of time to examine and reflect on it. For now, let me guide you back into the campus you knew so well, and from that memory I will show you how to create a place of pure memory..."

… … …

Hannah looked at Paul and Sani, who had sat down and entered some kind of trance. She moved her face close to Paul's whose eyes were closed tight, to see if she could notice any sign of what he was seeing or going through. But even his aura had become dim, as though he wasn't truly here in the room. But that's impossible. He couldn't be anywhere else, could he?

"They have gone on a journey inward, to within the essence of their minds," said Toypurna. "Leave them be. They cannot see or hear you now. We must look outward, to what visions fate would have us see."

Hannah turned away from Paul and looked at Toypurna. Her dark eyes stared intently at Hannah. She turned aside, uncomfortable. It's like she can see through me. It's like... the way my grandma used to look at me. Hannah shook her head, long-buried memories floating to the surface. "I'm sorry, this is all just... give me a moment."

"You have had many moments, and squandered them in indecision. You were never confident enough in yourself, never certain of any course of action. It is time to act boldly."

Hannah nodded, trying to pull herself together. But the endless doubt and fear plagued her. What if she's just insane? What if my grandmother was, and I am? How can I know... "When I came here, I felt a... strange certainty about what I was supposed to do. Enough to make me move forward, even fight against what Paul wanted. It was... so strange. I'm normally crippled by anxiety and uncertainty. I just kind of drifted through life, or went along with what Paul or clients wanted. But here... Why was I so sure? I had no way of knowing what I was doing made any sense, it just..."

"You simply knew. Without understanding, without logic. You followed the path, blindly. Well, not blindly. You see enough to know what you should do, but you will not understand why until long after you have walked the path. It is the way of those of us who follow Fatalism. It is hard for young souls to accept. You do not give yourselves over to fate any longer. Your society believes in logic, in understanding all, in controlling everything. It has made you wise and powerful in some ways, able to adapt and change your traditions and ways of life, to expand, to destroy all that got in your way. Yet you have lost sight of that which truly makes souls happy, and disrupted the balance of nature. And now the world hurtles towards its end. Only the Lady of Fate may save us now. None of us can understand what is needed to save creation from Oblivion. It is too vast, too complex, a tale woven across billions of souls and countless eons. All we can do is know our part to play and accept our roles. Can you do this? To look into the future, and rather than trying to see all paths and decide for yourself which is best, to simply accept the guidance of a higher power?"

Hannah stared upwards, thinking about what Toypurna said. "That sounds an awful lot like blind fundamentalism. Just trusting in some being you never see, having to take someone's word for it."

Toypurna laughed. "Except that I do not claim to know the will of the hand of fate as most priests do. It is not the blind certainty of zealotry I offer you. All I know is what my part in the tapestry should be. For you, I seek for you to learn to know your own path, not follow one set down by me. In time, you may even come to understand the deeper meaning behind what you do, and you should always seek after greater knowledge. But, nonetheless, there is an element of blind trust that your people and their way of thinking cannot abide. You have abandoned the rigidity of tradition, which was wise in a way. In life I warned my own people of your people's coming, and told them they must do as much – to give up their ancient way of life – but they refused to bend, and so were broken. But your people have replaced their traditions with nothing, and now your people wander, lost and scared. Your whole life, you have followed your own path without guidance – has it made you happy? You worry, never certain of which way to turn, having to think of every possibility, to calculate or guess on what path lies safety and happiness and on what path lies pain and ruin. And it fills you with fear and anxiety, conditions which fill more and more of your people. I see the emotions spreading across your society like a plague. Now your greatest fear comes to pass – the end comes upon us all, and your people, rulers of the world, are oblivious to the truth. Yet among the vagrants and those who have long wandered, yet never been lost, the truth is known, and the people of your grandmother may yet guide the lost souls out of the fire."

Hannah shivered, knowing there was a deep truth in Toypurna's words. "Grandma always said she was a gypsy at heart, and that the wandering people were the only ones who were never lost. But... but it still sounds crazy. What am I putting my trust in? Grandma, she always laughed when I asked her about God or religion, saying it was all just a way for people with power to control gullible fools. So who or what is giving me the answers? Or am I just interpreting the future? In that case, I have to trust myself to make the right decision, and it's right back to the start, never knowing if I'm right, always doubting myself. So... how does that work?"

