Lu didn't move forward today. Instead, she circled around Al, her small feet making soft imprints in the vast emptiness. Her thoughts spun like the white haze around her, lingering on Al's story. The quietness of the land seemed to match her mood—heavy and uncertain. Her eyes were distant, lost in the vastness, as if searching for something only the silence could answer.
After a long pause, she stopped in front of Al, her gaze steady but uncertain. "You say that I'm just like this White World, right?" she asked, her voice small yet piercing. "Empty, yet… full in some way?" The question hung in the air between them, her words searching for understanding.
Al fluttered, his pages ruffling as if caught in a breathless sigh. He had told her what he knew, but how much of it truly made sense? "Lu… you are not just like this world," he began slowly, his voice soft but certain. "This world is a reflection, a mirror of the void within you. But you, Little Lu, are more. You are not bound to the white."
Lu's brow furrowed as the question lingered. "Al… you… how long have you been here? You know many things, don't you?" She looked at him intently, as if expecting him to reveal something more.
Al looked at her with a hint of hesitation, the pages of his form trembling slightly. She was persistent, her questions pressing against him like the vast white expanse around them. But this was not a time for such answers—not yet. He had to tread carefully.
Lu's eyes, bright and searching, awaited his response. "Then why are you here? Trapped?" she asked, her voice quiet but filled with unspoken emotions. "Am I not supposed to know again?" Her disappointment was palpable, though she held herself together with surprising strength.
Al's pages fluttered softly, a sign of discomfort. He could feel her disappointment, but the truth was a heavy burden. "I am here because I must be," he said softly, sidestepping the question. "But what I am, and why I am here, is something I cannot share with you yet, Lu. Some answers must come in their own time."
Lu didn't say anything at first. She just stared at him for a long moment before finally speaking again. "If you don't want to tell me yet, it's alright," she said, her voice tinged with resignation. "But answer me this, is there another world beyond this one or you are from this world? Why do you have so much knowledge, and those fairy tales… it's not a coincidence you have them in your collection, right? Tell me what you know about others." Her words were quiet but firm, her curiosity undeniable.
Al paused, his thoughts drifting like the white mist that surrounded them. He couldn't tell her everything, but there was something he could share. "The world beyond the white is not something you can see yet, Little Lu," he said, careful with his words. "And the stories I carry… they are not mere coincidences. They are remnants of a past, of many worlds, of others who have walked paths like yours. But the answers you seek… those are still unfolding."
Al paused, a subtle ripple of unease fluttering through his pages as he considered Lu's request. Her curiosity, once again, had surged forward—stronger, more insistent, and yet, in the midst of it all, there was something else: a readiness. She had come far from the days when she had not known how to speak, when she had no memory, no name, no purpose. Now, she asked the kinds of questions that spoke of something deeper—something that perhaps, unbeknownst to her, was stirring beneath the surface of the white world she called home.
Lu stood before him, eyes wide and eager. The questions came in rapid succession, each one bouncing off the other like a trail of curious footsteps in the snow. "Then tell me about them. Is there anyone else, Al? Can we meet them? What are they? Are there others, like you and me? Is there a hierarchy?"
Al took a deep, shuddering breath, a long pause that seemed to stretch endlessly in the silence of their shared space. It wasn't that he was hiding the truth—it was that the truth itself was so vast, so tangled in mysteries far beyond even his comprehension. The White World, after all, was not the beginning of all things. It was not even the middle. It was simply a place—a place where stories began and ended in a cycle of creation and destruction that no one truly understood.
"Lu," Al began, his voice soft but clear. "You've asked many questions, and they are important ones. The world you see around you, this place of white, is only a small part of a much larger existence. You're right to ask if there are others. There are, though they are not like you and me. They come from places of their own—worlds not unlike yours, yet entirely different."
Lu's eyes gleamed with hope. She wanted to know everything. But Al's voice grew a little quieter, more introspective.
"Let me tell you about the Creatures who dwell outside of this place—beings who live in the stories I carry. You see, the world is not just one thing, Lu. It is many things, overlapping, ever-changing. And while you might think that all that exists is in this white, you must know there are those who have come before us—before me, even."
