Vincent didn’t know when it was, seeing as time didn’t seem to exist, but he knew that he was in a familiar space of emptiness. All around him was an infinite darkness that stretched in all directions. Direction was almost meaningless if it wasn’t for the fact that the darkness he walked on was solid and flat. Still, he wasn’t sure if what he was walking on was invisible, like glass, or if it was as lightless as the rest of the void around him.

Unlike the misty world that he had been in multiple times before, this time, there was less fog. It was strange. With less within the space to obscure his vision, he should’ve been able to see everything more clearly, but all that was beyond the haze was more black—nothing that he hadn’t already seen.

As he looked around him, within seconds he saw the only other figure around: Alltemiac. The shining white, vaguely humanoid outline was just as he had remembered. That being sad, they seemed to have a bit more detail to them than he remembered.

“What’s up, Alltemiac?” Vincent casually called out. “It seems like we’re back in this weird place.”

“That’s correct,” Alltemiac agreed.

Vincent then walked forwards. “So what is this place?” His head swiveled around as his eyes looked around the space. “And I better not get one of your roundabout, bullshit answers again.”

“This is you.”

Throwing his hands in the air, Vincent laughed. “Alright then.”

Alltemiac cocked their head and stated, “I’m surprised you couldn’t tell. After all, you’ve been so in tune with your own mind lately. You should recognize what the inside of it looks like.”

“Uh huh…” Vincent trailed off, not entirely following them. “So what did you want to talk to me about? You always seem to want to tell me something every time I see you.”

Wordlessly, Alltemiac nodded and raised their left hand in the air. As Vincent focused in on what they were doing, he felt a sudden sensation drill into his head, coming from the white figure. The inside of his head began to vibrate, violently. It was like a jackhammer was being run on top of his skull.

He wanted to kneel down and let his body collapse from the pain, but something about that notion angered him. Before he was able to make a decision on that matter, the pain suddenly ceased. Breathing a bit heavily, he looked back up at Alltemiac.

“What the hell was that about?” Vincent asked with a bit of force behind it.

Bringing their hand back down, Alltemiac replied, “A lesson.”

“What?” Vincent asked, stretching his slightly throbbing head.

“That is the beginning of a lesson I need to teach you. You can still hear them, can’t you?”

“Hear what?”

As Vincent said that, he heard a slight voice wisp around his ears. His head constantly snapped in different directions, trying to find the source of what he just heard. Unable to figure out what he heard nor what made the sound, he grew frustrated.

“Calm down,” Alltemiac spoke up. “Let your mind resonate to your own rhythm.”

Vincent looked at them and didn’t say anything. He opened his mouth to initially retort, but something about the weight of their words rang true inside his head. He then closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and allowed himself to reach into a familiar, emptier state. As he did, the air in the space around him began to cool down.

The longer he remained in that state, the more he began to hear that sound again. After a few moments of tranquil, yet intent listening, he could begin to make out the words. Nothing, empty, void were the words silently whispered in his ears.

He began to repeat them inside his head and he heard those same words echo around him. They bounced off of the air in the vast darkness around him, gradually filling the space. Unlike the chaotic experience that was the first time he heard those words, the way that they were now spoken was more organized and less erratic.

“Do you understand?” Alltemiac gently asked.

Still keeping with his rhythmic breathing, Vincent replied, “Not really, but I’m getting the hang of it.”

“I see,” Alltemiac stoically responded. “Well then, let me show you. Look at me.”

Vincent slowly opened his eyes and calmly looked at the white figure. Alltemiac then raised their left hand, and like before, he felt something reverberate in his mind. However, before it impacted him, he saw what he could only describe as invisible ripples in the air make their way towards him. The parallel that he immediately drew was that of the heat waves from the Egyptian desert if they were controlled and pushed in his direction.

As those waves collided with him, they found their way into his mind and vibrated within it. Unlike last time, they were severely muted and dulled. He felt their presence but instead of pain, he only felt a bit of discomfort.

If a borderline featureless shape could smile, then Alltemiac did indeed do that. Still sending the resonating waves towards Vincent, they said, “Now do you get it?”

“I do,” he replied. “Those words are me, and if I am me, then they protect me.”

“Precisely. If you are not in the right state of mind—if you are not you—then you cannot rise to your full potential.”

With a bit of excitement bubbling up, he asked, “Wait, so I can be even stronger than I am now?”

Just as those words left his mouth and his energy began to disturb the hollow mind he constructed for himself, the pain from the waves rapidly increased. The unexpected pressure they exerted on his head caused him to fall to his knees and grab at his head.

