Dying Whispers

"I guess you were destined to find out," Florence joked. "Or maybe it's just a testament to that perfect mind."

Gilgamesh shook his head as he took a step forward. There was actually no need to move toward the space Florence directed him to; he could theoretically open a pathway from anywhere in the Library.

It just felt right to do it from where she had indicated.

"There are indescribable barriers- like you mentioned- that are only real if you know they're real. If you hadn't told me about them, then they wouldn't exist in my reality."

"Because you did, I was able to understand them. I was also able to understand how it might be possible to bypass them."

Florence leaned forward, "Did you learn what they're called?"

Gilgamesh shook his head, "I don't think there's a term."

A glint of light flashed in Florence's eyes, "They're called 'Canonical Margins.' Of course, I'm the only one that knows that."

Gilgamesh was taken aback. A few things bombarded him, like the fact that he wasn't able to figure that out despite having a 'perfect mind.'

He wondered how Florence knew, why she said she was the only one that knew, and whether or not she had just made the term up.

In the end, he ignored those thoughts and recalled that his perfect mind had not actually been able to understand Florence's concept either.

All he got was a strange woman he had never seen. She was like a living book. He had assumed that she was the Mother of Scriptures, but now he was not so sure.

"So..." he continued, "the Canonical Margins are impossible to breach, especially if you don't know they exist."

Florence sighed, "Don't I know it. There's a way through though, isn't there?"

Though it sounded like a question, Gilgamesh felt like Florence was stating more than asking.

He licked his lips, "While they are impossible to breach, they aren't impossible to get through."

Florence raised a brow.

Gilgamesh smiled, "The important part is that you aren't trying to breach them. If it's an attempt to defy their function, they retaliate."

Realization dawned on Florence just as Gilgamesh was going to continue. Her mouth and his opened at the same time.

In unison, they both voiced what they came to understand.

"We have to write ourselves into the other layer!"

Gilgamesh faltered slightly while Florence grunted in annoyance.

"How in fuck's name did I not figure that out? It's so obvious!"

"BAH!!!"

Florence blew off some steam as Gilgamesh watched, blinking with a blank expression.

"If it was so obvious, why did you need me to figure it out?"

"Shut the fuck up!"

Florence glared at him, and he noticed the awakening of that ferocious light in her eyes.

Before he knew what was going, his eyes suddenly widened and he looked down at his pants in shock.

Hurriedly, he twisted himself in and brought his cloak over his shoulders, covering his front. His expression quickly went placid, and he even started to whistle softly.

Florence did not seem to notice anything.

"Unlike you, the Library won't force-feed me the answers I want. You can easily discern the applications of the knowledge you have, meanwhile I can't."

"I'm not perfect like you."

Gilgamesh paused, then he swallowed. "What are you?"

Florence pursed her lips and her foxy ears twitched. "I'm... something else..."

"Anyway, can you do it? Or do you need me to?"

Noticing how quickly Florence changed the topic, Gilgamesh knew that she must not want to talk about it.

He nodded and stepped forward, "I think I can do it."

With a single arm, he reached out and grabbed hold of the void. His brows furrowed when he felt himself grab onto the nature of space.

"Not you."

Space shattered, revealing sub-division of reality hidden beneath the surface. Multi-colored fragments of what made up this layer of the Library were slowly being eroded by his touch.

He grabbed onto the nature of time.

"No."

He felt himself hold onto the nature of matter.

"Get lost."

His hands reached into the nature of existence itself, and he growled.

"Outta the way."

He bypassed the natures of reality, conceptual functions and even the base nature of beginninglessness.

In the end, he felt himself touch something that could not be touched. Something he felt but knew could not be felt.

Something he should not be touching.

When he reached it, he could move his hand no deeper. By now, his entire forearm had disappeared into the void, making it seem like his arm had been severed.

"I feel it- the Canonical Margin."

Florence nodded quickly, "You know what to do now?"

"Of course," Gilgamesh grunted, and his mind went into overdrive.

He expressed an inner desire, and his perfect being made total use of its special properties. He began to touch The Scripture, and forced it to accept what he was about to do to it.

Through the Canonical Margin, Gilgamesh touched the nature of The Scripture that existed on the other side-- in that other layer.

He rewrote it once again, and made it possible for Florence and himself to bypass the barrier.

