Almost a year after beginning his spiritual journey, Ashoka reappeared.

  The monk's voice echoed unexpectedly through the medallion, breaking the silence of the path and bringing news that was both promising and deeply unsettling.

  Joel was alone at that moment, walking steadily along a deserted secondary road that led him toward the city of Thurion. His intention was to meet with Basil and the Valiant Hearts, the mercenary company that had recently formally agreed to work for him. The day was hot, the sky was clear, and the world seemed quite peaceful.

  Upon hearing Ashoka's voice, Joel was surprised by the abruptness of his appearance. He stopped beside a leafy tree and sought refuge in its shade. He leaned his back against the trunk and closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the conversation.

  Ashoka sounded exhausted, as if he had traversed something vast and oppressive. Yet, despite his weariness, his voice vibrated with an emotion that was difficult to conceal.

  "Good news, Joel," he said. "I managed to find the spiritual realm where all your dreams seem to originate. Furthermore… I also discovered the problem that exists in your mind."

  Joel slowly opened his eyes. “It took longer than I expected,” he commented calmly, “but it’s good to know your search paid off. From the tone of your voice, I gather the problem isn’t serious.”

  There was a brief pause on the other side of the medallion.

  “On the contrary,” Ashoka replied with unsettling lightness. “It’s a terrible problem. One that’s literally destroying you from the inside.”

  Joel’s brow furrowed immediately. His expression tightened, and a hint of unease crossed his face. “Then why do you sound like everything is fine?” he asked, with a mixture of concern and bewilderment.

  “Because, despite the seriousness of the problem,” Ashoka replied, “the solution is relatively simple.”

  Joel released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. His posture relaxed slightly, though confusion remained etched on his face. “You’re going to have to explain yourself better.”

  "Of course," Ashoka said, adopting a more sober tone. "To begin with, what I found within your spirit world was... a veritable labyrinth."

  The monk's voice slowed and became more thoughtful. "The time I spent trying to locate the center of your consciousness felt like an eternity. Especially considering that time doesn't flow the same way within people's minds. I'd conducted tests before, on some of Adam's prisoners… but yours was completely different."

  Ashoka let out a sigh heavy with frustration. "When I entered your realm, I found myself in an immense space, saturated with memories. Not just your own memories, but fragments of the countless lives you've dreamed. It was so vast, so dense, that I got lost more than once."

  Joel remained silent, listening intently.

  "Only when I understood that your memories were structured like the roots of a tree," Ashoka continued, "branching endlessly, was I able to find my way. Following those roots, I finally reached the center."

  The monk's voice lowered slightly, as if what he was about to say deserved respect. "And there I saw it. The representation of your conscience… Crushed under the weight of countless memories and emotions. Of all those you have dreamed of throughout your life.”

  Joel leaned his head against the tree trunk and closed his eyes. “I kind of figured something like this,” he murmured. “There must be a limit to what a mind can bear. Especially when it comes to memories and emotions belonging to such different people.”

  “That would be true in almost any other case,” Ashoka replied. “But yours is different. Even though you have the equivalent of hundreds of lifetimes inside your mind, everything seems… surprisingly stable. Balanced, even.”

  Joel frowned. “So what’s the problem?”

  “The real problem,” Ashoka said, “is that you’ve somehow put up a barrier around your own consciousness. One that blocks most of your own emotions.”

  Joel opened his eyes. “My emotions?”

  “That’s right,” the monk confirmed. “Your most intense emotions are trapped inside you. Sealed off, contained… probably for many years. The problem is, they’ve started to build up. And they're reaching a limit that the barrier can no longer withstand.”

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  Ahsoka's tone turned grave. "If this continues, it's very likely that everything will explode, causing a collapse. A complete breakdown of your mental equilibrium."

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Joel retorted firmly. “I don’t feel strange. I don’t feel like I’m on the verge of anything.”

  “Precisely,” Ashoka replied. “That’s the clearest sign.”

  There was a brief silence before she continued. “My theory is that you did this unconsciously as a child. A self-protective mechanism, if you will. Probably as a response to your difficult childhood… and the constant exposure to the dream lives. That would also explain your personality. That coldness you sometimes display, even in situations where others wouldn’t be able to help but break down.”

  “That sounds… pretty bad,” Joel finally admitted.

  “On the contrary,” Ashoka replied calmly. “It’s very likely that this was precisely what allowed you to maintain your sanity for so long. The price, however, was losing a part of your true identity.”

  The words echoed in Joel's mind with unexpected force. Unbidden, scattered memories began to surface. Moments when he had reacted automatically, almost instinctively, as if it weren't him moving his body. Cold, precise, impeccable decisions… but devoid of emotion. Battles fought with an efficiency that wasn't entirely his own. Conversations in which he knew exactly what to say, how to say it, and when to say it, even without fully understanding where that certainty came from.

