A month after the merger, the First asked a question that stopped me mid-stride.
What is purpose?
I was walking through the Quarter, heading to The Crossing for the evening rush. The sun was setting, painting the buildings gold and orange, tourists spilling out of bars with plastic beads and go cups.
"Purpose," I repeated, slowing my pace. "That's a big question for a Tuesday."
I have dreamed realities into existence. Watched civilizations rise and fall. Witnessed the birth and death of stars. But I have never understood why.
"Why what?"
Why any of it matters. You risked everything to save this city, these people. Why?
I thought about it as I walked. Past Jackson Square, where the cathedral bells were ringing. Past Café Du Monde, where the smell of beignets hung in the air. Past the alley where I'd first met Diego, so long ago.
"Because they matter to me," I said finally. "Because their happiness, their safety, their existence—it gives my existence meaning."
But why? They are fleeting. Even the Originals will eventually fade. Everything you love will turn to dust. Why invest yourself in something so temporary?
"Because temporary is the point." I stopped at the corner, watching a street musician play saxophone for a small crowd. "If nothing ever ended, nothing would be precious. The fact that this moment—this sunset, this music, this city—will eventually disappear is what makes it beautiful."
The First was silent, processing.
I have created eternal things. Realities that will never die. Stars that will never burn out. But they do not bring me joy.
"Maybe because you never had to fight for them. You dreamed them into existence. You never lost anything."
And you have lost.
"More times than I can count." I continued walking. "But I've also gained. Found. Held on. That's the balance."
Balance.
"It's not about being the most powerful, or the most eternal, or the most anything. It's about finding the thing that makes you want to wake up in the morning. And then protecting it."
The First was quiet for the rest of the walk.
---
The Crossing was busy when I arrived.
Josh was behind the bar, juggling drink orders with practiced ease. Davina was in the corner, painting a new mural on the back wall—this one showing the merger, the First's light flowing into my outstretched hands.
Hope sat at a table with a few friends from school—human friends, which Klaus still didn't approve of. She laughed at something, carefree in a way I rarely saw.
"You're staring," Davina said, not looking up from her painting.
"Just appreciating."
"Appreciating what?"
"Everything."
She set down her brush and came to stand beside me. "The First is learning, isn't it?"
"It's asking big questions."
"And what did you tell it?"
I put my arm around her. "That temporary things matter most."
She leaned into me. "Good answer."
---
Later that night, after the bar had closed and the city had quieted, I sat alone on the roof of The Crossing.
The First spoke again.
I think I understand.
"Understand what?"
Why you chose to stay. Why you risked everything for this city, these people. Why temporary things have value.
"Tell me."
Because they choose you back. The city, the people, the moments—they are not dreams. They are not creations. They are beings with their own wills, their own loves, their own reasons for existing. And they have chosen you.
I nodded slowly.
"That's part of it."
What is the other part?
"You chose me too. The First. You could have fought me, consumed me, taken over. But you didn't. You chose trust."
I chose connection.
"Yeah. You did."
The stars shone overhead. The Mississippi flowed past. The city breathed beneath us, alive and temporary and infinitely precious.
Thank you, Paradox. For teaching me.
"Anytime, First. Anytime."
---
The next morning, I woke to find a small painting on the nightstand.
It showed a door—the First Threshold—but the door was open. And through it, instead of darkness, light.
Davina's handwriting on the back: For the First. Welcome to the world.
I felt the First's wonder ripple through my consciousness.
She painted this for me?
"She did."
Why?
"Because she believes in second chances. Even for ancient cosmic entities."
The First was silent for a long moment.
Then, softly:
I will protect her. Always.
I smiled and got out of bed.
"Good. So will I."