The story is drawing to a close. Moiety and Akedah have faced a variety of dragons and have learned from each one a different aspect of the transformative ability of chaos. Akedah, the overt representation of a hero, is being reborn as he wakes up from a death-like state and Moiety the covert representation of a hero has risen from the pressurized depths of hell, bringing back an unknown treasure (the dragon's pearl) to combine the known threat -the (mechanical heart). Both heroes learn that their main antagonists are not each other, but forces their own psyches."It turns out that an eerie type of chaos can lurk just behind a facade of order - and yet, deep inside the chaos lurks an even eerier type of order."― Douglas R. Hofstadter, Metamagical Themas: Questing for the Essence of Mind and Pattern 1979 Winner of the Pulitzer Prize in non-fiction for exploring mathematical relationships in creative processes.Akedah's eyes slammed open into a body filled with pain. Moiety was crying, or more accurately, weeping hysterically with snot free-flowing from her nose. He coughed. His mouth and nose were full of cottony silkworm thread.

"You came back!"

As Akedah pushed through the layered wrappings of silk threads, he felt the pins and needles of blood flowing back into his small capillaries. It made him sneeze.

Moiety was trying to hug him. He stiffened. For a brief moment, he considered utilizing her repentance and joy as a way to gain the upper hand in the relationship. Now that she wanted him, he could manipulate her more easily into being compliant. He would be able to use his approval or disapproval of her as endless currency to get what he wanted out of the relationship. He gave her a cold, distant look.

"What is wrong?" she asked.

Akedah continued in silence. She still looked like a wet cat. He remembered his half-finished book in the high mountain city and the importance that it had placed on his motivations above his actions. He considered the fact that the quality of his life would hinge not on what he accomplished but his motivations underpinning his accomplishments.

All Akedah could think of was her back to him, sailing away in his boat. He wanted revenge on this woman for the way she had unfairly treated him, but he also knew from looking at his life book, that it did not matter. He would only be right in the end if he was able to forgive her. No one in all eternity, especially not the old Morning Star, would ever care if his personal grievances were resolved to his satisfaction. The thing that would give his life meaning would be his ability to overlook the insult, to despise Shame, and choose love despite spite. 

Akedah again laid it down and let it go. He would be doing a lot of that.

The North Wind was long gone now, a soft, warm sunset had taken her place. Akedah stood up and promptly fell back down. Moiety rushed to help him. 

"You have been asleep for three days," the Leviathan informed him. "Your strength will return." But to Moiety, he said, "Do not cling to him. He has not finished the transformation. You cannot help him in this, Princess. You must allow him to gather his own strength, or his vitality will be stunted. He must generate his fortitude from within right now, or he will forever be dependent on women for succor."

With considerable effort, the Viking pulled himself up to stand using a low tree branch for support, "What is that clicking sound?"

Moiety listened. She could not hear anything but ocean waves and the residual breezes left behind in the jungle canopy from North Wind's impossibly long hair. Then, she noticed it, not so much as a sound but as a nagging feeling of urgency. Softly, the feeling reached her senses as an irritating sound. The muffled metronome was present and persistent, as persistent as time. It was sending out vibrations through the jungle soil like the concentric ripples on still water when Support this podcast