the last sovereign of infinity

Lucien had come to several conclusions over the course of his current life.

The first was that dragons were considerably more emotional than they preferred to admit.

The second was that immortality appeared to have unfortunate side effects on one's ability to provide straightforward explanations.

And the third—

The third was that every significant problem in existence could somehow be traced back to a younger version of himself making promises with entirely too much confidence.

This latest revelation did little to challenge that theory.

He stood within the Forest of Sleeping Stars while the golden key in his hand continued to pulse softly.

«I knew you would come back eventually.»

The words remained etched across its surface.

Lucien found them deeply offensive.

"It sounds remarkably confident."

The silver-haired Architect laughed quietly.

"It was."

"That seems unreasonable."

"Less unreasonable than waiting fourteen billion years."

Fair.

Lucien was developing an increasing discomfort with large numbers.

They tended to involve him.

The forest continued to tremble around them. Golden leaves fell like rain while the stars hanging from the branches brightened one by one.

Every tree was looking in the same direction.

The western horizon.

Interesting.

"Why is the forest staring?"

"It isn't."

Lucien looked toward Orion.

"It certainly appears to be."

"That's because it wants to see."

"See what?"

Orion smiled.

"The impossible."

Dangerous.

That word was rapidly becoming synonymous with his existence.

Astrael gently tugged on his sleeve.

"It's opening more."

Lucien looked down at the child.

"The final door."

"Yes."

"And everyone seems remarkably calm about this."

No one spoke.

Interesting.

"That concerns me."

"It should," the Dragon King rumbled.

Lucien turned toward the ancient dragon.

"You're worried."

"Yes."

That caught everyone's attention.

The Dragon King was not, by nature, a creature prone to admitting concern.

Lucien had gathered that much.

"Why?"

The ancient dragon was silent for several moments.

Then—

"Because I have never seen it."

Silence.

"The final door."

"Yes."

Lucien frowned.

"You're older than stars."

"Technically."

"And you've never seen it?"

"No."

Interesting.

Lucien was beginning to suspect that anything capable of making ancient dragons uncomfortable deserved significantly more caution than it was currently receiving.

The sky above the forest suddenly darkened.

Not ominously.

Politely.

As though reality itself had dimmed the lights out of respect.

That was somehow worse.

"Master."

The Last Witness had grown unusually quiet since the key changed.

Lucien noticed immediately.

"Yes?"

"You should know something before you go."

There it was.

That sentence.

Lucien was developing strong opinions regarding any phrase beginning with "you should know."

"I suspect I won't enjoy the rest of this conversation."

"No."

"Excellent. Continue."

The old man smiled faintly.

"The final door exists outside reality."

"Reasonable."

"No, Lucien. I mean entirely outside reality."

Silence.

"It isn't part of existence."

"Oh."

"There it is."

Lucien ignored him.

"It exists beyond time, beyond memory, and beyond death itself."

The key grew warmer.

"And?"

"And if you open it..."

The Last Witness hesitated.

"For a brief moment, the universe will remember what existed before it."

The forest fell silent.

Even the wind stopped.

Lucien considered this.

"That seems problematic."

"It will be."

"How problematic?"

The silver-haired Architect answered.

"The last time reality remembered its beginning, three galaxies developed existential crises."

Reasonable.

Lucien had no idea what an existential crisis looked like on a galactic scale and had decided he was happier remaining ignorant.

"And we're doing this anyway."

"Yes."

"Remarkable."

The key suddenly floated from his hand.

No.

Not floated.

It was being pulled.

Toward the horizon.

Toward somewhere beyond the stars.

Lucien immediately disliked this development.

"I assume I have to follow it."

"Yes."

"Of course."

Naturally.

A path appeared beneath his feet.

Not stone.

Not light.

Memories.

The road was made of memories.

He recognized them immediately.

Cassian teaching him how to hold a sword.

Elara smiling while pretending not to worry.

Seraphina laughing.

Astrael sleeping beside the window in the room at the center of his soul.

And beneath them all...

A voice from before the First Sky.

"Hello?"

The road stretched endlessly forward.

Interesting.

"That's deeply unsettling."

"You get used to it," Orion said.

"I sincerely doubt that."

Fair.

Lucien took a single step.

Reality changed.

The Forest of Sleeping Stars vanished.

The mountains disappeared.

Even the heavens themselves seemed to fade into the distance.

He found himself standing upon an endless road suspended within a sea of stars.

No.

Not stars.

Eyes.

Millions of them.

Watching.

Waiting.

"What are those?"

The silver-haired Architect's voice reached him from impossibly far away.

"Witnesses."

"Witnesses to what?"

Silence.

Then—

"The first promise."

Dangerous.

Everything inevitably returned to promises.

Lucien continued walking.

Each step carried him further from reality.

Further from the universe.

And somehow...

Closer to home.

That realization unsettled him more than anything else.

He had homes now.

House Arkanis.

The ruined city.

The room beyond the black door.

And apparently, somewhere at the end of existence itself.

This felt excessive.

The road continued.

Eventually, he noticed something ahead.

A light.

Small.

Warm.

Familiar.

It looked like a lantern hanging beside a door.

"Oh."

The word escaped him before he could stop it.

There it was again.

The lantern swayed gently in a wind that did not exist.

Beside it stood a simple wooden chair.

Occupied.

Lucien stopped walking.

The figure sitting in the chair was impossible to describe.

Every time he looked, he saw something different.

An old man.

A young woman.

A child.

A sky full of stars.

And yet, somehow, beneath all of those impossibilities...

He knew.

The figure looked up.

And smiled.

"You're late."

Silence.

Lucien stared.

"I've been informed of this repeatedly."

"Good."

The figure's voice carried the warmth of a thousand forgotten summers.

"I've had a very long time to prepare that line."

Fair.

The lantern's light illuminated the simple wooden door beside them.

Unlike the black door.

Unlike the white door.

This one possessed no mystery.

It was just a door.

Waiting.

Patiently.

The figure slowly rose from the chair.

"I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost."

"That seems unlikely."

"It happened once."

"Of course it did."

The figure laughed softly.

Lucien felt something inside his chest ache with impossible familiarity.

"You don't remember me."

It wasn't a question.

"No."

"That's alright."

The figure smiled.

"You never do at first."

Silence.

"And yet..." The voice grew softer. "You always remember eventually."

The lantern brightened.

The key floated gently into Lucien's hand once more.

And for the first time since the beginning of existence...

The final door waited to be opened.