The pain began to reach a tipping point, where it felt like his skull was going to crack. His eyes bulged slightly out of their sockets and were instantly bloodshot. He had let his guard down.

Luckily for him, Alltemiac stopped the waves and walked over to him. “Good enough, I suppose,” they commented.

Vincent stood up, albeit a bit slowly, and faced them. His breathing was a bit staggered, but it was slowly coming back to normal. “Why’d you do that?” he asked.

“Why’d you stop guarding your mind?” they retorted.

“Fair enough.” He then looked around and asked, “So what now?”

“I’ve seen and taught all that I need to for now,” they answered.

“Wait, what—” But before he could finish what he was saying, a blinding light filled the space and Vincent found himself awake on his bed.

***

After sleeping for another few hours, Vincent was awakened by the comforting aroma of breakfast. Wafting through the air was the sizzling sensation of eggs, mixed with the sweet scent of fresh-ground coffee. The mixture of those smells brought him back to a place of familiarity, allowing his eyes to open with a smile.

The moment consciousness was fully brought back to him, he took a deep breath. His bones ached, his muscles were tense, and his head throbbed. Even so, nothing felt uncomfortable for him. If anything, the minute pain was more familiar than waking up perfectly fine.

Stretching a bit, he rolled out of his bed and walked down the hall to the kitchen, only wearing his underwear. The halls were tight but not oppressively close, and the walk allowed the stiffness in his body to loosen up.

Walking into the kitchen, the light was warm but dim. The early-morning sun was peeking through the one window in the room, giving the lights' tone more of an orange color. The faces that were gathered around the table were just as warm.

“What’s cookin’?” Vincent asked, stretching his arms above his head.

Turning around from the pan that had eggs on it, Eliot replied, “The classics.”

“Alright! Let’s go!”

Vincent then plopped down into a chair and let out a large sigh. Eliot turned back around and emptied the sunny-side up eggs onto the toast that was set next to the stove.

Looking around, Vincent saw that Fang was also helping make the morning meal. They opened a waffle griddle and set the waffle on the towering stack that was next to them. As the steam continued to rise from them, they turned around towards Vincent and said, “They’re ready! So dig in!”

“This is about to slap so hard,” Vincent replied, pounding the table in excitement. Looking around, he then asked, “By the way, where’s Zander?”

As if on cue, a slightly sluggish man walked into the room, his blonde hair frizzled and drooping in front of his face. His clothes, as opposed to the regular robes that he wore to bed, were the same thing he wore the day before.

“Damn,” Vincent began to comment, “ya got enough bags under those eyes?”

Wordlessly, Zander just glared at him. He then stumbled his way towards one of the two remaining open chairs in the room. His body nearly collapsed as he sat down and it didn’t seem like he resisted it. With a slightly loud thud, his head fell onto the table, buried in his arms.

Everyone in the room paused what they were doing and looked at him for a few seconds. Fang then went back to cooking and Vincent continued to do nothing while looking at the ceiling. Eliot, on the other hand, made his way over to Zander and patted him on the back.

“Are you feeling alright?” Eliot softly asked.

“Never better,” Zander groaned.

Squinting his eyes, Eliot said, “Look at me, Zan.”

He then gently lifted Zander’s head up and looked him in the eyes. Eliot then neutrally frowned and shook his head.

“Did you stay up all night?” he asked in a way that was reminiscent of a caring, but disappointed mother.

“What makes you say that?” Fang joked, not turning around from his waffle station.

Eliot rolled his eyes and smiled. “Those bags are deep,” he commented. Facing Zander, he asked, “Did you stay up all night?”

Zander averted his gaze. “Maybe…” he trailed off.

“Zander.”

With a sigh, Zander finally answered, saying, “Yeah I did.” He then slapped his blue notebook on the table. “And it wouldn’t have taken me that long if whoever wrote these messages on the obelisks wasn’t the most inefficient writer.” He scratched his head and finished his thought. “Seriously, there were so many times they used fifteen words just to say something that needed two words to explain.”

Fiddling with his fork, Vincent commented, “Maybe they’re just bad at writing?”

“Vince,” Zander half-heartedly began to argue, “whoever came up with all of this is obviously a genius on some level. No one as dumb as you could create a system like this out of an unidentified material.”

“Fair enough.”

Bringing a plate of waffles to the table, Fang asked, “So what did the obelisk say?”

“Let him rest a bit before asking him to do any more thinking,” Eliot interjected.

Raising his hand in the air, Zander disagreed, stating, “No, no, it’s all good. I’m already awake—I just need some coffee.”

