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Chapter twenty-two: The world beyond time . . . The Akashic Records.

Behind them a door. Ahead of them an uncertain path. It was a road stretching into infinite darkness, the only thing that gave it meaning, was the light that stood at the end.

Even now they were being presented with a choice.

Go ahead? Or turn back? Who would ever know? Shiro banished the thought from his mind. I would know.

He swayed and fell to his knees.

"Shiro?" It could have come from anyone and anywhere.

"It's this place . . ." He shook his head as the whispers of a thousand different voices filled his mind. "Its like all the knowledge in the world is pouring into my head at once." He centered himself, searching for one voice amongst the crowd.

The hall of human memory. All existence, all realities, all thoughts and time. Here they exist. Here they are given form, etched indelibly upon the collective unconscious. From here, I will remake the world . . .

"I can hear him now." Shiro rose to his feet and set off at a run. "Follow me I know the way."

* * *

They ran past smooth marble colonnades, pristine white balustrades that edged off the abyss. The world was taking shape around them. No longer was it a simple path that led through the darkness, but a perfectly ordered structure, completely without flaw. It was a reflection of the mind of its creator. Or at least, a reflection of how the mind of its creator viewed himself.

They ran past gardens filled with fountains that sprayed colored jets of light into the air, the soft sound they made as they fell to earth was musical to hear.

A plethora of flowers, real and imagined, created a riot of color against the backdrop of endless white.

Climbing vines twisted around pillars and transparent crystal statuary. Dragons, elves, humans. Many of the known races stood frozen, trapped in an eternally silent repose. So real was the illusion, so perfectly had they been carved. That when one studied them carefully, they seemed ready to break free from the confines of their ethereal prisons.

They merely waited for the breath of life from their creator to give them motion.

But their's was a haunting mockery of the transience of life. Where others would wake up and rise; they were nothing but hollow dolls, soulless puppets passed off as real flesh and blood people.

It could almost be called beautiful.

Almost, Thought Shiro. but not quite.

He focused on the path that lay ahead. Everything else was meant as a distraction, a temptation that would lead them away from the one true path.

All the while they ran, his voice was getting louder.

Time was running out. The longer he stayed in this place the more Shiro was beginning to understand it. To be able to shape it. Already he could understand how it had come to exist in its present form.

Kurotama had been here longer and would soon be able to grasp the very thing he sought.

Shiro ran faster, outdistancing his friends. He would have to delay Kurotama by himself. And trust that they would be able to catch up with him.

* * *

A flowing pillar of souls stood in the very center of the room. A collection of all existence. A gathering point for things beyond naming.

Reflected upon its surface was the very multitudes of reality. All of them connected, defined by a single thread.

Kurotama stood before it. Twisting the weave to suit his own making. "People hate. They

hate with an all consuming passion. Anything different, anything stronger than they are. And in their loathing they seek only to destroy. In their own minds, they are victims, righteous martyrs rebelling against oppressive masters. What fools they are." Kurotama's voice doubled in volume, as if to make up for his lack of an audience. Or perhaps, to speak to the one awaiting him. "And why do they do this? Because they are weak. It is an infinite struggle, an endless cycle being repeated again and again throughout history. Perpetuated by the very thoughts and feelings that bind us. What we see, what we feel, what we think we know is real. The world is defined by such things."

"Memory." Shiro stood upon the precipice above Kurotama. It was the very brink of the abyss. Here it would be decided. Here it would end. There was no turning back from this moment. He was committed.

* * *

Mist as thick as death clouded the world. Hiding it from sight behind a veil born of magic. They had finally caught up with Shiro and now this.

"Where the hell did all this mist just come from." Said Koji. "I can't see anything. It looks like they're just . . .talking."

* * *

Landing Shiro circled around Kurotama. The pillar of souls, the source of all lay between them. Only the victor would claim the prize. "Memory. That's it isn't it."

"Memory or rather, our perception of it, is what binds this world." Kurotama looked at shiro, as if he was deciding how much to tell him. "To free this world from its chains of hatred; I will erase everything. And once the world has been returned to nothing; I will create a new one in its place." His voice rose like a crescendo as he embraced the power of his vision. "A world without hate and prejudice, one without the need for fear. Guided by the loving hands of its beneficent creator." Kurotama banished the mist with a gesture. "It will be, paradise."

"You don't just intend to remake the world." Said Shiro. "You want to ascend to godhood."

"Of course." Kurotama spoke as if it should have been obvious. "For all life that shall exist in the new world must be guided. People have no use for free will. What do they do with it but give it away to others. Others who would do their thinking for them."

"So you plan on taking it from them? What arrogance! To even think the gods would allow such a thing."

"And where are the so called gods now? We stand in this place. The heart of existence itself. Where all can be unmade, their careful plans sent awry. If they exist. Whose side do they favor? Your's? Or mine?"

