Threshhold

A few hours later he woke up. He had a splitting headache and a big laceration on his forehead. The mirror shards were spread across the floor around him. For a few seconds he wondered why his grandfather hadn't come to wake him up or two at least clean up the remains of the mirror. But then he remembered that his grandfather wasn't there anymore.

To be more precise he had died about two weeks ago. Damians Grandfather was the only other person living in this house and also the only one who still treated him like a human being.

Victor Hartell, Damians grandfather, died from a sudden heart attack while he was out buying groceries. When Damien was notified the last little piece of his world started to crumble.

He spent the following days curled up at home and only Dragged himself to school to pick up his transcript. Sometimes, when he stood in the kitchen, he started to stare at the knives for a little too long, which made him feel unease. After staring at the ceiling of the bathroom for A while he decided to stand up again.

He took care to not get hurt by the shards that were lying around and managed to Get up without sustaining a cut. When he looked at the spot where the mirror had hung, he noticed something.

Aside from the loose suspension, which was sloppily attached to the drywall there was a fist sized hole. It was just a hollowed-out part with unregular edges and a small box inside.

Damian reached for the box and took it. He had to get a stool to stand on because he wouldn't have reached it otherwise. He opened it and within he found a small piece of paper and an oddly shaped key.

Damian took the paper and started reading the words that were written on it.

"Victor my dear friend, I know that you refuse to take what I offered you, but I am not an eternal being and if you find this message I have already perished. I refuse to live an unlimited amount of time but my legacy and the things that I accomplished. I can't just destroy them or let them be lost to time. You are my dearest friend and the person I trust most in every conceivable universe."

"If you can choose someone that needs the things, I have left behind it will be plenty enough for me. If you have gotten senile by the time you read this, just a quick reminder. The windowsill in your study is loose."

"PS: I might have accidentally punched a hole in your bathroom wall. Sorry."

Damian read it like it was a joke letter. He let it fall on the ground and tried to leave the room without stepping on the glass shards that were still lying around. He came back with a broom and a dustpan to clean up the mess he made.

He also picked up the piece of paper again and threw it in the trash together with the glass shards. While cleaning up he also noticed the huge laceration on his forehead. He had to keep one of the bigger shards to examine the wound and patch it with the bandages out of the first aid kit his grandpa had kept in the bathroom.

When he was done, he opened the trash bin to throw in the last Shard and his eyes fell once again on the letter. He let go of the shard and while being careful to not cut himself fished the piece of paper out of the trash.

He read it once more and after he was done, he suspiciously looked at the key that still lay in the box. He pondered about it for a few seconds, then he thought:" I have nothing to do so might as well."

He picked up the box and with the letter still in his hand he made his way towards the old study of his grandfather.

It wasn't a particularly big room. Just big enough for a working desk, some bookshelves and some space in between. He walked straight to the only window and lifted the windowsill.

Underneath it were a lot of dust, some dead spiders, one alive spider which scurried away and creep Damian out big time in the process and a hole just big enough to assumed that someone had put it there for some explicit reason.

The key was not of a shape that would suggest that it would fit in, but Damien took one of the pencils still lying on the working desk and tried to poke around in the hole.

Suddenly there was a click and one of the bookshelves on the wall started to disintegrate. No, not swinging aside or fall over. Just flat out vanishing into thin air. After it disappeared completely Damien scratched his head and started to except that he was slowly going insane.

After a bit of deliberation, he decided to go with the flow and just try to open the door that had revealed itself after the bookshelf was gone. He tried to fit the key in the keyhole of the door and this time it fit perfectly. he didn't even have to turn it.

The door just creaked open as soon as he inserted the key. Behind it was a room that spanned at least four times the size of the study. It was dusty and damp. With no windows or other sources of light.

Damien knew exactly that there was not enough space for this room between the study and the room right next to it. In fact, the wall was so thin that Damian and his grandfather could communicate through it without the doors of either room being opened.

