I saw the man in the toga many times in the First King’s life. And although his face looked exactly like the face of Madness, there was something strangely different about him. He didn’t laugh much, and when he did, it wasn’t maniacal. He didn’t smile much either, and when he did, it was not with a terrifyingly long grin. The look in his eyes was sharp but clear, and there was no glint of insanity in them. It was almost as if Madness was not mad at all, but I wasn’t ready to accept that so easily.

After all, the First King embarked on a strange series of missions at the behest of the man that looked like Madness. The First King fought against other elves, bringing most of them under his banner, and he even crossed the mountains to take on the demons, fairies, spirits, and beastmen. Although he didn’t subjugate any of these other peoples, he did end up with a ton of precious metals and valuable artifacts. He placed many of these artifacts in temples all around his kingdom, especially atop the mountain-peak temples that came to symbolize his long reign. Bek Tepe, the temple of the humans, was one of those temples. Inside, the First King placed some of the original artifacts that the priests of the Evil Eye had been using when I first came to Bek Tepe.

It was then that I could no longer ignore the most pressing question in my head: where were the humans?

During the First King’s conquests, there had been no humans anywhere to be seen. In fact, I couldn’t remember the first time humans had appeared during my journey into the Past. Had they been there during the Mad King’s reign? No, I couldn’t remember them then, either. What about during the early years of the reign of the Oracle? No, there had been no sign of them at that time either. Perhaps I had seen them at some point but never cared to dwell too long, or perhaps my mind was fuzzy, my memory vague and unfocused. I could feel the intensity of the information flooding through my brain slowly eroding my ability to think clearly. It certainly didn’t help that I had to keep the present in my mind at all times, so I wouldn’t forget the dire situation I was in.

I had to remember that I was coming to the past to better understand the present, and to find to protect myself from the angry Simurgh while avoiding Madness’ strange machinations. Learning the true history of this world would go a long way towards helping me understand the Immortals and their relationships with the world and with each other, but I still needed some way to increase my raw firepower.

So far, my new magic system had proven versatile, but I hadn’t had enough time to work on too many new spells. I still needed to increase my total energy, as well, since that would let me do the more creative spells that I had been thinking about for a while. I could already feel the tug of gravitational manipulation and the allure of biological warfare. Perhaps a little metaphysics and reality bending would be in the cards too, if I could figure out how to not spontaneously explode from the energy that sort of magic would require.

While traveling to the past, I made sure to keep casting spells, hoping the pseudo-time that I was experiencing would still let me increase my wisdom and thankfully, it seemed like that would be possible. Even though I was going back in time, it felt like I was spending weeks in limbo, which meant that I could keep training my magic outside of the present and return with enough energy to blast the Simurgh out of the galaxy—theoretically, of course. The problem was the stuff about losing focus that I mentioned before. Already, the lack of chronology was messing up my ability to think in a straight line. I was making connections between thoughts that hadn’t occurred to me yet, and leaving some thoughts hanging for longer than I ought to.

Like my thoughts about the humans. Yes, the humans. Where had they come from? Right, from another world, perhaps? If I could come from another world, then so could they, right? Think about what Madness had said before. He all but admitted that he was from another world too, and he looked like a human, didn’t he? Perhaps he had something to do with the humans, or perhaps the Simurgh had called them into this world the same way it had summoned me, although I suppose, it was the Evil Eye that had summoned me even if it had done so under the influence of the Simurgh.

Or perhaps I couldn’t trust what the Simurgh had told me in the Nothingness. Perhaps the Evil Eye was not really a creation of the Simurgh after all. Perhaps it was an outsider like Madness, or perhaps it was a natural Immortal or deity, as the Evil Eye’s followers seemed to believe.

The toga-clad man was walking in a garden with the young First King Jora. Madness, in his much more sobering and calm form, seemed to be a bit of a mentor to the young king. Well, he wasn’t even a king yet. He was the son of a chieftain of a small tribe of elves in the corner of what would later become the Plains of Serenity.

I was watching them walk in reverse, slowly piecing together their words in my head so I could follow the conversation. They were talking about small things like the weather, the food they would be eating, and what the young chief’s son would be learning tomorrow. They walked backwards into the forest and their conversation became heavier.

They were talking about a death in the family. Funeral rites. The chief’s ailing health. A political marriage between the chief’s son and the daughter of a neighboring tribe. These tribes had been at each other’s throats for generations, mostly over the limited resources in their area. Now, they would be coming together for a brighter future. As someone who had seen that future, I knew this was true. The First King would unite much more than just these two small tribes in the hinterlands.

They walked deeper into the forest. They talked of broader topics like love, happiness, and sorrow. The toga-clad man seemed to be giving the young chief’s son advice and an education in things like ethics and norms. He asked the chief’s son questions like: when was it right to strike another down? When was it right to kill? To plunder? To claim what was otherwise held by others? What grievances warranted a duel, and at what point must somebody give way for the greater good?

From there the conversation reversed into a broad discussion about reality. What was life? What did it mean to think? What did it mean to feel, to be sentient, conscious, rational? Was there a purpose to their lives? And if so, what was that purpose? How might one go about discovering that purpose? And to what ends and at what cost must that purpose be fulfilled.

The more I listened the more I realized how many of these topics, these discussions, these teachings that the toga-clad man was sharing with the young chief’s son reminded me of ancient discussions in my old world. In fact, the way the toga-clad man bounced ideas off of the chief’s son, waiting for the young elf’s response before offering a rebuttal or complication of his own, it reminded me of the dialectical method championed by Socrates and Plato—sometimes called a Socratic dialogue.

Deeper and deeper into the forest, hours and hours into the past, the sun was dragged back across the sky by time, by me, but the sun was hidden behind the canopy and in the darkness, Madness said, “No.”

The young chieftain said, “Yes, as the elders have spoken. As the great stories have said. And as the rain, the sky, the very earth itself has proven it.”

And Madness’ original question came at last, “Young chief, do you think there is somebody over us? Greater beings, deities, gods, or perhaps, those that some might call Immortals?”