Pillars (wip)

Act 1: The Request at the Overlap

Epignos’s awareness rippled across the vast lattice of the Weave like silver threads catching starlight.A request for assistance had arrived — not from within Kanna’s universe, but from one of the newly acquired neighboring domains. Such requests were still rare. Epignos focused a precise beam of observation and sent it directly to Schedios.Assistance requested in Overlap Zone 17-Delta. An entity identifying as a Pillar from the adjacent universe seeks counsel regarding an anomalous strand.Schedios arrived moments later, stepping out of a folding of geometric law. Her silver-white hair was pulled back with mathematical perfection, and her deep blue and purple librarian robes flowed with shifting diagrams of order. She carried a glowing tablet of living law in one hand.“An overlap request,” she said, her voice cool and precise. “These zones are still relatively new additions to the greater Plan. Their primary purpose is to stabilize the other universe — providing structural reinforcement where their reality is weaker. Secondary benefits include limited trade, communication, and mutual defense should either side face external threats.”Epignos’s constellation of silver eyes shifted in acknowledgment, thousands of gazes turning toward the same point in Temporal Limbo.“Shall we answer?” it asked, its awareness forming the words directly in Schedios’s mind.Schedios nodded once. “We shall.”They stepped together into Temporal Limbo, near the shimmering boundary of Overlap Zone 17-Delta. The frozen lake stretched endlessly in all directions, its surface a perfect mirror of stillness.Waiting for them was a figure that looked, at first glance, very much like Chronos.He had the same tall, imposing frame and shifting mosaic of gears and starlight. Yet the gears were different — more fluid, interwoven with threads of deep violet and silver that pulsed like living spacetime. His indigo cloak seemed to fold dimensions within its folds. When he turned, his face — a polished void reflecting possibilities — held an odd inflection, as though time moved differently through him.The entity inclined his head.“I am Quantis,” he said, his voice carrying a resonant echo that seemed to stretch and compress space around the words. “Pillar of Space and Time for the universe recently brought under Kanna’s dominion. I apologize for the intrusion, but I require counsel regarding a most unusual strand.”Schedios studied him carefully. “You are not Chronos.”“No,” Quantis replied with a faint, knowing smile. “I am his counterpart. Where he governs the flow of Time, I govern the relationship between Space and Time as one unified domain. Our universes are similar enough to overlap safely… but different enough to create interesting complications.”Epignos’s eyes rearranged into a tighter formation, focusing entirely on Quantis and the nearby strand he had indicated.“Elaborate,” Epignos requested.Quantis gestured toward a particular strand hovering near the frozen lake. It appeared ordinary at first glance — a modest world with blue oceans and green continents. But something about it felt… off.“This strand is singular,” Quantis explained. “It has no parallel versions in my universe. No allegorical copies. That alone drew my attention. Then I was called to repair a tear in its space-time fabric. The world’s Dark Matter was leaking through the breach. A relatively simple fix, or so I thought.”He paused, his void-face flickering with unease.“Each time I entered the strand to correct the issue, I found myself exiting moments later with no memory of anything that occurred inside. No recollection of what I saw, what I did, or how the problem was resolved. I have tried multiple times. The result is always the same.”Schedios’s expression sharpened.“Singular strands are not part of Kanna’s Plan,” she stated. “Even the most inhospitable life-bearing worlds possess dozens, often hundreds, of parallel strands. A truly singular strand should not exist.”Epignos added, “I had previously registered this strand as existing solely due to the overlap between our universes. Its allegories were assumed to reside in your domain.”Quantis nodded. “That was my initial assumption as well. But the memory loss is the greater concern. In my universe, mass does not generate its own gravity. Instead, mass holds and concentrates Dark Matter, which in turn produces gravitational effects. The greater the mass, the more Dark Matter it can contain. This appears to be the primary physical difference between our universes. I had hoped the difference was small enough to allow safe overlap.”Schedios was quiet for a long moment, consulting the flowing diagrams on her tablet.“Such a difference in fundamental laws should not produce the effect you describe,” she said finally. “At least, not according to the current parameters of the Plan. We will need to examine the strand ourselves.”Quantis looked relieved. “I would be grateful for your perspective. Something about this world feels… intentionally concealed.”Epignos’s countless eyes turned toward the singular strand, studying it with perfect, unblinking focus.A faint unease rippled through its lattice.There was something there — something the universe itself seemed reluctant to let them see clearly.The three Pillars stood together at the edge of Temporal Limbo, gazing at the quiet blue world that should not have been singular.And for the first time in its existence, Epignos felt the distinct sensation that they were being watched in return.

