For all of his divine foresight Fath could not escape his own doubts. But there was one in Archcrystal who drew respect no matter what he said: Kivish The Portal of Universes. Kivish would regularly stand guard at each entrance to the glass tower, killing goblins at the surface, gremlins and ogres at the caves, and demons at the entrance to hell. He was literally the portal to each realm of the glass tower and he carried out his duty with a determined will like no other - his glowing emerald eyes brighter than any dwarf of the fortress. So it was that Fath sought him out. He finally pursued guidance from one he could not not hear within his head. Fath sat cross-legged before Kivish at the gate to hell. "Tell me," he said. "I need to hear what will carry us beyond our ancestors - and beyond ourselves."
Kivish closed his emerald eyes and spoke and his voice echoed among the eerie glowing pits, but no one else could hear his words:
There was once a pristine and beautiful garden. Roses were the rulers of this garden and it was they who held the power of life and death. They alone determined which other plants got sunlight and nourishment, and they allowed no interlopers. One day a rose spotted a small weed growing in its shadow among the mud on top of the slade floor. The weed was weak and tired, barely scraping by on the scraps left by the rose, nearly starving to death. The rose looked down and asked, “How dare you attempt to grow in my garden! This is a garden of peace and beauty, and you are not like us. You are a pitiful and pathetic weed, why should I not stamp you out?”
The weed replied, “My Lord Rose, great ruler of the Garden, what threat am I? I am just a simple weed who can cause no harm. How could I ever threaten the balance and beauty of your garden? I wish only to live and see the beauty of the garden. Do I not have a right to live just as the other plants live?”
After much thought the rose asked the other roses in the Garden, “He is but a pitiful weed. Surely we can allow this one little weed to live. He only wants a chance at life.” The other roses thought and held council, and at last they decided the weed could grow in their garden. After all, he wasn’t a bad looking weed, and he was so small and pitiful he could never do any harm. So it was that the weed was allowed to share the sunlight and nourishment, and in time the weed grew.
Taller and stronger, the weed grew, soaking up every bit of nourishment from the soil around him, absorbing the sunlight and gathering in strength. His roots were strong and eventually they intertwined with the roots of the rose. When the rose asked why the weed replied, “I only want to help support you. I love this garden so much I want to help you care for it.” So the rose allowed the weed to help support him. The rose grew sick and weak, and the weed held it up, his roots spreading out to encompass the rose’s own roots.
One day the roses looked upon the weed, who had helped their brother so much, and saw the weed was stronger and mightier than even they, but the weed promised he was only trying to help the garden, and his roots spread to support the other roses, who were beginning to weaken and sicken themselves. Still the weed grew, and other weeds sprung up in the garden as the weed professed they were only there to help. When all the roses were weak and dying and the weeds were the strongest and tallest plants in the garden, the other roses gave up. They were starving to death because the weeds needed all the food and sunlight to support themselves.
The rose who spared the weed’s life looked up from the shadow of the weed where it grew and asked, “Why are you taking all the food from me? I am but a simple rose, do I not have a right to live and grow too? Do I not have a right to live in the garden?”
The weed looked down at the rose and replied, “No.”