Toypurna looked at Hannah from the corner of her eye, a sly smile on her face. "You know how this works, you've only forgotten. I saw it already in your memories. Your grandmother told you. You used to do it – to whimsically follow the voice in your heart. She didn't explain the meaning behind it – your mother wouldn't let her. There is a force, an ancient being who has tried to weave the web of fate since the beginning of time, to give people guidance. She is known to all cultures by many names – the Lady of Fate, the Weaver of Destiny, Maker of Paths. And many other names besides. She is virtually all-knowing, nearly omniscient, seeing all aspects of the world at once. She could see all, but then would have to step outside the world, and then could not touch it. She sits on the very edge of the universe, and as such has next to no power in it. She was all-powerful, once, but gave all her power away long ago to gain more perfect understanding. Now, all she can do is offer guidance to those who will listen to her, those who reject the religions and traditions of their civilizations, who cast aside logic and ego, and throw themselves to the wind, following wherever her path will lead them. Your Grandmother would speak of her sometimes."

Hannah nodded, staring off into space, her mind slowly coaxing memory out. "Yes... Grandma would say that it's not that our lives are predetermined, you can defy fate, but it hurts most people. That it's a choice, but the only wise one is to give in to your fate. And in that giving in, one finds true freedom. That running off just meant being chained to money or desire or some system. Which is what happened to me in life, once I left for LA, after Grandma died. Paul... he's running around, on some crusade that almost got us destroyed. I mean, I guess it's good we didn't fall into some normal life thing in our afterlives. I guess... you know, the whole thing with Guiterrez, ending up here, it really does seem like fate, you know? It makes sense, it's just... my mind keeps wanting to reject it. Man, looking back, I guess my mom really did condition me to hate it, even though it felt so right... It feels so right, even now. I guess... this is my destiny. I can reject it if I want, but I did that in life and regretted it until I died. This is my last chance. To be who I always knew I was supposed to be." Hannah closed her eyes and remembered the way she had felt as a child. Before the fear began. Before the endless running around, struggling to finish this assignment in school, having to pay that rent, before it had all become so overwhelming... I remember just running free. Sitting quietly on a hilltop and listening to my inner voice. Deciding what to do that day based on random signs that I recognized as important, like the way the clouds moved or the way the wind blew dandelion seeds. Being happy with myself and just not worrying about the world. How do I get that again? After everything I've been through... "How? How do I go back to the way I was before?"

Toypurna smiled. "You cannot learn to still your mind or your heart, to enter that state of inner calm. You have been too infected by the fears and overthinking of your culture, too damaged by trauma and abuse. You could learn, in time, but learning to enter a meditative state of peace takes years of practice, decades, and I can see we do not have that kind of time. Instead, I think we will have to go in the opposite direction. One can hear the voice in silence, or in the screams of chaos and madness. This way will be... a bit more uncomfortable. Visions will come upon you suddenly and unexpectedly. Still, it will work. You will have guidance in your existence. You will have to be the one to guide yourself and Paul. He is a great warrior with a good heart, but his ideals are simple and will inevitably lead to your destruction. He will be the one to act, but you must direct him."

Hannah shook her head. "That's gonna be hard. He's always been the one to take charge. I just... I never knew what I wanted. I was always thinking and never doing. He was always so sure. I couldn't imagine fighting him directly. But... I guess if I knew something for sure... if it wasn't just some idea I had, but something I knew to be true... I could. It will be hard. Last time I really fought or resisted someone who was pushing hard was... my mom. When I knew something was true, in my inner heart. She was so upset... I remember it clear as day. I was nine. I think that's when I stopped listening to my inner voice. I want that again. Even if it's painful." Hannah looked right into Toypurna's eyes, intensely, desperately. "Tell me what I have to do."

Toypurna pulled two long, thin blades out from a pocket in her simple dress. She held them out to Hannah, handle first. Hannah looked at them for a moment, confused, then took them. She looked them over carefully, and saw nothing special about them – just simple metal blades, small, razor sharp. She looked up at Toypurna, who said, "If one would hear the voice of the lady, then you must cut off all other sounds. If you would see visions of the future, you must remove all other sights. The blind and deaf are those that truly see and hear. In life, I took my eyes at the end of my life that I might truly see. You are more fortunate – here, such losses need to be permanent. Yet it still takes incredible willpower to do such a thing. I will not do it for you. Take your hearing first, and you will hear her voice again."

