These stones have no name. They bear markings carved with care and precision, they stand neatly arranged in a perfect circle, but no trace of their origin remains to history. It’s too convenient; maybe this is where my mind betrays me again, floor crumbling under me just as the light of the exit comes into view. But it’s all I have. If any of this is real, I’ll know soon enough. I’ll know.
I take out the ritual knife, and pause for a moment, contemplating the dubious wisdom of spilling my blood for a spell that might not be real, in a place that might not be real, for a truth that might not be real… No, this is pointless to dwell on. I’m far, far past this now. My blood might not be real. All I can do is follow the plan, and hope for a miracle. In any case, I’m out of time. I see (think I see) several points of light in the distance, approaching quickly. I cut my hand, letting the blood run down the ancient stone, and begin reciting the incantation. Did I remember it right? I only had a few moments with that crumbling scroll, before the guards arrived and I had to run (if any of that really happened), but I’ve always had an excellent memory. I remember always having had an excellent memory, anyway… It’ll have to do.
Around me, the inscriptions on all seventeen standing stones begin to glow, arcs of light drawing themselves through the air around and across the circle. I continue chanting, as the lights approaching in the distance resolve themselves into human figures on levitating disks. Council Executioners, by the uniforms. So those do exist; or my imagination is taking a turn for the conspiratorial. It’s about the response I’d expect, though. After all, if this world exists, then what I think I’m doing could potentially destroy it, according to a speculative hypothesis by a man who might have lived once, as quoted by the author of a book that my memory tells me I read last month. It’s worth the risk. Or at least, there’s no way to convince myself otherwise.
The Executioners spread out as they approach, moving to form a circle to neutralize the spell, and me with it. I’m almost done, I just need one more moment… The light flares –
– and I know my Name.
I’m not in the desert anymore. I’m not in a place at all, but let’s describe the place I’m not in as a library. A vast library, shelves extending onward in every direction, chairs and tables and lamps placed here and there. I always did love libraries. And let’s describe me with long hair neatly braided, wearing a green dress that matches my eyes, comfortably snug on a pleasantly curvy figure. It’s self-indulgent, and that’s a good thing. None of this is objectively true, but it’s not a lie either. I can see there’s no deception, there’s nothing I need to fear. Form is just a story we tell ourselves, and I’d like it to be a pleasant one.
It’s an understanding that starts at my Name and flows outward from there. My True Name isn’t a word in the normal sense, but let’s pronounce it “Iona”. It describes myself, and it describes my mind, and it describes everything I’ve gone through, and it describes how I’ve freed myself. Legoda was half-right; the Truth of the world can’t fit inside the world, but rather than pulling it in and tearing the world to shreds in the process, learning my True Name just means pulling myself outside the world to meet it.
My body is still there, in the desert. I’m outside of time, but I can see the moment just as I left it, the Executioners surrounding me, reciting their spell. I could go back, if I wanted to. I could bring back a word that I could hold up as a shield to protect me, I could bring back a word that I could wield as a sword to strike them down, I could bring back a word that I could hide inside for as long as I needed. I could even bring back a word that would soothe my tortured mind, let me accept the uncertainty at the heart of being, let me choose to believe in things anyway. I was never going to reason my way out of madness, that was always the problem from the beginning, but I could give myself a push, force things back on track. I could return, and be free, and at peace. But I would need to leave the Truth out here.
There are other things, too, less easily fixed, even setting aside the death warrant from the Archmage Council. Friendships lost over these past few years, people I’d never be able to reconnect with, even if I could contact them at all. I wouldn’t really get to pick things back up; I’d need to start over from scratch, more or less.
Or I could stay here. Here with the Truth, with perfect clarity. I could explore, learn, discover, wander through inference and meaning, find out what else – who else? – is here outside the only world I’ve known.
It’s sad, to imagine leaving everyone behind. I feel that sadness all the more keenly with the depth of understanding I have now. For the first time in over a year, I know that my friends are real, that they cared about me, that they were doing their best to help me even as everything fell apart. That they accepted me as I figured out who I was, didn’t dismiss it as part of the sickness. And now, to leave without even the chance to say goodbye, or I’m sorry, or to tell them how much they meant to me…
But I also understand that I’ve already made up my mind. To have the Truth isn’t to be free from pain; I’ll carry this longing with me as I go, not wallowing in it, but not trying futilely to push it away, either. All the same, I know I can’t stop here.
I catch glimpses of other times and places, as I wander. It’s all here, all at once, on these shelves. I see Laralyn – the last person I ever spoke to – as an old woman, leaving flowers at my grave. She’s got an apprentice with her; I always knew she’d be a wonderful teacher someday. I’m glad she still remembers me, after all that time. Maybe that’s selfish of me; maybe it’s just human. Let’s say a tear rolls down my cheek as well. Thank you, Lara. For caring, for thinking of me, for doing everything you could, for being a better mentor than our teachers were to us. I miss you too.
The Truth leads onward, in innumerable directions. I pick one that catches my curiosity, and continue on my way.