the last sovereign of infinity

Lucien had reached a conclusion.

The universe possessed a deeply unfortunate habit of waiting for him.

Dragons waited.

Mountains waited.

Ancient entities older than creation waited.

And now, apparently, a being beyond existence had spent an unreasonable amount of time borrowing his name while waiting for him to return.

He was beginning to suspect this was less a coincidence and more a recurring character flaw.

The hand remained extended through the opening in the black door.

Small.

Human.

Entirely ordinary.

That was perhaps the most unsettling part.

Lucien had expected claws. Darkness. Something vast enough to justify the fear it inspired in beings like the Last Witness.

Instead, it was simply a hand.

Waiting.

Patient.

The Infinite Mindscape had gone completely still. The stars no longer moved. The broken chains remained suspended in the sky like frozen lightning, while the black door itself stood half-open at the center of his soul.

The Last Witness had not moved in several minutes.

"Master."

No response.

"Master."

The old man finally exhaled.

"I spent twelve thousand years hoping this moment would never come."

"That seems dramatic."

"It isn't."

Lucien studied him carefully.

For the first time since meeting the old immortal, there was no amusement in his expression. No irritation. No tired affection.

Only grief.

Interesting.

That was considerably more concerning than fear.

"You know what's behind the door."

"Yes."

"And?"

The old man looked toward the waiting hand.

"It used to follow you everywhere."

Silence.

Lucien blinked.

"I'm sorry?"

"It hated being alone."

The hand twitched slightly.

Almost imperceptibly.

Yet Lucien noticed.

He was becoming increasingly skilled at recognizing loneliness.

An unfortunate development.

"It followed me."

"Yes."

"Why?"

The Last Witness smiled sadly.

"Because you asked it if it wanted to."

That answer should not have surprised him.

It did.

"Of course I did."

"Yes."

The old man finally looked at him.

"You've always had difficulty leaving things behind."

The words settled heavily in the Mindscape.

Lucien looked away.

He did not particularly appreciate being psychoanalyzed by versions of his past.

Unfortunately, they all appeared to possess extensive experience with the subject.

Outside his soul, the ruined city remained silent.

Even Sol had stopped speaking.

The ancient being beneath the mountains watched the black door with an expression that somehow managed to convey concern despite consisting primarily of two eyes larger than continents.

"IT IS AFRAID."

Lucien looked up.

"Of me?"

"OF FORGETTING YOU AGAIN."

Silence.

That...

That was becoming an increasingly common theme.

The older Lucien with the black sword quietly sat down on a piece of rubble.

"I remember this part."

"You do?"

"Unfortunately."

He rested the sword across his knees.

"It cried for approximately three hundred years."

Lucien stared.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Lucien."

"What?"

"It was very attached."

The Eighth nodded in agreement.

"You taught it how to laugh."

"That seems harmless."

"You also taught it sarcasm."

Silence.

"Oh."

"Yes."

The Dragon King rumbled quietly.

"It once informed an Architect that its existence was a disappointment."

Lucien slowly turned toward the ancient dragon.

"It said that?"

"It was remarkably proud of itself."

Interesting.

He wasn't entirely certain whether to feel guilty or impressed.

Probably both.

The hand beyond the black door remained motionless.

Lucien found his attention repeatedly returning to it.

There was something familiar about it.

Not physically.

Emotionally.

The same sensation he experienced when hearing Sol's voice.

The same quiet certainty that accompanied old memories.

Dangerous.

Everything associated with memory was dangerous.

"You should speak to it."

The suggestion came from Seraphina.

Lucien looked toward her.

"I don't know what to say."

"That never stopped you before."

Fair.

"I was apparently a very different person before."

"No."

Her answer was immediate.

"You're really not."

That caught him off guard.

"What?"

Seraphina smiled faintly.

"The details changed."

"The lives changed."

"The names changed."

Her silver eyes met his.

"But every version of you would have stopped to help someone crying in the dark."

Silence.

Lucien suddenly found himself without an immediate response.

Again.

