the last sovereign of infinity

Lucien had spent the entirety of his current life under a fundamental misunderstanding.

This was not unusual.

By this point, he had accumulated enough misunderstandings to comfortably fill several libraries.

He had believed the Architects feared him because of his power.

It was a reasonable assumption.

Ancient dragons bowed when he spoke. Reality developed concerning habits whenever he became emotional. He had apparently created sentient crowns, argued with natural laws, and spent several lifetimes accumulating enough questionable accomplishments to permanently disappoint historians.

Power seemed like an adequate explanation.

Unfortunately, reality rarely settled for adequate.

"The End of Doors."

The title lingered in the room like a prayer spoken too loudly.

Astrael sat across from him at the small wooden table while the stars beyond the window continued their slow dance through an endless sky. He looked exactly as Lucien remembered and not at all like he should.

Ten years old.

Patient.

Waiting.

Lucien was beginning to hate waiting.

"The Architects named you."

"Yes."

"And they fear you."

"Very much."

"Why?"

Astrael smiled sadly.

"Because I can leave."

Silence.

Lucien frowned.

"That seems insufficient."

"It does."

"Explain."

The child folded his hands atop the table.

"You taught me many things."

"Apparently."

"You taught me names."

"Questionable decision."

"You taught me stories."

"Also questionable."

"And one day..." Astrael's expression grew distant, "you taught me how to open a door."

The room fell silent.

Lucien felt the stars beyond the window dim.

"It wasn't supposed to work."

Interesting.

"That seems to be a recurring theme in my life."

"Yes."

Astrael laughed softly.

"You were very surprised."

A memory surfaced.

A child made of darkness sitting before a wall that stretched beyond sight.

"What's on the other side?"

"I DON'T KNOW."

"Well, that's unacceptable."

"WHY?"

"Because every wall implies the existence of somewhere else."

The memory blurred.

Lucien saw his younger self place a hand against the darkness.

Then—

Light.

The memory vanished.

"Oh."

"There it is."

Lucien ignored him.

"I taught you to open doors."

"Yes."

"And?"

"And eventually, I learned how to open all of them."

The words settled heavily over the room.

Outside the window, a constellation quietly rearranged itself into the shape of a key.

"The Architects build prisons," Astrael continued. "That is what they do. They always have."

"The universe."

"Yes."

"The black door."

"Yes."

"The seals."

"Yes."

Lucien leaned back in his chair.

"And I dislike prisons."

Astrael's smile widened.

"Profoundly."

The Last Witness suddenly appeared in the doorway.

"You once declared that locked doors were a personal insult."

Lucien looked toward him.

"That sounds unreasonable."

"It was."

The old man entered the room and sat heavily in the second chair.

"You spent six hundred years opening things simply because people told you not to."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Lucien."

"What?"

"You opened Death."

Silence.

Absolute silence.

"I'm sorry?"

The Last Witness looked tired.

"It got better."

"Death got better?"

"No, your decision-making."

"Oh."

"Marginally."

Lucien had many questions.

He chose the one least likely to cause immediate psychological damage.

"What happened to Death?"

"It took a vacation."

That...

Was somehow not the worst answer he could have received.

Astrael continued before Lucien could ask for clarification.

"When the Architects discovered me, they realized something."

"And?"

The child's golden eyes met his own.

"If I could leave my prison..."

The stars beyond the window disappeared one by one.

"...then perhaps every prison could be opened."

Lucien felt the weight of the words settle into his soul.

"The Architects were afraid."

"Terrified."

"Of you."

"No."

Astrael shook his head.

"Of what you would do if you succeeded."

A memory rose.

Not of war.

Not of dragons.

A courtroom.

Ancient beings seated upon thrones of impossible design.

And himself.

Standing in the center with Astrael holding one hand.

"You cannot free it!"

"Why not?"

"IT IS THE END OF ALL THINGS!"

"That seems unnecessarily dramatic."

"IT WILL DESTROY REALITY!"

Silence.

Then his own voice.

"Then perhaps reality should have been kinder."

The memory shattered.

Lucien stopped breathing.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Lucien."

"What?"

"You started a war because someone told you Astrael didn't deserve to exist."

The room went silent.

The Last Witness quietly covered his face.

"It remains one of the least diplomatic moments in recorded history."

"I've had diplomatic moments?"

"Three."

"Remarkable."

"Two were accidents."

Fair.

Lucien looked toward Astrael.

"You were imprisoned because you could leave."

"Yes."

"And I objected."

"Violently."

"Reasonable."

Astrael laughed.

"You thought so."

The child looked toward the stars.

"You spent thousands of years trying to convince the Architects that loneliness wasn't a crime."

Silence.

"And?"

"And they disagreed."

Lucien frowned.

"That seems cruel."

"It was."

The room fell quiet once more.

Eventually, Lucien asked the question that had been lingering since the beginning.

"Why did I leave you here?"

Astrael's smile faded.

"Because they found a way to hurt me."

Dangerous.

That feeling again.

"How?"

The child didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he looked toward the endless field of stars beyond the window.

"They realized I couldn't be imprisoned anymore."

Lucien remained silent.

"So they decided to imprison you instead."

The world stopped.

"What?"

Astrael finally looked back at him.

"You made a choice."

The memories came faster now.

Chains.

Light.

A hand reaching through darkness.

"You can't stay."

"I PROMISED."

"I know."

"THEN WHY?"

The memory blurred beneath tears that did not belong to him.

"Because if they can't reach me..."

A child's voice breaking.

"They'll never stop trying to reach you."

Lucien's breathing became uneven.

"No."

"Yes."

"You chose me."

Astrael nodded.

"Every time."

The words hurt.

He was becoming increasingly familiar with pain.

This one was different.

This one was warm.

"That's unfair."

"I know."

"I don't like it."

"I know."

Lucien closed his eyes.

Of course.

Of course that was the answer.

He had spent lifetimes protecting dragons and strangers and ancient beings beneath mountains.

Naturally, he had done the same for a child waiting in the dark.

The realization should not have surprised him.

It did.

"How many times have I promised to come back?"

Astrael was quiet for several moments.

Then, softly—

"Every life."

Silence.

"What?"

"You always remember eventually."

The child smiled through tears that continued falling despite his efforts.

"You always apologize."

The stars beyond the window brightened.

"And then you promise you'll stay this time."

Lucien found himself unable to breathe.

"Do I?"

"Yes."

"And?"

Astrael laughed.

"You always leave."

The honesty in those words was unbearable.

"But you always come back too."

The room shook.

Not violently.

Gently.

As though reality itself had exhaled.

"Lucien."

The voice did not belong to Astrael.

It came from outside the room.

Ancient.

Patient.

Sol.

"You should wake up."

Lucien frowned.

"I've just arrived."

"I know."

"The mountains are opening further."

Silence.

"And?"

"The Architects are coming."

The stars outside the window dimmed.

Astrael's expression did not change.

"They know."

"Yes."

Lucien looked between them.

"They know what?"

Sol's voice became impossibly gentle.

"That after twelve thousand years..."

The room began to fade.

The Infinite Mindscape dissolved into light.

And Astrael smiled the same smile he had been carrying since before the stars.

"...the boy who opens doors has finally remembered why he never stopped coming back."

The last thing Lucien heard before waking was Astrael's quiet voice.

"Welcome home, Lucien."

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

He realized he had been homesick all along.