Hannah's eyes went wide, and she felt her stomach clench. She looked down at the blades again with a new, terrible understanding. This is crazy, this is... oh god, how can I... She really wants me to punch out my ear drums, cut out my eyes? She did that to herself? What the fuck kind of nuthouse is this? Oh god, this is a psychotic cult, I've got to get out of here, I'm gonna be brainwashed and enslaved, the fuck has Paul pulled me in to, I...Hannah closed her eyes and tried to breathe. When she couldn't she almost shook with frustration, until that brought an important point home. I'm dead. I've had parts of me cut off. Everything grows back. So... it's not that crazy. Pretty crazy, but then again, I'm trying to know that future, which is crazy. And hell, my grandma was crazy, or at least that's what everyone said. I know mom was crazy. Hell, my life has been crazy. I just... This is going to be hard. Do I really want to do this? It's this or just staying the way I am. I don't want that. I need to know, if there's anything out there, any deep truth to what grandma told me, or if she and I are just crazy. I don't want to end existence without knowing that. Hannah opened her eyes again. She looked down at the knives, then gripped them tight. She asked Toypurna, "I can't believe I'm asking this, but how do I do this? I mean, I get the idea, but..."

Toypurna pulled out two more thin blades and placed them inside her own ear canals, and told Hannah, "Slide them in like so. Push them gently back until you feel them touch your ear drums in the back. Let them sit, and pull your hands away. Put the palms flat, take a deep breath, and then-" Toypurna, to demonstrate, slammed her palms into the handles of the knives. The jammed deep inside her head, and she arched back, letting forth a primal scream that made Hannah's skin crawl. Toypurna's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she began convulsing, crying and laughing all at once. She started muttering, then screaming in some language Hannah couldn't understand. This is crazy, this is horrifying! Why the hell would I do this? I've got to get out of here, I... and then go through the afterlife never knowing the truth. Never knowing if my grandma was right. But this is just... Toypurna steadied herself, then pulled the blades out of her ears and rolled her eyes forward, staring Hannah right in the eye, calm as could be. Hannah looked away, unnerved by her deep, intense eyes. Toypurna spoke to her, telling her, "Do not be afraid. It only hurts for a little. You have already endured worse since your death. I am already healed. The injury is small and insignificant. I heard the voice, loud and clear, screaming through the roaring chaos. Embrace this path, and be given a glimpse of that which will be, and know your true destiny."

Hannah looked down at the blades again. I... I've tried to run my whole life. Am I going to spend my afterlife doing the same thing? My fears only made me end up in a terrible life, the kind of thing that most people fear. Why would I just do the same thing again? I've... I've got to do this. Crazy as it is... not like it's any crazier than anything else I've done since dying. Hannah took a blade in each hand. She lifted each one up to an ear. She gently slid each one down her ear, until she felt a poke at the back, as though she had jammed a q-tip in too far. Shuddering, she pulled her hands away. With shaking hands, she made her palms flat. She closed her eyes, steeling herself. Oh god, oh god, is this really happening? Am I really doing this? This is crazy I've got to bolt, we have to get out of here what the fuck is this insanity just run, just fucking get out we can't – And Hannah silenced her thoughts with sudden action.

She slammed her palms into the knives.

Excruciating pain exploded in her ears – it seemed like and explosion, and it sure sounded like one, a great blast. Hannah fell to the ground, screaming, but she couldn't hear any sound she was making. Her ears were filled with a cacophony, a deep roaring like the ocean in a storm, overlaid with a loud high-pitched whining. She covered her ears to block out the deafening sounds, only to drive the knives deeper into her head, causing her to involuntarily spasm. Panicking, she pulled the knives out and threw them to the ground. They were covered in blue plasm and bits of corpus. What the fuck have I done? I need to heal this, I need to... wait, is that...?

It began as a whisper, inaudible above the roaring and whining. She focused on the voice, trying to coax meaning from the muttering sounds.

It was her grandmother, whispering to her, "It's about damn time, girl. You know how long you've made the Lady of Fate wait? Of course, it was fated you would, but still...Very rude. Better late than never, I suppose. Now, pay attention!"

And then a great voice, that spoke with a thousand voices at once, echoed out of the cacophony. "At long last, you come back to me. Where once I spoke to you subtly in moments of quiet joy, now I scream at you through terrible chaos. The end of days is come, yet there is a hope, for you and all people. Attend now my words, spoken through a thousand voices, and you will learn to hear whispers of what may yet be."

A thousand voices shouted at her from all directions, and she tried desperately to make sense of them.

