It's a cool night, but the ground feels warm. For miles around me, a picturesque countryside stretches over the horizon. I can spot some old fluted columns and ruins, but can't place the geography. The sky is alien to me, with more stars than I have ever seen in my life. They glow like an intense swarm of fireflies in a multicolor spectrum. I can see something large on top of the hill, so I make my way over to it.

I come to a sizable metal gate with a towering stone staircase on the other side. When I'm through it, I begin ascending immediately. The steps rise one after another, but I get the funny feeling that I'm moving in a circle. The stairs twist and spiral and I lose my footing. It hasn't been long, still, the ground is somehow hundreds of feet below. As I regain my balance, I notice a mist in the air and the top of the staircase is finally in reach. Before me sits a monolithic castle on a cloud 

I walk through the grand arch and into the great hall. Monumental columns support a barrel-vaulted ceiling fifty feet high. The marble floor, as polished as a mirror, reflects my body in a fuzzy recreation like a half-remembered face. In the middle of the impressive architecture, a man greets me. I am expected, apparently. 

“Solipses! You have arrived!” His voice bellows, echoing off the ornate walls.

He is an old man in robes of antiquity, balding and stocky with a thick beard. His stern features were set in between deep, thoughtful wrinkles on a face vaguely familiar.

“You look distressed. Is something wrong, Guardian of the Republic?” he queries.

“I am fine.” I don't know how to respond. “Just out of breath from the staircase.”
“Out of breath! If he cannot walk the stairs to the Citadel how can we expect him to complete our quest?” Interrupted another man from a table across the room.

“Silence Hippias!” My host scolds.

There, nine old men sit at the table by the fireplace, all in the same, archaic robes. I realize they are made of the same marble as the floors and the building. Some hold up better than others; poor, elderly men literally crumbling before me. Cracks run through their crow's feet and dig at their thought lines. One is overjoyed to see me despite his sorry state. 

“Is it him, Plato? I knew you would come!-” he gets out before his jaw detaches and shatters on the table. He looks down at it remorsefully.

“Am I dreaming?” I ask, confused.

"If only. Come join us, Solipses. We have much to discuss." Plato informs me, guiding me to a seat and introducing me to the group. Here before me is Virgil without a jaw, Protagoras, Sophocles, Aristotle, Zeno, and a few others. 

“We are ready to send you on your quest brave Guardian.” Plato proclaims. “A terrible monstrosity has been terrorizing our kingdoms. It is a shapeshifter and a manipulator of minds. Once it has your attention it has your will. It must be stopped.”

“And you will need more than that old broom to beat it!” calls out Hippias.

“I'm not sure I understand," I say, looking at the broom still in my hands. “A quest for what exactly?”

“The means to stop the monster and restore balance to the realms.” Plato informs. “Think hard and remember the incalculable number of other worlds and how they are being destroyed, one by one. It won’t be long until there are no more worlds left to visit.”

“I don’t believe any of this. This is not real.” I say.

“He is not ready!” Argues Hippias.

“None of this makes any sense. You are all figments of my imagination.”

“Are we supposed to wait for the Senate to decide our fate? No, we are taking matters into our own hands.” Plato says to his group.

“You are the chosen one, our champion. The prophecy speaks of the one who can conquer both planes of existence and create the realms themselves.” Xeno exposits to me.

“Okay. I’ll play along. So if it is up to me, what do I need?”

"Why, the Sword of Truth of course," Virgil says simply.

A loud banging woke me up in the middle of the hall. I couldn’t remember how I got off the couch and into the resident’s area but the banging continued and continued. I followed it down the hall to a resident's room. A113 had someone knocking on the other side. Nervously, I fumbled through my keys until I was forced back by a woman with a bloody nose. It was terrifying in the middle of the night like that, but it was just an old woman, not a monster. 

I reached out to her and she coughed. In the moment that followed, like a water main breaking, more blood than I could imagine a body to have come pouring out of her burgundy face.