"An answer?"

Attis claimed to have made sense of the memories that pervaded all their existences, and the mystery of why he had lived longer was partially revealed: it had just happened. Nothing special, nothing arcane, he had just lived longer... But why...?

"You know what the memories mean?"

Dyss was curious. They had been his only constant companions, after all...

"They're what comprise us, Dyss."

The answer was simple, spoken as if it were common knowledge--even though Attis was the only one of them that truly knew the answer. However, knowing it . . . it would feel like one knew it all along, that somewhere deep in one's own heart, the answer had always been there--and that it was a matter of the mind refusing to see it, perhaps by way of the absolute senselessness of it. Who wanted to admit that they were an anomaly?

"They're what we are," Attis sat up straight before he continued, "Everyday, people die. They pass into the dead lands and wait for someone to send them elsewhere, away from that place. The people that everyone seems to see as our ultimate enemy are really those that help the living the most. But sometimes, the job is too much for even them. Sometimes, Reapers overlook a spirit waiting to move on, and over time, it degrades. Or perhaps it falls prey to people just like Vincent. Peoples and creatures that feed off of disjointed and lost spirits . . ."

Vincent had said something about it. He'd mentioned specifically that Dyss and Recheov were unlike anyone else he'd ever encountered before--and that he wanted to know what spirits like theirs tasted like, curiosity filling the drive for malice . . .

". . . and once it's too late, a Reaper can do nothing for them. All that's left are the remnants of their spirit, all their experiences, thoughts, and feelings, all removed and saturating the dead lands, creating that thick, permeating fog. And sometimes, when the fog is at its thickest, similar thoughts or feelings or memories all spark a reaction, and something comes of it. An anomaly. A Memory. We're nothing more than the rejects of the dead lands trying to find a home somewhere. We weren't planned. We're barely even natural. Everyone who's died wants to see what's on the other side, though. And those that didn't have the chance . . ."

Attis set his hand to his heart.

"Might, with us. Even if they're gone, with us, their lives still amounted to something. That's why we exist, Dyss."

It was a hard idea to handle. The idea that they weren't ever supposed to exist... That there was no purpose, no reason, just a grouping of leftover souls? No... That was just... Unfair. They didn't deserve that. None of them deserved that. A few years of tortured existence, as the remnant of dozens or hundreds of other lost existences...

"That's just... Wrong... Is that really it? We live for a little while because we were never supposed to exist?"

Then... Was it right that they go on? Should they even try to find a cure? Was it all hopeless? The reapers wanted to kill them for existing... People like Vincent fed on the Memories... Disgusting, all of it. Now, they didn't even have a right to exist, really? Weren't supposed to?

"It's so horrible..."

"We felt the same . . ."

Attis would have sighed had he not sighed about it before thousands of times prior. It was a genuinely depressing subject. No amount of sugar coating it could make it any less terrible. Optimistically, Attis tried to see it as if they had the opportunity to make the lost lives of so many others mean sometimes--but if they couldn't do that, and all signs seemed to show that could not--then they were letting down millions. Which was more depressing?

"But that doesn't escape the fact that we're here. We live and breath, we think and feel-- it's just as unfair for us to just curl up and die, knowing that we weren't ever supposed to exist. Which is why . . . no one knows. No one but the Crepesculum as it stands today, Aria, Ozrik . . . if . . . he's even still holding on-- and yourself."

The burden of information--how it would feel to Dyss? To know that he and Attis were the only ones amongst their friends that knew the absolute truth of their existence? And, for that matter, the history of Memoria that was painful to a Memory just to think of?

"I don't want people to lose hope. I want everyone to have faith that . . . there'll be something for them, and I want to give them that something, whatever it is that'll give us life. I've dedicated my every waking moment to find it," Attis declared. He may have been guilty of a lot, but he only meant well, and he never stopped meaning well, "But . . . I won't let other people die just so we can live. That's why we're alone in this. That's why I've left the Crepesculum."

"Ozrik is still there, too... At least, I think..."

The knowledge was certainly sobering. To know that their lives were empty, and limited, and there was maybe no hope... He understood now that Recheov was the wiser man. Recheov who had decided to avoid further information, and continue to live in the moment...

"There's not even anyone to blame, is there?"

Justice couldn't be done when there was no perpetrator, after all...

Ozrik . . . was still there? Attis's expression was one of shock. It was so long ago . . . he knew how Aria was holding on, but not Ozrik. That, he couldn't make sense of--but he was happy all the same. That meant there was still a chance for them. If they were to discover something here, something vital, he might be able to save his two old friends, just like he might be able to save his four new friends.

Because truth be told, Aria might not have accepted anyone's help if Ozrik had faded away. Then, saving her life from flickering out would have been a lost cause.

Attis felt like he had a second chance.

Of course, it wasn't the first time. Times past, he had let people down. He promised a cure, but he couldn't come through, and they flickered and faded. Sometimes, it all seemed like a lost cause, but Attis never did truly give up hope--not once.

"Dyss, I . . ." don't know.

Who was to blame? Nature? That was the closest thing he could think of. Attis sighed. This conversation was a lot tougher than he thought it was going to be.

