Kael’s hair drifted softly in the wind.
Under the blinding light, it seemed even paler than usual.
He narrowed his eyes, trying to adjust to the brilliance of the sky.
“The Garden of Confluences…” he said with a sarcastic tone. “And what exactly is that supposed to be? Because flower-books aren’t exactly common.”
His eyes swept the horizon in search of a landmark.
But the only logical element in that unreal tableau was the small wooden cabin.
Dubium had already begun walking toward it. Kael followed without asking a question.
“The Garden of Confluences is a very particular place,” Dubium explained as he walked.
“To be honest, this is the first time I have invited someone here. You must be the third… or perhaps the fourth person ever to have set foot here.”
Kael did not respond. He simply observed the books floating slowly above their heads, drifting through the air with the rhythm of the wind, while the flowers exhaled a soft, almost sweet fragrance.
Dubium continued:
“Do you remember when I said the Immaterial was a non-place?”
Kael nodded.
“Well… we are there. A place beyond time and space.
The true Immaterial.”
They reached the low stone wall.
They stepped over it calmly.
In front of the house, a small round table waited.
Large enough for two, perhaps three people. No more.
Dubium gestured toward one of the chairs.
Kael sat without protest, his eyes still scanning the horizon, fascinated by what he saw.
Everything here seemed alive. Everything seemed to be reading him.
Dubium, meanwhile, stepped away and entered the cabin.
Kael took the opportunity to focus.
He closed his eyes. A wave of shivers ran through him.
This place is saturated with Elan… I feel it everywhere — on my skin, in my bones.
He listened.
The wind.
He listened more closely still.
And a thought brushed against him:
Words… wind is speaking to me.
He concentrated harder. A smile spread across his face.
“Even the wind… is a book,” he whispered, exhilarated.
He extended his fingers into the air, letting them dance in the currents.
He felt… something.
Words. Sentences.
They seemed to form directly at the tips of his fingers.
“Incredible…”
Then he inhaled deeply, curious.
Each scent felt distinct. Profound. Meaningful.
He rose and began circling the table, sniffing like an animal tracking a scent.
“It’s unbelievable… even the smells are books!”
He laughed, driven by euphoria.
He plucked a flower at random.
Then returned to sit.
He smelled it… then, without truly thinking, brought it to his mouth.
He chewed slowly, thoughtfully.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
With each bite came a strange sensation — as though a sentence, or sometimes merely a word, were imprinting itself upon his mind.
Dubium emerged from the cabin then, carrying a tray.
He set it on the table and poured Kael a cup of tea.
He observed him for a moment, his brow tightening ever so slightly.
“What did you eat?”
Kael shrugged, a little embarrassed, a little proud.
“A flower.
I’ll admit it’s not very good…
But it speaks. So it was worth it.”
Dubium did not even comment on the absurdity of the act.
He placed the cup before Kael, who thanked him with a nod.
Dubium sat in turn.
He brought his cup to his lips, slowly.
“Earlier, you asked me whether something existed before humanity.”
He extended a hand, palm open, gesturing toward the Garden.
“This is what existed… before the advent of humanity.”
A book descended gently into his hand, like a bird settling.
Dubium contemplated it for a moment, then released it.
The book took flight again, free.
“All this knowledge… is contained within every petal, every breeze, in all these books.”
Kael followed the book’s flight with his eyes, astonished.
“Then why does no one know about this?” he asked.
Dubium answered simply, without raising his voice:
“Because no one is wise enough to know of its existence.
And even less capable of using it properly.
The chaos that would follow if ordinary mortals stumbled upon it… would be unfortunate for the world, would it not?
All of this must remain here. Safe.”
Kael frowned.
“If all this knowledge exists… then someone must have discovered it. Or even written it.
So… humans?”
Dubium gave a faint smile and took a sip of tea.
He set the cup down carefully.
“You are a remarkably perceptive young man.”
He crossed his legs and placed his hands calmly on his knees.
“Indeed, that is the paradox.
If this knowledge existed before humanity…
Who discovered it? Who transcribed it?”
Kael took a sip in turn, thoughtful.
“Perhaps the Primogenes? They are the creators of the universe, aren’t they?”
Dubium shook his head.
“No. It is not them.
This knowledge is older… than the Primogenes.”
Kael leaned forward slightly, confusion written plainly across his face.
“Something older… than the universe?”
Dubium nodded. Gravely.
Kael raised an eyebrow.
“I thought you were the height of wisdom.
I didn’t realize you were capable of saying something so absurd.”
Dubium replied, sincerely:
“It saddens me that you would think that of me.”
He turned his gaze away, contemplating the dreamlike landscape stretching before them.
“The Primogenes did indeed create humanity… and that is where the paradox begins.
Who, then, could have transcribed all this knowledge? That is the true question.”
He paused, then continued, voice calm:
“Earlier, you asked me where you were… did you not?”
Kael nodded, taking another sip of tea.
Dubium resumed:
“I know that you are within your Trial in order to obtain your Trame, Kael.
For it is I… who created your Ouroboros.”
Kael swallowed audibly.
He set his cup down with a trembling hand.
“Excuse me?” he murmured.
Dubium closed his eyes.
“Your Trial was meant to unfold differently.
But I interfered, to create the environment most conducive to your elevation.”
Kael struggled to speak. He managed only:
“It was you?”
Dubium inclined his head silently.
“As I told you earlier, I had a purpose: to force your elevation in four stages.
And the last… you crossed it just now.”
Kael frowned, his lips trembling.
“You doubted your perception of me,” Dubium said.
“Me, who served as your silent model… deep within yourself.”
Kael thought back to his first days within the Trial.
And a truth imposed itself.
Dubium had been the only stable reference in a world entirely unknown to him.
The only man he had wanted to surpass.
The only one who had guided him — even if Dubium rejected that word.
The only one who had taught him to think differently.
Kael could only stammer:
“Why…?”
“I was asked,” Dubium replied simply.
“Or rather… it was an exchange of mutual benefit.
In return, I was granted access to the Garden of Confluences.”
He fixed Kael with his unreadable gaze. Inhuman.
Kael’s words remained lodged in his throat.
But one thought circled endlessly in his mind.
Who?
Who asked him?
Then another question emerged.
Why?
Dubium turned his head once more toward the infinite horizon.
He sighed.
But he did not allow Kael time to reorder his thoughts.
“I know that the Primogenes did not transcribe this knowledge.
And that they do not even know where it comes from.”
He slowly turned his face toward Kael, who looked utterly lost.
“I am certain of this.”
Kael finally managed to articulate:
“Who are you… and how can you possibly know all this?”
Dubium sighed again.
Then he fixed Kael with a gaze of impossible intensity.
A gaze that pierced.
Even Lucanis could not have matched it.
And Dubium spoke:
“My name is Dubium.
The origin of that name is unknown to mortals.
But you… you give me another name.”
The indecisive.
Kael’s eyes widened.
He leaned back in his chair, his heart pounding violently.
Dubium remained still.
Then he added, slowly:
“And if I am certain that the origin of this knowledge is unknown…
…it is because I, the Primogen of Doubt, do not know it.”