"Before you?" Lu blinked, surprised. "You mean you weren't always here?"
"Ah, no," Al chuckled softly, though there was an edge of sorrow to it. "I wasn't always here. I was once part of a different world—one far away from this one. A world full of... well, let's say, more color than this."
Lu tilted her head, intrigued but still not fully grasping the enormity of what Al was saying.
"The creatures of this world," Al continued, "are many. Some come from places that would make your head spin with their strangeness. Some live in the Realm of the Old Gods, a place where the divine still walk among their creations, where spirits and magic intertwine like threads in a grand tapestry."
"Are they like gods?" Lu asked, her tone a mix of awe and uncertainty.
"In a way, yes. But gods are not always what we think them to be," Al replied, his pages fluttering thoughtfully. "Some gods are ancient beings, creators of entire realms, while others are young and naive, trying to understand their own power. But the most interesting ones—oh, they are those who have walked the line between light and dark, who have crossed boundaries that no one else dares to cross. They are the ones who can create and destroy with a word, who play with the threads of fate like a child plays with a toy."
Lu's eyes widened in wonder. "And can we meet them?"
"Perhaps, one day," Al said cryptically. "But not yet. The road to meeting such beings is long and fraught with dangers, filled with lessons that even I cannot foresee. And you, Little Lu, are not yet ready to cross that line."
Lu nodded, her heart a little heavy but still filled with the warmth of curiosity. "Okay. But what about the others? The ones who are not gods? What are they?"
Al smiled, a soft, knowing smile. "Ah, the others. They are the beings of the lower realms, the ones who live in the spaces between. Some are called the Wanderers. They are not gods, nor are they human. They are… well, they are what happens when a soul doesn't know where it belongs. They drift, floating between worlds, never quite finding their place."
Lu frowned, her heart tugging with sympathy. "Are they lost?"
"In a way," Al replied. "But they are not as tragic as you might think. The Wanderers are free in their own way. They can go anywhere, do anything. They know no boundaries. Some live in the forests of the Dreamlands, where trees whisper secrets in a language older than time. Others travel the seas of the Forgotten, where the stars are swallowed by waves, and the moon is just a reflection in the water."
Lu's curiosity was piqued once more. "So, they just wander? They don't have a home?"
"Exactly," Al said. "But here's the thing, Lu. Even the Wanderers have a purpose, even if they don't realize it. They are the keepers of stories—the ones who carry tales from one world to the next, who pass on knowledge in whispers and dreams. They are not lost, not truly. They are just... waiting for the right moment to find their way."
Lu absorbed this, her mind swirling with images of strange creatures and faraway places. "Are there many like them? Is there a hierarchy?"
"A hierarchy?" Al pondered the question for a moment. "I suppose you could say that, yes. The creatures of the higher realms, like the gods, hold dominion over the lesser beings. They rule over certain parts of existence—time, fate, creation. But the Wanderers, they are... different. They do not fall into a strict hierarchy. They are more like the storytellers, the keepers of knowledge, the ones who weave the fabric of the world together."
Lu thought deeply. "And what about us, Al? Where do we fit in all of this?"
"You, Little Lu, you are something new," Al said softly, his voice full of warmth. "You are a creation unlike any other. You are not bound by the rules of the old gods or the Wanderers. You are your own being, your own story. And that is what makes you so special."
Lu felt a strange warmth fill her chest. It was comforting to think of herself as something new, something different, but it also stirred something within her—a desire to know more. "So, we're part of a bigger story?"
"Yes," Al smiled. "And your story is only just beginning."
Lu sat down on the soft whiteness, running her fingers through its endless surface as if trying to grasp something solid beneath it. She looked up at Al, her voice softer now, almost a whisper. "If I'm my own story, then what happens if I forget how to write it?"
Al's pages fluttered, and for a moment, he seemed to pause—not from hesitation, but from something akin to pride. "You don't need to know how, Little Lu. Stories don't always follow the script we imagine. Sometimes… they write themselves."
Lu traced a small circle into the white beneath her fingers, her mind lost in thought. She didn't notice the faint shimmer in the distance—a flicker of something not white, not empty. Something waiting.