“Roland? ROLAND!” I barely hear small voices scream, and it reminds me of the smell of ink and cookies. Of home.

I try to raise my head. Ashes cling to my tongue and blood and bile stain my lips while the smell of cold death fills my nose.

“Roland?” another voice calls, and I barely recognize the concerned voice of a cat who had pestered me as a brother.

“Roland?” Many other voices comb the area, but I let my head fall back down. Blackness still seeps around me, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I worry about killing others. Killing more. I try to shove The Beast back into my soul… but I cannot.

The agony in my soul is so great I feel mentally paralyzed, my willpower gone. If Beast chose to up and kill everything, I wouldn’t have the strength to stop him.

Beast runs one last tendril along my forehead, feeling much warmer than I would expect from a cold-blooded killer. He retreats into my soul, pulling his cage shut behind him with tendrils of blackness.

Soon after, warm hands that feel hot to my shivering body land on my head and shoulders, gasps and voices that blur as I remember those last moments with Pa, and I feel as if I’m there once more as blackness takes me into worlds of shadow and Death as I slowly suffocate.

“Roland? Hon, it’s time to come back.”

I stir from the depths of a comforting darkness, unsure where or what I am.

But the grave words from somewhere outside this place make something painful burn in my chest and I know don’t wish to go back to where the voice calls.

My soul writhes, crying out in pain at the mere thought of returning.

My spirit shies from the light that will bring memories. Such light would bring the broiling despair forward, the ache to fruition, and the brokenness to bear.

I don’t want this. I don’t want to feel. I don’t want to live. Not anymore.

This feels too much for one to hold.

“Kino, please. Don’t leave us,” a voice cries, his voice so choked I barely understand. A hint of home-made cookies that takes me back to times of peace and tranquility before the pain threads through the blackness.

“Y-y-you’re strong. You can b-beat this.” I feel a small hand pressed into mine, squeezing my limp, cold fingers.

“Don’t you dare give up, rat of a musket ox. Don’t you dare,” a cat says with a hiss, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion.

“Please, Roland. We need you.”

“Don’t go!”

“What w-would we do w-without you? We need our b-big brother. N-Now more than—”

Something pounds against my chest. It does it again. “Don’t you dare leave us.”

“Come back.”

Don’t give up so soon, idiot. They need you.

“We love you.”

The last brings a warmth to my chest, reminds me of brighter times, of joy, peace… and the pure love of family. I know I need to return. I know such a choice will bring great pain… but also great joy.

The land of the living is a place where all things rise and flow with the ebbs of time.

Joy. Sorrow. Happiness. Pain. Love. Hate.

Without one, there would not be the other.

Without hate, there could not be love. Without sorrow, there could be no joy.

All in balance, in harmony, upon the worlds.

Without Death, there could not be Life.

I gasp as more voices join my closest circle, calling for my return, calling for me to live. They cry to me, bringing me back from the brink, my soul uncurling and seeping warmth back into my body as the numbing blackness slowly recedes.

I know it hurts, my son, but the worlds still need you, whispers that small voice that has granted peace to my soul. The one Pa led me to. The one who holds me, even now.

His warmth surrounds me in this dark place, but it does not push me to the light. The warmth merely wraps me in comfort, letting me choose what path I will take.

I can give in here and now, let the blackness have me. I could give into Death and meet with Pa again on Sixth.

Or I could return to a world of suffering, pain, and sorrow.

It is my choice.

But it is Pa’s words that make me realize why I cannot give in. Not yet.

Evil triumphs when good men do nothing.

He lived and died by those words. He lived and died in his compassion.

I must live to carry on his legacy.

But would it be so bad to give in? Would it be so bad to have peace? Wouldn’t another take up my duties? Would not the worlds rise and fall and people live and die in war and sickness—without me?

No one can do what you do.

Why must I be special? I weep, clinging to the darkness, curling into a ball as if this would ease the pain in my heart.

All are special, my son. All have purpose in my worlds.

But what about your will? What about your plan? Will it not come to fruition regardless of whether I live or die?

A pause, then, There are an infinite number of passageways through the universe. There are threads great and small, bright and mundane, all of which are important for the tapestry. If one is cut too soon or breaks under the strain, it puts undue pressure upon the threads surrounding it. Sometimes, if those surrounding it hold, then it may be possible for me to reinforce the thread and continue, but if they do not… the tapestry begins to unravel.

I sit in the dark, listening to those trying to get me to return, and feel the warmth of the Allfather surround me in such a way—I feel his pain as if it were my own. And he feels mine. I bow my head, trying to come to terms with the one who put it all into place that we would come here... that Pa would die.

But I find, here in this place, that in his pain, I find my own. And I cannot blame one who breaks as much as I.

A righteous, painful anger enfolds me that is not my own.

I am sorry, my son, he says, genuine and telling sorrow in his voice.

His voice... that sounds eerily similar to that of my father.

Chills race up my spine.

The Allfather's voice has always seemed close to my heart. With his mere voice, he would bring comfort. And now I know why. I heard the Allfather through the one who embodied his attributes.

Through my father on Avidon, I heard the Father of All.

The voices are not the same, but... they are almost two sides of the same coin. They may be different, but they bring the same feel to your soul.

I sit in the quiet for a moment, feeling in that time a bitter-sweet grief that eclipses the pain.

The Allfather chose to present himself to me in a way I could understand—through the voice of my father.

And if I had never known Pa?

I'm beginning to see how one small act of kindness can truly change the world. Or at least change the world for one.

Like a man emerging from a swamp to see the light, I understand then what my father meant so long ago when he had me look at the stars. How important each individual light is, for great and small, the sky needs them all.

All have purpose. All are significant. All are beautiful.

In their own times and own ways.

Without the choice of my father adopting me into his family as I was, I wouldn’t have known what family could be. What leadership means. What love is.

I wouldn't have been in place to rescue Shasta. I wouldn't have been there to help the Imperial with the dragons. I wouldn't have met Pa, Frida, Barry, Jed, Jace, Tim, David, Heather, Flash, the Imperial, Shefa Bridge, Essie, Zephora, Morgana, or any of the others I've come across, who both rescued me and I saved in turn. Who have become friends to a lone wolf who didn't know the meaning of the word.

Without Pa, I wouldn't have found my pack. I would've forever been destined to wonder from one human settlement to the other until the Master's came. My life would've been a mere blip on this planet, leaving only pain and blood in my wake.

But because of one man, that changed. My destiny changed forever.

And now… I need to make the choice that will leave me aching and bare, but it is a choice I must make: for myself, for those I love, and for Pa.

Love is worth the pain.