This was becoming irritating.

The hand moved.

Slowly.

Carefully.

It pointed toward him.

Then, very quietly, a voice emerged from beyond the black door.

"Is it...safe?"

The world stopped.

Lucien froze.

The voice wasn't ancient.

It wasn't monstrous or incomprehensible.

It sounded...

Young.

Like a child asking permission to enter a room.

The Last Witness closed his eyes.

"No."

Lucien ignored him.

"Safe?"

The voice hesitated.

"You forgot me before."

Silence.

Absolute silence.

The ruined city ceased to exist.

The dragons vanished.

For one terrible moment, there was only the black door and the voice behind it.

"I waited."

The hand tightened against the edge of the doorway.

"I tried not to be angry."

Lucien felt something inside his chest crack.

Small.

Painful.

Human.

"But I was."

The honesty in those words hurt more than anything else.

"You promised."

There it was again.

Always promises.

"I know."

The answer escaped before Lucien could stop it.

The voice fell silent.

"You remember?"

"No."

"Then how do you know?"

Lucien didn't have an answer.

He only knew.

The same way he had known Sol's name.

The same way he knew the stars.

Some things existed beyond memory.

Some things simply became part of who you were.

"I don't know."

"Oh."

There it was again.

That word.

The voice beyond the door laughed softly.

"You still say that."

Lucien went still.

"Have we spoken recently?"

"No."

"Then—"

"You always say 'oh' when you're sad."

Interesting.

He had not been aware of that.

"I am not sad."

There was a pause.

Then—

"You're lying."

The Last Witness immediately covered his face with one hand.

"Remarkably direct."

The voice continued.

"You used to lie to make other people feel better."

Lucien folded his arms.

"That sounds irresponsible."

"It was."

Silence.

Then, unexpectedly—

"I missed hearing you talk."

The words struck with surprising force.

The hand remained where it was.

Waiting.

Not reaching further.

Not demanding.

Simply existing.

Patiently.

Lucien suddenly understood why Sol had waited.

Why the dragons had remained.

Why everyone looked at him with that same impossible mixture of affection and grief.

Because he had left.

And they had stayed.

The realization was profoundly unfair.

"What's your name?"

The question left his mouth before he could reconsider.

Silence answered him.

Then—

"I don't know."

The voice sounded embarrassed.

"You gave me yours."

Of course he had.

Naturally.

"And?"

"And I liked it."

Lucien closed his eyes.

"That's not your name."

"I know."

"Then why keep using it?"

The answer came immediately.

"Because it was yours."

Something inside him broke.

Not dramatically.

Just enough.

"Oh."

"There it is again."

Lucien ignored that.

"You should have your own name."

The moment the words left his mouth, the entire world went silent.

The Last Witness slowly looked up.

The Eighth smiled sadly.

The older Lucien closed his eyes.

Even Sol stopped breathing.

Interesting.

Apparently, he had said something important.

The voice beyond the door became very quiet.

"...Really?"

"Yes."

"Would you give me one?"

Dangerous.

Everything about this conversation was dangerous.

Lucien looked toward the waiting hand.

"I don't remember enough."

"That's okay."

The answer came so quickly that it hurt.

"You can take your time."

There it was again.

Waiting.

Always waiting.

Lucien suddenly understood something that frightened him.

The thing beyond the black door wasn't waiting because it had no other choice.

It was waiting because he had asked it to.

And somehow...

That made it worse.

The voice spoke once more.

"I don't mind waiting a little longer."

The Infinite Mindscape trembled.

Stars fell from the heavens.

And somewhere deep within Lucien's soul, a memory finally surfaced.

A child sitting in endless darkness beside something unseen.

"Do you think I'll forget you?"

"YES."

"That's a little rude."

"YOU FORGET MANY THINGS."

"Not important things."

Silence.

Then—

"If I forget your name, just wait for me, okay?"

The memory ended.

Lucien stood motionless before the black door.

And for the first time in any of his lives...

He understood the terrible weight of asking someone to wait.