Chapter 119 Finding Theron
KAEL
We started small. Asked Theron what he liked. What he wanted. What made him happy beyond duty.
He couldn't answer. Three hundred years of being Commander and he'd forgotten how to be anything else.
"Try." I sat across from him in a tavern. Neutral ground. Away from the palace. "What did you enjoy before you became a soldier?"
"Don't remember. That was three centuries ago. Different person. Different life." He stared at his drink. Untouched. "Barely remember my family. My childhood. Anything before the sword."
"Then we find new things. Discover what Theron likes now." I pushed a list across the table. "Nyx and I made suggestions. Activities. Hobbies. Pick one. We try it today."
He looked at the list. Art. Music. Cooking. Reading. Gardening. Dozens of options.
"This feels silly. I'm three hundred years old. I don't need hobbies like a child."
"You're three hundred years old and don't know who you are beyond your job. That's not silly. That's tragic." I leaned forward. "Pick something. Give it a chance."
He pointed randomly. "Fine. Woodworking."
We found a workshop. Local craftsman who taught basics. How to measure. How to cut. How to shape wood.
Theron was terrible at it. Hands trained for weapons didn't translate to delicate work. He made mistakes. Broke pieces. Got frustrated.
But after two hours, he'd made something. Rough bowl. Uneven. Imperfect. But his.
"I made this." He turned it over. Studying it. "It's not much. Not useful. But I made it for no reason except making."
"How does it feel?"
"Strange. Pointless. But..." He paused. "Not bad. Just different than fighting. Different than being Commander."
"Different good or different bad?"
"Different confusing." He set the bowl down. "Don't know if making bowls gives me reason to stay. Don't know if this fixes anything."
"Doesn't have to fix everything. Just has to be a start. Something that's yours instead of duty's." I stood. "Tomorrow we try something else. Until we find things that make you Theron instead of just Commander."
We kept trying. Different activities. Different experiences.
Music lessons. He had no rhythm but tried. Painting. Everything came out violent but it was expression. Cooking. He burned water but laughed.
Slowly, pieces emerged. Theron liked working with his hands. Liked creating instead of destroying.
"Been competent for three hundred years." He admitted after a disastrous cooking lesson. "Being incompetent is freeing. Like I'm allowed to fail."
"Is it helping?"
"Don't know yet. But it's making staying feel different. Less like obligation. More like mine."
Three weeks in, Theron started sleeping better. Started smiling occasionally.
But he still had bad days. Days when pain piled up. When dissolution seemed easier.
"I'm not cured." He told me. "Just managing. No promises about tomorrow."
"That's okay. Managing is enough."
"What if trying isn't enough? What if I still choose dissolution?"
"Then you choose. And we respect it." I met his eyes. "Just try honestly instead of from desperation."
He nodded. "I can do that."
A month passed. Then two. Theron kept trying. Kept finding pieces of himself.
He wasn't healed. But he was trying. And some days, that felt like winning.
Then the anomaly appeared again. In the throne room. Uninvited.
We have been watching. We have been observing your efforts to make existence bearable.
"What do you want?" I demanded.
We come with warning. With truth you are avoiding. The presence expanded. Your efforts are noble. But they are also futile. Pain accumulates faster than joy. Loss compounds more than love. Eventually, everyone reaches breaking point where dissolution is preferable.
"You're wrong. We're proving you wrong. We're helping people stay."
You are delaying inevitable. You are providing temporary relief to permanent problem. You are fighting entropy itself. The anomaly pulsed. And entropy always wins.
"Then we fight longer. We build better support. We make today worth it even if tomorrow isn't guaranteed."
For how long? How many tomorrows before pain becomes unbearable? How many losses before existence is only suffering? The presence focused on me. You have lost mate. You will lose daughter. Eventually, you will face choice we offer. Eventually, you will choose peace over pain. It is inevitable.
"No. I refuse. I choose to keep existing. Keep fighting. Keep loving despite loss. That's what Sera died for."
Your mate's sacrifice means nothing if you eventually choose dissolution. The anomaly's voice was gentle. Almost kind. We do not judge. We simply wait. We know that pain accumulates until it becomes unbearable. And when it does, we will be here. Offering peace.
"Get out. Leave us alone."
We do not convince. We observe. We present reality. We wait for you to reach inevitable conclusion. The anomaly began fading. Some will take longer than others. Some will fight harder. But all will eventually choose peace. It is mathematical certainty. It is entropy. It is inevitable.
It vanished. Left us with certainty that we were fighting a losing battle.
"It's lying." Nyx said. But her voice wavered. "It has to be lying. People can build resilience. Can find joy that outweighs pain."
"Can they? For how long? Forever?" Theron spoke. "I want to believe it's lying. Want to think hobbies will be enough. But what if it's right? What if pain really does accumulate until it's unbearable?"
"Then we delay well. We make every day count. We build joy that matters even if it doesn't last forever." I looked around. "We're not giving up just because entropy exists. We're fighting anyway. Because that's what being alive means."
"Is it? Or is that being stubborn? Being afraid of peace?" Cassian asked quietly. "What if the First Ones are right? What if collective consciousness is genuinely better than individual suffering?"
"Then we're wrong. And someday we'll realize it. And we'll choose merging." I stood. "But not today. Today we choose staying. Today we build support. And tomorrow we do it again. Until we can't anymore."
"And when we can't? When pain outweighs everything?" Nyx's voice was small. "What then?"
"Then we choose honestly. We evaluate fairly. We decide without pressure." I moved toward the door. "But we give staying a real chance first. We don't quit from fear of eventual pain. We keep going until going becomes genuinely unbearable."
They nodded. Uncertain. Afraid. But willing to keep trying.
Because what else could we do? Give up because the enemy promised we'd lose eventually? Choose dissolution because pain was inevitable?
No. We fought. We tried. We built joy despite knowing loss was coming. We connected despite knowing separation hurt.
Because that's what living meant. Choosing today despite uncertain tomorrow. Choosing connection despite inevitable loss.
It was hard. It was exhausting. It was fighting a battle we might eventually lose.
But it was also beautiful. It was meaningful. It was proving that fighting mattered even when victory wasn't guaranteed.
So we kept fighting. Kept building. Kept making today worth it.
One day at a time. One choice at a time. One moment of choosing existence over erasure.
Until we couldn't anymore. Until pain truly did outweigh joy. Until entropy won.
But not today. Not yet. Not while we could still find reasons to stay.
The First Ones could wait. Could watch. Could promise we'd eventually choose them.
But today, we chose each other. And that was enough.
For now.