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Jet made his way to the lake. The source of the water was a spring that came from a large rock. It filled a large watering hole that serves the local wildlife well. And it was a secluded but open area where he could see if someone was approaching him. He took a deep breath and sat down beside the water on a flat stone and took the strip out. He did not really know what to do with it. Participating in prayer is something for the plebians, not dynasts. So he had to improvise.
He took the knife he brought to skin animals and opened his own wrist with it. Letting a few drops of blood drip onto the laid out prayer strip, he clapped his hands together and began his silent mantra. With no proper procedures available he simply begged in his own head repeatedly for an answer, from anyone willing to listen. And as the paper ignited with a green flame in front of him something did.
The boy felt a sense of unease come over him. So he opened his eyes. It was a mistake to do so. Before him stood a temple, floating on the water of the lake. It appeared with no sound and no disturbance in the area. It stood there as that’s where it always was. He heard a metallic clang, like the ringed staves of monks that beckoned him. Only there was no way to reach the temple. Only tombstones jutting out of the water and bearing a script similarly indecipherable to the one on his prayer strip. Slowly and with great unease he stepped from one to the other until he reached the shrine and he stepped through the silk curtains that made up its walls.
Inside sat a woman wearing the robes of a shrine-maiden but it was filthy and wet. She had her face buried within her palms and tears rolled down her arms in perpetuity. But her voice did not sound like that of someone in the throes of sadness. She was rather calm actually. And it made Jet terrified. This did not look like a demon. All the other ones he met yesterday were obviously not of this world. But aside from the few strange marks this girl could’ve been mortal. Yet he knew she was anything but.
“Jet, child of Mnemon, come. I’ve been expecting you.”
The girl invited him inside but she did not move her hands to look at him.
“You know who I am?”
The boy did not move an inch.
“It is my purpose to know all things which are special, unique, things destined to blossom into magnificence but which are trampled by others. I mourn for what was meant to be but isn’t. I am Banatos, Who Grieves for Greatness Lost - Reflective soul of The Gardener of Identities. I have known you for a long time, Mnemon Jet. And I’ve wept for you much.”
“Then you have the answers I seek. Name your price.”
“There is no price. All I need is your consent, the affirmation that you wish to reflect on what you’ve lost. When I share that knowledge with you the weight will lift off my heart and shackle yours. It will kill you. Few things crush a mortal spirit faster than the knowledge of what they could’ve been.”
