Turning to Stone 2: Celestial Problems (Rewritten)

Epilogue: Passing and Past

Where am I?

He looked down the long hallway. The last thing he remembered was his family by his side. His father was already gone, his husband growing old, and his daughter ageless as ever. Yet here, he was as young as he wanted to be.

And here he was now, standing at the entrance of a large hallway. Or was it the entrance? Looking back, he saw nothing but darkness. Looking forwards, at the very end, was pure light.

Don't go into the light, that's what they always said, but he was already dead. No use in fighting nature. He started walking. As he began his journey, he realized that the walls were lined with portraits, each one with a label underneath. He stopped to take a look.

Basilio the Pioneer

Ailura the Traveler

Ephex the Caretaker

Chomp the Finder

Xander the Leader

Jolthead the Creator

He jumped. This was the Creator, the one he was descended from. Wubbox's grandparent, with too many "great"s to count. All of these portraits were great and noble monsters of ages past.

He kept going.

Matatum the Loving

Ross the Innocent

Bap the Writer

La the Knowledgeable

Torb the Defender

Loola the Prankster

All of his friends. He was amazed that he lived longer than any of them, considering his mildly unhealthy lifestyle.

Jolthead the Teacher

Wubbox's smiling face was obvious. They were wearing glasses, and had a book in their hand. They looked like a teacher. But why wouldn't the plaque say "Wubbox"? My dad was named after the Creator themself. No wonder they kept their name a secret.

One of the last portraits was blank, until he stood in front of it. His reflection slowly materialized inside of it, but his face was much more determined.

Pickle the Hero

"I'm not a hero." He protested, although there was no one to hear him except the paintings. "I'm just a normal monster. I never wanted to be a hero.

The sign changed before his eyes, reading Pickle the Savior instead. "That's basically the same thing!" His voice rose. Pickle the Brave, the sign tried again. "I'm not that brave. Why is my portrait even here? My friends deserve to be here. I did nothing special."

The writing on the sign disappeared, as if it was sighing in defeat, his portrait fading too. He sighed, unsure whether to be happy or sad, until a new image of him appeared. This new image looked sad, but determined, and he was wearing a necklace made of a blue dragon scale on a silver chain.

Pickle the Protagonist

He looked at it for a second, before giggling. "There's no fighting with you, is there? I'll be the protagonist, I guess." He already was, he had no choice in it. Besides, it didn't even matter. He was dead, gone. His story was over.

Right?

"Arguing with a painting? I wouldn't have taken you for someone like that." He jumped at the sound of the voice, turning to see a T-rox. "You're that one from the portrait at the beginning. Basilio." He stammered. Basilio nodded.