Part I – The Fire That Sees
The desert didn’t have sand. It had glass.
Shards of ancient light, melted by time, cracked under Kian’s boots.
He walked for what felt like days — alone — the final piece heavy in his pocket, humming so faintly he wasn’t sure if it was real or his own bones unraveling.
Then he saw it.
A fire, still and breathing, in the middle of the nowhere.
And beside it, a figure cloaked in colorless fabric, sitting like they'd always been there.
Kian approached. The warmth reached him before the light did.
The being didn’t look up — just said:
“You’ve come far to be no one.”
Kian stopped, and the wind around him fell silent, as if even the air was listening. “I am someone.”
The being stirred the fire with a long, branch-like finger. “Then why do you flinch every time you are?”
Kian swallowed. His voice felt small. “Because… when I show myself, people leave.”
Now the being looked up.
Eyes like obsidian rivers — calm, bottomless, impossible to lie to.
“Then they weren’t seeing you.
They were seeing only what they could tolerate.
There is a cost to being whole in a world built on fragments.”
Kian sat down across the fire. “I have no one. No friends. No one who understands me.”
A silence passed. Not empty — sacred.
“There are only a few like you,” the being said. “Scattered. Distant. But real.”
“And if you stop searching…”
The fire crackled.
“…then you guarantee you’ll never find them.”
Kian looked into the flames, eyes burning. “It’s easier to be quiet. To play nice. To disappear a little.”
“Of course it is,” the being whispered. “But you're not here for easy.”
“You're here as a soul that refuses to shrink just to belong.”
Kian’s chest tightened. The words landed like ancient memory.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the last puzzle piece — metal, curved, warm.
He turned it in his fingers, slowly, staring at it.
“I found them all,” he said. “Every piece. But I still don’t know what I’m building.”
He paused.
The firelight flickered across his hands as he fiddled with the piece — over and over — as if waiting for it to speak.
“You are not building a thing,” the being said softly.
“You are remembering yourself.”
Kian looked up. “I thought the puzzle would show me who I really am.”
“It never shows,” the being said. “It reveals.”
“And sometimes, what it reveals is terrifying.”
Kian clenched the piece in his hand.
“And if I finish it…”
“Then,” the being said, “you will be you.”
Part II – The Truth Grenade A few weeks later. Kian walked through a neighborhood he used to know — where silence held everything in place. He wasn’t planning to stop. But his old neighbor, Mr. Grey, was outside watering dead grass, same as always. “Kian?” the man called out, surprised. “Haven’t seen you in a while. You still doing that... soul-searching puzzle stuff?” Kian stopped. Looked at him. Mr. Grey chuckled like it was a joke. His shirt was tucked too tight, his eyes too tired for someone pretending everything was fine. Kian tilted his head, studied him a moment, then asked: “Why are you wasting your life on something you don’t even want?” The hose slipped in Mr. Grey’s hand. Kian stepped closer — not with aggression, but with clarity. “You work a job you hate. You pretend to be someone you're not. You lie to your wife and call it kindness. You spend every day running from the voice inside you — and then blame the world for being loud.” Mr. Grey’s mouth opened. “That’s— that’s really harsh, you know.” Kian didn’t flinch. “I’m not here to be soft. I’m here to tell the truth. And I’m not willing to betray myself just to protect your comfort.” He walked on, leaving a silence behind him that would echo louder than any argument.
Kian didn’t feel victorious. He didn’t feel angry. he didn’t feel wrong. He didn’t feel cruel. He didn’t feel broken He felt at peace. Not because he said the hard thing — But because he finally understood that not saying it would’ve been a betrayal. He finally, finally got it: His purpose was not to fit in. His purpose was to deliver the truth — even when it felt like throwing grenades.
Somewhere between the realms, in the space where frequencies fold in on themselves, Kian’s puzzle pieces dissolved — light becoming dust. And then suddenly… they reappeared. Not here. Not now. But somewhere far from Earth — on a different planet, in a different reality, waiting once again for a soul brave enough to finish what truth began.
And Kian? He kept walking. He followed the pull in his bones. He wasn’t searching anymore — he was aligning. And he had a feeling — deep, unshakable — that at least one of his soulmates was close. He didn’t rush. He knew now: They would find each other. The real ones always do.