The cavern was deathly quiet. Minute sounds of breaths taken in short intervals bounced off the walls like booming echoes. Sweat dropped like heavy summer rains in the midst of the humid environ. It was a space saturated with suspense, b with tension and anxiety. 

 Since that voice had spoken, the intrinsic fear that comes with the supernatural shocked their veins, bristling the hairs on their napes; this was no ordinary entity they dealt with, but one whose voice stupefied even the most stubborn skeptic. The rampant drumming of their hearts filled their ears and if they could, they would've stood up to shake off their nerves but they were incapable of even that. Their senses were dull, their minds spinning in dazzling revolutions that sparked tiny bursts of white fire like flint. An unexplainable heaviness had fallen like a pall upon them...

Minutes had passed until Myungsoo finally asked, "What did you hear him say?"

 "He said we need to cleanse ourselves because we have dipped our toes in sin."

Infected with somnolence, Myungsoo opted to crawl backwards until his back met the cavern wall. His chin on his fist, he endeavored to explain away the voice. It couldn't have been the fruit as he had hypothesized. Had it been meager hallucinations, it would never decipher the reason why both he and Dongwoo heard the exact same message at the exact time. This riddle that would elude the brightest minds could never be answered with logic. Logic as it is, could never account for the divine- those ineffable mysteries that reside within the dimension of faith.

Still, Myungsoo refuted the idea of any transmission of godly dialogue. He was no blind heretic but found reason enough in his complaints to repudiate the intentions of a lofty being who had for years played deaf to his moans and bitter sobs. 

 Dongwoo observed his companion with an aquiline stare as he shifted his weighty body to sit on his rear, crossed-legged. As before, he was shocked by the sudden voice but that didn't impede him from wondering about Myungsoo. From that brooding poise, he could tell he was having difficulty with the holy revelation they had just received. He was already well aware of his stance on Nesher but hoped that this sacrosanct event would now work in him for good, spurring him back into their most holy faith.

Time had frozen, the hours passing like small waves unidentifiable to those who simply walk along the muddy shore without glimpsing at the undulating expanse. Both hadn't moved an inch and now the azure sky was replaced by the scarlet glow of twilight. They existed in a flux that was ignorant of the world's troubles, one with a limbo that unified their desires, their whole essence with the unstirred waters of eternity. 

Dongwoo's eyes were like magnets that stuck to Myungsoo's steely gaze, staring evermore into the space between his legs. He was anticipating the moment he would speak, breaking the silence with the proclamation of his conversion. On the other hand, Myungsoo was occupied with discerning a potential reason why both he and Dongwoo heard the voice, simultaneously questing for the reason why- if the deity was no imagination- he was spoken to despite his strong disdain towards the holy.
 
He was busy compiling a list of all those instances Nesher failed to succor in his long life. It was a bitter gall he drank as he relived those fleeting painful memories. His mind drifted to think upon his sister and how if she never discovered Nesher, then she most likely would've been alive- living a lie as Oscuridaon's daughter, but still alive. There was no moment in which he rested from reflecting on the past. 

It wasn't until night that he finally stood up out of hunger. Dongwoo was asleep, a thin trail of drool glistening on his chin in the opaque cave. He scoffed and wagged his head in disapproval, asking himself why he didn't rush him to bathe as that voice had ordered. 

As he stepped outside he noted the white dotted sky of night looking more brighter, more mystical than usual as if he was peering into the secrets of the universe. A wind swept over him and with an abrupt shudder, his ears were perked to tune in to a most holy discussion.

 "Why have you two not washed yourselves? From the crown of your head to the dust beneath your soles, you are covered in sin. As you are now, you cannot stand before me."

 Again, Myungsoo had involuntarily prostrated himself, his chest affixed like a permanent object to the damp jungle loam. He was too riddled with awe to even think about speaking his mind to Nesher. 
    
 "If you will not go, I will take you myself." 

