The World Made Whole

The ache of exile was a physical thing, a hollowness in his chest. Anchor-of-Ages, the man who had exiled his own student for daring to question, was now an exile in his own heart. He had built a fortress of certainty, only to find himself a prisoner within its walls.

He did not go to the House of Echoes that day. Instead, he went to his student, Hesitation-in-Silence. He found him not in his gallery, but sitting by a small, still pool of water, watching the reflection of the sky. The two of them sat in silence for a long time, the exiled master and the exiled student.

‘I do not understand,’ Anchor-of-Ages said at last, his voice rough with unshed tears. ‘I have spent my life in the service of a single, perfect truth. And now… now I see that truth reflected in a thousand fleeting, imperfect forms. It is as if the world has gone mad.’

‘Or perhaps,’ Hesitation-in-Silence replied, his voice gentle, ‘it is as if the world has become whole.’