"What is this place?"
Asveri's voice broke the heavy quiet as they were led through narrow metal corridors.
Anor'ven said nothing at first.
His eyes wandered through the rising towers and strange glowing signs.
The hum of machines, the hiss of steam, the alien language — it was all unknown.
At last, after a long silence, he answered.
— "I do not know."
Simple.
Flat.
Truthful.
He did not try to soften it.
They were dragged through the veins of this foreign city.
The guards spoke in clipped, mechanical tones.
— "[Move along.]"
— "[No id, no voice chip — typical trash.]"
Asveri didn't understand the words, but he understood the attitude.
He looked at Anor'ven, but said nothing.
There was no point.
Anor'ven's face remained unreadable.
Soon, they reached a small gate marked by a flickering neon sign.
Registration.
The door hissed open and they were pushed inside.
A gray room.
Bare.
Cold.
Forgotten.
The door closed.
And silence returned.
For a while, neither spoke.
Asveri sat against the wall, arms resting on his knees.
His breathing slowed.
Anor'ven stood, eyes closed, as if listening to something deep inside — or perhaps, trying not to.
The silence stretched.
And then —
Asveri broke it, quietly.
— "Anor… what even are we?"
His voice was hesitant.
Not demanding.
Not angry.
Just… lost.
Anor'ven did not open his eyes.
But this time, he did not ignore the question.
Instead, he stood still, unmoving.
Time passed.
He chose his words carefully — as if, even now, he was uncertain whether they should be spoken.
Finally, slowly, he began.
— "A long time ago… or so I believe… I was born."
His voice was low, almost a whisper.
— "The age is… unclear now. The world was loud back then. Divided. Violent.
Somewhere in that noise… war came."
He paused.
— "I survived. Not by choice. Something changed in me… without my will.
Time… began to ignore me."
Asveri listened, silent, as Anor'ven spoke to the cold walls more than to him.
— "I wandered. Alone.
Years… faded.
Centuries… maybe.
Memory blurs. I don't remember everything anymore."
His eyes darkened.
— "Eventually… I found people. Tribes.
Simple. Afraid.
They… saw me."
His jaw tightened slightly.
— "They thought I was divine.
I refused.
They insisted."
His voice grew colder.
— "In time, they built their lives around me.
I watched them grow.
And… watched them vanish.
They rotted and fell away.
Not by my hand… but as all things do."
Silence.
Asveri said nothing, his eyes wide now.
Anor'ven continued, slower.
— "I walked again. Alone."
His tone shifted. Slightly softer.
— "New life came. A different humanity.
I tried, this time, to live among them.
Quietly.
To… belong."
He stopped.
His eyes lowered.
— "But jealousy is louder than reverence."
There was weight in those words.
Heavy. Bitter.
— "They hated me. Envied me.
Their fear twisted."
A pause.
His face hardened.
— "One day… a child.
He ran toward me.
I moved too quickly."
His voice cracked, barely.
— "He died."
Asveri tensed, startled.
But Anor'ven did not falter.
— "By accident.
But… accident means nothing to grief."
Silence stretched again.
His voice grew hollow.
— "I realized then… peace does not exist.
Where want breathes, blood follows."
He shifted slightly.
— "So I created it.
A place without want.
Without hunger.
Without pain."
Asveri whispered, almost afraid.
— "The Utopia."
Anor'ven did not react to the name.
Only continued, monotone.
— "Yes.
I ended suffering.
By ending desire."
His face was unreadable.
— "But… they broke it anyway.
Not with rebellion.
But with smallness.
Greed. Theft. Lies."
His eyes seemed distant.
— "The utopia collapsed.
I did not destroy it.
They did."
He lowered his gaze fully now.
— "So I wandered again.
Alone."
A deep silence fell after that.
Asveri's mouth was dry.
But Anor'ven finished softly, voice like dust.
— "Until I found you."
The room felt colder now.
Asveri stared down at his hands.
The silence was different this time.
He did not know what to say.
Finally, quietly, Anor'ven added — almost like an echo.
— "We are not rulers.
Nor saviors.
Not even cursed."
He looked at Asveri.
Eyes tired.
But clear.
— "We are witnesses."
But even as they hung in the still air, something felt… off.
Asveri shifted slightly, glancing at his own hands.
— "But… you and I… we're not the same, are we?"
Anor'ven did not answer immediately.
His eyes lowered, thoughtful.
— "No. We are not."
For the first time, his voice carried something else.
Not emotion.
But recognition.
— "I have never heard voices."
— "I do not feel the pull of others. I am simply… detached. Immortal, yes. But hollow."
His eyes met Asveri's.
— "You… are different."
Asveri said nothing.
But he knew.
He could still feel them.
Faint whispers.
Fragments of faraway lives.
Always there.
Always pulling.
Anor'ven continued, slowly.
— "You are connected. The world touches you, whether you wish it or not."
A pause.
— "You will not heal as I do. You will not endure the same way."
His gaze turned distant again.
— "Your path will be different.
More painful.
Perhaps… more real."
Asveri lowered his head, silent.
The weight between them was heavy.
Two immortals.
But not the same.
Different pieces of a puzzle that should never have met — yet somehow did.
Outside the cell, the city moved on, blind and indifferent.
Inside, the two of them sat quietly.
Bound not by fate, nor by friendship.
But by something stranger.
A connection that should not exist — yet refused to break.