the last sovereign of infinity

Lucien had once crossed the ruins of dying galaxies.

He had negotiated peace between immortal civilizations, taught dragons how to apologize, and, according to Orion, accidentally convinced an entire constellation that sarcasm was an acceptable form of diplomacy.

Saving a village from a drought should have been simple.

Unfortunately, Lucien had forgotten one very important detail.

He no longer traveled alone.

"This is excessive."

"No," Tomorrow replied. "This is friendship."

"It is an army."

Lucien looked behind him.

Elise walked at his side with visible excitement while, several steps back, Astrael hummed happily beside the Dragon King. Orion carried enough tea for a small kingdom, and the silver-haired Architect had somehow acquired a basket of bread.

Even Sol had insisted on sending "a very small amount of sunlight."

Lucien remained deeply suspicious of what an ancient cosmic entity considered "a small amount."

"I specifically said I was going for a walk."

"And we believed you," Tomorrow said.

"Then why are all of you here?"

The Dragon King looked genuinely confused.

"Because you said you would be back before dinner."

Silence.

"And?"

"We would like to ensure that remains true."

Dangerous.

Very dangerous.

Lucien was becoming increasingly aware that his family possessed an alarming ability to weaponize affection.

Elise looked between them with open fascination.

"You're all really worried about him."

"No."

"Yes," said everyone else.

Lucien chose to ignore them.

The village was located near the edge of the Seventh Valley, a place of rolling hills and empty riverbeds. As they approached, Lucien noticed the signs immediately.

The earth was cracked.

The trees had lost their leaves.

And despite the warmth of the afternoon, there was an unmistakable feeling hanging over the land.

Loneliness.

Interesting.

It always returned to loneliness.

"The land is grieving."

The words escaped before he could stop them.

Elise blinked.

"The land can grieve?"

"Everything can."

Silence followed.

That answer seemed to affect everyone more than he had intended.

"You taught us that too," Tomorrow said quietly.

Of course he had.

Lucien was beginning to suspect that every meaningful thing in existence had somehow become his fault.

As they entered the village, people began emerging from their homes.

They looked tired.

Hopeful.

And, to Lucien's increasing discomfort, entirely too relieved to see him.

Interesting.

He had not realized stories traveled this far.

An old woman slowly approached, leaning heavily upon a wooden cane.

For a moment, Lucien froze.

She reminded him of someone.

Someone who had once sat beneath a tree and asked him if immortality became less lonely when shared.

"You're really here."

The old woman's voice trembled.

"My grandmother told me about the boy who always came when people needed him."

Lucien remained silent.

"She said he had kind eyes."

"Oh," Orion whispered. "This should be good."

Lucien ignored him.

"I assure you, my eyes are entirely ordinary."

"No, they aren't," Astrael said immediately.

"Traitor."

"Thank you."

Fair.

The old woman smiled.

"My grandmother waited for you."

Dangerous.

That sentence had become dangerous.

"Many people did."

"No." She shook her head gently. "I mean she left a chair empty at every meal."

Silence.

Lucien suddenly found himself without words.

Again.

Apparently, this was becoming a habit.

"She said..." The old woman smiled through tears. "'If he ever arrives, tell him dinner's getting cold.'"

The world grew quiet.

Tomorrow had stopped walking.

The Dragon King had lowered his head.

Even the wind itself seemed to pause.

"Oh."

"There it is.

Lucien ignored himself.

"What was her name?"

The old woman looked surprised.

"Lyra."

A memory surfaced immediately.

A young girl laughing beside a campfire.

"Do heroes ever get tired?"

"Constantly."

"Then why keep helping people?"

Silence.

"Because one day, someone will save me too."

The memory faded.

Interesting.

He had no recollection of saying that.

Dangerous.

"She waited a very long time."

"I know."

The answer surprised everyone.

Including him.

The old woman smiled softly.

"She said you'd remember eventually."

Of course she had.

Naturally.

Lucien looked toward the dry riverbed beyond the village.

"Show me."

Elise led him through the village in silence.

The river had once been enormous. He could tell that immediately.

Now, it was nothing more than stone and dust stretching toward the horizon.

Lucien knelt beside the riverbed and rested one hand against the earth.

Immediately, he understood.

Interesting.

"The river is afraid."

Silence.

"I'm sorry?" Elise asked.

"It remembers drowning."

The village fell silent.

Lucien closed his eyes.

A memory not his own surfaced.

Rain.

Too much rain.

Floods.

People screaming.

A river blamed for obeying gravity.

"It doesn't want to hurt anyone again."

Tomorrow's expression softened.

"Can you help it?"

Lucien was quiet for a moment.

Then—

"No."

Silence.

"What?"

"I cannot help it."

Elise's face fell.

Lucien opened his eyes.

"But perhaps we can."

The distinction mattered.

It always had.

The Dragon King stepped forward.

"I know something about being feared for what I am."

Tomorrow knelt beside the riverbed.

"And I know something about waiting."

The silver-haired Architect smiled.

"And I know something about forgiveness."

One by one, they stepped forward.

Lucien watched them quietly.

Interesting.

For fourteen billion years, he had carried the world alone.

He had never considered what it might look like when the world carried him in return.

Dangerous.

Very dangerous.

He placed his hand back upon the earth.

"It's alright."

The words were not for the people.

They were for the river.

"You were trying to protect them."

The wind stirred.

"And I think..."

Lucien smiled softly.

"...you've been afraid for long enough."

Far away, thunder rolled across a cloudless sky.

And somewhere deep beneath the earth, something ancient finally stopped crying.

The first drops of rain began to fall.

Lucien looked upward.

Interesting.

He had not done that.

Tomorrow laughed beside him.

"The universe is helping again."

"Of course it is."

The rain fell gently over the village.

Warm.

Kind.

Like a promise.

And as the villagers laughed and cried beneath the first storm they had seen in years, Lucien found himself looking toward the horizon.

The sun had begun to set.

Interesting.

He had promised.

"I should be going."

Elise looked up in surprise.

"So soon?"

Lucien considered the question.

Then smiled.

"I told them I'd be home before dinner."

Silence.

The entire village had gone still.

And somewhere, impossibly far away, a lantern hanging beside a small house at the end of eternity burned a little brighter.