  The doubt had always been there. Was he really the one making those decisions?… or was his mind slowly transforming into something else? Into a collection of other people's memories, an amalgamation of wills pushing him toward a place he no longer recognized as his own?

  Joel clenched his fists, staring at the ground. "You said earlier that the solution was simple," he remembered. "What is it?"

  “The only effective solution,” Ashoka replied bluntly, “is to release the emotions that remain trapped inside you.”

  The monk’s voice hardened slightly. “That will undoubtedly have a profound effect on you. Not to the point of altering your personality, since that is already fully formed, but it could amplify many of your emotions. It may even awaken feelings you have never consciously experienced.”

  Joel grimaced. “That doesn’t sound pleasant at all… Do I have any other choice?”

  “Not that I know of,” the monk replied without hesitation.

  The silence stretched for a few seconds. Finally, Joel let out a sigh heavy with resignation. “And how do you plan to release my emotions?” he asked. “Do you need something from me?”

  “Actually,” Ashoka said matter-of-factly, “the work is already done.”

  Joel looked up, surprised. “What do you mean?”

  “Using my spiritual power, I constructed a door within the barrier surrounding your consciousness,” he explained. “You can open or close it at will using the medallion. I’ve added an additional function for this.”

  “How convenient…” Joel murmured, with a mixture of distrust and suspicion. “But tell me something. Why would I close the barrier again? Isn’t its very existence the problem?”

  “I’m no expert in this field,” Ashoka admitted. “In fact, this is the first time I've done anything like this. However, I suspect the psychological impact of suddenly receiving all your original emotions will be… brutal.”

  Ashoka continued before Joel could interrupt. “To prevent something similar to what would happen if the barrier completely collapsed, the gate will only allow a controlled and gradual flow of your emotions.”

  Joel swallowed. “Are you saying I might not be able to handle it all?”

  “No,” Ashoka replied firmly. “I’m almost certain you’ll be able to handle this. The real challenge will be getting used to feeling. To processing emotions you’ve kept suppressed for years. That’s why I think it’s wise to have a control mechanism.”

  Joel nodded slowly. “That sounds… logical enough.”

  “Exactly. The only drawback,” Ashoka added, “is that, to maintain the stability of the spiritual construct, the gate can only be opened or closed after waiting a week between each action. Not a moment less.”

  Joel let out a short, humorless laugh. “I like this plan less and less…” he confessed. “But I don’t see any other option.”

  He raised his hand, searched among his clothes, and gripped the medallion tightly. "Tell me how to activate the function."

  Ashoka, with almost infinite patience, explained each step of the procedure for activating the medallion's new function. He didn't omit a single detail, repeating the instructions as many times as necessary, and making sure Joel understood not only how to do it, but also what to expect… at least in theory.

  Joel wasted no time. As soon as Ashoka finished speaking, he closed his fingers around the medallion and activated the function without hesitation, as if delaying would only worsen the inevitable.

  The result was something he could never have imagined.

  An instant later, a brutal sensation exploded inside his head. Joel clutched his head with both hands and collapsed to the floor, unable to stand. It was as if someone had drilled into his skull, opening an invisible hole through which a thick, burning liquid poured, seeping directly into the deepest recesses of his consciousness.

  The pain was unbearable… but brief. It lasted only a few seconds, though those seconds were enough to leave him utterly vulnerable. When the pressure subsided, Joel barely had time to catch his breath before something even worse took its place.

  An absolute emptiness. A horrible, suffocating sensation began to expand from his chest, as if his heart had been suspended in mid-air, with nothing to support it. The world seemed to recede, to fade away, and then the memories came flooding back.

  Without order and without mercy. His childhood. The cold corridors of the orphanage. The endless nights marked by loneliness. The years spent struggling not only to survive, but to protect the fragile well-being he had built with his new family, always on the verge of collapse.

  Each memory fell upon him with a crushing weight, laden with emotions he hadn't truly felt in far too long… But nothing hurt as much as the memories of his mother.

  With trembling hands, Joel searched for one of the hidden pockets in his clothing, the one he had deliberately sewn close to his heart. From it, he pulled out a small piece of paper, on which was a portrait of his mother.

  It wasn't the original portrait—that one had deteriorated long ago—but a copy. One he had made himself, using his scanner and printer, as if in that way he could preserve something that time insisted on stealing from him.

  For some reason, that image was the final trigger. Emotions forgotten since childhood resurfaced with unexpected violence. A lump formed in his throat, and tears began to well up in his eyes. Only through an immense effort of self-control did he manage to stop himself from crying right there.

  Even so, he could do nothing more and remained seated on the ground, leaning against the tree trunk, holding the portrait in both hands and staring at it in silence, as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist.

  The surroundings remained still. Nothing could be heard but his ragged breathing and the distant rustling of the wind through the leaves. Ashoka didn't say a word. He remained completely silent, as if he understood that, at that moment, this was the only thing he could do for Joel.

  And perhaps… the only thing he should do.