The apartment that the three of them entered wasn’t very spacious. It was located not too far away from the restaurant and the Grand Library, but by no means was it a place large enough for a small family.

  U’Ran’Ui awaited them in the kitchen as the doors opened; she held a small bundle of cloth in her arms, and a little gray creature wrapped in that dark cloth slept in her embrace. The mother of that little thing seemed so tired, yet a smile pushed itself past that tiredness as she saw Kanrel, Gor, and her husband.

  “What took you so long?” She simply asked, looking at each of them in turn.

  “I was forced to work with convoluted notes that were in two different languages, go through them, and point out mistakes that our great scholar, Gor here, had made,” Kanrel said and couldn’t help but poke Gor a few times.

  “Hey! I know that your meager mind can barely comprehend such things, but I am on the cusp of something truly great!” Gor complained and poked Kanrel in turn.

  A burst of giggles escaped U’Ran’Ui’s lips as she was forced to listen to their bickering. “I see that some things never change…” She muttered and then stepped forth, “There is someone I’d like you to meet, Kanrel.” She said with a gentle smile on her face. She extended her arms toward Kanrel, urging him to take the child into his own arms.

  Kanrel stared at it for a moment; he had never seen an Atheian so small. He had seen Atheian children before, but never one so small, one that had its eyes closed, one that was in deep slumber. He accepted the child and took it into his own arms, this warm bundle of cloth and baby. Gray and alien but somehow so beautiful.

  A feeling ran through him, it came in the form of shivers and a prickling feeling in his very existence; it placed itself into his mind; into his throat as a piece that he could not swallow; as tears that wanted to emerge and vacate this hollow man; by this new life in his arms, he wanted to be reborn. This child, in its peace, was so beautiful, yet he felt his heart twist a little as another realization seeped in. He wasn’t happy; he didn’t feel good. Instead, he felt sad and touched; he felt lacking… He might never hold one of his own like this.

  Kanrel swallowed all these mixed emotions and kept them at bay. He swallowed the tears that tried to pierce this mask that he held. He swallowed everything that there might be. He painted his mask with a gentle smile and asked, “What is its name?”

  “L’enu’m, her name is L’enu’m.” Y’Kraun replied after a sniff; he too pushed away the tears that found themselves in his eyes. He reached for his daughter and caressed her little head. Her name meant, quite simply, “Little Light.” A fitting name, for it seemed that she truly was the little light of Y’Kraun and U’Ran’Ui’s life, but that little light was so bright that the two wouldn’t want to see anything other than its light.

  Kanrel nodded and offered the little bundle to Y’Kraun, “I had half expected your firstborn to be named after me, but what can you do? A daughter deserves a more beautiful name than mine.”

  U’Ran’Ui chuckled, “Maybe that day comes sooner rather than later.” She stared at them with a wry smile; all were enthralled by the sight of L’enu’m, so none noticed. She went ahead and clapped her hands together and announced, “Dinner is ready! Come inside and don’t just hang around the front door. We’ve got plenty of space to sit, so just pick a spot—on the floor or on a chair—as long as you sit while we eat. I don’t mind.”

  Atheian cuisine, from Kanrel’s point of view, is quite limited. Much of it consists of small animals, bugs, and other creatures that seem to find their inhabitant so deep below the ground. One surprise was mushrooms, and the wide variety of them, most of them of species that he could not name, but either way they were safe to eat. That was quite frankly all he could say about them as well as the meal that he now ate in the company of his friends. Everything tasted the same; it had been so for so long that he couldn’t really say if there ever was a moment in his life where he had the ability to taste, or if everything had always tasted like ash. A curious feeling brought on by years spent slowly forgetting what he once could do.

  But some things remained in his memory. Just how selective could the mind be? Or does the taste of wine simply matter less than everything else? Are memories simply not equal… He supposed that this was the case.

  They dined and conversed about this and that, mainly about what they all had been up to recently. U’Ran’Ui was especially curious about Kanrel and how he had been; after all, they had not seen each other since her wedding.

  Even L’enu’m partook in this necessary ritual called dinner; a bowl was placed before her, and she used her delicate hands to shovel the cooled mushroom stew into her mouth. Of course, making a mess while she was at it. One could not get mad at the sight, or such was obvious in the expressions of the others; their smiles and L’enu’m’s smile were like a mirror of happiness that bounced within the enclosed space. Her bright eyes studied the world and the strangeness of Kanrel with astute curiosity; at first, she had been shy of him, and she looked at him with her brows furrowed, as if not understanding what she saw, but soon enough those brows unfurrowed themselves, the blue in her eyes set away her suspicion, and a bright smile that lacked teeth crowned not only her happy expression but also the atmosphere of the apartment.

