Reflections of a forgotten soul.
Summary: what if paradise wasn't what they made it out to be? Larten ponders the decisions in his earlier life with his assistant, des Tiny's predictions, and his overall purpose to this existence.
Takes place before Saga of the golden sword guardians: rebirth.
As Larten sat between the gates of acceptance, he began to wonder why he was there. Gavner had been walked past the gates, a wan smile on his face. Erra waved to him, "Come on Larten, cross with me!" But he couldn't go, every time something held him back, a little voice in his head saying that it wasn't his time. He couldn't help but sob.
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Larten sat in the same spot, watching as others past through that very gate, the gate he couldn't go through. Why can't I go through? I did everything right. I had killed cleanly, and made sure to not drain my victims dry. There was a few spots I struggled, but I pulled through them. He began going back to the decision to blood Derrin. The boy was to young, is that why I'm not able to go through, is this why I am cursed to suffer this eternal damnation? And what about Sam Grest, had I got their faster, would things have been different? But of course their more other things he questioned, the killing of the crew of an entire ship. He had been sick, but he wondered, had he been thinking more clearly and malora not come along would things have been for the better? And finally there was Des Tiny, had he known what he was up to could he have stopped him? The gambling, the almost suicide rescue attempt, but there was more than just that that could have been made right for him to get here. Had he got to Malisha, would things have been different between himself and Silvia? Oh, and if that wasn't enough he wondered, had he not saved Wester, would things turned out for the better? He began to reflect more on these views as people went past, some waving and smiling, others just fading away without a second glance.
/pagebreak/
Years later, much later, he was in the same place. Time passed differently when behind these gates, of acceptance, or in his case, gates of the damned. Oh how poetic it would have been if this were not true. He got to his feet, before looking down, as if he were seeing things from his other life. "Derrin, if you are listening to this, watch your back. Everything in this place is an illusion, it's good for reflecting, but that's all it will be good for." He knew in this moment what he was. He was not Larten Crepsley, mentor, brother, Fighter, he wasn't ver horstan, lover, hider, he wasn't quicksilver gambler and escape artist extraordinaire, of all those things, the truth hit him like a steak through the chest. He was none of those things. All he was is a forgotten soul, an empty vessel, a remnant of a shattered time. All he could do is reflect, and that's all he would do till the lake freezes over. Then before he could think more about this, he awoke to a bright light filling his vision.
/the end/