"In death you finally know your destiny..."

"You were meant to fuck up in LA, though-"

"You led Paul to be enslaved by the Shilmulo, and he changed the balance within their power structure-"

"-setting events up to be the way they are now-"

"-and then you led that strange Shilmulo, the one created in the strangest way, from Awakened stock, watched by a most interesting being-"

"Yes, we must reach her, speak to her, know her, you must find Serena and allow us to speak through you to her..."

"Don't interrupt! But yes, you and Paul are deeply connected to the terrible games of the Shilmulo, the Vampires, and you must guide Lucius very carefully-"

"Which will never happen until you learn to guide Paul! If he leads the two of you all is lost!"

"Yes, he is strong and idealistic, but a fool. He will betray Lucius to his old Anarch allies, to your mutual ruin,0 if you cannot make him see reason."

Hannah's head was reeling. She asked the voices, "How am I supposed to lead him? I never know what to do! He's always known what he wanted, I've always just followed him wherever-"

Her grandmother's voice screamed at her. "Yes, I know! You've done whatever the men in your life told you to, you weak-willed Gaje whore!" Hannah began shaking, realizing her grandmother had probably seen most of the depraved things she had done in life, and felt like she would be sick... "Oh, pull yourself together. Did I seem like some proper old woman, the way I made fun of your mother for not knowing how to please her many boyfriends? Oh, I guess that went over your head. Whatever. I've had as many men as you, the difference is that I got them to do what I wanted. I played them. The scams my family would run on the fools once I had them ensnared... Hahaha!"

Her grandmother cackled gleefully, and Hannah was unnerved and relieved at the same time. At least she isn't disappointed or disgusted.

"Don't be so sure. Disgusted, meh, I could care less about what you did with men. Disappointed, though? The most interesting thing you could come up with to do with your life was have sex for money. I thought you had a more creative mind than that."

"I... Life was hard in LA, it..."

Her grandmother's voice cackled again. "Hard? When did you ever have to skip a meal? Did you ever see your friends beaten to a pulp while you hid? Have to sleep in the woods? You know how many times I've been in jail, been beaten to within an inch of my life? And I never gave up. We kept wandering, refused to follow the Gaje rules, as we always have, the hell with the consequences. Until everyone I knew died, and my visions made me settle. All so I could make you. Your mother was a fucking waste. Ah. Sorry. I've been kind of pissed since I had to do that. Fate's a bitch. But I see why you're important. And you've done pretty well since dying. So, don't keep being scared. Don't just do what that idiot of a man thinks is a good idea. Don't get me wrong, you've bagged a good one, he's insanely loyal and tough, you just have to learn how to keep him from doing something stupid. So, don't do that thing you did all the time in life where you got overwhelmed and gave up because you thought you just couldn't handle life and just did whatever someone told you to. Do what I tell you to if you don't have the spine to think for yourself. In fact, you've got a huge group of old women who are really interested in what you're doing. So there you go. Maybe you had to be a weak-willed scared girl, since we can't really have you fighting us. Lord knows I fought like a banshee. I wanted to live my life. Then, since I wouldn't leave my friends, they had to die. That was my lesson. So maybe yours doesn't have to be so hard. So... yeah, never mind. Don't grow a spine. Well, enough of a spine to step up to anyone else. But do what we tell you. Ok? If you do this, you can consider any guilt you have about disappointing me completely forgotten. I'll be proud of you."

Hannah was wide-eyed. She hadn't thought about guilt or shame in a long time – she'd long since gone too far in her career, and she had got used to it, and when she thought of her mother or grandma and what they would think of her life, she just got high until she stopped thinking about it. To realize that her grandma didn't care, that she could make up for her mistakes... It's been so long since I even hoped that my life could be anything but sad. I don't have to feel so bad if I was fated to do what I did, and... and it's not like I have any idea what to do with myself anyway. I know Paul is acting foolishly sometimes, but I don't have any clue what else to do, so... if I can just follow their lead, then... "Ok. Ok, I can listen to you. Thank you, grandma."

"Good. Now, do what the rest of the circle says. You can join us in a little. They will tell you what to do. Obey, no matter how terrible and strange it seems." Hannah nodded, agreeing. She felt good about her decision. She thought she heard her grandma muttering something, but she could barely make it out, it sounded like, "Told you it would work, do I know her or what..."

