Author's Note - 4/26/2025

Alright, so. Let me explain this one first. This side chapter is a reward for the author Fobbie for an event on a discord server I help run. I had a few options for this one, including covering a few relatively unrelated characters back during the Psychic Wars, but in the end I went with this: a scene I planned on writing later but ended up here instead.

This chapter will likely make no sense and is incredibly different compared to prior chapters. But it fits here anyway in the middle of this arc.

I hope, despite everything, you still enjoy it.

Chapter 54.5: Day N/A – Under the Sycamore Tree

The ocean of infinity was vast yet small. Endless but looping.

Most can't claim to know infinity, as to know infinity implies an existence that transcends conscious thought. If one knows they are infinite, infinity is therefore a concrete state, and that can't be right. A more accurate assessment, then, would be to say that infinity is malleable. One's own expectations and realities of the concept can vary depending on the soul—ever changing depending on mood, outlook, and ideals.

Personally, I believe infinity to be a simple state of mind. It's boredom, in a manner of speaking. If one is bored then they are most likely experiencing some type of infinity. Boredom implies a state of anticipation, and that anticipation can be stretched as far as time allows. Which, as far as I was concerned, is forever. Time didn't exist here. As a result, my boredom was endless.

Some would call that hell, and don't get me wrong—it was hell. The alternative was heaven which did not at all match what I experienced. It wasn't bliss, or even particularly comfortable. Hell was just the default, the baseline. Just because I wasn't in constant agony doesn't mean that I didn't hate it.

The thing about hell, though, was that there was no way of possibly making things worse. You can only go up when you're at rock bottom. So at least there's that. Not to mention, it wasn't exactly possible to be more bored. Despite common belief, boredom was a binary. Hell, as I have come to understand it, was not.

Returning to infinity, I was intimately familiar with it at this point. Too familiar. What kills me is that it wasn't always like this. There was a point where I genuinely comprehended the passing of time and had some sort of goal. Amorphous blob that I was, a "goal" could only be placed into one category: the desire to not be a flicker in a blinding void.

There were colors here, abstractions that vaguely resembled ideas I once considered tangible. But over time the illusion became obvious. I'd hate to say they all blended together, because that sounded confusing, but it was apparent to me now that those ideas I saw were nothing more than smears in a shimmering black hole. They were already long gone.

If I had eyes, I would have clenched them shut. Alas.

If I still remembered how eyes worked, I might have even tried. Alas.

Alas, alas, alas.

I think…well, no. I know things will shift eventually. I wasn't alone here, most of the time. Off in the distance I would hear concepts reminiscent of cognizant thought every so often. Once or twice—or many times, I guess—I spoke to others. They were just as lost, if not just as bored. The only reason why I wasn't resigned as much as they were was because eventually, inevitably, they all left. Time passed.

That was something. This wasn't to say that I expected to escape this place, no. I just assumed that a breeze would blow in and send me elsewhere. Maybe a colder spot in the void. Maybe a deeper floor of hell. That sounded like a defeatist attitude to have, though, probably because hell was still a bad thing to most people. And I know what I said earlier; there was no way to go down from here. I'm just saying that things will change.

Change was scary, no matter what plane of existence you were on. I'm willing to admit that yes, I was very scared of how this hell will freeze over with me still in it. Whoever isn't scared of sudden cold fronts must have lost their minds a long time ago.

Well, I haven't. Or I hope I haven't. It surprised me to find that I could still remember my past life in vivid detail. Every painful, agonizing moment. It was just…distant. Kind of. Could active thoughts really be considered distant? I think it's better to say that while I did remember everything, I had no fingers with which to feel the texture behind them. They were just there, I was here, and everything else was everywhere.

All the time, every waking moment, forever.

Was that hell? Nah. Like I said, it was more like boredom, really. Make of that what you will.

Anyway, the only reason why I'm pondering this at all was because I noticed something new in the void. Calling it a light would have been apt. More accurately, though, it was better to call it a beacon. A lighthouse calling ships to shore.

Here's the thing: ships aren't living creatures—they don't instinctually float towards lighthouses. So…bad metaphor, I suppose. Either way, I was drawn to it. My body(?) drifted along the highway of nothingness towards something new.

