the last sovereign of infinity

Lucien had seen many homes throughout his existence.

Castles.

Cities.

Entire worlds.

He had slept beneath dragon wings, within palaces carved from living crystal, and once, according to Orion, inside a star.

Lucien remained convinced the last one was an exaggeration.

Unfortunately, Orion had provided witnesses.

The point was that Lucien understood homes.

Or rather, he understood homes belonging to other people.

This one was different.

That alone made him suspicious.

The house sat upon a hill overlooking the first dawn. It was not large. In fact, it was almost disappointingly ordinary.

White walls.

A wooden roof.

A small garden.

And, of course, a lantern hanging beside the front door.

Lucien stopped at the gate.

Interesting.

There was a sign.

He immediately disliked signs.

They had an unfortunate tendency to contain emotionally compromising statements.

The sign read:

«Please come home safely.

—You»

Silence.

"No."

"There it is."

Lucien ignored Tomorrow, who had somehow managed to appear beside him despite explicitly promising to let him investigate the house alone.

"You followed me."

"We were worried."

"There are currently several million immortal beings within walking distance."

"Yes."

"And?"

Tomorrow smiled.

"You've escaped before."

Fair.

That was unfortunately fair.

Lucien opened the gate.

It creaked softly.

Interesting.

The sound was familiar.

Everything was familiar.

He was beginning to suspect that his previous selves had designed reality specifically to inconvenience him.

The garden was small but well cared for.

Flowers grew along the stone path leading toward the door.

Lucien knelt beside one.

"I don't recognize these."

"You created them."

"Of course I did."

"You called them Dawn Lilies."

Silence.

"Why?"

Tomorrow looked genuinely surprised.

"Because they only bloom when someone comes home."

Lucien remained perfectly still.

Dangerous.

Everything remained dangerous.

There were hundreds of flowers.

Interesting.

"How often do they bloom?"

Tomorrow suddenly found the sky fascinating.

"Tomorrow."

"Yes?"

"How often?"

"...Frequently."

"Define frequently."

"Every time you come back."

Silence.

"There are hundreds of flowers."

"Yes."

Lucien closed his eyes.

Apparently, he had come home considerably more often than he remembered.

That was...

Actually, no.

He refused to finish that thought.

The front door was unlocked.

Of course it was.

He pushed it open slowly.

Warmth greeted him immediately.

Not magical warmth.

Just the kind that came from places people expected to return to.

Interesting.

The interior was simple.

Bookshelves lined one wall.

There was a fireplace beside two comfortable chairs.

A kitchen.

A table with exactly enough seats for everyone he had met since awakening.

Lucien counted them automatically.

Interesting.

There was one extra chair.

He immediately distrusted this.

"Who is the last chair for?"

Tomorrow was unusually quiet.

"You."

Silence.

"I am already here."

"Not for this version of you."

Lucien stared.

"I object to that sentence."

"Noted."

The First Dream walked over to the fireplace.

"You always leave one chair empty."

"Why?"

"Hope."

Dangerous.

Very dangerous.

Lucien was beginning to develop serious concerns regarding his previous selves.

The bookshelves caught his attention next.

Thousands of books.

Some looked ancient.

Others appeared unfinished.

He pulled one from the shelf.

Its title read:

«Places We Loved»

Interesting.

He opened it.

The first page contained a drawing.

House Arkanis.

The second.

The ruined city.

The third.

The room beyond the black door.

Every page depicted a place.

And beneath every drawing, the same sentence.

«It was home for a little while.»

Lucien quietly returned the book to the shelf.

He had no comment.

This was primarily because he no longer trusted himself to speak.

The kitchen proved equally dangerous.

There were notes attached to nearly everything.

«Tea goes here.

No, not that tea.

The other tea.

Honestly, how are we this bad at remembering?»

Lucien slowly turned toward Tomorrow.

"I wrote notes to myself."

"You got tired of forgetting where things were."

"That seems reasonable."

"You hid the sugar from yourself once."

Silence.

"Why?"

"You said future Lucien was becoming overly dependent on sweetness."

"Future Lucien sounds insufferable."

"Present Lucien isn't much better."

Fair.

He found the bedroom last.

It was...

Small.

Smaller than expected.

There was a bed beside a window overlooking the first dawn.

A desk.

And on the nightstand...

A framed picture.

Lucien stopped breathing.

It depicted everyone.

Tomorrow.

Astrael.

The Dragon King, who appeared deeply offended by the concept of photography.

The Architects.

House Arkanis.

Even the child who remembered every goodbye.

All smiling.

And standing in the center...

Him.

Interesting.

He had never seen a picture of himself smiling before.

"Who took this?"

Tomorrow smiled.

"You did."

"That seems impossible."

"It took approximately six months."

"Why?"

"No one would stand still."

Fair.

That was, admittedly, reasonable.

Lucien picked up the frame.

On the back, written in familiar handwriting, were six simple words.

«In case we forget we're loved.»

Silence.

Absolute silence.

"Oh."

"There it is."

This time, his own voice was quiet.

Soft.

Almost fond.

Tomorrow smiled.

"You've said that differently three times now."

"I have?"

"Yes."

Interesting.

Lucien sat down on the edge of the bed.

The mattress was comfortable.

Dangerous.

Everything remained dangerous.

"You really expected me to come back."

The statement escaped before he could stop it.

Tomorrow was silent for a long moment.

Then—

"No."

Lucien looked up.

"No?"

"We knew."

The answer was immediate.

Absolute.

And somehow, after everything, that certainty no longer frightened him.

The First Dream walked over and gently adjusted the lantern hanging beside the window.

"You've spent fourteen billion years teaching people not to give up on each other."

The room grew quiet.

"It would have been rude not to listen."

Lucien found himself unexpectedly unable to argue with that.

Interesting.

That was new.

Outside the window, the first dawn continued stretching across existence.

And far beyond it, at the edge of the next universe, a small light still waited patiently in the dark.

Lucien looked toward it.

Then toward the bed.

Then back toward the light.

Tomorrow noticed immediately.

"You are absolutely not leaving tonight."

"I made no such indication."

"You looked at the light."

"Coincidence."

"There are no coincidences where you're concerned."

That seemed unfair.

Lucien lay back experimentally.

Interesting.

The bed was warm.

It smelled faintly of tea and old books.

Home.

Dangerous.

Very dangerous.

His eyes slowly began to close.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes?"

"If I fall asleep..."

"You'll still be here when you wake up."

Silence.

"How do you know?"

Tomorrow's smile was the last thing he saw before sleep finally claimed him.

"Because, Lucien..."

The lantern beside the window burned softly through the night.

"...this time, we're not letting you leave alone."

And for the first time since before the stars...

Lucien slept without dreaming of goodbyes.