“Well alright then,” Eliot begrudgingly said, walking back to the coffee pot.

“So if you're good,” Vincent started to say with some excitement, “let’s hear what the obelisk said.”

Zander handed him his notebook and Vincent immediately snatched it out of his hands. Vincent then began to flip through it, trying to find the page that the obelisk notes were on.

Before he got there, Eliot returned, setting Zander’s coffee in front of him, and then he took a seat at the table.

Taking a drink of the coffee, Zander let out a sigh of rejuvenated relief, saying, “Ahhhhh that’s nice. Black, just the way I like it.”

Finally landing on the right page, Vincent exclaimed, “There we go!”

“What does it say?” Fang once again asked, now taking a seat.

“Well…” Vincent started to read. “A world populated by Resonators is one that the Chosen must face, even more so now than ever. Navigate through the world, navigate through the false paths and people, and navigate through your own mind. Resonators have their powers for a reason, and if one is not careful, they and their powers can become One—both a gift and a curse when the mind is not ready. Be mindful, be calm, and be free. If you do all of this, you’ll soon discover what it means to awaken…you will discover the truth. The future depends on you.”

“See what I mean?” Zander commented, his voice showing some slight annoyance in it.

“I actually agree with you,” Eliot said.

“If the English master in the group thinks so, then I agree too,” Fang spoke up. “I wonder what that passage means? Didn’t you say that the previous obelisk talked about something called The One? It seems like a common thing.”

“That’s true,” Zander agreed. “I didn’t think too much about it, I was too tired to think about anything but translation.”

“Quiet,” Vincent interrupted, still fully engrossed in the pages. “I don’t care about that shit. Where’s the next one at?”

“Vince…” Eliot said.

“Ah ha!” Vincent then cleared his throat and began to read again. “In a nation that once ruled most of the world, surrounded by the ocean, lies the next piece of truth. At the heart of this country, beating or not, is where the obelisk is located. This is a place where time can be seen throughout the royal land, ticking forever onwards. What the fuck does that mean?”

Everyone in the room looked at each other with fully concentrated eyes. Each of their brains began to turn at varying speeds, with Zander’s—even though he was exhausted—working the fastest. After a few moments, Fang was actually the first one to speak up.

“It has to be England,” they said.

“Why’s that?” Vincent asked.

“Well…” Their thoughts seemingly trialed off as their face looked as though they were searching for the right words. “I guess it doesn’t matter,” they asided.

“How doesn’t it matter?” Vincent asked. “This is literally the most important thing right now.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Fang countered. “I was thinking out loud about something else.” They then looked at the rest of the group. “You see, I have a bit of a history with England and based off of what I heard, it makes me think that the next piece of the puzzle is in London.”

“I could see that,” Zander jumped in. “I can’t think of a better fit at the moment, but that might be from my lack of sleep.”

“I’m actually quite certain of it for a number of reasons,” they answered. Their face seemed unusually tense and deep in reflection.

“Sweet!” Vincent shouted. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get going!”

“And how are we going to get there without any passports or money?” Zander argued.

“Why do you always have to say such depressing things?”

“I’m just realistic,” Zander stated. “And if reality is depressing, then I guess I am too.”

Fang then suddenly stood up and began to make their way out of the room. “I need to make a call,” they said.

Right after they left the room, the rest of the group just looked at each other. Paralyzed by confusion, they all just sat there in the kitchen. Stagnation filled the air and the only sound that could be heard was the occasional drip of water from the sink. After a couple minutes of awkwardly waiting, Vincent got up and went to find Fang—the rest of the group soon followed.

It didn’t take him long to find them. In fact, after getting out of the kitchen and walking down the hallway, he found Fang at the front desk. They had the phone at the front desk pressed against their ear, already part way into a conversation.

“Damnit Lawrence,” they said. “Well, I suppose that’s the least I can do if he’s willing to let you help us.”

There was a bit of silence.

“That’s how we’re doing, huh?” Fang eventually spoke. “So where are we going to have to meet you?”

Another moment was filled by silence.

“Oh really? He’d do that for us? It’s been so long”

There was one last pause of silence.

Fang let out a small laugh followed by a sigh. “I’m not too sure about that…a lot has changed. But yeah, that sounds like a plan. I’ll see you soon.”

Fang then hung up the phone and turned around. The moment their eyes met Vincent’s, they just smiled.

“What was that about?” Vincent asked.

“Oh that?” Fang said, motioning back towards the phone on the desk. “I just got us a way into London.”