See? Things were shifting. Called it.

It stood out to me that the colors around me became one part brighter and one part darker. What did that mean? Was I getting closer to…something, or further away?

Change. It's scary. I don't like it.

I'm supposed to say that there's a transition here, but I doubt I could even describe it. So let's just say that, somehow, I found myself sitting next to another soul who presumably also followed the beacon. They were…yellow, I think? They had a voice that projected right into my mind. A voice that sounded neither male or female, human or monster, real or fake. They just were.

Yellow said, "Hey."

And I said, "Hi."

"You followed it, too?"

"Against my will, but yeah."

"That's how it goes."

"You've done this before?"

"A few times. This your first time?"

"What, following a beacon?"

"Coming up on a tear."

"I don't know what that means."

"Neither did the last soul I talked to. They just called it a tear."

"Because the soul before them called it that?"

"Yep."

"What is it?"

"I dunno. I just know it's something you can see."

Now that was exciting. Hell was starting to get a little less boring. Er, the boredom was switched off. Whatever.

I prodded for more information: "What did you see before?"

Yellow responded with, "Rocks."

"Rocks?"

"Rocks."
"What kind of rocks?" I was itching to know.

"The kind you see in a cave. All cracked and dusty."

"Whoa."

"I know, right?"

"So, these tears let you look at rocks?"

"And other things."

"Like what?"

"Last soul said he saw trees."

Trees…I remembered those. They were green, and tall, and lush. I wanted to see trees.

Eagerly, I said, "Consider me interested."

"Been a long time, right?" Yellow asked.

"It has. I forgot how long."

"Me too. But seeing those rocks? I started to remember."

If I had a body, I probably would have started shaking. I understood what Yellow meant. With a visual even as dull as plain old rocks, I could ground myself. Escape boredom and finally graduate to contemplation, or even expectations.

Possibilities. Reality. An escape.

But don't get too ahead of yourself, now.

I asked Yellow, "How do I get closer?"

I imagined Yellow shrugging. "It just happens."

"You're telling me I could miss it?"

"I didn't say that. I just said it could happen. Last few times it happened to me I was pulled in against my will."

"How?"

"Boy, if I had an answer to that I wouldn't be talking to you, now would I?"

"We have to be able to control it somehow."

"You didn't. And neither did I."

"Still."

"If you have any ideas, I'm open to hearing them."

Okay, time to think: what can I do here?

I could think…ponder…not really consider…contemplating was for the rocks…worry about where I'd end up…remember…and other synonyms for thinking. That was it.

The thing was, I hadn't known that there was more here to begin with. I was happy to just float and think forever. Sure, I'd be bored, but it wasn't like I had any aspirations to speak of.

But now…I wanted to see the rocks. My amorphous body suddenly felt agonizingly restrictive.

"I'm thinking," I said.

"We all are, Blue," said Yellow.

Blue? I was blue? Nevermind, it's not important.

"It's gotta be something in our heads," I replied. "A thought, maybe?"

"Like what?" Yellow pried, and it was the best question they could have asked.

What could I think of to make myself move? How could I pursue this "tear?"

Or rather, how does one consciously move at all?

Left foot…right foot. Maybe I could crawl…? What if I rolled?

I wasn't moving. Something was missing.

"When you saw the tear," I started, "how did you leave it?"

There was a beat where Yellow didn't respond. "…I don't know," they said. "I just did."

"But why? Why would you leave behind the only source of stimulation you could find?"

"Because…I was…supposed to?"

"No, that can't be it."

"Well, I did want to know if I could find a more exciting tear."

"You assumed there was more."

"Yeah."

"And there was."

"Yeah."

"So you found a tear, assumed there was more, and then you found more?"

"Uh, yeah? What are you trying to say here?"

"It just seems a little weird to me that as soon as you learned that there was more, you managed to find more. That can't be a coincidence."

"Suppose that makes sense. When you put it like that it's like…if you dig up gold, there's probably more nearby."

"Exactly. You know it's there, then you find more…no, wait."

"What are you thinking now?"

"You don't know gold is there. You assume gold is there."

"True. You could be wrong."

"But that doesn't matter. Because if you're looking for gold, you're still digging."

