Progress

"Wait, wait, wait…" Noir started. "So things like this with no ears, mouth, or eyes that just look like an amalgam of elements can not only speak our language, but organize words in such a way to give instructions? That's…"

"I…don't know…" Wendy chimed in, "I don't know what this thing is. I don't know how it thinks it can help us." She turned back around to it and asked directly: "Why should we trust you? You just tried to destroy us."

"I…" the creature appeared to speak without voice. "I was in an inflamed state…I had in me all at once the whole range of human emotions—the state that I was in lacked definition. At least one of thee must know that feeling well."

They stayed quiet and leaned in eagerly. Noir felt slightly on edge.

"It is as thou said, Wendy. Creatures here are scarcely hostile—but all creatures have the capacity to be. Beings that are inflamed to violence are called enigmas. Creatures, however, do not spring in and out of that state for no reason—as though they were the auxiliaries of evolutionary impulse. We were foretold in parable. I was prophesied by one of thee in the midst of a sleepless night. Something sprang up onto thee o'er the seas and compelled thee into self-riddance. I was ordained, on that eve, to be the executor of thine own stoning. But in thy rebellion, thou hast saved thy life today—as thou intended to do…back then."

Wendy pulled Noir aside and whispered to him.

"What. the hell. is this thing even saying?"

Noir stifled a giggle and spoke: "I…don't really know. But I think I understand…somehow."

"That's rich—you don't know but you understand."

"Let me ask it something to see if I'm on the right track…"

Noir pulled himself away and slyly led himself into his line of questioning:

"At ease, O earthly brother. Thou sayest thou wert ordained—but ordained—by whom?"

The creature moved against the vine, appearing to be rejoicing. "O my lord…it was you who ordained me. How could it have been otherwise—as I spoke to thee of thy self-riddance?"

"And when thou said that I spoke it to thee in parable…what did that mean?"

"Thou felt thyself noble still…despite the degradation thou hast endured. But precisely thereof thou wanted above all else to put thyself aside. Thou created me to that end—and with strong wherewithal! Thou crafted me, ample and glowing, exactly as you said: 'half-bold, half-faded, half-sailor, half-hurricane, half-written and half-untold.' But why hast thou put up the resilience if this was all part of thy plan?"

To this, Noir faltered before his mouth moved on its own: "I refuse to die before I say what remaineth unsaid. How did thou know what I was struggling with in my mind—on that night?"

"Ah…is it not obvious by now? Enigmas are born of thy pathos, Noir. Every struggle thou wilt find here is one of self-determination and of self-overcoming. I believe, with that, thou can figure out the rest. I have nothing more to say to thee."

"Wait!" Noir pressed on.

"You have one question…my own pathos is about to expire."

"You—er, thou said thou would help us…where are we to go from here?"

The creature somehow appeared annoyed—despite the lack of facial configurations it could make with its body. "If thou art as lost as thou sayest thou art, it is a miracle thou hast made it to me so easily..."

Wendy scoffed and interrupted: "Told ya I knew where to go…"

"When my pathos expires, my vestiges shall float upwards and point thee to the nearest sky-city. The vine wrapped around me will lie flat. Pull it aggressively and a ladder will drop."

"...a sky-city?"

"Yes, that is what I said. Pay close attention to my vestiges."

"Wait, wait, wait," Noir continued, "if you—thou art the remnants of my woes as thou claimest to be, how dost thou know any of this?"

"I haven't the pathos for that answer—but I trust that thou wilt find it on the way up. Watch carefully."

Wendy looked at Noir in surprise: "Why do you know how to talk like that?"
Noir shrugged and held a cocky look on his face. "I…guess I picked it up from my father's work in anthropology. He dabbled a bit in linguistics, especially around the early Germanic languages. Marlowe, Chaucer, Shakespeare, the Bible—all that stuff."

"So you'll be able to translate these Old English goons?" Wendy appeared excited as she asked.

"If it were actually Old English, then no. Thankfully, it's Middle English and Early Modern—so somewhat."

