Próklisi

Act 4: Learning from the Elders.

Temporal Limbo was not a place of silence. It was a place where sound had simply given up trying to matter. A vast, mirror-flat lake stretched in every direction, its surface perfectly still … frozen not by cold, but by the complete absence of time. No ripple disturbed it. No wind touched it. Even light seemed hesitant to move across its surface, as though afraid of breaking some ancient agreement.

Próklisi appeared at the edge of that lake, crimson cloak hanging motionless around him despite the faint cosmic currents that usually stirred even here. His sunburst mask reflected nothing; the void behind it was deeper than the lake itself. He sat on a stone outcropping close to the lake’s shore. He had come here to think.

Mira.

The name refused to leave him. He had seen her face in three separate strands now — not echoes, not doppelgangers, but the same face, the same eyes, the same mind, the same mortal fragility worn by different species across different ages. Once as a bolt of lightning, searing her face into his memory. A second time, cloaked in storms but solid flesh underneath, staying for only a few moments. And then again on Zorath, where he held her as her life faded, the name of some unknown species on her lips alongside a warning.

Mortals did not do that. Mortals simply ended.

So what was she? Próklisi crouched, golden fingers trailing just above the lake’s surface. The water did not react. It could not. Only the Pilars moved in Timelessness.

He spoke aloud, voice ringing like struck bronze across the stillness. “Chronos, brother I have questions when you are free.”

The air itself seemed to hesitate. Then the ticking came. Chronos materialized a short distance away, his form a shifting mosaic of brass gears and living starlight. The polished void of his face reflected every possible future at once… some bright, some crumbling, some already ash.

“You called,” Chronos said, voice a precise chime. ”Be quick Challenger, I have my own challenges that must be dealt with.”

Próklisi rose to his full height. “A mortal woman. She appears across strands… not as echo, but the same mind. The same soul, the same face. She has appeared across ages on different worlds. She has died in my presence, yet I feel I will see her again. Is this type of mortal under your domain?”

Chronos’s gears turned once, methodically. “Travelers between strands are rare,” he answered. “So long as they do not disrupt the flow of time, they are not my concern. The other Pillars may deal with them as their domains allow.”

Then Próklisi remembered Mira’s final warning, “What of a species called Humans? Or maybe a world? What do you know of them?”

Chronos looked at Próklisi with interest. He shrugged, and looked through the strands, every individual timeline. His void-face flickering with countless branching possibilities. For a moment a pale white face seemed to appear over the void, then it faded. Chronos, normally composed, turned to Próklisi in surprise. “I find no Strand, no species, not even a mention of ‘Humans’, neither now, passed, nor yet to be. I can feel an unease with the term, where did you come across it?”

“A warning, from the mortal I mentioned.” Próklisi answered.

“Then perhaps this is connected to my own challenge. I will look into this.” Chronos turned as if to leave, but paused before stepping away. “Be quick when speaking with Thanatos,” Chronos added, “You both have duties to tend to.”

Then he was gone… gears dissolving into starlight, leaving only the faintest ticking behind. Próklisi stood alone again, with new questions unanswered. But it seemed those were Chronos’s challenge, not his own. He waited a moment longer, then spoke once more to the void. “Thanatos, I require your experience and wisdom for a challenge I face, will you speak with me?” 

Thanatos arrived promptly. He did not come alone.

The Pillar of Death stepped out of a ripple in the air, a chill ran up Próklisi’s spine as he approached. At his side walked another figure… a sentient bundle of winds given form, wrapped in a dark cloak of roiling storm clouds that constantly shifted and reformed, obscuring any clear features. Próklisi could see the being’s life thread had already been severed, but it was not a simple soul… it continued to exist, drawing it’s new thread from Thanatos himself.

Thanatos raised a hand. “A moment,” he said, voice the hush of settling earth. “I must speak with my newest reaper before we speak.”

Próklisi nodded silently and stepped back, trying to take in the scene. Something had changed, not just with Thanatos, but here… now. Then he heard it, water lapping against a shore. Próklisi turned, and saw that the lake was no longer frozen in time. It rippled gently, small waves splashing against the grey stone of timeless limbo. Próklisi looked out and could see there was a faint glow, a bubble of time that had arrived when Thanatos and his ‘Grim Reaper’ had.

