?

  "The universe thrives, mocking my desire for emptiness, a constant reminder of the treachery that cast me asidew, rendering me a god in eternal torment." - Vesmír

  Entry No.1

  If you have ever experienced loneliness, you can begin to empathize with the profound sense of isolation felt by Vesmír.

  It was a loneliness that went far beyond the absence of external things, or the beings that surrounded him, even the carefully crafted order of

  his existence.

  No, Vesmír's loneliness was a deep-rooted wound, etched into his very being, leaving him incomplete and yearning for something he could no longer grasp. The half of himself that had departed, had taken with it everything that he knew, leaving him adrift and lost.

  Every fiber of his being was woven with the painful thread of this loss, a constant reminder of what he once had and what he had become without it.

  Yet amidst this profound sadness, there was a realm that offered solace and tranquility.

  A realm hand-crafted with meticulous care- a solitary corner in the universe.

  The realm belonged to the void, an empty pocket when Vesmír had come across it.

  The ethereal haven knew no souls or fractured remnants of bygone beings.

  They were never created to occupy the space, though they occupied all else of creation, here was untouched and Its sole visitor was the architect who meticulously fashioned it- Vesmír himself.

  In this realm, he took immeasurable pride.

  Though the outer bounds of his creation stretched indefinitely into the unknown, his attention was fervently fixated on the scene before him- a reflection of the only thing he favored.

  It was simplistic, the essence of a restaurant.

  But not just any restaurant, one that heavily resembled a bar. A sanctuary aglow with warm orange hues that emanated from it, the light suffused the atmosphere.

  The scene much like a stage, held an expansive wrap-around counter, crafted from the finest oak, it beckoned patrons to take respite upon round padded cushions-a harmonious blend of gold and silver. The counter, polished to impeccable radiance, bore intricate black swirls, the display shelves beyond the counter, stood in perfect alignment, mirroring their lustrous state, each glass untouched by the forces that necessitated their employment.

  And so, Vesmír would settle into his usual seat, positioned centrally for an optimum view.

  The seat never revealed it's age, he had sat at it nightly for a time unfathomable, yet, it's condition pristine.

  From this vantage point where he sat, he witnessed the ballet of five gloved hands, hands held back by no limbs, they scuttled like arachnids, tirelessly tending to the bar's every need. This dance they had done so long that their movements were fluid and always in sync with the other.

  The hands, he had created to respond to his every beck and call, they absolved Vesmír from lifting a solitary finger or engaging in any tedious conversation.

  Their snowy white gloves, an emblem of opulence to match the immaculate creation they served.

  Here, an abundant array of earthly libations awaited Vesmír's delight.

  Arranged beneath a mahogany cabinet, a remarkable assortment of bottles adorned with resplendent labels, captivating his gaze.

  They resembled dazzling jewels, their enchanting dance of colors ranging from the faintest green to the deepest emerald, adding to their allure.

  Above the taps across from them, rows of spirits stood as sentinels, yet it wasn't solely the elixir that fulfilled Vesmír in this place.

  Positioned above the counter was a chalkboard inscribed with ever-changing delights, enticing him to indulge.

  Beneath the grand facade of the counter, lay an enchanting assortment of pastries and baked goods behind a glass wall, the very foundation upon which the counter stood.

  Accessible only to the hands that dwelled within the depths of the counter, these tantalizing treasures teemed with divine decadence.

  Within this vast expanse, he could conjure whatever he pleased, bringing his wildest imaginations to life. The void's particles delicately danced and formed, gradually shaping the objects he desired. The mesmerizing process never failed to captivate him, as he observed the black specks merging into a unified whole.

  His surroundings, although tempted to change them, would never be changed. He had found solace in preserving the familiar setting he had become accustomed to.

  Instead, he contented himself with creating smaller items, such as dishes and cutlery, savoring the balletic transformation from intangible to solid.

  Vesmír possessed boundless possibilities and unrestrained curiosity. The overwhelming sense of control and pure power that surged through him in this secluded corner drowned out the encroaching madness threatening to consume him entirely.

  Nevertheless, this new reality remained a bitter reminder of the losses he had endured. But, he had learned to accept this existence with time. Though the act of creation itself remained a painful testament to all that had been taken from him - stolen from him by the other half that completed his being.