"And…?"

I think I got it.

All of a sudden the colors around me began to shift and change. Yellow started to fade from my vision behind me, if such a concept of being behind could exist here.

"Whoa, wait, where are you going?" Yellow called out to me frantically.

"I figured it out!" I called back, their cries becoming fainter and fainter. "It's because I want to find it! I believe that I do!"

There it was, right ahead of me. A break in the nothingness, a coherent mishmash of shapes and ideas completely foreign to this void. A tear.

I understand now. I could move wherever I wanted.

It was as simple as hoping I would.

My first tear was pretty uninteresting.

Calling it a tear was right, by the way. A grassy glade painted in monochrome was all I could see through the sliver before me, superimposed onto the dusty, tie-dye void. It told me nothing, it had nothing to say, and it hardly moved whatsoever.

But my god I would have sobbed my eyes out if I could.

My mind wandered to places it hadn't gone in…I don't know how long. Where was this grass? What time of day was it? Had it been watered recently? Was someone around to maintain it?

And like clockwork, that led to even more questions. Questions about feeling, touching, tasting, smelling. What would it be like if I was there right now instead of here?

I was a human, I know that. I could imagine myself running my fingers over every damp blade of grass as it tickled my skin. There was a time when I understood that exact sensation, good god it was so real. I should have been there!

I wanted to be there. So bad. My previous reality and everything beyond shimmered in all of its brilliant glory for once in this hellish infinity. I tasted beauty and became addicted immediately. I witnessed heaven in the midst of hell!
There was even a moment where, when I thought about how nice it would be to see greener grass, the grass became greener! It made me think, was this a memory? Or was it a snapshot of another world? I tried to change other things, like how tall the grass was. And to my complete and utter shock, the grass grew taller!

This wasn't just heaven, I was in control! I could change things! I could…I could…

…not interact with it, at all. I could watch the grass grow from behind a barrier, see how the green shifted back to gray. Eventually the grass wilted.

And with it, I did, too. I drifted away from the tear.

Regardless of how long I was there, it faded away just like everything else. Back to hell I went.

It wasn't easy to accept at first. I screamed. And wailed. And cried. Nothing halted my course. Before long I returned to boredom. Nothing more than a pointless blob in a sea of thoughts.

Except it wasn't boredom anymore. It couldn't be. Once I knew there was more to this place the endless infinity became a torturous existence, every moment maligned by the idea that I could be watching grass sway in the wind instead, but never touch it.

I knew then what hell truly was: nothing, with a slight, yet dwindling hope for change. Change that would never come. This was my existence now.

For quite some time, I was alone. Yellow was nothing more than a memory now. As was the grass. As was everything.

I was alone.

Alone…

Alone…

Except…

There was a new light right then. A black light, if that was possible. Everything around it slowed as if being pulled towards it, even though there was nothing to pull. It was just an observation I made, innately knowing that this light—this soul—was different from the others I saw.

It began to speak within my mind.

"Salve," Black said.

"Hello," I responded.

"Ah. One of the younger tongue."

"I don't have a tongue anymore, actually."

"And one of wit, it seems."

"Yeah…sorry, I shouldn't be joking around."

"Non. Do not deny the truth of thine soul."

"Not denying it. I'm just…upset, I guess. Thought I found a reprieve from all of the nothing I've had to put up with."

"Tasted freedom, young lion?"

"Young lion…? Uh no, I wouldn't call it freedom. More like getting to see the sun from within my prison cell. I haven't tasted anything."

"Aye. You talk of the cracks, yes?"

"Other guy called it a tear."

"One and the same."

"I assume so."

"You are a witness."

"Yeah. I saw grass."

"Ah, life. What is thine name?"

This was new. For some reason no other light I had come across asked for my name. Whether it was because names didn't exist here or they didn't care, Neither here nor there to me. Why would it matter?

"I guess that's better than calling each other colors, isn't it?" I asked. "It's Oswald."

"Oswald," the soul repeated. "One fit for the emperor. The name of a conqueror."

"Doesn't fit me, I'll say that. I'm just an idiot. What about you?"

"Mine name is Alexander. God's strength. Mine will is God's will."