A booming, commanding voice screamed through her mind, commanding her to, "Look at Toypurna." Hannah stared at her, and she raised the thin knives up to her eyes. Hannah began shaking involuntarily. "Do what she does to herself. It will hurt. It will horrify you. But if you would truly be guided by us, you must cut out your sight as you did your hearing. We are only other oracles who have Transcended, even we but speak based on visions granted from the source of truth. To be a seer, you must stare on your own. You seek to do in minutes what took us years to understand. Such shortcuts can be made, but sacrifice is required. Always remember that – you must sacrifice to know the truth. Either pieces of yourself or objects or other souls. That is the nature of how you see. Now, to make your first sacrifice. Slide the blade under your eyeball. Do exactly as she does. I will narrate instructions as she proceeds."

And Hannah, realizing that her path was set, slid the thin blades carefully under her eyeballs, the flat facing upwards. Okay, that didn't even hurt. I didn't cut anything. This isn't that bad.

The next thing Toypurna did to her eyes was horrifying and agonizing.

Paul stepped out of a haze of memories and through the front doors of the Journalism building on his old college campus. He took two steps, then stopped. This is strange. This isn't another memory. This is me, but... He felt someone knock into him from behind, and stumbled forward. He turned, and saw Sani shaking his head. "Apologies," Sani said, "I did not expect you to stop right inside the door."

Paul looked around again. "Where are we?"

Sani raised an eyebrow. "You don't recognize this place? It's from your memories."

Paul sighed. "I mean, I obviously do, but this obviously isn't actually the Journalism building from my old college. And it's not a memory either, because no one is here but us."

Sani nodded. "It is a memory of a memory. Like the hut we were in before, created from my memories. A place to place memories. I created a memory village. Many create memory palaces. You made..."

"A memory campus!" Paul exclaimed.

Sani seemed confused for a moment, then closed his eyes for a few seconds. Upon opening them, understanding was on his face. "Ah, yes. Campus is the name of the building structure of the college. I see. Yes, very appropriate. I hope you understand that this is a place of your own creation. You may come here at any time by diving within a memory – and then going deeper. This is the core of your memories, and therefore your soul."

Paul looked around again. "I mean, this place meant a lot to me, but I don't' know if I would call it my core..."

Sani smiled. "You don't truly understand what is in this place. Guide me towards the most commonly used door here."

Paul didn't need to search for more than a moment. The large double doors of the main lecture hall were straight ahead. There he'd seen countless reels from overseas reporters, broadening his horizons. There had been countless lectures that had become debates he had been at the forefront of. From there the political consciousness of hundreds of students had been awakened, including his own. He walked through the doors, eager to see the place again – and instead had the memories of his life played back again. He fast-forwarded it, until he reached the point where he'd gone to save Hannah and uncover the conspiracy of disappearing homeless people – and had nearly been killed by the chief of police. Then the memory went from the fullness of his experience to a projection on the screen at the head of the lecture hall. The projection turned white and ran out, and in a few seconds the projector stopped. Paul was standing next to the lecture podium, staring away from the seats. He turned around and saw Sani sitting in his old seat. Paul opened his mouth a couple of times, bewildered. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to understand what had just happened. "So... this place has the memories of my life? But only some of them?"

Sani nodded. "Very good. Each room contains a different kind of memory. Why did your memory stop when it did?"

Paul thought about the break point in the playback. "Because that's when my life went from basically normal, to being supernatural. It became filled with secrets I wouldn't want publicly known."

"So it is not displayed in the public lecture hall. Indeed, to one who had found a way into your memory Campus, either by using their Mnemosymis or by probing your mind, it would seem as though you had died then and there, in the warehouse. The question is, where should the hidden memories of your life go?"

Paul thought for a bit. He abruptly got up and walked out of the lecture hall and into the door marked Records. This place was always hard to get in to. Not off-limits, but you had to reserve it, and there was always someone using it for this or that project. He opened the door and his memory-reel, as he was starting to call the playback of his memories, began again in a fuzzy haze as Mazoline offered him another chance at life and enslavement, salvation and damnation, and then the reel became clear at the moment he woke up and ran off with Mazoline. And then a thousand strange assignments that had him chasing after the darkest corners of the city, and finding terrifying impossibilities in them. And instead of spreading truth about what he had seen, he helped keep what had happened wrapped in shadow and secrecy. Oh, sure, some of what happened went into the public underground paper, and a lot of what had actually happened went into the underground paper for Kindred – but he'd still bowed happily to editorial pressure, and the things he had written had ultimately proven to be tools of the Anarchs as they tried to manipulate minds. And he'd never really understood this until now. How did it never occur to me? Looking back, it's so obvious. And then the memory-reel began to end with him dying on the floor of his apartment, and became an image flickering across the small projector screen that students used to use in the records room, coming from the small projector that was broken half the time you tried to use it, and the projection turned white and turned off. Paul shook his head and looked over to Sani, sitting on a chair on the other side of the table that held the projector. "How... how did I become such an oblivious tool? Everything I stood for earlier in life was turned on its head, and I still believed that I..."

