Zephyr stared at the cold tile lining the floor of the bathroom in which he was locked. Frustration was almost leaking out of his pores because of his absolute need to help poor Thanatos. Thanatos did not seem to want to be helped and instead, seemed more content to constantly try to aggravate Zephyr whenever the two were talking.

In his frustration and boredom, Zephyr had taken to asking himself rhetorical questions. Unfortunately, he also found himself answering his own questions almost as often as he was asking them.

"There is definitely only one of me. Maybe I have a crazy twin brother, but there is only one me," he said to himself, "Stop talking to yourself."

Of course, none of this did anything to stop the questions from flowing. There was just something about being kidnapped, meeting your long lost twin, discovering your own adoption, and having your own status as a human doubted that just produced philosophical questions about existence.

"Everyone has to be created by someone," he thought, "Most children are created by their parents. Who created us?"

Zephyr had never been especially religious. As a pilot, he was able to journey straight into the realm of the gods, stare their power in the eye, and come back again. The only higher power he had ever known was gravity, and gravity was the master of all that eventually pulled everybody back to earth. Only the ground could control.

But if the ground and the sky were the only things to command his respect other than the man and the machine, where did he come from? Fine, Zephyr came from nothing, was born without a parent, but matter is neither created nor destroyed. He took chemistry in high school; he knew that. Corn and grass didn't just grow a baby either, so where did he come from?

Obviously, this line of reasoning could only lead to the supernatural. If the creation of matter was not allowed by the natural laws, then perhaps Zephyr existed outside of those natural laws. Or maybe, he wasn't matter at all. Perhaps he was some creation of neither matter nor energy. Never mind. Zephyr could feel his thoughts wandering down paths that were definitely wrong. He was made of matter, and that much was most definitely true.

Also, how was it that fourteen people mysteriously arose under the same circumstances? They must be connected in some way, but how? How was he connected to Trista, the therapist, or Arthur, the sculptor? What did he have to do with Ilene? Were they all supernatural siblings? Zephyr hoped not; he couldn't think of Ilene as his sister. But then what? Who was he?

"One of the hardest things," Zephyr mused, "is to not know who you are."


Ilene glared at the floor like it was its fault that she had been kidnapped and had her identity taken from her. All her life, she had been mostly content to pretend she fit in okay with the people of her town, and that all of her strangeness was solely because of her need to study the stars. Thanatos had to take away her thin wall of protective ignorance so that he would no longer suffer alone. Misery always loves company, and Ilene couldn't have been more miserable.

The biggest problem lie now in that she had to destroy a lifetime's worth of lies saying that she was just the same as everybody else. She didn't have a problem with not being the same as anybody else, anyone who observed her one in the morning star charts could see that, but in the past she had reasoned that away with explanations of great stellar passion. Now, she would have to admit her slight lack of humanity to herself and figure out who she actually was.

Unfortunately, Ilene didn't want to do that. Learning who she was would also let Thanatos learn who he was, and Ilene had nothing if not a stubborn streak a mile wide. If he kidnapped her looking for his identity, he would get nothing out of her. Ilene would simply not think of the biggest problem in her life, and he would get no answers.

But the curiosity burned through her like a hot knife through butter. The unknown danced its tempting self not more than half a foot from Ilene's nose; she could reach out, take it, and learn so much. "Don't you want to know who you are?" it taunted Ilene. How could she not want to know who she was?

"Knowledge is dangerous," she reminded herself, "See what knowledge did to Thanatos over the course of his life? Do you want to burdened that way for all eternity?"

But she did want that burden. Ilene would have led mankind to the gates of Hell in the quest for knowledge, and that's just what she was going to do. Who cares if Thanatos learns of himself? Certainly not Ilene.

"Okay," she thought to herself, "let's do this logically. What would be a connecting pattern between Zephyr, me, and all the rest?"

Ilene thought hard, but she had already looked for connecting patterns when she had first met everybody. None seemed to exist then, and none could still be found.

"Okay. There has to be something. Let's go over majors again," she reasoned, "Myself: astrophysics. Zephyr: pilot. Ryan: marine biology. Arthur: sculpture. Terra: ecologist. Jenny-"

Was that a pattern? That was definitely a pattern Ilene was seeing. Instead of being found in similarities, that pattern was found in the absolute differences and passion over their chosen careers. Ryan loved the water; it was plain from his major and position on all the aquatic teams, Zephyr would do anything to fly up and never have to come down again, and Ilene almost lived with her stars. She could name and recite the history (both real and mythical) of most constellations faster and easier than she could remember the names of her dorm-mates.

Absolute, devouring passion connected them all, but what did that have to do with inexplicable babies? Ilene was certain that if anybody could find out, it would be her.


"How is it that some people are able to grow so bitter and angry?" Zephyr thought as Thanatos again shoved a cold, unopened can of soup through his door, "How is it that one child grew up happy and loved, and another learned to hate the world and everything in it?"

Zephyr wondered if the absolute, polar differences between him and his, seemingly, twin brother had something to do with their identities. Every line of reasoning he pursued seemed to suggest that. They had been born (or whatever word was more appropriate) together, accidentally had the same haircut at the age of twenty, spoke with the same bit of obvious ego, and, from what Zephyr could tell, had basically the same tastes in everything.