But since he accepted that he was on some kind of psychedelic trip he just shrugged it off and stepped into the hidden chamber. As soon as he stepped over the threshold several small lights on the ceiling and the wall lit up.

They were so well placed that Damien couldn't see a single shadow. He also was failing to find any source the light could come from. But instead of pursuing this auditee he looked at the items that were displayed along the walls with interest.

The furnishing looked quite old and had a really rustic vibe. There were also some paintings on the wall which depicted Damian's grandfather, at different ages, with various other people. The only person, apart from Victor Hartell, who was depicted on all the paintings was a man in his early 30s with blonde hair and light green eyes.

Curiously enough no matter what age the people in the paintings had, including Damien's grandfather, this man looked always the same. As if someone had copy pasted him in.

After a few seconds of trying to comprehend this enigma Damian decided to seize this exercise in futility and turn to the only desk in the room. It looked ancient. With lots of drawers and compartments. The thing that drew his attention the most was another letter that was lying on top.

He picked it up in the belief that there would be even more nonsense scribbled on it, but its contents surprised him.

"To Damien, I'm writing this in fear that I won't be around long enough to watch you grow into someone that is worthy of this inheritance. I have little doubt that you will become someone who can make proper use of the legacy my best friend had to leave behind.

But as you are now it would more likely destroy the little bit of freedom you have left. Power is only as profitable as it is stable and even a stable power can crumble if its user isn't steadfast enough to face it.

But no matter what, I want to gift this to you. It is not because you are the best candidates to take care of it or have the most compassionate heart who will only use it for the benefit of others. I care about neither. I want to give this to you because I see you suffer every day.

If you finally manage to pick yourself up again and create a life for yourself that you can proudly call as such this will be your reward. The reason is that you are one of the two only people I can proudly call family. No matter if blood-related or not. Remember that everyone, no matter who or what they may be, has to watch after their family.

Never forget that you are only as important as the people you love in your life. I will let you choose if you accept it or not. If not, close the door and tell the key - my life is mine not yours - after this everything will disappear. even your memory of it. This is the only chance you get to live your life as Normal as you please.

If you want it take the key and say - I, ask for the rite of passage -. If I'm really not there anymore I can only plead that you won't use this in a broken state of mind. It is far too dangerous for that. If you are, please remember these last words from me to you.

One of the few things I acknowledge as an absolute truth in every conceivable universe is that you will always be close to my heart. Even in death. I hope, someday, you will find something as true and unshakable as this."

Damien only realized he had started to cry when one of his tears dropped on the latter. It spread and distorted the ink on it. He frantically tried to dry it, but it only ended up blurring the ink even more and the tears that were still falling added up to that.

This continued long enough to make the letter almost unreadable. When he calmed down, he set down on the chair standing behind the desk. He definitely didn't think of all this as some kind of psychosis Anymore which made it even more unbelievable.

Again and again, he read every part of the letter that was still recognizable. Then he stared at the door That had led him to this room. The key was still stuck in the keyhole. With shaking knees, he stood up and took the key in his hands. He turned it around and looked at it from every angle possible.

Damien acknowledged that he was definitely in the broken state of mind that his grandfather had described in his letter, but he also had no other perspective he could follow. His options we're not Appealing in any way. he could live his life as he had until now.

Without knowing what to change and how to change it. Or he could go against the wishes of his grandfather and take a leap of faith into whatever he had left him. In the end his curiosity and fear of stagnation tipped the scales.

'Having a bad option is probably better than having no perspective at all. I can still make it disappear if I want to. Probably', he thought.

He steeled himself and spoke out loud: "I ask for the rite of passage". In front of Damian appeared the silhouette off a keyhole. Only the silhouette though. He couldn't see anything else that could belong to it. After a deep breath he inserted the key and turned it.

When he did so the outlines of a door frame started to appear. What revealed itself behind it was a blinding light that forced Damian to close his eyes.