Then, and only then, did he feel his hand begin to move forward again. At the same time, the Library split open.

The pathway was made into the other layer. A direct doorway into what Florence referred to as 'the Story.'

"Remarkable. I didn't even sense any kind of power from you. You did it all with your soul. Your perfect soul." Florence scoffed, clearly impressed.

"Now I get why she couldn't create more than one of you. The existence of one would completely delete the other."

Gilgamesh turned to Florence with a flat smile. "One of me is more than enough."

Florence giggled as she made her way through the passageway. "You can say that again."

As she vanished through it, Gilgamesh moved forward and disappeared as well. The passageway closed, and they were gone.

In another layer of the Library, everything was different.

There was no void, only black. No Book Collections, but collections of streaming, twisting, winding lines spreading out everywhere.

As Gilgamesh looked at it, he could feel the connection between those lines and the Library.

He knew that they were still within the Library, just in another sub-space within the Library. Each of those lines reached out into the Library itself, and was turned over into another layer of the Library.

"What is this..." Gilgamesh moved toward one of those lines, about to reach out and touch it.

"These are the storylines. They don't exist within The Scripture, and they were not directly created by her either. They are a result of her writing stories."

"They came to exist on their own." Florence sighed.

Gilgamesh tried to stroke one of the storylines, but his hand went right through. "So they're independent existences?"

"Not exactly," Florence breathed. "If rain falls on flat ground, the water runs off. If I dig a hole, and rain falls again, the water is gathered in the hole."

"The storylines are just like the rain being gathered. I didn't put the water there, but it was gathered because I dug the hole. So, in reality, it's just a matter of course."

Gilgamesh nodded. "I get it. So the storylines are the effects of God writing stories."

"Yeah..." Florence said as she looked around. She seemed lost in thought, but then she siged again.

She waved her hand, and dozens of jewels were released from her body. They all broke, and hundreds of scrolls appeared, all unfurled.

Gilgamesh looked over to Florence and saw her surrounded by a huge number of scrolls. Some were bronze, some were silver, most were gold.

"These are Story-Hearts. They are the manifestation of the storyline within any given story."

She pointed at some of them, and they moved before dividing themself into sections. "The bronze ones are from Fourth Edition Book Collections."

"The silver ones are from Third Editions and Second Editions , and the gold ones are from First Edition Book Collections."

Gilgamesh was, once again, reminded of his visions.

"You have so many of them... What are they for?"

"The silver and bronze ones aren't as special as the gold. The gold ones are the stories that she herself poured out her effort into. They have traces of her direct interference."

"Due to that, they can only be acquired if the person in charge of maintaining those stories passes them on. I had to go through a whole lotta bullshit to get them."

Florence laughed as she recalled the events that led to her acquiring those scrolls, and Gilgamesh stepped closer to observe her and them.

"I am going to place them into the storyline, and use their creative power for myself."

Gilgamesh watched as Florencd moved toward the closest line, his eyes glittery.

"If I'm lucky... I will be able to see it."

Florence took hold of several scrolls, and began to force them into storyline.

Every time she tool hold of a scroll, Gilgamesh could hear sounds coming from them. He heard whispers, agonized and saddened.

He heard painful cries, and felt the shadow of loss creep over his heart. He knew what those voices were feeling.

"Those are the sounds of the dying stories. Decillions of lives, brought under her control."

Florence's eyes glistened.

"However. If you listen close..."

As she pushed more and more scrolls into the storyline, the sound of relief and rejoicing cries slowly got louder. The inherent glow of the storyline became brighter and brighter.

"When they enter the embrace of the storyline, though they are dying, they are happy."

Gilgamesh exhaled slowly. He found himself wishing he could feel that kind of relief.

"They are happy... because they are free..."

Florence kept pushing scrolls into the storyline, not stopping.

"What is it that you are trying to do? You want to see something?"

Florence nodded and coughed, sounding like she was trying not to cry.

"When they die, the creative energy of the stories is left ownerless. If I have enough, I may be able to direct the energy into the storyline."

"I should be able to see everything that the storylines are connected to. Everything that she ever created."

Florence turned to Gilgamesh, and he saw her quivering pupils. There was a collection of emotions in her eyes boiling down to the fact that she was standing on the precipice if acheiving her goal.

Her voice trembled, and she finally spoke plainly.

"If I can do that, then I'll be able to see where I came from."