Transcendent beings. Part three.

The song "Hero" by Family of the Year came to his mind... The one his mother used to hum. That song always comforted him. It was like a lullaby to him. If his mother sang it, the world was at peace. That's why it surfaced at that moment of confusion. His mother used to repeat, when he was a sick child, curled up in feverish sweats: "Fernando, you are from another planet. Sometimes you seem like an alien who is getting used to living an earthly life, and I have been the fortunate human chosen to care for you as a mother." That always made him smile, and it made him feel important-and his mother as if she were the one chosen by a superior being, and by him too. And it was here, in this moment, when the ground beneath his feet was trembling, that he needed to believe he was human, that everything was empirical, and that life was simply birth and death and nothing more. But the closer his brain got to understanding or to an explanation as straightforward as a multiplication table, the closer those beings came to caress his face, and it chilled his blood-with both pleasure and fear. He felt the same way he did on that occasion when, after years of climbing experience, one of his crampons failed, and he fell into the void for several meters. It was like floating toward death, as if diving headfirst into a lake for the first time. It was sweet and bitter at the same time. That's how his brain felt-surrounded by fondant and filled with melted cheese.

Fernando's knees wobbled as he crossed into the crystalline chamber. The dazzling luminescence from the stalactites above flickered like a living constellation. Ahead, Misty gestured for him to follow, her floppy ears swaying with each gentle step.

"We call this the Chamber of Reflection," she murmured, her voice echoing softly against the gleaming walls. "Here, you will face yourself."

The air grew denser as Fernando proceeded. The sweet aroma of Brugmansia faded, replaced by a metallic tang that stung his nostrils. Then, the sparkling beings formed a circle around him, their glow dimming until the cavern was cast into shadow.

From the darkness, a figure emerged. It was Fernando—but not quite. His reflection stood taller, his eyes sharper and more intent. This mirror image spoke, its voice layered with both authority and fragility.

"Why are you here?" the figure asked.

Fernando hesitated, clutching at Séamus' horn for support. "I... I don't know. To find something? To escape?"

His reflection's face softened, but its gaze remained piercing. "You carry fear like a weight, Fernando. To transcend, you must first release it."

Before Fernando could respond, the chamber erupted with light. Images from his past—joyful, painful, and mundane—flashed around him like a spinning carousel. The sight of his mother, humming "Hero" while tending to his feverish body, brought warmth to his chest. But then came the void—times he'd felt small, lost, and unworthy. It was overwhelming, yet liberating.

The voice of the Goat cut through the whirlwind of memories: "Feel it all. That is the essence of life—to embrace the chaos, the fleeting beauty, and the heartbreak. And then, to let it go."

As suddenly as it began, the visions ceased. Fernando found himself lying on the soft, sandy floor, the bioluminescent beings gently prodding him awake. Misty smiled, her expressive eyes twinkling with encouragement.

"Welcome, Fernando," she said. "You’ve passed the first step. Now, the real adventure begins."