"Fancy. This place must not be what you expected, huh?"

"You speak as though I am a believer."

"Are you not?"

"Allow I to reorient your focus, Oswald. When I insist that God's will is mine will, I do not follow God. God follows I."

"Uh huh…"

"Stay thy hand, sir. I do not intend to imply that God is I and I am God."

"What do you mean, then?"

"We are all God-"

"That's not much better."

"That is to say—we control the world. Our destinies are our own. What is mine is mine to control, and what I control is everything."

"Where I come from we call that a god complex," I countered. "I get your point, Alexander, but you're wrong if you think that things aren't out of your control. Case in point, we're both here."

"Aye. We are."

"Was this an act of God, in your eyes, that you ended up here?"

"Aye."

"What- hm. Okay, what now, then?"

"What hast thou confused? It is simple: mine own will must be enacted even here."

"How?"

"At any cost."

If I had eyes to roll they sure as hell would have gone on a journey right then.

"Yeah well, good luck with that, Alex."

"What are your ideals, Oswald?"

"My ideals? What do you mean?"

"What dost thou believe in?"

I struggled to see the point in all of this. Alex here wanted to debate philosophy like there was any society around us to apply it to. May as well have been talking about the weather with how relevant this was.

"It doesn't matter," I said. "I'm hardly more than a conscious speech bubble right now, who cares about what I believe in?"

Just as a reminder, I never detected any hints of emotion from souls I've talked to. We just had words to exchange, nothing more nothing less. I'm sure that if anyone heard me sobbing earlier they wouldn't have heard anything more than emotionless screaming.

Alexander was different. Because in that moment, right before his numbing voice entered my formless brain, there was a tightness to his touch. A scraping, clawing light in the corner of my vision that flashed a different color I couldn't detect.

It made me wonder how many colors existed in this void, and if there were any I couldn't see. Or if I was simply interpreting these concepts through a human lens.

Alexander said, "Thou believes it does not matter? Is that thine main ideal?"

I said, "Yep, and that's not going to change. I can move around now, I guess, but I don't see a way out. So who cares."

"Understood."

Maybe if this guy asked me about this earlier I would have a genuine answer to give. But even then, I can't say I have beliefs on par with "we are all God." Or any at all, really. Alexander would just have to live- er, exist with that.

And I suppose he did, as his next question dug deeper into this nothing I provided.

"Thou follows a path of thine own," Alexander deduced.

"That's the exact opposite of what I said," I stated. "I have no path to follow."

Alexander then said, "Aye. Thine destiny is a path off the path."

"Sure. Why not."

"Like I, you are directionless."

"I thought you said you had a will to enact, or something?"

"Aye."

"How can you have a goal and be directionless at the same time?"

"Whatever direction I choose is that which aligns with mine destiny. As God, I am that which changes the world at any given moment. What is mine is mine to control, and what I control is everything."

"You can't control everything, Alexander."

"I must try."

I stand corrected: hell is nothing with a sliver of a chance for something more, plus having to argue with a maniac.

I said, "Alright, then tell me how you'd try. I'm curious."

Alexander said, "What is not mine or I must be controlled. What cannot be controlled cannot exist. Life is inherently fallible, and unpredictable, and not mine. Those under mine command are mine, those that cannot be commanded must die. God is perfection, I, and everything. Once thou art one, life is infallible. That is mine path. All must be I, and through I all shall die. It is now that thy must understand, fate will change by my hand. And by my hand, I choose destruction."

"Okay, dude."

I had heard enough. I might not believe in anything, according to this guy, but I believed in my desire to stave off this proverbial headache. So, with that, I floated away from that black light and back into the shapeless void.

"Nice to meet you, Alexander," I called back. "I hope we never meet again."

Faint as it was, Alexander's response was brief. Emotionless. Plain.

"Vereor nox, Oswald. Stay your path."

Not like I have a choice.

I was happy to be bored again after that, even if it didn't last long.

Another tear got my attention. A beacon that beckoned me close. It was bright—more so than any light I had seen yet within this void.

In the end, I was just hoping for yet another reprieve.

I ended up with a lot more than that.

Thanks to my beta readers: Bonehead, Dust_Scout, and Timelocke. And thank you for reading.