  Healal,

  His brother.

  Long ago, there had existed a time untouched by the present challenges-a time when nothing encompassed everything.

  And at that time, both Healal and Vesmír were all that had ever been.

  There was no mistake that it was only them. They were the balance that prohibited obscurities and the unknown.

  But against Vesmír's wishes, things changed. It wasn't a monumental event that marked the beginning of this transformation; it arrived as a thought, a small seed that, if nurtured, would sprout into something significant.

  And a thought had taken hold of his brother's mind, its vines were poisonous tendrils that spared nothing within him.

  Like a weed, it infiltrated and multiplied, corrupting their delicate dance of existence with infectious suggestions.

  Eventually, it consumed his brother entirely, the suggestions tormented him, leaving him unable to remain silent any longer. He feared that his silence would be mistaken for cruelty and that the destruction of his own clarity and understanding was a sign that something had always been amiss.

  There was nothing outside of him that would oppose or ridicule these thoughts, he was made the judge and executioner by them.

  And after enduring an unbearable process of introspection, Healal had opened up to Vesmír.

  The questions he posed and the conversations he initiated violated Vesmír, stirring indescribable emotions within him.

  His brother spoke of possibilities beyond their own existence-of creating planets and beings that could occupy infinite space and any other realms they desired. Although this notion implied an ultimate and brutal end for all, his brother deemed it worthwhile.

  Even if their creation was not eternal and they themselves ceased to exist, it would liberate them, scattering fragments of themselves that would abide by the rules they had established.

  These fragments would possess the ability to choose, explore, exist, create, and form bonds akin to theirs. It presented an opportunity to achieve more than their current state of being allowed, enabling newer forms of existence to experience life with a freedom they had never before tasted.

  However, Vesmír refused to entertain such questions. He had refused to allow himself to think of their conversations. The idea of corrupting and altering anything had never crossed his mind. Vesmír's sole desire was to maintain.

  As they had been.

  But over time, as he disregarded his brother's pleas and suggestions, he became aware of a change in him-a transformation that ignited a profound conflict between them. Vesmír could sense the confusion poisoning Haelal, a poison that now sought to consume him as well.

  The origin of his thoughts remained elusive, but gradually, he recognized it to be an unseen evil force, one that threatened the destruction of everything without reason. And this evil didn't require justification.

  The realization frightened Vesmír. The more he chose to ignore it, the deeper a seed of hatred took root within his brother, growing until his brother no longer cared for permission or equal choice. He ceased to speak and share his ideas.

  For an eon, Vesmír heard nothing from him.

  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

  Although their forms provided the foundation and layout for creation, interconnected and still, the shift within his brother began to rot their combined being. His brother's character had underwent a change, eroding his morals and integrity, replacing them with secrecy and a predetermined plan that dictated Vesmír's destiny.

  This shift birthed complexities within their void, visible specks of the feelings Healal was experiencing, distorting the nothingness.

  In its own way, it spawned a creation from them-small white specks devoid of the nothingness that once filled them. Something entirely new emerged, consuming fragments of their being.

  If there was any indication to the extent of his brother's corruption, it was that alone.

  And it was as clear a sign as any.

  The day everything changed, Vesmír could still recall vividly as if it were unfolding before his eyes.

  Sitting at the bar, his gaze fixed upon the counter, his mind consumed by thoughts.

  The images played in his mind like scenes from a movie, each detail etched with clarity.

  He envisioned the spark that materialized from the void, a mesmerizing sight, as millions of shards dispersed across the expanse and coursed through his very being. These shards, fragments of his brother's essence, hurtled through the void, transforming into planets along their journey, creating intricate systems of vibrant colors and solid forms.

  In that moment, every fiber of Vesmír's being cried out for his brother. Ripples of energy surged through the expanse as he reached out, desperately trying to touch the small spark that represented his brother's sacrifice, his decision to shape their destinies.

  But as his hand extended, the spark abruptly collapsed, vanishing before he could catch even the briefest glimpse of what remained. A glimpse of him, a trace of his presence.

  The loss Vesmír experienced was beyond comprehension, as every particle and memory of his brother fragmented, becoming separate entities. Vesmír's once boundless form became finite, confined within the boundaries of this existence. He found himself grieving with emotions that were never meant to exist, emotions that tore at the very core of his new being.