And speaking of tastes, the soup that had been poked through the door was Zephyr's absolute least favorite, cream of mushroom with garlic. Positive that Thanatos knew exactly what he was doing when he poked that can through the door. Zephyr mentally cursed him in every language he knew. He stopped only because that bitterness was where Thanatos fell apart from him. He would be fine with whatever Thanatos did because that was what separated them, what made them distinct individuals.

Could it also be a small explanation of who they both were? An old teacher of Zephyr's had once said that your relationships with others defined you. That would be a good start to defining himself. Zephyr started to list off some of his characteristics that were plain from his relationship with all those who had originated in that field.

From the way he interacted with Thanatos, it was obvious that he was forgiving. He had not had enough interactions with any of the others to characterize himself based on them, and he didn't know where to start with Ilene.

How did he act around Ilene? Zephyr couldn't say; around her, everything he did just felt right. The only fact that stayed fixed in is mind was how perfect Ilene always seemed to him.

Zephyr loved Ilene.

That was all he knew, but it was enough.

He loved Ilene, and no matter what, he would forgive Thanatos. Varda would say a fool had invaded his mind to put all that forgiveness there.

Varda?

Who is Varda? Why is it that her name had replaced Ilene's?

Because they were the same person. Ilene was Varda, and he, Zephyr, was Manwe. They would always find each other again in the end. He didn't anything else about the rest of his identity, but this was enough.

Just the thought of his lovely Varda a few rooms over was enough to improve his eyesight beyond that of even a hawk.


"So, if we are all completely ruled by our undying passions for one specific thing, which does not coincide with the thing someone else is passionate about, and we are almost certainly supernatural, were we created by the thing?" Ilene asked herself.

Since discovering that their connection lay in having passions, Ilene had been trying out as many different possibilities for their connection to the passion as she could, but she still felt wrong. They hadn't been created as the physical embodiment as their respective passions, but what if they had created the passions themselves?

Why did Ilene suddenly feel like she was making sense? And why was it that something still felt missing?

Right. Zephyr. He had become, over the last week, as important to her as the stars in the sky. In fact, if she had decorated the sky with stars just to show him her feelings, she knew exactly what she would have done.

And she had already done that. And he had arranged the sky so that they might always be together.

Ilene had failed the point of what she tried to do; she had no idea who Thanatos or the others were and wasn't even entirely sure who she herself was. But, she knew that she had placed the stars in the sky to please one person, and she could almost hear his voice again.

Could she hear his voice? Her hearing had much improved and quickly over the past day, and there was hardly a sound in the house that escaped her notice. So that whisper from over half across the house in the other bathroom could belong to only one person.

"Varda?" he said.

That was her name. "Manwe," she half sobbed her whisper out. His name.

"I have a funny feeling you can hear me now, though I know you shouldn't be able to," he continued, "I definitely can't hear you, but if you can hear me, I have a plan. Please, cough if you can hear, just so I know you're there."

She coughed as loudly as she possibly could and listened as he laid out his plan for escape.


Thanatos could feel his level of annoyance rising until he was almost completely certain his ears were going to pop off. The amount of happiness in Maia's house had steadily risen over the past three days for everybody except him. Ilene and Zephyr seemed to have some almost simultaneous revelation that made them almost impervious to all of Thanatos's angry questions, Maia's ginger friend seemed happy just to be around Thanatos (which Thanatos found creepy beyond belief), and Maia seemed relieved just to have her friend over to lift some responsibilities off her shoulders. They all had a little bit of happiness to carry around, and Thanatos had none. None at all.

Having friends would be a great way to feel happy, but Thanatos had none. He had only strange servants who seemed to feel the desire to pander to his every need.

Of course, his lack of happiness was not fixed by the lack of bathrooms. Ilene and Zephyr were occupying the only two as their prison cells, and Thanatos had not had a shower in almost a week. They hadn't either, but at least they didn't have to go through the bother of getting a prisoner adequately restrained to use the toilet.

Everything that happened had started to annoy Thanatos. Especially the sound of Maia and her friend's voices.

"Do you require anything of me, sire?" Maia's friend asked.

"Shut up, Sauron," Thanatos said, frustrated with hearing this question at least ten times every hour.

That was something he had said before, so why was the ginger staring at him that way?

Right. He had been introduced as Sam. Thanatos had met him before as Sauron.

Back when Thanatos was called Melkor.

I think this chapter happens to coincide with the one year anniversary of this story. Whoa. Hopefully, by this time next year, I will have finally finished the story.

I actually planned the next chapter as the bonus anniversary special, so be on the lookout for that. I'm planning on having it posted pretty soon.

And speaking of posting, I've been doing a much better job of being routine lately. I'm pretty proud of myself.

Also, I finally put that chart I've been mentioning on the internet. It will be out of date by the next chapter, but at least it will exist. Unfortunately, I can't get the link to stay here. Visit my profile page, I think I have a better idea for linking.

(Ignore the awkward spoilers at the bottom of the chart)

All belongs to Tolkien. I know, crazy, right?