  To that smile, Kanrel had to answer with his own, hoping that the little thing might be fooled by it. Hoping that it would not take offense because of his lack of enthusiasm or true happiness because of the moment. All he had was curiosity toward that spawn of his friend. Just how different was an Atheian child from that of a human child? There must have been many, but he couldn’t name most of them… so little time he had spent with children of her age. Before this moment, he simply never had the reason to.

  And when, at last, L’enu’m was done with her dinner, spending time in the company of them, she finally became what she had been hours before. Sleepy, so sleepy she was. Her eyes were soon unable to stay open; her eyelids forced themselves to cover the world and its lights, its curiosities, and even her parents. She slept, and U’Ran’Ui went ahead and carried her baby from the room where they ate their dinner, and into another one, a simple bedroom that the small family shared.

  Y’Kraun looked on as his wife carried their baby away, a gentle smile on his face ruined by weary eyes no less tired than his wife’s. “I serve her; she is the last person for whom I am willing to be a serf if I must… She is worth it—nay—she is worth far more than that…” He muttered, letting out a sigh. After a while, he returned his gaze back to Kanrel and Gor. “Now then, I suppose I can finally say what I’ve wanted to say since we met earlier in the restaurant…”

  Gor raised his brows. “And what could that be? Nothing good, I assume…”

  Y’Kraun scoffed, “Depends on how one defines the very concept ‘good.’” Without much humor, he let out a chuckle. But then, he locked his gaze with Kanrel, “We all have a hundred different excuses to not do a given thing we’ve either dreamed, thought, or planned on doing for, possibly, the longest time…” He glanced at Gor, “Some of us are stuck in work they don’t much enjoy these days, holding on to dreams of great contributions they might make in the field of linguistics and language…” His gaze returned to Kanrel. “Some of us dream of returning, or perhaps finding, their way back home.”

  “All of these so-called dreams have obstacles in front of them… Some of these obstacles are created by ourselves,” he again glanced at Gor, “and some of them just exist without much explanation…”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “I have my own dreams, and this dream has had its own obstacles. Some of those obstacles still remain, but most of them, I claim, are gone now.”

  Y’Kraun’s gaze sharpened. “I would like to share my dream with you, and I wonder if you would be able to help me. I wonder if, through this, you two could push yourselves to take action toward the dreams that you certainly have within but dare not approach.”

  “Below our apartment, on the lowest level of this complex, there is a vacant shop. I don’t own much; I have only a little, but I would like to buy it and, together with you two, use it as a catalyst to fund not only my dreams but yours as well.”

  “Both of you have talents that I don’t hold. I am poor; I barely have anything at all, yet at the same time, for the past few years, I’ve never felt richer than I do now.”

  “I have a wife and a child, and for them, I would give anything; I would give everything if I could so that they might live a better life than what I have lived. A better life than what my family has lived.”

  “So, I come to you two as almost a beggar, and I beg with pure intent and hope in my heart that together we might buy that shop before it is too late. And together, we will make it into something that uses the talents that you have and lets them blossom.” Y’Kraun let his gaze go between Kanrel and Gor. “Neither of you would have to do things you don’t want to do, and both of you could focus on the things you do want to do.”

  “Those dreams and desires, whichever one wants to call them. Don’t let them wither and be forgotten just because you don’t have the time to pursue them. Don’t let them die just because of how one’s own rational mind gnaws at the idea of doing something so wild and dangerous, something so uncertain.”

  “Embrace the randomness with me and whatever might come out of it.” Pleading, that is what he did. Indeed, it was as if he were a beggar kneeling before them, his head against the floor; all of that and much more could be seen in his eyes. Pleading.

  Gor sighed, “It really doesn’t make any sense at all.” He glanced at Kanrel, “But I do have quite a bit of wealth just hanging around; one could say that I have more of it than I do have sense in the first place.” He chuckled, “But… in the end, my decision lies with Kanrel…”

  Kanrel met Gor’s gaze, the blue within his eyes; a memory of words spoken earlier today forced itself into his mind again. A sigh escaped his lips. He had promised, after all, to at least try.

  “I’ve got nothing better to do, so might as well,” Kanrel muttered.

  A snort followed soon after, “Just say it, loud and proud!” Gor urged, he grinned as if he were a man who had just won a great amount of wealth… or lost even more.

  Kanrel sighed and repeated himself, “I’ve got nothing better to do, so I might as well.”

  “Come again?” Y’Kraun asked in turn; he held a confused expression on his face, which barely reached his eyes.

  Kanrel scoffed, “Do you want to do this or not? I can still back out, right?”

  The two Atheians laughed, only to be stopped by the angered expression of U’Ran’Ui’ that peeked at them from the other room. Even then, they held on to their grins, and Y’Kraun got up and sat next to Kanrel; he placed his hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad to do this with you, brother.” His tone was so sweet and gentle, his eyes earnest and without guile, yet his grin was the same as it had always been, somewhat sarcastic and always crowned with a spark of mischief.

  Kanrel sighed, “I won’t say something like ‘me too…’ Instead, I would like to ask what a group of rats is called.”