Act 2: The Unremembered StrandThe three Pillars stood at the edge of the frozen lake in Temporal Limbo, staring at the singular blue-green world that should not exist.Quantis gestured toward the strand with a hand that flickered between solid form and flowing spacetime. “Shall we begin?”Schedios nodded once, her silver tablet already glowing in her grasp. “We will each attempt entry using our own domains. Record what you can before you lose awareness. We will compare observations upon exit.”Epignos’s constellation of silver eyes shifted into a tighter, more focused formation. “I will observe from outside as well.”They began.

Quantis went first.As the Pillar of Space and Time from his universe, he stepped directly into the strand with full command over both spatial coordinates and temporal flow. He intended to enter, analyze the Dark Matter leak, repair it, and exit within moments.He stepped through.And stepped out.Quantis reappeared exactly where he had entered, his form flickering with visible confusion. He checked his internal chronometer.“Four hours and seventeen minutes,” he said, voice tight. “I was inside for four hours and seventeen minutes. I have no memory of any of it.”Schedios’s eyes narrowed. “Nothing at all?”“Nothing. It is as though the strand simply… erased my passage through it.”

Schedios went next.She approached the strand through the lens of pure Law and Order. Her tablet blazed with geometric sigils as she wove herself into the fabric of the Plan itself, attempting to read the strand as one would read a living contract.She entered.She exited.Schedios stood motionless for several seconds, then spoke with uncharacteristic frustration.“Six hours and nine minutes. I can confirm one thing only: whatever exists inside this strand follows The Plan. Beyond that… complete absence. No details. No impressions. No data.”She looked down at her tablet. The diagrams that should have recorded her passage were blank.

Epignos attempted last.Rather than entering physically, the Pillar of Awareness spread its consciousness like a vast net, attempting to observe the strand from the safety of Temporal Limbo. Thousands of silver eyes focused on the world, pushing to perceive every detail.For a brief moment, Epignos felt something:A peaceful world.No major predators.No significant natural dangers.Sentient beings that were gentle, friendly, and remarkably shy.Then the awareness window closed.Epignos reoriented its constellation, eyes flickering with something close to surprise.“Approximately five hours and forty-two minutes,” it reported. “I retained only the broadest impressions. The world is peaceful. The inhabitants are non-aggressive. Beyond that… nothing. My awareness was gently but firmly pushed out.”The three Pillars stood in silence.This was unprecedented.Schedios consulted her tablet again, cross-referencing vast archives of the Plan.“There are species capable of memory manipulation,” she said. “Some can induce selective forgetting, others can rewrite short-term recollections. A few rare collectives can even affect group memory. But nothing on this scale. Nothing that could affect us — Pillars — with this level of completeness and consistency. If a sentient species on that world possesses the ability to erase or block the memories of beings like us…”She let the implication hang.Quantis finished the thought. “Then they represent a threat unlike any we have encountered. A species that can influence or neutralize Pillar-level awareness and authority would be catastrophic if allowed to spread.”Epignos’s eyes shifted uneasily. “The strand follows the Plan, according to Schedios. Yet it hides itself from observation. This contradiction is… disturbing.”The three Pillars discussed their options.They considered calling both Thanatos and Mors — the respective Pillars of Death from each universe — to end the strand prematurely. The memory-erasing effect was too dangerous to leave unchecked. However, Schedios checked the Plan once more and confirmed the strand’s designated end was still many ages away. Premature termination would be a significant deviation.After long deliberation, Epignos proposed a solution.“I can spread an Awareness Net around the strand,” it said. “A subtle warning system. Any Pillar or powerful entity approaching would be informed of the memory-erasing phenomenon before entry. It would not interfere with the strand itself, only serve as a caution.”Schedios considered this for a long moment.“Such a net is not explicitly written into the current Plan,” she said. “However… neither is it forbidden.”Quantis nodded. “It is not ideal, but until we gain more information, it is the safest temporary measure that avoids major disruption.”The three Pillars worked together.Epignos wove a delicate net of pure awareness around the singular strand — invisible to most, but unmistakable to any Pillar who drew near. It carried a simple, clear message:This strand erases memory of its interior. Enter with full awareness of this risk.When the net was complete, the three stood back.The singular blue-green world continued to spin peacefully in Temporal Limbo — innocent in appearance, yet profoundly unsettling in nature.Epignos’s countless eyes remained fixed upon it.Somewhere within that world lay a secret important enough that even the Unblinking Eye had been kept from seeing it clearly.For now, the net would have to suffice.But the mystery of the singular strand lingered in the minds of all three Pillars like a question that refused to be forgotten.