  The pain endured, a constant companion that threatened to unravel the fabric of his existence.

  Yet, despite the hardships faced along his journey, Vesmír had persevered, reaching this point at a great cost.

  His brother had left behind only a handful of instructions, leaving him to forge his own path within the confines of these fragmented pieces.

  With great thought he fashioned a planet that could accommodate a portion of the fragments existence, establishing an order that governed their lives and interconnected them with the grand tapestry of his new finite body.

  This order transcended all dimensions that formed, serving as a crossroads for each soul fragment. Within this realm, Vesmír crafted fate and entrusted the role of guardianship to the knights, ensuring the delicate balance of duality could be upheld. Fate became their guide, providing him with the time needed to seek a solution, a way to mend what had been torn asunder.

  And it wasn't long until a glimmer of hope emerged on Vesmír's horizon, taking an unconventional form-a letter.

  Sealed by a blue insignia.

  It arrived in his secluded corner, delivered by what appeared to be a young boy dressed in a pristine deep blue uniform, reminiscent of a naval officer. The boy materialized from the void, each step he took down a set of invisible stairs revealing him bit by bit. But there was something peculiar about his movements, something that made him seem more like a stringed puppet than a living being.

  His limbs seemed to move with a stilted, jerky motion, as if controlled by invisible strings.

  It was an eerie sight to behold.

  But despite the unsettling nature of the boy's appearance and movements, his enthusiasm was apparent.

  He approached Vesmír with a determination to deliver the letter, his porcelain-like features and uniform lending him an otherworldly presence that exuded a form of power unfamiliar to Vesmír's own. The boy's eyes held a glimmer of something beyond comprehension, as if he existed on a different plane of existence altogether.

  He hadn't said a word. The entire exchange was silent, his features were the only thing that conveyed a message to interpret.

  And by that alone, Vesmír immediately sensed the profound significance of the letter the boy held out.

  With a mixture of curiosity and caution, he reached out and gently retrieved it, cradling it delicately in his hands.

  The weight of the letter seemed to carry a gravity of its own, as if it were a symbolic representation of life and death.

  And with utmost care, Vesmír broke the seal, unfolding the tan note to reveal his brother's name elegantly written in cursive at the top.

  He stared at the name, his eyes fixated on it as if time stood still. The words that followed, he read repeatedly, allowing their meaning to seep into his consciousness.

  "As you read this note, written before my departure, I am filled with a mix of emotions. I foresaw the path I would tread, and I don't want you to bear the weight of blame or ponder the what-ifs. This letter serves not as an apology, but as an opportunity for you to restore what has been lost. However, I must confess, it's an impossible task intentionally designed as such. I don't desire you to succeed in reversing the course of events; nevertheless, I had to create the possibility. In its own way, this option brings balance to the very fabric of all.

  When I shattered myself, the very core of me splintered into 67 fragments. The rest of me, you witnessed shoot through the void. My core fragments, scattered into a string of dimensions that you can not access.

  The 67 dimensions I created for each, grant passage solely to the bearer of my heart. Which is none other than an earth bound being. However, this being that holds my heart, is devoid of any recollection of the events that transpired or the depth of their importance and power. This being is unaware that they are a version of me. Yet, within their heart, lies the profound memory of all that has come to pass and their true identity.

  This being is your hope.

  Within each dimension, the core fragments of me intertwine, taking refuge within unsuspecting entities that inhabit those realms. Each fragment, a sliver of me, holds the key to my restoration. If you can uncover each of these hidden pieces and reunite them, the symphony of my former self shall resonate once more.

  Yet, they must tread cautiously, for each dimension possesses its own elusive temporality. Precise windows of opportunity, fleeting and ephemeral, grant access to the realms wherein my fragments dwell. To traverse the 67 dimensions, they must seize each moment with unwavering resolve, threading through the intricate dance of time itself. Only then can they retrieve each piece of me, like puzzle pieces, and restore the harmony that once defined us.

  Should you succeed in this quest, our celestial dance will continue, and we shall find solace within the boundless emptiness of the void. Our existence, intertwined and eternal, will persist. Yet, should the fragments languish and wither away with the relentless passage of time, the very fabric of creation will unravel, and all shall be consumed by oblivion.