So, he changed the subject, just a little, but to something imperative--one of the main reasons they were even having this discussion at all, "Dyss, do you know why I told you take that route?" Where they crossed the facility--which when he plotted the course, Attis had no doubt that Dyss would've examined it--

"No..."

Dyss should have known that Attis had it planned, though... THat was how his friend was. He was rarely in the present, it seemed, because he was always thinking ahead. Perhaps too far ahead, sometimes. Far enough that he didn't see the dangers of the present...

"You wanted us to see?"

That was the most likely answer, it seemed. Attis wouldn't have sent them past the facility for no reason, particularly since he was mentioning it now...

"I wanted you to learn first hand about the Crepesculum," Attis replied promptly--his voice again soft, borderline apologetic, "They never intended to use the Rubicon for us. Sometime prior, it was decided to leave me uninformed. They knew I would have protested and refused to take part. They intended to use the Rubicon as a weapon. It had nothing to do with saving lives. They claimed it, after the facility collapsed and access to the river was lost, but their what they told me was just a corrupt justification for revenge.

They had found the king of the dead and where his Reapers called home, and they planned to route the Rubicon into a weapon-- to eliminate them all. When I found out, I told Ozrik instantly. I wasn't going to allow them to kill innocent people. No one should ever have to die so we can live. Ozrik and Aria stayed behind while I traveled back to Memoria to confront the Crepesculum-- and when I returned, the facility was in ruins, the river was collapsed, and my friends were nothing more than flickering memories."

Attis told the rest of the story flat out. Dyss needed to know it, he felt, if he were to truly understand where Attis was coming from.

"Dyss, I--" Attis bit his tongue at first. He always tried to word things just right--but here, with this, he couldn't. "I need someone to help me. If we do find something, something that could help everyone, I need someone to understand why I-- . . . why I won't just take it back to Memoria. The others won't understand; if you mention the Crepesculum, they'll just feel pain. But your mind is more open to it than theirs, now. I-- I need someone on my side, Dyss . . ."

Attis was downright pleading. If he needed to sit on his knees and ask again, he would have. He may have been the brains behind the entire operation, and used by the Crepesculum to be the brains behind the Rubicon project, but that didn't mean that he had resources left. He was backed into a corner. He was probably even marked for death. He had exhausted all of his resources on what he felt might very well be a sure thing--and though his friends were with him, he didn't truly have anyone else in his corner.

With that, everything made more sense... Attis could indeed be misled, it seemed. Dyss believed his friend: it truly was a mistake on his part, certainly. But the others... They had found Death and the reapers? And they were trying to destroy them? Was that even possible? For the Memories, perhaps the only thing scarier than the fading would be the reapers...

"Attis, what do you mean? Not take it back...? As in, keep it just for ourselves... But, the others, they need it too..."

Dyss wasn't close to any of the other Memories, really, except for the common existence they all shared. None of them, though, deserved to fade away... At least, none he knew. And the Crepesculum... They had little use for it, it seemed...

"And Aria and Ozrik..."

Dyss wasn't sure if he was able to justify that...

"No-- no . . . I don't mean . . . I don't mean that!" Attis declared as he shook his head quickly, even holding out his hands in a disarming way.

That . . . that would have been cruel, to keep it for themselves. Attis would have been no better than the Crepesculum, if he were to condone such a behavior, especially if it were possible to help each and every Memory. He had already said it, anyways: Attis had spent his entire life looking for a way to help all Memories, but he had made promises to a select few, and some of those few still existed.

Attis sulked his shoulders. He had worded it wrong, certainly--but there probably was no right way to word that. Either way, he was asking for Dyss's help.

"It's just . . . if we can make something with this, we can't take it back to Memoria," Attis sat back up, "We can bring it somewhere else--like the Rubicon Excavation Site. And we can bring other Memories there. But if we take anything, even notes, to Memoria, we run the risk of the Crepesculum getting a hold of it. I . . . I can't take that risk. What I learned from the Rubicon . . ."

". . . is no matter how pure something may be, it can still be used for an equal, if not greater, horror."

Dyss was a bit confused, even. When Attis explained it like that... Of course Dyss agreed and would help. Did he really expect him not to? This was something that could help all the Memories... Help them leave Purgatory, even, and live real lives...

"Of course..."

Dyss wanted nothing more than to help. And Attis, despite any mistakes, was the man best suited to helping. This conversation had cleared up a lot, enough that Dyss trusted the man, and wanted nothing more than to help. There was no one to blame, after all: All that could be done was to try to help the current people...

Attis smiled and breathed out a deep sigh of relief. For a moment there, he really thought Dyss was going to respond negatively!

His primary concern was the others--for the same reasons he told Dyss. No scrap of information had been held back. The others would likely want to bring research and the like back to Memoria, to show others, and maybe get the input of other Memories--but that couldn't happen. It was too great of a risk, and they wouldn't understand if Attis or Dyss explained it to them, and then, without support, Attis would probably cave and let them, and all their work would fall apart at the seams.

But with Dyss's help, that would never become a reality.

"Thank you, Dyss . . ."