Act 3: The Vigil and the InvitationChronos stood at the edge of all things.His vigil had become a permanent fixture in Temporal Limbo — a solitary figure wrapped in deep indigo, his mosaic of gears and starlight turning with patient, eternal rhythm. The polished void of his face reflected countless possible futures, most of them still unborn. He waited for one specific strand: the hidden world Kanna had promised would one day appear. The world that would change everything.He had learned patience.Most disruptions to the timestream now corrected themselves under the new laws he had written. Only major fractures or paradoxes that threatened neighboring strands required his direct intervention. For the first time since his creation, Chronos experienced something close to rest — a quiet, watchful stillness.A single silver-white eye drifted toward him.It was small compared to the vast constellation that was Epignos, yet it carried the full weight of the Pillar of Awareness’s attention. The eye hovered at the edge of Chronos’s perception, respectful but insistent.Epignos’s voice resonated directly in Chronos’s mind — clear, neutral, and without emotion.We are aware of the importance of your vigil. We agree that it must be maintained. However… we have come to understand that solving one mystery may bring answers to another.Chronos’s gears slowed slightly. He turned his void-face toward the lone eye.“Speak.”A century ago, in Overlap Zone 17-Delta, a singular strand was discovered. It prevents any knowledge of what occurs within it from leaving. We are uncertain, but it may be connected to the strand you wait for.Chronos was silent for a long moment, processing.“Why tell me now?” he asked. “You have known of this for a century.”Epignos’s eye drifted closer, its silver light steady.Awareness is not understanding. I may know the what at all times. I may know the when of what must be. But I do not always know the why or the how. That is not within my domain.Chronos considered this. His internal mechanisms clicked softly.“You are correct,” he said finally. “Each of us has blind spots. Areas where our power ends and learning must begin. Kanna left these spaces intentionally… so that we might grow.”The single eye pulsed once in acknowledgment.Will you investigate?Chronos looked back toward the place where he knew the hidden world would one day manifest. For a moment, the void of his face reflected a thousand branching possibilities — some bright, some dark, many still shrouded.He made his decision.“I will go.”Epignos’s eye brightened.I will remain and maintain your vigil until you return. No major disruption will go unnoticed.Chronos inclined his head in gratitude.“Thank you, brother.”He turned away from his long watch and stepped through the folds of Temporal Limbo toward Overlap Zone 17-Delta. The journey was instantaneous for one who commanded time itself, yet it felt heavier than most.When he arrived at the overlap zone, he was not alone.A figure stood near the edge of the frozen lake, gazing at a particular strand. At first glance, Chronos mistook him for Próklisi — the same golden skin, the same powerful build, the same aura of challenge. But something was wrong. This being’s presence felt different. Sharper. More martial.The figure turned.He was indeed golden-skinned, wearing a flowing red cape that seemed stained with the memory of battles. His mask was darker than Próklisi’s sunburst — ornate, horned, and menacing. Strapped to his hip was a sword whose blade glowed with a deep, threatening red light.The stranger regarded Chronos with calm curiosity.“You look similar to my universe’s Pillar of Space and Time,” he said. His voice carried the ringing tone of clashing blades. “I am Ares. Pillar of War.”Chronos studied him carefully.“I am Chronos. Pillar of Time. I was told this strand holds an unusual property. Quantis described memory loss upon entry.”Ares nodded.“I came for the same reason. Quantis told me of this world — a strand where war has never occurred. Not once in its entire history. From what I can perceive, it never will. The complete absence of my domain intrigued me. War is necessary for growth. For expansion. For strength. A world without it feels… unnatural.”The two Pillars stood side by side, staring at the quiet blue-green world.Chronos spoke again.“Shall we test it together?”Ares smiled behind his horned mask.“Let us.”