Sani shook his head and looked at Paul with pity. "That you were making a difference? Who is to say that you didn't? Life does not always follow rigid and easy rules. Perhaps what you believed in was so pure and abstract it could never work in practice. Yet, you did betray your values. You must always realize that such beings almost always can play your mind like a fiddle unless you are separate from their blood and mind games. It is good you begin to understand this. Still, I will leave you to think of this on your own. For now. We must leave this place and create more memories – and protect this room, for it is full of secret knowledge." With that, Sani got up and left the room.

Paul followed, contemplating. When he stepped out of the door, Sani told him, "You must focus on the form of the guardian who will protect this room, these memories. Who, or what, will protect them?"

After a few moments of thinking, Paul came to a decision. "Mazonline would be the most appropriate, I suppose. She was the major force in my life that whole time. I still can't believe how much she manipulated me, though... I adored her, saw her as the epitome of the enlightened struggle for truth and justice..."

Sani smiled and nodded. "Very good. Focus an image of her in your mind, remember the essence of her personality as you remembered her, and you will summon the memory of her."

Paul closed his eyes and focused his mind. When he opened his eyes again, there was Mazoline, standing in front of him, short red curly hair framing her elfin face. Paul's eyes widened and he backed up, frightened for a moment, then fascinated. "Mazoline?" He asked. She didn't move or react in any way. He moved his face right up to hers and stared at her. She was exactly like the Kindred he had served for years. He touched her. She was actual flesh, cold and clammy like Mazoline had once been. Paul turned to Sani. "How... is she aware, or..."

Sani shook his head. "You cannot create consciousness. This is only an echo, a reflection. It will do nothing until you place purpose within it. Will it over to the door." Paul demanded, inside his mind, that Mazoline move to the door. She did. Sani nodded. "Now, focus on the concept of her guarding this place, of keeping the memories secret." Paul did. "And there you are. Now you have a memory guardian, created from the memories it is set to guard. Now, it is time for us to create a place for memories of your afterlife. This must be a place with many rooms. You will understand why, soon."

Paul thought, then said, "The hallway with the classrooms. Let's go." He lead Sani to a door next to the big double doors leading to the lecture hall. They walked through into a long hallway with doors on either side. Paul turned back to Sani. "Now what? Do I just pick a room for memories to go into?"

Sani nodded. "Yes. Let's make the oldest memories happen in the first classroom."

Paul entered the first door and relived his death, followed by his confused repeating of the memories of his life. Then he came out of the endless loops, and experienced his summoning by Lucius, and then every memory where Paul followed him around. It all lasted until Lucius was trying to remember how to summon Paul's ghost in Pisha's Haven under the hospital. It had seemed as though Lucius would fail to summon him, and then he had, in desperation, tried to reach into Lucius' mind and see his memories. And he had succeeded, playing back the memory of Lucius summoning Paul earlier. When he went into Lucius' mind, everything became twisted, and then the memory replayed. When the memory within a memory ended, Paul found himself in dark chemistry lab, with a periodic table on the and beakers and Bunsen Burners set on stands. Paul looked around, confused. "There wasn't a chemistry lab in the Journalism building..."

Sani shook his head. "This room is representative of Lucius. Step outside, and you will see something else that will confuse you."

Paul left the lab, and found himself stepping out of a door at the opposite end from the entrance to the hallway. "How... what... when did I move?"

"When you felt your experience warp. When you went into Lucius' memory. Now, his memories are separated from your own. Go back to the door you entered. Oh, and perhaps create a memory-guardian of Lucius to guard that door... and the entire hallway."