  Deep within me, I sense the weight of this daunting endeavor, knowing full well the immense burden it places upon your shoulders. Farewell, dear brother. May the remaining chapters of your life be imbued with purpose and meaning, even as the echoes of our shared destiny reverberate through the annals of time.

  Healal."

  Vesmír had immersed himself in the words of the letter countless times, a ritual that spanned centuries.

  He would retreat to his secluded corner of the world, where he would be served a comforting meal or a steaming cup, the perfect accompaniment to his obsessive reading.

  Each word written held a profound significance, and he savored every line, ensuring that he understood the true weight of its meaning.

  With each reading, his resolve grew stronger, fueling his determination to uncover the location of the 67 dimensions and bearer of Healal's heart.

  It took a considerable amount of time for him to stumble upon the place he had been seeking-a forgotten and desolate hotel, standing as a relic of grave importance.

  When he had entered, he found himself in a lobby, facing a seemingly endless hall, its walls adorned with rows upon rows of doors. Numbered meticulously from beginning to end, and within the depths of the hotel, a room had been reserved solely for his purpose.

  An office of sorts, with a pristine journal and an ink pen resting on a desk's weathered surface. The journal, he had discovered, was blank, except for the instructions inscribed on its beginning page.

  The pages, filled with boxes and lines, represented the limited chances he had to succeed in restoring his beloved brother.

  With each failure, the carrier of his brother's heart would meticulously record their attempts, marking each box with the same date and signature, trapped in an eternal cycle of repeating the same day from its inception. The weight of repeated deaths weighed heavily on him as each page was turned. Unbeknownst to the heart's carrier, time gnawed away at their existence, leaving them to witness the gradual decay of the universe itself.

  As they neared the final pages of the journal, the universe began to crumble, caught in the relentless grip of time's decay. Invisible to the naked eye of any human and witnessed only by them both.

  The border between decay and perfection blurred, causing reality to glitch and distort.

  Time was slipping away, and Vesmír knew he could not afford another failure. It was his final chance, his last desperate gamble to save himself.

  And failure had marked him so far.

  These things he pondered.

  But, in the present moment, he sat at the counter. Now served a dish of fresh pasta.

  He marveled at the dish's perfection, a gloved hand, seemingly materialized from the depths of a concealed cabinet, gracefully emerging. It quickly hovered above the pasta, and with a deft movement, sprinkled a pinch of vibrant green parsley atop the dish.

  The contrast of colors, the verdant sprinkle against the pale pasta, was a sight to behold.

  As the hand retreated, Vesmír's senses were enveloped by the harmonious symphony of aromas that wafted from the plate. The aged fine white cheddar, with its rich and slightly nutty undertones, mingled with the enticing scent of a garlic butter reduction. The fragrance entranced him, teasing his palate and conjuring images in his mind as the white clouds of steam danced and swirled.

  With each bite, his taste buds erupted in delight.

  The tender strands of pasta embraced the velvety cheddar, creating a divine matrimony of flavors.

  The reduction added a touch of decadence, infusing each morsel with a subtle richness that lingered on his tongue.

  Vesmír savored every bite, his appreciation apparent.

  As he indulged, his attention momentarily shifted, and he glanced towards the hands that had orchestrated the dish.

  However, to his astonishment, they seemed to retreat, slowly crawling away from his sight, leaving him to enjoy the meal in solitude.

  The hands, mysterious and elusive, vanished into the shadows, their work complete.

  With their departure, Vesmír allowed himself to be consumed by the experience, though fleeting, it was a momentary respite from the weight of his final quest.

  It was about to begin again, just as it had countless times before.

  The end was unfathomable, but the hope of accomplishing anything was equally unimaginable.

  With a satisfied nod, he set his cutlery aside and wiped his mouth on a satin cloth.

  Night was falling outside his domain, and this was his last chance to reunite with Healal's heart in whatever form he decided to change this void into.

  And so, finished with the dish, Vesmír looked to his pocket watch, noting the time, and the hands as they ticked closer to the appointed hour.

  The weight of the moment hung in the air.

  Rising to his feet, he faced the void as it stretched and created an opening, an expanse that revealed his desired destination. It hummed with an otherworldly energy, both alluring and foreboding.

  He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead. And with resolute determination, he stepped forward, crossing the threshold into the physical.