Act 5: Choice, Will, and the AbsoluteFrustration hung thick in Temporal Limbo.Chronos and Ares stood at the edge of the frozen lake, both staring at the singular blue-green world that continued to spin with innocent serenity. The quiet planet had just humiliated two Pillars of cosmic law — not through power or defiance, but through perfect, effortless erasure.“We cannot keep throwing ourselves against this wall,” Ares said, his voice edged with martial irritation. “It yields nothing.”Chronos’s gears turned with slow precision. “Then we change our approach. Instead of trying to force our way in, we test whether we can influence the phenomenon itself.”Ares’s horned mask tilted. “Explain.”

They began with intention.First new attempt — Offering ChoiceThey entered together with a clear, unified purpose: to reach the inhabitants and offer them a direct choice — allow the visiting Pillars to retain their memories of the strand upon leaving.Chronos anchored the request in time. Ares infused it with the weight of martial honor.They stepped through.They stepped out.“Four hours and twenty-nine minutes,” Chronos reported. “No memory. No indication whether the choice was accepted or rejected.”Ares slammed a golden fist into his palm. “This is maddening.”

Second new attempt — Enacting WillThey tried again, this time focusing on raw willpower. They would not ask — they would impose. Chronos wove temporal commands to preserve memory. Ares poured the unyielding force of War into their minds, attempting to brand their experiences so deeply that no power could erase them.They entered with absolute determination.They exited with nothing.“Five hours and fifty-one minutes,” Chronos said, voice tight. “Still nothing.”Ares paced angrily, his red cape flaring. “We are Pillars. We embody fundamental forces. How is a single world capable of rendering us blind and amnesiac every single time?”They tried three more times with variations — different methods, different intensities, different goals. Each attempt ended identically. They could measure the time lost, but the strand gave up no secrets.Finally, exhausted and frustrated, they withdrew once more to the edge of the frozen lake.Ares stopped pacing and turned to Chronos, his voice quieter now.“What if we are thinking about this wrong?” he said. “What if the inhabitants do not possess a special weapon — an active ability they wield — but rather a special armor? Something passive. Something absolute.”Chronos’s gears slowed as he considered the idea.“Go on.”Ares continued. “In my universe, war is inevitable because beings know too much about each other — resources, weaknesses, intentions, fears. What if the defining trait of this world is something like ‘Absolute Privacy’? A fundamental quality where no being can truly know the thoughts, histories, or full intentions of another. No jealousy born of comparison. No preemptive strikes. No wars sparked by hidden motives or misinformation. Peace would not be a choice. It would be structurally inevitable.”Chronos was silent for a long moment, his void-face reflecting countless branching futures.“That would explain the memory phenomenon,” he said slowly. “If the world itself enforces absolute privacy, then knowledge of its interior cannot leave. Even we are not exempt.”Ares nodded. “Exactly. It is not that they choose to hide from us. It is that they cannot be known.”The conversation turned inevitably toward the greater mystery.Chronos spoke with unusual gravity. “In Kanna’s universe, most species possess what we call ‘Freedom of Choice.’ They can select between presented options. But there is — or will be — a world where beings possess something far stronger. We call it ‘Free Will.’ The ability to create entirely new options that did not previously exist. To choose paths that defy expectation and calculation.”He looked back at the singular strand.“If Absolute Privacy can create this effect… what might true Free Will be capable of?”Ares considered this, his expression thoughtful behind the horned mask.“The concept would make my duty very different,” he admitted. “In my universe, wars usually end only when one side is too weak or destroyed to continue. The idea of being able to initiate genuine peace talks before that point — through true understanding or new choices — would save trillions of lives. But as you said, all species I have encountered seem to possess only Freedom of Choice.”He paused, then added, “What if these are different scales of power? If Freedom of Choice is a firearm, Free Will could be a bomb. And if this strand possesses Absolute Privacy… then perhaps Earth possesses something equally absolute in another direction.”Chronos’s gears clicked softly.“I once believed Free Will was merely dangerous. Now I wonder if it is something far more profound — and far more unpredictable.”The two Pillars stood in contemplative silence for a long time.Eventually, Ares spoke. “Further direct testing appears pointless. We have confirmed the barrier is real and consistent. For now, the mystery must remain.”Chronos agreed.“I will return to my vigil. But I thank you for your insight, Ares. You have given me questions I did not expect to ask… and answers I am not certain I want.”Ares offered a warrior’s respectful nod.“And you have given me something new to ponder. A world without war. I will watch for such anomalies in my own universe.”The two Pillars parted ways.Chronos returned to his lonely vigil at the edge of Temporal Limbo, watching for the birth of the hidden world he had been promised.But new and troubling thoughts followed him.If Absolute Privacy could create a singular strand that defied even Pillars…What might true Free Will be capable of?The questions lingered.And for the first time in a very long while, Chronos wondered whether some truths were better left unseen.