Paul walked to the other end of the hallway. He visualized Lucius and created a copy of him, like he had done with Mazoline. Then he walked into the door he'd first entered. The classroom was full of desks and filing cabinets. He looked at one, and it said, "Memories from right after death." He opened it, and, sure enough, lived through the loops from right after he'd died. He came out of the memories and closed the filing cabinet. He turned to the chalkboard at the front of the classroom. Starting into it, he saw the outline of Lucius draw itself onto the board, and soon the memories of his time as a ghost played through, only now they skipped over the part where he went into Lucius' mind, remaining only his own memories. This continued until he was dragged into a Harrowing when Hannah died. Then he twisted again, and had to relive that miserable experience. When it was over, he was in a different classroom, dark with various desks overturned and broken, mold on the walls, with a single fluorescent light flickering overhead. He exited quickly, then returned to the hallway, found himself partway down it, and returned to the first door. His memory played through again, this time skipping the Harrowing. It continued on until Lucius left him alone in the Confession. And then the memories ended, and Paul was standing in the classroom once again.

He turned to Sani. "Is that it? Why did it stop there?"

Sani replied, "Your memories are being sorted based on category. All the memories in this place relate to your connection to Lucius. You always followed him before this point, or else waited for him outside the Chantry. Every time you left, either into a memory or the Harrowing, you broke off into another room. Now that your time following Lucius ended, so did the memory in this room. When you follow him again, those memories will go in this room. Now, we must enter another room to continue the story of your existence. It is nearly complete. Let us finish this."

Paul nodded, finally fully understanding the way the memory campus worked. He could now find and access any memory of his, without having to relive his entire life, death, and each memory of a memory. There were multiple filing cabinets around the room, each one labeled, each one containing a memory of him accessing a memory. Satisfied that this was at long last making sense, Paul left. He moved quickly to the nearest door, across the hall and down it a little, as the doors on either side weren't directly across from each other, but staggered. He opened it and went inside.

Memories of his recent afterlife with Hannah flowed through his mind, replaying the near-disaster in the Confession, his flight from the law, the struggle through the Tempest, and finally, his arrival at his current location. It went right up until reaching Sani's memories, and then it twisted again, played through, and finally Paul found himself in what looked like an archaeological classroom, with various Native American weavings on the walls, tools and carved artwork displayed on counters, and lessons on Navajo culture written on the board. Sani looked around, amused. "Well, now you have reached the end. Memories of my memories are the last thing you can remember."

Paul nodded, satisfied that he'd finished completing his memory campus. In the hallway, a question occurred to him, so he asked Sani, "What about my memories of this place?"

Sani told Paul, "There are no stored memories of this place. It would lead to memories within memories, and once one reached a memory of going into the memory of the campus, it would only repeat forever. So it is impossible to have memories of this campus on the campus."

Paul thought it over for a bit before nodding his head. "It's strange, but I get it."

Sani looked at the door behind Paul. "These memories involve you breaking the law. Best that memory be guarded."

Paul nodded, then brought Guiterrez into existence as a guardian. His work now done, Paul turned to Sani and asked, "Now what?"

Sani smiled. "You have learned all that you can for now. Will yourself to return to the 'real' world, and you shall."

… … …

Hannah saw only fire.

She had endured agony removing her eyes. Yet, even though they swung on the end of optic nerves she held in her hand, she could still see. She held them over the fire. She knew what she needed to do. But the fear of the agonizing pain held her back.

If I don't embrace my destiny now, I will regret it forever. Better to face the pain than run and be filled with unending regret.

Hannah dropped her eyes into the fire.

… … …

Paul came to, only to see Hannah, her eye sockets empty and oozing blood, as she dropped her eyes in the fire. His heart dropped as her eyes did.

He screamed and tried to rush across the room to help her, to save her, to do something. Sani grabbed him and held him back. "This is her journey, she must complete it!"

… … …

Hannah was consumed by agonizing pain. All she saw was bright white light, and all she felt was bright agonizing pain. And then the pain lessened, or only came in bursts. In the same way, the bright light began to flicker, and then swirl, and finally the flashes and random color came together into a series of visions...

… … …

Paul and Sani were nearly fighting, when both froze due to Hannah's screaming prophecy.