 Myungsoo gasped. He had winced out of fear for his life, not that the voice was sinister but because he was made aware of an impending judgement. He had become conscious of all his murders and countless crimes. "Impenitence" was no longer a quality he fully possessed but as the feelings of compunction were slowly wrapping around his heart with a tighter clutch than ever before, he was relocated to an entirely new area. 

He was no longer at the mouth of the cavern nor was he alone, he noted with a sideways glance. It was like magic, both he and Dongwoo were now lying on the ground, directly in front of a shimmering body of water. Much like he, his companion was now wide awake, roused from sleep by the sudden miracle that had occurred.

As his fingers squirmed, closed and opened, he noted his strength had returned in full. He rose to his feet like a somber shape arising from the dirt, shaking off the dust of non-existence. He existed and breathed in a renewed breath of air, one more satisfying than any he had recently taken, liberated from the congestion of the humid clime. Yet he realized the person besides him didn't share this same feeling. On the contrary, the boy besides him appeared fraught with sorrow and bitterness.

He hadn't spoken a word but for reasons known only to those shadowy recesses of his heart, he was able to comprehend a deep attachment Dongwoo had with this location. It was more than a landmark or a well of life for the organisms that roamed the jungle, he assumed. As he glimpsed at him a second time he noticed his eyes following a small ripple of water. In that instant he mysteriously guessed that this place, this lake, was of tremendous value for him. But as he was, he couldn't approach him. His mind was gravitating around that voice that had commanded him to purify his body as though he owned him.

His upper lip twitched, wanting to snarl at his meditations. His heart would suffer not even the edicts of heaven; too long had it been accustomed to maverick tendencies. His inner-man was soaked with the blood of the innocent and would not be cleansed even with water flowing from celestial brooks. Why was his former god meddling now when there was no one he cared about? Why didn't he intervene to spare his sister? 

There was much conflict in his troubled mind, ranging from guilt over his countless sins to haunting memories, deep yearning for the past, and theological paradoxes and mysteries.

Casting off the thoughts with much disdain, he distracted himself by scanning the encompassing area. He spotted a small mound upon which several gems of mysterious allure glinted like ancient stars beneath the moon. His curiosity compelled him to walk over there. As his foot fell to tread the gentle slope, it retracted itself as with a shock. 

 "This is a grave..."

A chill ran through his lithe body. He felt an icy talon run down his spine, tearing his flesh asunder. With a gasp, he wheeled, fully expecting to confront some weird anomaly of life, some peculiar shape found only in this jungle. It was no ghost, but a hollow body, a listless pair of eyes that locked with his.

 "This is where I buried my mother," Dongwoo said with a groan.

 Myungsoo exhaled a gusty sigh. His soul twitched with compassion, a sudden sympathy that compelled him to at the very least acknowledge his hurt by placing his calloused hand upon that bronze-tinged shoulder. He didn't. For him to have actually done it would entail a bond, a feel of relationship he was reluctant to accept. The following moments were tense moments of experience for him, pushing him to consider several possibilities as to how to respond to this revelation. Unwittingly, by considering his options when he could've walked away meant he subconsciously acknowledged a connection with Dongwoo.

 "I'm sorry you lost your family, too."

 He scowled, "It's of no matter to you, who I lost."

Dongwoo nodded. The foaming waves of melancholy were stirring in his mind. Not only was he sad to be at this place, but also because he had taken a life. He might've saved Myungsoo, Kei, and even a nation but no matter how he tried to summon pretexts, he was unexcused before the bar of heaven where due reckoning was exacted for every deed. He wanted to be absolved of his sin.

 One second he was there, the next he was diving headfirst into the lake. 

 "The devil is wrong with him?!" 

 A full minute passed and Dongwoo had not come out of the lake. Was he drowning? Irritated, Myungsoo went against his will and casted off all his accoutrements, diving to save Dongwoo. As the water erupted upwards with his reckless entrance, Dongwoo succinctly rose from the dusky abyss, his hand clutching onto a long plank-like object. Myungsoo growled, a mass of bubbles forming around his mouth with his constant cursing.