In his hand Shiro summoned the power of heaven, joining it with the Tenkoha he formed his will into a weapon. His resolve was a sword born of pure light. A light that would illuminate a path to the future. He pointed it at Kurotama. "In the end I don't think it really matters. Do you?"

"So you have finally found your resolve." Black fire surrounded Kurotama. Gathering in the palm of his hand a sword born of darkness deeper than night cut a soulful howl. "Come then. Let us bring an end to the struggle." Kurotama pointed his own sword at Shiro. "Will the world go on as it has? Or will a new world be born in its place. Let us decide it here, once and for all."

With hardly a hairs breadth between them the air crackled with barely contained power.

"And here I thought you were never going stop talking." Said Shiro.

The tips of their swords touched.

And the battle was joined.

* * *

Spell-born blades of light and darkness met one another. Clashing against one another.

They each summoned illusions, nightmares sent to tear and destroy. Knowledge was the weapon they wielded against one another. The very fabric of magic lay at their fingertips. And they cast endlessly without cost to themselves.

Spells of ice and fire hissed and died as both of them sought to rain destruction down upon the other.

And still their blades clashed.

Even as they shaped illusions to confuse the other. They met sword to sword amongst hills and valleys. Fighting in the deepest slums to the heights of Veils parapets they each sought to gain and hold the terrain that would suit them best.

On an ever changing battlefield they gained and lost ground as they each sought the others weakness.

They were both equals, made so by they very power of the knowledge that surrounded them.

But Kurotama had an edge. An advantage that Shiro lacked.

For no amount of knowledge can make up for actual experience. And Kurotama had lifetimes more than him.

It was a single misstep that cost him everything.

In the breath of a single heartbeat Kurotama's sword slipped through his guard and pierced his heart.

The pain of it was beyond anything he had ever known. Even the strength of his body was leaving him, flowing out along with his life's blood. His sword faded from his hand. He tried to hold it, to call it back. But all he could grasp was the blood that stained his hands.

Shiro looked into Kurotama's eyes one last time.

Looking beyond the face that was so much like his own and into the soul of the brother he had never known. He saw the emptiness within him, the trembling nothing, and laughed.

Kurotama's blade hissed as blood burned and flames of darkness licked Shiro's flesh.

"Impossible!" He had been stabbed through the heart and still he was laughing.

He couldn't understand it. "Why are you laughing! I've won!" The aura of victory around him was faltering. He could feel it draining away. Flowing out from him and into Shiro.

He watched in horror as the wound began healing itself around the sword. "Don't you understand it yet?" He shouted. "I've won!"

Summoning his sword once more Shiro renewed his assault and fought on.

* * *

"Why?" Kurotama whispered. "Why won't you die?" His scream echoed until it became as nothing. "Why can't I kill you."

"Shiro . . . what did you do?" Said Koji. "There was all that smoke and then."

"The art of hidden illusions." Shiro said as he removed his hand from Kurotama's forehead. The mark of Gideon burned with an ethereal fire in the palm of his right hand. "A forbidden spell that has long been sealed away."

Shiro walked away from the laughing corpse. For the man: he felt nothing but contempt. But for the soul bound within its prison of flesh: he felt nothing. Not even pity.

It was, he decided, a terrible thing to feel such emptiness.

Nelo recognized the spell for what it really was. A dangerous magic that endangered the user's soul. "Gideon's despair. But Shiro . . ." She said. "The price for using that spell is."

He silenced her with a look. "There was," He shook his head sadly. "No other way."

Forced to live through the illusion as if it had really happened Shiro knew it had taken a terrible toll, both on his mind and his body. The use of such a spell had left scars that would never fade from his heart.

Only he would ever know the words Kurotama had spoken. Only he would know how close the world had truly come to destruction. It was a secret he would have to carry with him to his grave. Such was the price the spell had demanded.

Nelo caught him as he fell.

He looked into her eyes and saw not fear, but understanding. Necessity asks a terrible price. And she too had been willing to pay it.

"In this world he will never age and he will never die." Shiro said softly. "Sealed within my illusion, he will fight with my shadow for all of eternity, trapped, in a battle that he can never win." He looked into the eyes of his friends, searching their faces.

Not one of them looked away.

Shiro spoke without a hint of remorse in his voice. "Death is too good for someone like him."

* * *

Without Kurotama to hold it together, the world that he had built within the Akashic records was beginning to fade away. The once grand gardens had begun to wither and die. Already tremors shook the world as the pillars upholding the sky broke apart and fell into the endless nothing.

"I'm going to seal the gateway." Said Shiro. "This is a path, we are not yet ready for." He turned to his friends and said. "The door won't stay open long. So you've only got one chance to return to our world."

"What about you?" Said Nelo.

