A 300-year Reunion

"Who the hell are you?" said a short man with a beard from the other side.

He was surrounded by a sea of people, all staring wide-eyed through the threshold, as they whispered to one another.

"We'll be asking the questions here!" proclaimed Rosso, pointing his finger at him. "Now, who in the hell are you?"

"Are you friends, or foes?" the other responded with a look of suspicion, holding tight to a pitchfork in his hands.

"Depends on who's asking," Rosso continued, unwavering.

The Sunflower looked around. He saw children, simple people of all kinds, young and old, with gentle eyes and faces, all gazing at them with great concern.

"We're friends—we're friends," Roa said, raising his arms.

The two sides warmed up to each other, and soon the weapons were lowered.

"I think they're the locals of the next floor of the Palace," whispered Rosso to his friend, as he leaned over.

The bearded man was asked some questions, and he began to tell his story.

"We kept someone to check on these doors for generations, in the hope that they would open again someday. Some of our families were split when these things shut closed long ago. The ancestors—they wrote tales of how things were on the other side, but none of us alive now have ever crossed the threshold before. When we heard some commotion, noticing the destroyed throne as we looked through the keyhole, we knew something big was happening. So—we all gathered here, curiously waiting."

The two sides shook hands and celebrated together, many diving into the gorgeous fountain next to the fallen throne. Roa lay with his body in the water, staring at the rubble where the Gate once ruled from.

"You challenged me, insurmountable obstacle, and yet I have won—and you have fallen," he murmured, his heart filling with pride, and his mind reaching into the wildest possibilities on what the future might hold—almost overwhelming him with hope.

A thunderous sound suddenly shook the halls.

The air tore open, forcing a jolt out of everyone, as their smiles disappeared. Thousands of eyes began to appear around them, on every wall, floor and ceiling. A thundering roar reverberated, as if coming from all directions at once. Roa then felt a massive, putrid, dark aura, recognizing it from the battle against the smiling Shadow.

"You will pay for what you have done here today. You have challenged my divine authority and have chosen to rebel against your Lord," the voice said, angry and menacing, his words echoing in the chamber.

Roa stood up, looking straight into the largest eye above.

"You must be the Patriarch everyone keeps talking about. One of your architects of destruction has fallen by our hands," Roa pointed his finger at the orb, defiantly. "Free the people who are still under your control. Do this, and we will stop. If you don't, many more of your men will fall—including yourself."

A deafening silence ensued, until the voice spoke again, like thunder rolling in the sky.

"I am the Lord of the Worlds. I am the one. I alone get to decide what happens next."

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"I don't care what titles you have given yourself. If Eralay is with you, know this, coward—the day I find you, will be the day that you die."

The Patriarch laughed at the boy, then followed with a long bout of silence. Roa was about to speak again, but his nemesis interrupted him, sending a chill down his spine with his next words.

"Would you like to speak with her?" he said with a treacherous tone.

The crowd stood silent and immobile.

"Roa!"

The boy recognized her voice.

"Eralay?" he said, his voice quivering. "Eralay!" he shouted back.

"Don't come here! Next to the mirror, to the right of the throat!" she yelled as her voice muffled.

"Shut up, woman," roared the Lord.

The boy called out to her, over and over, but only silence answered him. His hands shaking, he pointed his finger at the eyes above again and screamed.

"I will find a way. I will find you, coward. One day, I will come knocking on your door. I promise you."

The Lord laughed again, answering with a scornful tone.

"You forget that I know everything about you, while you know nothing about me." He paused for a moment, then continued to taunt the boy. "I know you better than you know yourself."

The Sunflower looked up. His blood was boiling, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to tear the enemy to shreds, frustrated by the distance between them. However, he took a deep breath in, then exhaled, and thought about his next words very carefully.

"You're wrong. You knew me. Your fatal mistake was resetting my mind," he said with confidence, as a smile grew on his face. "Now you have no idea who you are dealing with."

The eyes above opened wide, followed by a groan, quickly disappearing one by one, as if the Lord had left out of anger. The boy stood there for some time, unable to do anything while he tried to process the situation.

"Next to the mirror, to the right of the throat..." Eralay's words echoed in his mind. He repeated them incessantly, as if etching them into his consciousness, terrified of forgetting them.

A soft tap on his shoulder snapped him out of it. He turned and saw his friends, standing behind him in the fountain. Roa looked around at the people, who glared at him with eyes stretched wide. He took a deep breath.

"Our enemy may have great power and resources, but he is not invincible. The Gate has fallen, and so will this coward one day—but only if we believe. Hope must endure, because without it, everything will crumble. Nature depends on us, and so does Humanity. If we give up now, the benefactors of the status quo will strip the future bare, leaving only suffering, and the chains they forged to bind us," the Sunflower said.

"What can we do? We have no power," asked someone.

"You're wrong. Power comes from the people. We are not powerless," Roa continued. "Each of you has the strength to shape the future. No act is too small. Protest, strike, vote, speak truth, and inspire others to rise—above all, organize—act as One. Spread the flame, and the fire will eventually burn. Reject the failures of the past and let the Old Order collapse beneath the weight of what is coming."

"What is coming?" someone asked.

"Something new, something greater, something beautiful—if you refuse to live in a hopeless world. This moment in history is key. From here, we either create a bright, better future, or one filled with hopeless darkness and suffering. This is our moment. Destiny has brought us here, in this time of greatest importance, to fight the Greatest Fight. Stand together. Let the fire of hope burn brighter than ever before, until it consumes the Old Order!"

The people raised their fists in the air, and suddenly the boy was struck with a vision. The crowd resembled a living crown of arms upon the head of Humanity. For a moment, time seemed to slow down and every sound turned quiet, until Roa snapped back to reality.

"Fight for a better life, for a better future—for a better world, yet to come. Let this be our sacred promise."

They spent several hours soaking in the fountain, chasing one other, splashing around, laughing. The hero's wounds had healed completely, even the smallest cuts vanishing without a trace. Strangely enough, it wasn't just his injuries that had recovered—everyone else's wounds seemed to have disappeared as well.

"I don't understand. Why are we all healing?" asked Vesper as he stared at the smooth skin on his arms.

A group of newcomers made their way through the crowd until they stood in front of Roa, catching his attention. Two young women with colorful hair glanced at him, chewing bubble gum, pointing at the boy, whispering to each other. Next to them was a tall, humanoid figure, wearing a tight, dark-blue, adherent uniform. He had his arms crossed, and his face was that of a white rabbit, one his long ears twitching as he stared. Pushing them out of the way, a woman appeared from behind them.

"You sure as hell never change," she said. "Glad to see that."

Roa stood up, frozen at the sight.

"Nirvana?"

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