102. What use is hope, in a universe that burns?
"There was once a place that existed long ago, in a place far, far away from the shattered corpse of Unitopia. A place that still exists, hidden away from prying eyes. Not even a whisper of a legend, a flicker of a myth exists about it. Not even the most abstruse mention in the most esoteric text about that place...
"That place called Dusk."
***
"Though no less admirable for having attempted it, Voyager. That which is easy, is completed without thought, and is therefore thoughtless. That which is difficult, is what truly grants meaning."
The voice that spoke was unfamiliar to all those sat there. Deep and rumbling. It was the word ancient personified. Its owner stepped from the darkness of the path into the illumination granted by the small fire.
A form that could not be described. Four legged, three horned, two winged. It was-
"I see, so it is like that."
The Voyager said softly, as if he feared speaking too loudly would shatter the moment into tiny fragments, whisked away on an unseen wind. He smiled widely, not a cheeky grin or an amused twitch, but a genuine, whole-hearted smile.
"It has been some time, or perhaps, it has been no time at all. An old friend, and a new one too, come. Both larger and smaller, the fire is warm enough for us all."
Jeffbob chuckled.
"I shall kindly take you up on the offer, Voyager. Apologies for the interruption, but I could not help but let it be known. The task upon your shoulders is heavy, but it is a burden under which your iron spine shall neither bend nor break."
"You flatter me, Jeffbob. It is still a ways to go until the conclusion, hidden from even my blind eyes. Whether I break, or the world does, we shall have to wait and see."
It was at this moment that the previously unnoticed stranger, tiny and insignificant, made his presence known.
"Jeffbob? You know, then, of this buffoon?"
The Voyager turned to address the newcomer, his blindfolded eyes seeing nothing at all.
"You could say so. I know you too, or rather, I know of you. Your name is engraved in blood in countless, burning universes."
The pair of brothers and their escorted nobleman had gone silent, perhaps knowing that the conversation ongoing was not one for them to dare interject. Ziriothrax grinned, the starlight shining malevolently on his insect carapace.
"Then you should kneel and cower before my Great Self, for the mercy of letting you still live."
The Voyager played with his blindfolded, replying.
"Hmmm, I am rather fond of this mishmash world. Let us have our game later, Ziriothrax."
"Later?" Ziriothrax spat venomously. "You think I care for this measly world? This half-eaten corpse? Then you are of the same type as this lumbering buffoon. Bleeding hearts can never, will never, change anything. Not without sacrifice. I will sacrifice all that stands in my way! So tell me, Voyager, do you stand in my way?"
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Into his voice bled the deplorable cries of a billion-billion souls, a killing intent sharpened to a razor's edge, enough to slice through reality.
But it was crushed.
Ziriothrax flattened his antennae against his head as a formless pressure descended on him from an ominous, four-legged silhouette. Jeffbob spoke, his horns glowing red, in a tone that was...mildly angry.
"Now, now, little cricket. The Voyager speaks correctly. This world...must continue. For a little while, at least."
You...dare? Against the Great Me?
Oh how I so wish to tear your disgusting horns out of your head as you plead with me, beg with me, to stop. How I wish to tear through your filthy, matted pelt, gorging upon your delicious innards. How I wish to KILL YOU WHERE YOU STAND!
"Fine, then." Zirithrax replied in a flat tone, suppressing all that wrathful fury with an iron will.
But now is not the time. Not just yet. Let the cauldron bubble and simmer for just a bit longer...the time for eating is soon. Very, very soon.
"Very good," Jeffbob spoke satisfied, turning back to the Voyager. "It is fortuitous to see another Wanderer here, at this time. Let alone, of all Wanderers, for it to be you."
The Voyager took a small bite of the tender meat, and replied in jest.
"Fortuitous? Hah! As if such a thing as fortune could grip its claws into one of your ilk, Jeffbob. But you are right, it is nice to see that you made it out. A long voyage stretches ahead of you, I can only hope that your preparations were enough."
Jeffbob sighed.
"I hope the same thing."
"What use is hope in a universe that burns?"
Ziriothrax was not content to let the moment pass without interjecting his vicious opinion. He spat the words out caustically.
"Hope is a meagre, pitiful thing. Those with no power, no will, cling onto its fetid dreams in blind devotion. Hope has never saved anyone."
It was not Jeffbob who spoke this time, instead the Voyager who replied with mild curiosity.
"Hope is the foundation upon which all struggle stands. Without hope, there can be no dreams. And without dreams, what is life but an endless nightmare, swallowing all existence. And what of you, Ziriothrax, do you not struggle because of the hope that you succeed? That you reach your goal?"
Kalzin Talontail and the others sucked in their breaths, fearing what terrible outcome would come from the argumentative statement. They prayed for the sake of all Unitopia.
The Voyager, meanwhile, waited with an amused grin, and Ziriothrax did not disappoint.
"Hope is for blindfolded fools. I do not hope. I have never hoped. I do not dream. I have never dreamt. I have only a single thing."
The statement hung in the air thick with tension.
"Conviction!"
His insect voice grew with smouldering intensity.
"I have sheer, indestructible conviction that I shall succeed, that the reeking heavens shall lie shattered beneath my feat. Why, then, should I listen to the false encouragements of hope? Hope is for those who fear failure. I have no need for such a crutch."
"An extreme view, but perhaps it is rooted in some truth."
The blindfolded man mused out loud in response.
"Hope is as much a poison as it is a panacea, and a crutch over-used can lead to an irreversible atrophy. And yet...all of creation calls out that word. Hope! Without that, are they to simply close their eyes and succumb? Not all can envision success like you, Ziriothrax. For those pitiful beings, what do they have left but that single spark - Hope."
Ziriothrax grit his teeth, his eyes bulging in rage.
"Those people disgust me the most. They are a cancerous mass upon the universes, a blight upon the Multitudinous Existence. Were it up to me, I would cauterize them from all worlds. You think that I was not in their place once? An insect, crushed thoughtlessly underfoot? Had I done naught but hope, where would I be? Instead, I came to realise the truest truth of the Multitudinous Existence. Hope is the sweet lie of the heavens, a drug to keep the masses docile and subservient. I cast off such shackles when I was granted my name. My purpose."
The Voyager was silent, his expression not betraying his thoughts. He muttered softly in response.
"A new path, then. If the dark forest obstructs, if its malevolent branches snag underfoot, then simply burn it all down."
He addressed Ziriothrax directly.
"You stand upon a knife's edge, suspended above an abyss. Either side of you, lies inescapable doom. What is it that you do?"
The question echoed in the silence of the Alcove of the Ancient Traveller. All those present pondered upon the answer, thinking through the possibilities, coming up blank.
In Jeffbob's case, that was because he had, once again, entered a catatonic state due to severe braincell (yes, it is singular) overuse. It was only Ziriothrax who merely grinned in the darkness.
"The answer is obvious. It is-"
It is revealed next chapter. Get wrecked.