Act 6: The Judge and the AnomalyDiskastis moved through Temporal Limbo with measured purpose, his robes flowing like liquid moonlight. The scales of judgment etched into his porcelain mask gleamed faintly as he walked.He had noticed the anomaly weeks ago — an unusual concentration of Pillar activity around Overlap Zone 17-Delta. Chronos, Quantis, Ares, and even Epignos had all been drawn to a single, unremarkable strand. Such focused attention was rare.He sought out the others.Schedios, Chronos, and Epignos gathered near the frozen lake. They explained the singular strand’s bizarre properties: complete memory erasure upon exit, no parallel versions, and an apparent resistance to observation. They had established an Awareness Net as a temporary safeguard.Diskastis listened carefully, his scales subtly shifting as he weighed their words.“The net is justified,” he ruled. “Caution in the face of the unknown is prudent. However…”He turned his masked face toward Chronos.“This concept of ‘Absolute Privacy’ troubles me. How can I render fair judgment on a strand if no reliable knowledge of their actions, beliefs, or intentions can ever be obtained? Judgment requires truth. If truth itself is structurally denied… what purpose do I serve?”The question hung heavy in the timeless air.Diskastis made his decision.“I will investigate this strand myself.”

He made two separate attempts.First entry: Diskastis entered with the full weight of his authority, intending to observe the inhabitants’ moral framework and societal order. He emerged four hours and twelve minutes later with no memory of anything inside the strand.Second entry: He tried again, this time focusing his judgment on the strand’s fundamental nature, attempting to force clarity through sheer metaphysical will. He exited five hours and thirty-eight minutes later — again with nothing.Diskastis stood at the edge of the frozen lake, robes perfectly still.Then he noticed something unusual.A lone mortal stood a short distance away, near the shore. The man had a fresh, strong “time bubble” surrounding him — the pocket of active time mortals brought with them into Limbo. It would be days before it faded.Finding a mortal here with a stable time bubble was exceptionally rare.Diskastis approached, scales of judgment balanced in his hands.The mortal turned. He appeared calm, even mildly surprised, but not afraid. He was dressed in simple, practical clothing, and his eyes held a quiet alertness.Diskastis spoke first.“I am Diskastis, Pillar of Judgement. I must determine whether you should be returned to your strand or allowed to collapse into timelessness. Who are you, and how did you come to be here?”The mortal studied him for a moment, then gave a small, wry smile.“I was expecting Chronos. Are you Chronos in this era?”Diskastis paused, surprised by the mortal’s familiarity with Pillars.“No,” he replied. “I am Diskastis. When does not matter in Limbo. All is now.”The mortal nodded thoughtfully.“Chronos will disagree… well, maybe not the Chronos of now, but the Chronos of later will in time disagree.”Diskastis pressed gently. “Where are you from? Perhaps I can return you to where you belong.”The mortal hesitated, then answered simply:“Oh, I’m from Earth… I don’t think it exists yet, or at least I’m supposed to be when it doesn’t exist. Seeing as how I don’t see any strands, I assume I’m in the right era…”