  Y’Kraun rolled his eyes. “Are you really copying someone else's joke?”

  Gor seemed a bit confused. “The answer is ‘mischief,’ right? But what joke? I don’t get it.”

  Y’Kraun sighed, “For a studied man, you can be a bit dense at times, you know that?”

  “Well yes, most creatures are somewhat dense, not as dense as other things, but…”

  Y’Kraun stopped him. “He is calling us rats.”

  “Oh… But that doesn’t make any sense… Two is a pair, not a group.”

  Kanrel smiled, “You are correct, but the three of us do make a group, pack, or swarm… in whichever rats and other rodents squirrel around.”

  “Oh… That does make sense.” Gor pondered aloud, but soon a grin veiled his mixed expression of confusion and deep thought. “So you do admit it, then?”

  Kanrel sighed, “Yes, I do admit it; I am as much of a rat as you are, even when it so pains me to admit such a thing…”

  “Sure, sure, enough of rats and other useless things; I would much rather talk about plans and such. When can we go ahead and buy the damn shop? I’ve talked to our landlord, and they have expressed that they are willing to give a discount to me since I live in the same building and all that.” Y’Kraun pivoted.

  “Tomorrow, tomorrow! What’s the hurry, really? Can’t we just dwell in this moment a little longer? I for one can barely believe two things that have happened today! One, you called Kanrel ‘brother.’ Two, Kanrel finally acknowledged his rat-like behavior, his rat-like ways, and his rat-like face! A truth that makes all of this make so much sense; he really isn’t a Darshi; he is, in fact, a talking rat that happens to move in a bipedal manner. Explains all the hair as well as the few years he spent living in a cave!” Gor spoke, his speech gaining speed as he went ahead, and at the end of his explanation, he had to inhale deeply.

  “Don’t we all technically live in a cave?” Y’Kraun muttered but soon grabbed Gor by his shoulder, “Now, you’ve dwelled enough in these grand revelations; let’s talk business instead.”

  Gor sighed, “Fine, but one day I will force you two to dwell with me further; of this day I shall remind you two until the earth above collapses and buries us all.” He vowed.

  The rest of the evening they spend in deep conversation, planning ahead what their little shop might specialize in. A mix of magic and parading Kanrel around here and there as a thing of curiosity for all. Nothing, really, but at least this time, he would get paid for it. This plan, a loose one, of course, would surely develop into something more profound and interesting, Kanrel hoped, but this was to be seen.

  As night fell, Gor went ahead and left for his own apartment, leaving Kanrel in the care of Y’Kraun and his family, who offered Kanrel a place to sleep, the very room where they ate, with an addition of some blankets and pillows turned into a guest bedroom. Y’Kraun bid him good night and joined his wife in their bedroom. So, Kanrel was left alone with his own thoughts once more.

  He was unsure if it would be worth his time to fulfill a promise he had made to Gor. To spend, possibly, years on this endeavor, on someone else’s so-called dream. Of course, he wanted to help, for they had helped him; they had helped him so much more than he had helped them. This was the reality of their relationship.

  So even if this would be a waste of time, in one way or another, he still ought to pay back what he owed. Even if it means wasting another year or two, or maybe even more. In a way, this normalcy felt out of place in his world. For so long he had not partaken in things that made sense for most people. Instead, he had lived his time in between what seemed like reality and what seemed like a dream, never knowing or being quite sure which was which.

  Of course, he wanted a moment like this, but he wanted to have it in a way that actually felt normal and not just a different shade of already familiar gray. He wanted to feel the emotions that Gor and Y’Kraun felt. He wanted to look at Y’Kraun’s daughter with not just curiosity but with recognizable love for his friend’s child. He wanted to experience all of this, this still moment that had placed itself within the eye of the storm where he had carefully dreaded and survived for so long; he wanted to feel like a human, not like a beast, not like a disgrace. A human, what does it mean to be human? What does it feel like to be human? It could not be this. This moment, meant to be natural, felt so unlikely and unreal to him. It was as if it were something he wasn’t allowed to experience or seek out. It was, as if, he ought to run away from, to run toward another destination, to another dream, away from the light that was found in this small apartment.

  Oblivion. The staircase, the steps, so many that he had taken; the thousands of steps others had taken until they reached a point of desperation. The abyss. The solitude and loneliness of knowing what will come for us all either way. It all makes no sense; it ought not, and it will not. Such is the nature of existence: to fight against the waves, to keep your head above the waters, to spit out the dark matter that enters our lungs, to pray that there might be something or someone to give all the answers, to give us a sense of meaning. But there is no meaning. Not one that can be given, not one that inherently exists. There is only the meaning we give to things, and being alike.

  Meaning is meant for those who know of passion; it is for those whom it is allowed. And for those like Kanrel, meaning is only found when one escapes oblivion.

  Kanrel closed his eyes, wondering which nightmare he would see tonight.