"Ugh—you're such a dweeb…"

The moments after the creature vanished played out exactly as it foretold. Two small sprites flit about and traveled directly upwards. Wendy and Noir took careful note of the direction that it went and the clouds that it hid behind. As the sprites ascended into the cloud, however, a grand sight unveiled itself as an ivory deck became visible. The rest of the building, however, remained shrouded. They would have to climb upwards to get any better look. Wendy and Noir pulled on the vine together with all their strength—and, once again, the creature spoke the truth: a ladder, as though by (perhaps literal) mysticism, fell from the ivory deck.
Noir was beginning to mantle the ladder as Wendy voiced some doubts:

"Wait…Are you sure about this? What if that was a trap by that creature to lure us into another creature that'll actually finish us off? I know things can't lie in this world, but maybe they could mislead."

"Well, if it's telling the truth—like it has to be—hostile things manifest from our baggage. Just be weary of the burdens (like your little ID cards) you're carrying and you shouldn't ever die from them, right?"

"I don't know…that sounds like wishful thinking. Also, I'll have you know my ID cards are perfectly reasonable burdens."

"Yeah, I'm just yanking your chain, dear. Follow me up."

"Whuh, dear? Cute names are my thing!"

"God—just climb behind me!"

Noir shot another fireball, this time from his right hand. It very nearly set their only way up in smoke. Wendy crossed her arms and shook her head.

"That's a big no-no."

Noir made no response and began climbing. Wendy followed in pursuit. They attempted a dialogue while ascending the steps.

"Noir," Wendy sounded hesitant, "What memory generated that fireball? What did I make you remember?"

"It was nothing…it just reminded me of an argument—actually, several, that I've had with several different people."

"About what?"

Noir was clearly annoyed. Him being unable to lie was already beginning to weigh down on him.

"With parents, teachers, siblings, romantic partners, all of them—it's not fair that you feel you can micromanage the way I talk. Even though I haven't done that to you at all!"

"Well…" Wendy appeared apologetic and guilty. "I wasn't trying to do that…I was just trying to poke a little fun at you."

Noir now was the one appearing guilty. "I…I know. I know that's what you were doing. I'm sorry."

"Noir…" Wendy spoke with concern in her voice, "Are you going to be okay in this world?"

"I…" He struggled to articulate an answer. "Yes…I don't know. I'm too egocentric to say no—but I don't think yes is the answer either…I've made a habit of lying—I had to. I'm too intolerable—too 'socially unacceptable.' But I have a chance in this world that I didn't have in the other one…"

"Why do you say you're too 'socially unacceptable?' How do you know?"

"I…well, strictly speaking, I don't. I can't look in other people's minds, so I've spent my life making my best guesses. And I can't word it exactly…but if you led the life that I have…"

Wendy made no response. However, after a few seconds, Noir spoke again:

"I don't know…I understand how it probably sounds—like I'm just making things up to sound different—because water looks deep if it's muddy. But there's so much I want to say and I don't know how."

Wendy started to respond as he finished his last word: "No—I…I kind of understand. But have you thought about how thinking like you're 'unacceptable to others' will affect other people?"

Noir didn't give an answer—he didn't have to. Wendy had the answer already.

"Say…Wendy," Noir said, almost mockingly, "If our pathos are so similar, how have I been able to use magic and you haven't? What buttons need to be pressed for you to throw hot flames or water or ice or wind or whatever you do?"

"Noir…the attitude isn't going to help us. I'll tell you—but please just calm down."

"Okay…I'm sorry."

"Thank you. And, I'm not really sure…but I always hated when my fiance tried to do small things to control me. Kind of like that word you said before—"

"Micromanaging?"

"Yeah, that one. He'd plan all kinds of dates and things without consulting me, he'd pick all of my clothes, he'd shut me down every time I talk about my feelings—all that type of stuff. And it wasn't just him, I fought with that growing up, with exes, it's been annoying."

"I see. I'm sorry. I don't know if I'd be able to endure that as well as you have."

"Don't sweat it. I can see you already have. Speaking of which, I gotta get you that pathos spell."

"Please do. You know, combat's going to be really difficult. I have to get you to think harmful things to do magic spells?"

Noir and Wendy were but a step down from the deck. Noir mantled it and Wendy answered his question:

"It seems that's just how it is. No living without dying, after all."

As she stood up next to Noir, she faced a bearded, middle-aged man who pressed a sword against both of their throats.

"Aye…no living without dying," he said.