This review contains spoilers
The perspective that we all inevitably meet the same fate, but the journey there varies from person to person is something I’ve always enjoyed seeing explored in fiction. The meaning of life is what we make of it, even if all of our outcomes are the same. The universe in all of its entropy and impartiality simply is, and conversely we and the choices we make, the struggles we endure, and ultimately what we make of ourselves… we simply are. Is there not beauty in that? Is there not meaning? We’re all on our own journeys and we all have the same destinations, and yet sometimes our paths cross; we intersect, intertwine.
What a moment of love.
What a moment of love to stare into the endless, abyssal, all-consuming void knowing you’re not alone. That you were never alone; to have your fingers interlaced with the hands of all the people you have met… have loved… have lost. To stare into the eyes of your own reflection one last time, and to leave the world with no regrets.
In fewer words, this essentially the wisdom Acheron imparts on Aventurine, whom is racked with the gnawing regrets of his childhood. He spent his life desperately seeking the answers to questions no one could ever answer, only to hear a new perspective on the brink of annihilation from an Emanator of Nihility. To have her take him deathly seriously… to have the patience to share her thoughts with him… to give not just him, but Kakavasha relief…
Another moment of love.
After taking Acheron’s words to heart, Aventurine stared into the endless shroud of darkness before him. The still waters gently lapped at the shores of nothingness, as he unfurled Dr. Ratio’s note. The note was the doctor’s parting gift that he instructed the gambler to open in the jaws of death… To call this note a request would be an understatement: it’s a plea. A plea to live, and live, and live, and that Ratio wished him good luck in his endeavors. He doesn’t tell Aventurine to rely on Gods… on Aeons… From one human to another, he wished him “the best of luck.” A firm reminder that not even the Gods can intervene in the inevitability of death, but humans can make the journey there easier on each other. We inspire hope and a passion for life in one another in ways that deities cannot. Aventurine takes his unfathomably risky gamble in stride, reassured with the fact that no matter what, at least one person will be in his corner… at least one person will want to see him again. At least one person wants him to fight against the overwhelming gravitational pull of death. At least one person wants him to live.
Yet another moment of love.
At the end of it all, when Aventurine bids Kakavasha farewell after their final prayer together, he leaves behind his hat. He leaves behind a memento, something his father, mother, and sister have all done before. Material goods have no value in death — no, but they have value to those they leave behind. Cherished belongings that remind us that we do not fight our struggles alone. That when we reach the black, shapeless gates of eternity, we have not done so alone. That in the swirling darkness we will rejoin them in nothingness. That our paths will cross in finality, even if we do not have the consciousness to acknowledge it. Aventurine entrusts his hat to Kakavasha as a show that he ventures forth with no regrets; instead, he places his trust in his gamble. Either he lives, allowing the Trailblazer to solve the mystery while also carving a path for the IPC, or he returns to the embrace of his family. Either way he cannot lose, and either way he has nothing to regret.
I love the Penacony story. I love what’s being said between the lines. I haven’t even touched on Welt’s patience and solemnity in his conversations with Acheron, but it makes me feel the same way Aventurine’s story does. I cannot wait to see where the story takes us next.
What a moment of love.
What a moment of love to stare into the endless, abyssal, all-consuming void knowing you’re not alone. That you were never alone; to have your fingers interlaced with the hands of all the people you have met… have loved… have lost. To stare into the eyes of your own reflection one last time, and to leave the world with no regrets.
In fewer words, this essentially the wisdom Acheron imparts on Aventurine, whom is racked with the gnawing regrets of his childhood. He spent his life desperately seeking the answers to questions no one could ever answer, only to hear a new perspective on the brink of annihilation from an Emanator of Nihility. To have her take him deathly seriously… to have the patience to share her thoughts with him… to give not just him, but Kakavasha relief…
Another moment of love.
After taking Acheron’s words to heart, Aventurine stared into the endless shroud of darkness before him. The still waters gently lapped at the shores of nothingness, as he unfurled Dr. Ratio’s note. The note was the doctor’s parting gift that he instructed the gambler to open in the jaws of death… To call this note a request would be an understatement: it’s a plea. A plea to live, and live, and live, and that Ratio wished him good luck in his endeavors. He doesn’t tell Aventurine to rely on Gods… on Aeons… From one human to another, he wished him “the best of luck.” A firm reminder that not even the Gods can intervene in the inevitability of death, but humans can make the journey there easier on each other. We inspire hope and a passion for life in one another in ways that deities cannot. Aventurine takes his unfathomably risky gamble in stride, reassured with the fact that no matter what, at least one person will be in his corner… at least one person will want to see him again. At least one person wants him to fight against the overwhelming gravitational pull of death. At least one person wants him to live.
Yet another moment of love.
At the end of it all, when Aventurine bids Kakavasha farewell after their final prayer together, he leaves behind his hat. He leaves behind a memento, something his father, mother, and sister have all done before. Material goods have no value in death — no, but they have value to those they leave behind. Cherished belongings that remind us that we do not fight our struggles alone. That when we reach the black, shapeless gates of eternity, we have not done so alone. That in the swirling darkness we will rejoin them in nothingness. That our paths will cross in finality, even if we do not have the consciousness to acknowledge it. Aventurine entrusts his hat to Kakavasha as a show that he ventures forth with no regrets; instead, he places his trust in his gamble. Either he lives, allowing the Trailblazer to solve the mystery while also carving a path for the IPC, or he returns to the embrace of his family. Either way he cannot lose, and either way he has nothing to regret.
I love the Penacony story. I love what’s being said between the lines. I haven’t even touched on Welt’s patience and solemnity in his conversations with Acheron, but it makes me feel the same way Aventurine’s story does. I cannot wait to see where the story takes us next.