interlude 1 A boy in a Room

A boy. A room. A boy in a room. Except it wasn't a room at all. It was something different. It was something beyond the idea of both existence and nonexistence itself. The room was comparable to an unending void with no floor, ceiling, or walls even though it was not that either. The room could be called golden in colour with a boy being seen clearly as if it was a summer's day. And yet, there was no darkness or light. Such things are within existence. This room is beyond existence. Existence was not present. Nothingness was not present either. It did not make sense.

A boy looked around the age of nine. A boy looked average with such a forgettable face that he would be gone from your mind the moment your eyes left him. There was nothing noticeable about him, but he was not average either. He was in fact the most extraordinary boy anyone would ever see. A body that showed great promise and potential as he grew older. Eyes that showed great intelligence that could also stare into your very soul. But he was also the most average and forgettable child anyone would ever see.

He was sitting on a chair in front of a small table. The chair and table seemed as if they were standing on solid ground even though not even nothingness was there. The chair and table did not make sense.

A boy man suddenly had what looked like a cup of tea in his hand and he drank. He didn't seem to enjoy it, but he didn't seem dislike it either. It didn't seem like he drank anything at all.

A boy looked down at his palm and opened his hand. Something was in it, and it did not make sense. It was like a line, the same thickness as a plastic straw. Surrounding the line were what like shards of gold-stained glass with some of the shards constantly disappearing and reappearing while others seemed to be absorbed by the mysterious gold line. The line spread out of from left to right. Unending. No. Beyond infinite in length and yet it did not extend past a boy's hand.

Although a boy seemed to look human it was clear that he wasn't. A boy was no Ethorian, Ethos or even a thing called The Celestial Ethos either. For a boy was beyond such small creatures. A boy was something so much more. A boy was something far greater than anything. A boy could not be comprehended by a simple thing like the mind. A boy watched the golden line with such intent it was as if he was reading a book. A book that held the story of all stories.

A boy did not make sense.