When the two were on solid ground, Myungsoo was tempted to grapple with him but ere he could, Dongwoo stood up and shook off the various leafy tendrils that were wrapped around the object in his hand. It was a steel sword, regular in length, he bore. 

 "While performing the ablution, I saw a shimmering metal in the water and came out with this, a sword I once used."

 Myungsoo narrowed his eyes at him and sighed. He didn't want to engage in any sort of vain discussion but was now thinking as to what would happen next. What would Nesher do now? He had, too, conducted that ritual of washing, even if it was not exactly with his total consent. So the question that remained was, what would become of him? If he could bring him down to this terrestrial realm, he'd fight him, but could he?

A tap on his shoulder, Myungsoo glanced up to see Dongwoo extend the sword to him. Apparently, he had been talking, relaying parcels of history in the jungle when his mother used that very sword to claim meals, fend off monsters, and then how he inherited it only to lose it in the lake, shortly after. It had fallen on deaf ears, but now that he had his full attention with the pangs of guilt magically lifted off him because of the water ceremony, he directed his voice to him again.

 "Myungsoo, I thought you could use this. I thought I lost it forever but fate has brought it to me again. Take it," he said while extending the broadsword.

 "Why? I don't need anything from you." 

 Whether or not he had actually taken any innocent life was unknown to him. He definitely knew he killed before, but whether those he killed were exclusively villains was a murky subject. At any rate, he wanted him to bear a new sword, one he knew was unstained with human blood. 
 
 "Take it," he insisted.

 "You use it, I have my own," he trailed off when thinking about the haunting that now came with the usage of his gilded blade. He hated that he was affected by guilt when in times past he simply overrode those crude feelings. They were constant nuisances that irked his soul and spiked his ire and horror to no end. Now even thinking about those thoughts made him incensed.

Angry at this dilemma, he stood and brusquely swiped the sword from Dongwoo; it was all impulse at work, no deliberate action whatsoever.

His companion marveled at him, the sword having been swung up and in a flash, entrenched to the hilt in the muddy loam. It was clear he was furious, he mused. His eyes were widened with some type of impression but he was unafraid, certain he wouldn't harm him.

 "Why did he chose us?" Myungsoo demanded with a piercing glare, his hands clamping on Dongwoo's moist arms.

 "I don't know," he stammered, "I don't know the mind of god. Who does? All I know is that he has his good reasons."

 "What damned reasons?!"

 He grunted and shook him with a rage before pulling himself away. His mane flung back with a fierce whirl and his fingers were busy rubbing his temples. He hadn't touched his golden blade but those intrusive whispers and half-blurry images were invading his already fading patience.

All this trouble, all these deaths and bloodshed could have been avoided had Nesher intervened, but he didn't. Now he was at his wit's end, debating why he had to choose him for this torture. It was torture for him to have been selected by his former god who had never showed intent in moving until now. It was punishment for him to confront the one to whom he directed so much hatred to. He hated him more than he did Oscuridaon now and wanted him to descend to kill him.

He had killed so-called gods in his past, all farces and stupid idols. They were no match for his strength and power: from the ape-like god of the forest-dwelling tribes of Boer, to the serpent god of the Nevialtha people who dwell by the sea coast. All were beasts that indeed spoke as men do, but he had felled them all. He so desperately wanted that winged being to swoop down from heaven to have his sword rent its frail wings, to pluck at its feathers and twist its head. He wasn't afraid of judgment when rage fueled s, but cursed the eagle deity with blasphemous oaths.

At this exact moment, the voice began again with a tone reminiscent of gentle morning winds. As had been the natural involuntary reaction, the two were again drained of all their energy and fell to the damp ground like heavy rain drops. Their minds were devoid of distractions, of all insular emotions and aspirations, made perfectly receptive to the divine utterance.

