The Thirty-Second Entry

 Light streamed in all around me as the meditation chamber lifted away and retreated into the ceiling above. Soft yellow light sparsely dangled from the metal rafters.

As my eyes adjusted from the darkness, the lights overhead revealed more of the room. Metal and wood crates of various sizes huddled together along the walls - some used for makeshift tables surrounded by a few metal chairs. A stack of playing cards rested on the nearest table to the mediation chamber, remnants of a game unfinished, and a metal tube resting at its center. A larger metal table rested against the wall closest to the bridge adorned with a cloth and various utensils, and wood benches for seating.

Bands of beads draped themselves over the back-room’s entrance, and a sitting area rested beside it on the left. A large black sofa, and two loveseats rested on an intricately designed dark red rug with lines of purple and white tapered into dramatic symbols. Two large cushions accompanied the sitting area, light and malleable to the touch. To the left of the sofa was a large wood shelf with an assortment of paper back books, all varying genres, and topics. None of which I’d ever heard of.

Finally, to the right of the bridge set a countertop and stove, which looked to be the most advanced thing in the room, with several dials and settings, and coated in a grey steel sheen.

A hum filled the room, which originated from multiple small heaters strategically placed along the walls. Along with the smell of perhaps a previously enjoyed meal.

Everything in this space had changed – the gloom of the Harrower had dissipated into a warmly lit and well heated area.

I stood, my knees buckling for a moment, and dust floated off my being and onto the metallic floor. I examined myself, the flocks of dust floating in the air, my arms and body intact, and took a step away from the throne. Taking that step felt like a breeze of fresh air, as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Perhaps something had changed within me – the visions and the fight from before solidifying my resolve.

Just as I began turning to explore the ship – the bridge door opened in front of me. A man appeared in the doorway, his organic-metallic features absorbing the warm light above, holding a tray with a pair of porcelain cups. His attire was draped with a stitched together dark green sweater, a black t-shirt beneath, and white sweatpants. Just as he too was about to turn towards the kitchen, he stopped and turned to me. His eyes lit up with a mix of emotions, but his body was struck with shock, and the tray slipped from his fingers crashing onto the floor.

The sound of the backdoor sliding open and beads being pushed aside, came from behind me.

“A’re, what’s wron-g?“ A deeper but familiar voice said from the doorway. “Axiom?”

The voice from behind came dashing out in front of me, a wide smile already prepared.

“Yulthar?” My disused voice questioned.

The young man in front of me laughed and gestured with his arms outstretched as to confirm my suspicion. But this Yulthar was different from one I remembered. He was several feet taller, his muscles more defined, and his features older. His black hair was tied back into a small bun, and his attire casual in appearance: A plain white t-shirt, with black sweatpants. Perhaps the room was warmer than I could feel, the suit constantly keeping temperatures at a cool level.

Yulthar’s branded paint looked cleaner, the scars healed, and even repainted as if it was embraced rather than shunned. His green eyes scoured over my armor as if to remind himself of my image.

A’re and Yulthar both looked as if they had seen a ghost. Yulthar, however, stepped closer and made a gesture as if he was going to hug me. But the armor made it difficult for him to find an angle, and he decided against it.

Instead, I took the lead and stretched out my right hand – lightly grasping his left shoulder. He returned the gesture, and it appeared sufficient for both of us.

I turned to A’re, who had begun cleaning up the mess by gathering the porcelain onto the tray once again. We did the same, and I felt another burden lift from my shoulders.

Yulthar approached again: “I have so much to show you, so many things to tell you. Oh, what do I show you first? Wait, wait, I know! Follow me!”

Yulthar led me to one of the various metal crates, a black stripe painted itself down the side, and pulled off the lid. He then rummaged through the crate and retrieved something from it. He turned to me and revealed a metal bar. It was only slightly larger than his hand, and he grasped it in the center. It reminded me of a hilt, but unformed and with no wrapping.

“Watch this.” Yulthar said excitedly.

I did as asked, and Yulthar squeezed his hand on the bar. The metal contorted to his fingers, and suddenly the metal expanded like a liquid and into a shape. A single sharp-sided sword formed from the pseudo-liquid metal.

“Also.” Yulthar said, again adjusting his grip on the metal.

The metal then formed into a spear, and then an axe. Yulthar then extended the bar to me, and I took it. It was light and smooth, but I couldn’t identify the material of the metal. It was strange and oddly familiar, but it did not react to my touch. I handed it back to Yulthar.

“Where did you get this?” I asked.

“A very far world from here. I’m not sure we’re even in the same universe now. Their world looked to just be developing or taking great leaps in technology. It reminded me of home, but with less metal everywhere. Culture was a bit heavy handed too. Oh, that’s not all I have.” Yulthar began saying, before A’re interjected.

“Let’s leave the explaining for later. Axiom, I’m sure you have a lot of questions for us. Please sit down and let’s talk.” A’re gestured to the table, which he seemed to clear.

A’re brought a metal chair over for me to sit at the head of the table, and both sat across from each other. I looked at the chair and sat down, and it squeaked some. It was uncomfortable.

“There’s a lot to discuss. You’ve been gone for five years, after all.” A’re said.