"I see! I can see a thousand paths, each choice leading to a new future. Yet there are only a few long paths, and they are narrow. We... we will follow Lucius. We will harvest the souls of those he kills and those his enemies kill, and gather an army for the rebellion." Paul's eyes widened as he suddenly understood the powerful strategic implications of this statement. "We will have the power to bring the authority to its knees – yet we must compromise and be as one, for soon there will terrible abominations from Oblivion which will overtake everything. Not just spectres, not just a Great Maelstrom like before – more terrible and ancient entities, loosed on the world. They already gather in the city of Angels, these demons. Soon... Oh god. I try and look any other way, but every path leads here. It is destined. It is a nexus. A thousand things could change the details of how it plays out, but it must happen. To take the correct path into it, I see... The Prince must fall, the coffin locked away. The crown of blood must be taken, not broken, and given to the mad fanatic wearing the mask of rational control, being whispered to by her other mask. But even then... there will be no peace, only survival. The vision of the nexus... There will be an earthquake. I see the city broken. Emergency services break down, there's riots, chaos... But there's more... ancient and terrible forces reawaken and drive the people into a frenzy, to drive them to destroy themselves in an orgy of violence. A slaughter performed before the cameras of the world. There is no erasing, undoing, or avoiding – the timeline is held absolute. Yet from the violence and death, there arises a figure of purest life, brightest hope. He ascends into the sky. Either he is dragged down, and all fall into despair, or else he inspires the world and changes their perception of faith forever. Either way, the savior is the father of all liars. Yet he is our last hope – he, and those damned abominations coming forth from Obvilion who feel remorse. We shall be saved by the damned!"

And with that last outburst, Hannah collapsed.

Paul quickly rushed in and took her in her arms. Paul cried out for help. Toypurna sat there, bleeding from her eyes and ears, oblivious to the world. Sani calmly asked Guiterrez to enter. Guiterrez walked in, moving over to Paul and Hannah. "They have seen what they need to. They are marked by destiny, especially her. They are welcome here. Bring them to a room, that they may have some much-deserved rest."

Guitterrez nodded and helped Paul lift Hannah, and together the two of them carried her out. Right as they left, Toypurna spoke. "Paul, you must listen to Hannah, and let her visions of the future guide you." After that, she was silent, and Guitterrez and Paul carried Hannah down the hallway, out through the steel door. Paul's mind spun with a thousand questions, but getting Hannah somewhere safe was the most important thing. Paul followed Guitterrez, Hannah slung between them, until Guitterrez stopped in front of a door in the wall. He opened it, revealing a somewhat spartan room, just blank wall and one bed. They entered and laid Hannah down gently on the bed.

Paul took a moment to look her over. She was completely unconscious, unmoving, and Paul would be inclined to think she was dead if not for the fact that he knew she already was. Turning back to Guiterrez, Paul asked, "What the hell happened in there?"

Guitterrez shrugged. "I wasn't there, so I have no idea what happened to you or her. Those two show everyone something different. Sani, can see into anyone, and Toypurna can see the future, see exactly what you need to know about yourself and your path. I know it seems crazy, I thought it was at first, but their guidance is what has allowed me to build the biggest, most organized Renegade organization in all of the Los Angeles Necropolis area. They foretold the greatest Maelstrom, showed us how to survive it, and now because of them, we're on the verge of overthrowing what's left of the Hierarchy. So, whatever went on in there, all I can tell you is that you should trust it."

Paul looked back at Hannah, who lay like one of the dead, and felt fear and paranoia race around his mind. Trust it, huh? I mean, I did get so see Sani's memories, and he did help me... And while I don't know this Toypurna woman at all, I guess she did help Hannah have like... a vision, or whatever that was. And I guess Hannah did voluntarily throw her eyes in the fire. Ugh, just thinking about that, though... As though on cue, Hannah began to stir, her eyes fluttering open – eyes that were completely healed.

"Paul?" Hannah asked weakly, reaching out to him.

Paul knelt down next to her, took her hand, and looked intently into her eyes. "Hannah, I'm here. Are you okay?"

Hannah nodded weakly. "Yeah, I'm fine. Everything is fine. I... I spoke to my Grandmother, and got a glimpse of the future, and... Paul, we can trust them. We have to. I... I feel so tired..."

"You have drained yourself of all Pathos – of all animating energy. I'd recommend you slumber – while we ghosts have no physical need of sleep, it can restore us when we are emotionally exhausted. I'll leave you two alone. I'll be back in eight hours. Rest well." With that, Guitterrez was gone.

Paul turned back to Hannah, only to see that she had already fallen asleep. With a smile, Paul decided to curl up in bed with her. He didn't fall asleep right away, thoughts running through his mind for a bit, but in the end he, too, gave in to his emotional exhaustion and drifted into that realm of memory and imagination we call dreams.