 "My sons," the solemn voice said, "how long have I yearned to gather my people and not only them but a multitude, multitudes under my wings- to set her as a bride beneath the marriage canopy. Now, hasten! You must ascend that holy mount. You my prophet, and you my instrument of vengeance and salvation, must climb those twin peaks yonder. Yon peaks will I manifest myself to you."

The voice ceased and the air was impregnated with wonder and heavy tension. Everything became a mushy pulp with the smoke of ambiguity filling their brains with strange existential propositions the two had never sought to fathom. It would take the passing of minutes for their minds to react to the command.

The pair gasped in a deep breath of air and sat on the mud, their stares directed to each other. Their vitality was slowly returning as they resolved to ascend the peaks that rose from the foundation wherein the Cave of Power was situated. Each had their distinct reason, yet both wanted answers. As if they were crawling up some hectic zenith of height, the two very cautiously stood up, still uncertain as to whether their strength had returned in full.

Myungsoo strapped on his harness and secured his choice weapon, the golden sword in its leather scabbard, on his back. There was a moment of trepidation as he fastened its strap across his chest and over his back, but with a grunt, he pushed ahead. He glimpsed at Dongwoo also putting on his own equipment, his father Avlot's golden cuirass. It's sparkle under the moonlight was an allure he had earlier circumvented but now it caught his eye again. How many years had passed since his father lived...

Seeing Myungsoo aiming a glance at his brilliant armor made him aware of an opportunity. Now was the perfect chance to ask him to wait while he set off to finish a small quest.

 "Wait, before we go, I want to speak some words to my mother. I need to tell her about the friend I met, the girl I long for, and the many experiences- also about how I found the sword I'd forgotten and lost," he added with a faint smile.

 He had spoken with such clarity and determination that Myungsoo found himself listening to each and every word. The times he heard him speak like this usually alluded to a great decision he had made or else a great situation that was to occur. The two were missing their parents at almost the exact same time. Whether such a thing was coincidental or not eluded him. Everything felt orchestrated now, perhaps the hand of the god looming above. 

 "Go ahead," he said sternly. It was not that he wanted to please him, but rather it amounted to him regarding the notion that if he said "no" or left without him, he would hear no end of his complaints afterwards. 

Why was he thinking about a shared future? Suddenly, he grunted and ran his hand through his still wet hair.

As Dongwoo ran to visit his mother's grave, Myungsoo remained standing by the spot he had entrenched the sword into with his arms crossed, foot impatiently tapping. All alone with only his reflection to keep him company, he felt isolated, estranged from all creation. Although the night weather was soothing and the breeezes, calm, there was no period of respite for him.

 A god was awaiting him on the mount and then what? What would happen there? Would there exist a future after that? Would he fight him there as he so desired or would his soul be damned? If he passed over that event, would he then clash with Oscuridaon?

His dusky, but clear likeness that lived in the water's mirror world laughed at him. He shook his head and kneeled to meet a simple but dusky image of himself. He reflected on his past as he vividly remembered staring at his mirror image that existed in the glass of Myungeun's capsule.

Who he once was and who he is now were two separate entities, never to be rejoined. He was as far removed from that child that played with his father and who made silly faces at his sister behind the glass as the east is from the west. He had only his god to blame, defiantly rejecting the idea of admitting responsibility for his crimes.

Dissatisfied and pestered by that thought, he departed to the vain comfort of imagination, setting off to consider dimensions of life that might parallel his own. Were there in fact, other lives which he might've lived, other histories which he might've made or other reflections that were like him yet not like him?

Penetrating these considerations, the voice began again. 

 "Myungsoo, Myungsoo," the voice called .

 "Here I am,"  he responded with anger brewing in his veins. 

 "You must now come up this holy mount. I await you there."

He blinked and when his eyelids opened, he discovered he was standing before the Cave of Power, at the foot of the peaks he was instructed to climb. Moreover, he was aware that this marked the first time he wasn't sapped of his strength after the voice spoke.