†
The Dungeon: Six a.m.
They sat in silence, sagging warmly into each other as the chill of very early morning settled about them. Even the rats seemed to have succumbed to the long night, and quiet fell all around.
Their stories told, a somber peace enveloped them. So unlikely—such polar opposite fates—and finally the circle was complete. The words had run out as their hearts had slowly filled. There was a certain exhausting finality about it as though the symphony was finished, resplendent with sad ending.
Neither had ever told their story before; they had kept it hidden, splintered, and secret. Until now, they had not known the other or the why of the missing piece of their hearts. There was finally an answer to an unspoken question.
“I’m glad to have met you—to know that you are like me,” one murmured.
“It is truly my honor to have you as my brother. I say this from my heart,” the other replied.
Both were overcome with the moment, and as the stars in the high overhead window started to fade, the warmth of their short time together did not, for they each had a brother—a twin—and that brother’s story was worthy and noble. Such a splendid discovery it was, and it disavowed mortal life.
D’ata turned. “I have brandy.”
“You bring brandy? And you just now disclose this to me?” Ravan’s face lit up visibly at the thought of a draft of brandy at this, the coldest and longest hour of the night.
“I keep it for those who suffer pain. Tonight I want you to have it.”
Ravan accepted the warm gift. “So kind—thank you, my brother.”
D’ata smiled and passed the flask.
Before long, they leaned quietly against each other and dozed for a while, one significantly more deeply than the other. It would not be long now…