"Don't worry about me, once I'm done here. I'll be right behind you."

They moved slowly, as if unsure of themselves.

Shiro shouted at them. "What the hell are you waiting for! Run!"

* * *

The door to the real world lay just ahead. The way back was already beginning to close, sealing itself shut forever.

Nelo stopped.

"What the hell are you doing?" Said Koji. "Shiro told us to run."

She searched for him, feeling along the connection they shared. "He still isn't here yet . . . we have to go back!"

"What? That door is closing. If we stay, we don't get to go home. Its game over."

"It's Shiro, I can feel him. He's struggling against the darkness. Its overwhelming him, just as it did Kurotama."

* * *

"Did I truly make the right choice in stopping him?" Said Shiro. "Or did Kurotama have the right of it? Was the future he desired really so bad? To put an end to conflict, to create a world of equals. A world without hate or prejudice, anger or fear. Is such a thing really so bad?" Shiro stood at the hub of the wheel, the infinite thoughts and feelings of countless souls stood before him. Their voices echoed inside his mind. "Or was it merely the path he decided to follow. The outcome blinding him to all other possibilities." They were an overwhelming chorus. A collective consciousness subsuming his own.

"Shiro!"

A single voice among so many. What was one more desire added to his own?

"I have the power. Here in this place. The world can be changed. We can make things right. Without having to start over." He was disappearing into the ether becoming one with the Akashic Record. "There is . . . another way."

* * *

A light reached out to him in that gentle darkness. "And what about the price? Are you really willing to sacrifice everything that makes us unique? If you rid the world of its shadow, you'll destroy everything that gives the light its meaning. Despair, anger, sorrow. Because we feel these things . . . they give us empathy, the power to reach out and hold another's hand. The power to heal each others hearts. Just like you healed ours."

Koji . . .

"You reached out to us. Even though we were of different races, you still cared about us as if we were equals. No . . . you cared about us because we were friends. Shiro. Don't try to carry the burden all alone. Let us help you. The way you helped us."

Rosalyn . . .

"You're not as alone as you think you are. You have people who are willing to stand with you against the darkness. No enemy is unconquerable, no problem insurmountable, to those who have friends who stand beside them."

Leon . . .

"Shiro, believe in the future, believe in the strength that lies within every heart. We all of us have the power to change, to grow beyond the pain of a single moment. All of life stretches out in front of us, an endless succession of moments, each of them waiting to be filled. Lets make them happy ones. Together."

Nelo . . .

* * *

Faced with the power to alter the unalterable, to change that which cannot be changed. Shiro reflected on what had brought him to this moment, this place in time.

It was not the hand of fate, or the whims of capricious gods interested only in playing petty games. Nor was it the need to prevent Kurotama from destroying the world that was, in favor of beginning a new one. No. It was something simpler than all of that. It was his own feelings of regret.

The temptation to change the past came not from his desire to build a new and better world, but from an inability to accept the results of his choices.

Shiro looked back upon his past, the good and the bad, and saw where things had gone wrong. He saw the many possibilities, the results of all the other choices he could have made.

They were branching along myriad paths; they were the roads he had not taken. But among them was a single shining path, a light that marked the road his life had followed.

It had been created from his desires, and of the ones that had shaped him most, the desire to return home was the strongest.

Holding them up to his heart he found that they no longer fit. And in that moment, he understood why he had been tempted by the power to change the past.

He had grown beyond them.

Changing the past was in essence, an opportunity to return to the familiar, the comfortable feeling of drowning in the darkness that he had so longed for.

He let it go.

And while alone in that place beyond time, he heard the whisper of his own heart speak to him. In it was born a new desire. One which would help to shape a new future. And it said: Hers are the arms that I want to return to. Wherever she is, that is home to me. The future lies ahead of us. It as uncertain and wondrous as each and every sunrise. And I want to see them all with her.

Shiro stepped from the ethers and into Nelo's waiting arms.

I have finally found. My something precious.

* * *

The five of them stood on an island of rock adrift in a vast sea of nothing. It was all that remained of the world Kurotama had created within the Akashic Records. And even that was slowly being washed away.

The Akashic world was slowly returning to its natural state. A world that waited for those that would define it. Those who would give it meaning and form.

With the last of his power Shiro reached out. And shaped it with his will, and the will of his friends.

Twin pillars of light rose from the unseen depths, joining together they formed an arch, and a new door opened. A new way. A path heretofore unseen by the eyes of history.

"Let's go home." Shiro looked at his friends. "And this time. We go together."

* * *

_In a place beyond time, we were both of us changed.

I, am no longer a chaos mage. Whatever it was that made me one in the first place, has gone. And I can honestly say I won't miss it.

Nelo however . . . she's mortal now. She gave up her immortality just to save me and I will repay her the only way I know how. I will love her until the end of my days. And beyond them._