The Unity of Chaos and Order

Introducing The Twins

I floated in an empty void.

My mind had been split in two, divided by the sword that I held in my hand I could not feel.

The sword's duality was twisting through my soul, feeling it, breathing its essence into mine.

It took my own Order, my own Chaos, my desire for revenge, my yearning for power, and combined it into its own.

It saw every moment of my life and reviewed it. Together we watched my birth, took my first steps, looked into the stern loving glare of my father's eyes, heard my brother's boisterous laugh after I landed on my face running down the stairs. We attended every lecture, read every book. We were initiated into the White Sun Court, we learned how to twist the threads of magic around us, we watched as a great Rift swallowed up my family home, my father and brother inside it, we researched the ancient Rift swords and discovered records of the very sword that was now examining my memories of it.

But it wasn't just the memories significant to me, the sword wanted to see everything. I rode a horse, I copied the Court's texts, I packed some meat for a lunch, I squatted over a chamber pot... I squatted over many chamber pots...

And as each memory was prioritized and reprocessed, it was no longer my own, each memory now belonged to both myself and the sword.

But it was not just me that the sword examined, I could through some twisted and ancient lens see back into the sword.

It was ancient, older than even than I thought, older than Gicasim itself. But its mind was young, naive, still far more ancient than it had originally seemed, but undeveloped, like a child who knew the infinite cosmos but not to wait for their elders before seating themselves.
It had few memories, and most were hidden from me, but what stood out the strongest was a man, tall and thin, dressed in rags which had at one point been rich, and had a deep jagged scar through his eye leaving behind a grayed out husk.
When I was once again aware I was no longer in the temple, but a vast and beautiful garden stretching as far as the eye could see. Approaching me were two figures, strolling down a cobbled path flanked by rows of colorful flowers.
The figure on the left was by far the most prominent, for it was not that of a human, but an angel. It was split in two down the center of its body, the right side shining bright like the sun, twisting and consuming it reached out to the stones at its feet and tore them apart leaving little else but dust. The other side was pitch black with sharp edges, it looked in some manners like a silhouette which had been cut perfectly out of the light.

But in every manner that figure drew attention, the other commanded it.

He was a man, shorter by a foot, slightly built, and plainly dressed. His right eye was a deep green, and his gaze did not waver from mine for a moment. His left eye, however, was colorless, cloudy and grey except for the white scar running from his eyebrow down to his cheek. He carried a rose in his left hand.

"Lordling Vanguard," the man spoke first, his creature was silent, "do you care much for my gardens?" He made a sweeping gesture with the rose.

I made a quick glance at the creature, I could see no eyes in either half of it.

"Who are you?"

One end of the man's mouth curled up in a smile, "In a garden, a flower is a delicate thing to nurture." He raised up his rose between us. "It requires water, sunlight, it must be protected from pests, weeds, even other flowers in the garden. And so it is quite impressive that flowers can even survive in the wild, where there is no gardener to protect them."

The bright half of the creature shifted impatiently, the dark half remained motionless.

I said nothing.

"The question I'm sure you're asking," the man continued, "Is of course, 'how do these flowers survive in the wild?' to which you may think the answer is because they only survive in their natural chosen habitats, which is true, but not the correct answer. The answer to how flowers survive in the wild is in fact, that they do not."

He plucked a petal from his rose. 

"For every flower that lives, a hundred die. Seeds land in poor soil, developing a weak flower which dies in a week, the shadow of a tree prevents it from getting sunlight, a beast tramples it into the earth, another flower takes resources from its soil, insects consume it." With each death, he plucked another petal from the rose. "Until all that remains, is the flower that lives." He squinted at it, "not quite so beautiful now."

"To answer your question, I am a gardener." He dropped the rose on the ground and crushed it beneath his boot. "Formerly of these colorful petaled flowers, now of much rarer and exquisite breeds. Breeds such as yourself, and the Sword you have just found," he nodded to the creature at his side. The bright half clenched its fist. "It is one of my tasks as the gardener to find species which will benefit from each other's growth and put them together."

"And if I'm not interested in being someone's 'flower'?"

The creature shifted slightly, offended, but the man held up a hand and scoffed.

"If you're no-. You came of your own intention to take this Sword, have your revenge against those who killed your father and brother, end the Court's insufferable rule over your own land and then live in the glory of your triumph! I had no influence over your decisions except to make them possible! This meeting here," he spread his arms wide, "isn't even necessary, it's a gift to you so that you may understand some of the higher purpose involved in this linkage. There isn't a choice being made here you've already picked up the Sword and when you leave you're going to do exactly what you'd already planned to do."

I frowned, he was probably right, but it still felt like I was being manipulated. It had been my choice to come to grab the sword, yes, but it was for myself, there was no "greater purpose" other than my own.

"Listen, young Vanguard," he continued, "you may choose to leave the Sword, and I will ignore you. But if you do so, the Courts will find you, events will lead to your execution, your death will be for nothing, and you will join your family in suffering."

"Or, you may keep the Sword, knowing that your purpose also serves mine, and return honor to your house. Thrive, become the best that you may be, do not be the flower which dies," he kicked at the crushed remains at his feet. "Be the centerpiece of the garden, grow until there is nowhere else for you to grow."

"Bloom." It was barely a whisper, but the world blew away like dust in the wind until I was back at the temple, sword in hand.

He was right.