Act 7: Judgement vs. Free Will“Oh, I’m from Earth… I don’t think it exists yet, or at least I’m supposed to be when it doesn’t exist. Seeing as how I don’t see any strands, I assume I’m in the right era…”The words hung in the timeless air like a quiet detonation.Diskastis froze.For several long seconds, the Pillar of Judgement stood completely motionless. His scales of balance, usually in constant subtle motion, hung perfectly still. Even the faint glow of law that surrounded him dimmed.“You are…” Diskastis began, searching his memory for what Chronos had once described. “Mutlan?”Kappa gave a small, tired chuckle.“No! I’m Human… wait, did we already send the Mutlan to now?”Human.The word struck Diskastis like a physical blow. This was the species Chronos had spoken of — the one that possessed something far beyond normal Freedom of Choice.True Free Will.Diskastis studied the mortal more carefully. Kappa appeared calm, almost relaxed, despite standing in Temporal Limbo before a cosmic being. His time bubble was strong and fresh — he had not been here long.“Why can you not see any strands?” Diskastis asked.Kappa shrugged slightly. “Mortals from a given strand can normally only perceive other strands of our own world, or worlds we’ve had intensive prior contact with. I don’t see anything here, so I assume I’m exactly when I’m supposed to be — before Earth properly exists in the greater Weave.”Diskastis was silent. A mortal with this level of knowledge about the structure of reality was… alarming.He remembered Chronos’s warnings. Humans possessed Free Will — the dangerous ability to create entirely new choices that should not exist. And now one of them stood before him, casually discussing timelines and hidden worlds.Diskastis weighed the risks.On one hand, sending a being with Free Will into the singular strand — a world protected by Absolute Privacy — could be catastrophic. Two absolutes meeting might create something unpredictable, even dangerous to the Plan.On the other hand…A being with Free Will might be able to resist or bypass the memory-erasing effect that had thwarted every Pillar who had tried. If anyone could bring back usable information from that strand, it was potentially a Human.Diskastis made his judgment.“I will send you into the singular strand,” he said. “You may be able to perceive what we cannot. I will pull you out when necessary.”Kappa considered this for a moment, then nodded.“Alright. Let’s see what happens.”(Internally, Kappa thought: If this strand truly prevents knowledge from leaving… it might be exactly the kind of defense we need to win the war. A place where even the enemy cannot know what we’re planning.)Diskastis heard the thought clearly but chose not to comment.He extended his hand and placed Kappa into the strand with careful precision.

Six hours passed in Temporal Limbo.Diskastis reached out to retrieve him.Nothing happened.He tried again, invoking his full authority as the Pillar of Judgement.“I am Diskastis, Judgement of all living things. I have judged it time for you to return. Now come!”Still nothing.Diskastis’s scales trembled with disbelief.He stepped into the strand himself, intending to forcibly retrieve the mortal.He exited moments later.Alone.With no memory of anything that had occurred inside.Diskastis stood frozen on the shore of the frozen lake.Moss began to slowly grow across the hem of his robes — a sign of how deeply he had sunk into stillness in this timeless place.The full realization crashed over him like an avalanche.He had just willingly given a mortal possessing true Free Will access to a world protected by Absolute Privacy.Two absolutes.Two forces capable of defying even the Pillars themselves.Free Will — the power to create new choices that should not exist.Absolute Privacy — the power to ensure those choices could never be truly known.Together…Diskastis remained motionless as the weight of what he had done settled upon him.He had potentially just handed the future — and perhaps the fate of the entire Weave — a weapon of unimaginable power.And he had done so with his own hand.The Pillar of Judgement stood in perfect, horrified silence as moss continued to creep across his robes, a living testament to how deeply this realization had shaken him.Somewhere inside the singular strand, a Human named Kappa walked among peaceful, unknowable people.And the future suddenly felt far less certain than it had been only hours ago.