He looked at Thanatos with new eyes. The Pillar of Death was different than he remembered. No longer was he merely smoke and ash. He now wore a charcoal cloak lined with steady white flames that burned without consuming. The porcelain skull mask sat upon his face with quiet authority. He moved with greater certainty, greater weight… a being who had accepted a heavier burden and found strength in it.

Thanatos finished speaking to the Grim Reaper. It bowed, a swirl of dark clouds, and stepped sideways, vanishing through a tear that briefly pulled in more active time before sealing again. As the reaper left, the small bubble of active time expanded momentarily. The once time frozen lake rippled again, as if finding joy in the simple motion allowed.

Thanatos turned to Próklisi. “You wished to speak?”

Próklisi studied him a moment longer, then asked the question that had been burning in him. “Can mortals live multiple lives across different strands? I have seen one mortal appear in three separate strands… the same face, the same essence, claiming to seek immortality.”

Thanatos was quiet for a long time. “I have not personally encountered such a being,” he said at last. “But some mortal cultures speak of ‘reincarnation’… souls returning in new bodies. This may be a version of that, or perhaps the origin of the concept itself. If a mortal truly attains immortality, it would fall to me to correct the imbalance. You should inform me immediately if your mortal shows signs of immortality.” 

Próklisi nodded. His gaze drifted to the place where the Grim Reaper had stood. “What of that one?” he asked. “The being you brought with you. It seemed… immortal. Made by your hand no less.”

Thanatos’s mask tilted slightly… almost approving. “Kanna’s recent decree allows me to create assistants,” he explained. “Grim Reapers. Their original life-threads must be cut and ended before they can enter my service. They are bound to me and my duties until released to their final rest. I prefer to call them ‘un-mortal.’ Their new existence cannot be ended prematurely, but it is still limited. That is likely why the reaper brought a bubble of active time with it from Lyris… a residual effect of a mortal mind entering timeless Limbo.”

Próklisi thought for a moment, remembering his first meeting with Mira and her request. “So it is possible for one of us to grant a form of immortality… but how would a mortal know of this?”

Thanatos looked closely at Próklisi, the flames in his eyes mirroring the flames upon Próklisi’s head. “They shouldn’t have such knowledge. We do not interact with the mortals consistently enough. Even so, they would likely be bound to the Pillar who granted it to them, and there would be clear signs. If not, there would be imbalance.”

Próklisi was about to ask another question when he felt a sudden, sharp tug from the void… someone, somewhere, was building a challenge specifically crafted for him. He straightened. “Thank you for answering my questions,” he said. “But a new challenger awaits. I must go.”

Thanatos inclined his head. “Such respites are welcome,” he replied. “Especially if they are to help my younger siblings.”

The two Pillars turned in different directions. Thanatos stepped toward a strand heavy with fresh death. Próklisi stepped toward whatever awaited him… crimson cloak flaring as he vanished into the weave.

As the last echoes of their presence faded, something small stirred behind the stone outcropping near the lake’s edge. A single, colorful ball of fur rolled slowly into view… vibrant reds, and greens intertwined across its tiny body.

It moved with hesitant curiosity, as though tasting the air where the Pillars had stood. It stopped at the exact spot where Thanatos and Próklisi had spoken. For a moment it simply rested. Then the remnants of active time, the faint ripples that had briefly disturbed the lake, began to drift toward it like smoke drawn to a flame. The colorful ball of fur absorbed them greedily, the glowing bubble of time shrinking until vanishing into its fluffy body.

It remembered. It knew its purpose.

It had not known its purpose could be found at home.

A soft, happy chirp escaped the little creature. Nearby, a thin crack in reality shimmered into existence, a jagged tear no wider than a handspan, leaking faint starlight and the scent of distant mushrooms.

The ball of fur rolled toward it with unmistakable joy, bouncing once, twice, then disappearing happily through the rift. The crack sealed behind it with a soft sigh. The lake of Temporal Limbo returned to perfect stillness.