Chapter 49: The Problem with Staying
Lucien had spent a considerable amount of time imagining what would happen if he ever stopped moving.
Not consciously.
Consciously, he had been occupied with considerably more important matters.
Surviving.
Dying.
Returning.
Acquiring increasingly complicated family relationships with cosmic entities.
The usual.
Yet somewhere beneath all of that, there had always been a quiet assumption.
One day, he would stop.
One day, there would be no more roads.
No more promises.
No more lonely things waiting in the dark.
He had simply never expected that day to arrive.
He disliked it immediately.
"There are too many people."
The first dawn stretched endlessly around them as Lucien stared at the horizon.
The crowd waiting there had grown.
This seemed statistically impossible.
Architects stood beside dragons. Entire civilizations he did not remember waved in his direction. Stars had apparently manifested physical forms for reasons no one had bothered to explain.
One of them was holding flowers.
Interesting.
He had not known stars possessed hands.
"That's fair."
Tomorrow walked beside him with their usual impossible patience.
"How many are there?"
"Everyone."
"That isn't a number."
"No."
Lucien remained silent for several moments.
"I dislike answers that are technically correct."
"We know."
"Stop saying that."
"No."
Fair.
The child who remembered every goodbye squeezed his hand.
"They've been planning this for a while."
That immediately caught his attention.
"What does 'a while' mean?"
Tomorrow considered the question.
"The Architects started organizing approximately six billion years ago."
Silence.
"I'm sorry?"
"The dragons thought that was too last minute."
The Dragon King nodded solemnly.
"We value proper preparation."
"You are dragons."
"Exactly."
Lucien found that answer unhelpfully consistent.
"Six billion years."
"Yes."
"To prepare for my return."
"Yes."
"That seems excessive."
The silver-haired Architect suddenly appeared beside them.
"We originally intended to begin earlier."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Lucien."
"What?"
"The invitations alone took four hundred million years."
Silence.
"There were invitations."
"Naturally."
Lucien closed his eyes.
Of course there were.
He was increasingly convinced that immortality simply gave people too much free time.
As they continued walking, the first dawn continued spreading across existence.
He could see reality changing in its light.
The broken places were healing.
The old scars between worlds were disappearing.
Entire galaxies that had been dark for billions of years were beginning to shine once more.
Interesting.
"Why is that happening?"
Tomorrow looked toward the heavens.
"Because you're remembering."
"I've remembered many things."
"Not like this."
Silence.
"What do you mean?"
The First Dream smiled softly.
"The universe was built around a promise."
Dangerous.
Everything always returned to promises.
"You promised that no one would ever have to be alone forever."
The stars overhead brightened.
"And reality believed you."
Lucien felt an immediate and profound desire to object.
"That seems irresponsible."
"It was."
"Reality should not place that much faith in a child."
"No."
"Then why did it?"
Tomorrow's expression softened.
"Because you were the first person who asked it how it was feeling."
Silence.
"Oh."
"There it is."
Lucien ignored everyone.
He was beginning to suspect that every revelation in his life was specifically designed to cause emotional distress.
This felt targeted.
A memory surfaced.
A young Lucien sitting beneath the first sky.
"Are you alright?"
Silence.
"THAT IS A STRANGE QUESTION."
"Why?"
"NO ONE HAS EVER ASKED IT BEFORE."
The memory faded.
Dangerous.
Very dangerous.
The crowd on the horizon had grown close enough now that Lucien could begin distinguishing individual faces.
He recognized more than he should.
Cassian.
Elara.
Seraphina's younger self.
People who should not exist yet.
Interesting.
"How are they here?"
"Time is complicated."
"That isn't an answer."
"It rarely is."
Fair.
Lucien pointed toward Cassian.
"He hasn't been born yet."
"No."
"And yet he's here."
"Yes."
"I object."
"Noted."
Apparently, existence had decided linear time was more of a suggestion in places like this.
He was developing strong opinions regarding that.
Cassian waved enthusiastically.
"You're late!"
"I've heard that."
"You missed my wedding!"
"I wasn't aware you were married."
"I'm not yet."
Silence.
Lucien decided not to pursue that conversation.
It seemed safer.
Eventually, they reached the edge of the gathering.
The silence that followed was immediate.
Thousands.
Millions.
An impossible number of souls looked toward him.
Waiting.
Again.
Lucien was beginning to think he should have developed a better understanding of boundaries.
The silver-haired Architect stepped forward.
"We have a question."
"I suspected as much."
"What will you do now?"
Silence settled over the first dawn.
Lucien frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"You're home."
The words felt strange.
Heavy.
Final.
"There are no more doors."
Tomorrow squeezed his hand gently.
"No more promises to keep."
The child beside him smiled.
"No one waiting in the dark."
Lucien looked around.
At the people.
At the stars.
At the family he had somehow built simply by refusing to leave things alone.
Interesting.
He had not expected the end of his journey to feel so much like the beginning of another.
"I don't know."
The answer surprised everyone.
Including him.
"You don't?"
"No."
Lucien considered the question carefully.
"I've spent fourteen billion years trying to come home."
"Yes."
"And now I'm here."
"Yes."
"So I find myself in the unusual position of lacking a destination."
The Dragon King snorted.
"A temporary condition."
Lucien looked toward the ancient dragon.
"What?"
The Dragon King was silent for several moments.
Then—
"There are still lonely things."
The world grew quiet.
"There are?"
The Dragon King nodded.
"Always."
Interesting.
That...
That sounded right.
Dangerous.
Tomorrow smiled beside him.
"The universe is very large, Lucien."
"And?"
"It keeps making new people."
That seemed like a design flaw.
"And some of them will be lonely."
Silence.
Lucien looked toward the endless horizon beyond the first dawn.
For the first time since arriving, he noticed something.
At the very edge of existence.
Far beyond the stars.
There was a light.
Small.
Flickering.
Waiting.
"Oh."
"There it is."
He ignored them.
"What is that?"
Tomorrow followed his gaze and laughed softly.
"I was wondering when you'd notice."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Lucien."
"What?"
"You've been home for approximately seventeen minutes."
"That seems sufficient."
The First Dream smiled with unbearable fondness.
"There's a child at the edge of the next universe."
Silence.
"They've been asking if anyone is out there."
Lucien closed his eyes.
Of course.
Of course there was.
"You planned this."
"No."
"Yes."
Tomorrow looked genuinely offended.
"We specifically agreed not to tell you."
"That doesn't help."
The child beside him laughed.
"We were taking bets."
"On what?"
"How long it would take."
Lucien was beginning to suspect his family possessed an unhealthy interest in his predictability.
This was unfortunate.
He looked once more toward the distant light.
Then toward the countless people waiting for him.
Then back toward the light.
Interesting.
Everyone was smiling.
Dangerous.
That was very dangerous.
"You can stay, you know."
Tomorrow's voice was gentle.
"No one would ask you to leave again."
Lucien remained silent.
The distant light flickered once.
Like a question.
Like a lonely voice speaking into the dark.
"Hello?"
A memory.
The first memory.
The first word.
Lucien opened his eyes.
"I know."
Tomorrow smiled.
"And?"
Lucien found himself smiling in return.
A deeply concerning development.
"Perhaps after dinner."
The universe laughed.
And somewhere at the edge of the next existence, a small light burned a little brighter.