For act 6 it will focus on Diskastis (Pillar of Judgement) who has noticed that many Pillars from both universes in the overlap zone have been visiting this strand. He questions Chronos, Schedios and Epignos, learns of the "awareness net" and determines that it's placement is justified. however, he is troubled by Chronos's concept of "absolute privacy"... how would he be able to render judgement on a strand if no knowledge of their actions or beliefs can be known? He goes to the strand to investigate for himself. His two attempts end in the same failure the others experienced... but when he returns the second time he finds someone standing at the edge of the lake. Not a Pillar, but a Mortal. Finding a Mortal within Temporal Limbo is rare... they usually end up here on accident, often their 'time bubble' (the time they bring with them into Temporal Limbo) fades away and they become frozen in timelessness before being discovered. This Mortal had a fresh time bubble, it would be days before it faded completely. Diskastis approaches the mortal, to judge if the mortal should be returned to his strand or be left to collapse into timelessness. The Mortal appears surprised at Diskastis' presence, saying he was expecting Chronos, asking if he was Chronos in this era. Diskastis is surprised a mortal would know of Chronos, but says no, and introduces himself, asking who the mortal is and if he knows where he is. The mortal pauses... explains that when he is from there is a threat to his world that can track people by their name, so the group he belongs to have foregone their names for simpler designations, and he is called 'Kappa four twelve', or just Kappa. Diskastis says, when doesn't matter in Limbo, all is now. Kappa says that Chronos will disagree... well, maybe not the Chronos of now, but the Chronos of later will in time disagree. Diskastis presses again, asking where Kappa is from, offering that perhaps he could return Kappa to where he should be. Kappa responds, "Oh, I'm from Earth... I don't think it exists yet, or at least I'm supposed to be when it doesn't exist. Seeing as how I don't see any strands I assume I'm in the right era..." Act 7 The ending statement of Act 6 is repeated. Diskastis pauses... "You are..." he thinks for a moment trying to remember what Chronos said the species on Earth was "... Mutlan?" "No! I'm Human... wait, did we already send Mutlan to now?" Human, that's right, that's the species Chronos said existed before his 'lost strand' disappeared... (explain why Kappa can't see any strands... as if Kappa is saying it. Basically, mortals from a strand can only see other strands of their world, or worlds that they've had intensive contact with. Diskastis is surprised a mortal has this much information) Diskastis remembers that Chronos said humans have "free will", and wonders how this would measure up against the "absolute privacy" of the 'singular strand'. he weighs the risks, judges the pros and cons, and decides that this 'human' might be able to give answers to the question of the singular strand. (give examples) He explains to Kappa the mystery before him, to which Kappa reminds him that he cannot view other strands here, he's not certain he'd even be able to enter another strand, especially not without his equipment. Diskastis says he has the power to place Kappa into the strand, and take him out if need be. Kappa agrees, (internally Kappa thinks that the effects described by Diskastis about this 'singular strand' may be the defense they need to win the war. Diskastis hears the thought, but does not comment) and lets Diskastis step him into the strand. Diskastis waits for 6 hours, then tries to pull Kappa out. Kappa refuses. Diskastis is shocked. He tries again "I am Judgement of all living things, I have judged it to be time for you to return, now come!" (or something along those lines). Kappa replies "No. You do not have authority to judge me. And I like it here, the people are friendly, if a bit quiet." Diskastis enters the strand himself to pull Kappa out, only to exit by himself. How... how could his judgement be refused? be nullified? was free will truly this powerful? Then Diskastis froze. he was so still that moss began to grow on his robe in timelessness. the realization of what just happened, and the implications of it just hit him. Kappa had thought that the phenomenon of this strand could be what was needed to win a war... and he had just given a human, a mortal with free will powerful enough to defy a Pillar, access to a world with absolute privacy, which could also stymie a Pillar...