The shrine was in a small valley full of roses and lilies as well as other flowers native to Faerie country. It was surrounded by a forest of flower-trees, mostly of a variety that was canopied by deep purple blossoms. The diffused sunlight made Kurt's skin glow violet as he made his way along the rarely-used winding path. So few Sidhe outside of Villalu or Khryslee visited the Blessed Guardian anymore; he had become inexorably linked to human rights and the abolishment of slavery, and there weren't many Sidhe who wanted their spiritual lives flavored with politics.

Of course, everything was flavored with politics, regardless of whether or not one chose to live in ignorance of that fact.

And ignorance was a luxury that Kurt had lost on the way home from his last soul-walk.

It was midmorning when Kurt arrived, bearing a small bottle of sand from the Western sea.

He grew a patch of lilies at the foot of the sand god's statue, gazing reverently at the vine-draped figure holding a stone carving of connected bivalve shells in his palm. If this had been a conventionally planned marriage, Kurt would have had time to procure shells for his offering too. As it stood, he was lucky to find a trader with sand to sell on such short notice. Kurt poured the sand in a circle around the lilies, his eyes still on the connected stone shells.

The connection that remained even after the death of the creature within.

Two halves that can exist separately, but mean so much more when that delicate bond between them remains.

Kurt ran his fingers along the shells in the statue's palm, tracing the connection between them in the gentlest possible way.

He murmured a request that The Blessed Guardian allow him this soul-walk, and then kissed the statue's toes softly and rose to his feet when he received no sign that his request had been rejected.

He found the flowers he was looking for; dark blue glossy petals cupped around a sticky golden center. The center was what held the hallucinogen that would assist him in his trance, but he ate the petals too, as they offset some of the bitterness of the drug.

Kurt undressed completely and settled himself cross-legged before the statue, placing one palm on the sun-warmed stone. He closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply, working himself into as deep a trance as possible, making himself empty and receptive so that he could slip out of his body easily when the Walk began.

"You need a drink."

Puck strode into Blaine's cell and thumped a large bottle of pale blue liquid onto the table. Blaine looked over at him from the window where he stood.

"What's that?"

"Nectar," Puck said, and then told him what kind of unpronounceable plant it was the nectar of, as if Blaine would have any idea what he was referring to.

Puck poured two glasses and walked over to Blaine, handing him one.

"To we of the red bracelet," Puck said, clinking their glasses together.

"To true love that never dies," Blaine responded, knocking back the beverage in one swig.

Well, it may have been nectar, but it was obviously fermented nectar, and decidedly quite alcoholic. Still...the flavor was sweet and delicate and undeniably appealing.

When Puck brought the bottle over to the window, Blaine held his glass out for more. Why the hell not? If ever there were a day to wallow in drunkenness, this would be it.

When the drug began to take hold, Kurt felt himself move and ripple inside his own skin. Tentatively, he climbed out.

He paused for a moment to observe his body, deep in trance at the foot of the statue. Then he looked up into the now-intelligent eyes of the Blessed Guardian.

Without speaking in the manner of flesh-beings, the god asked him why he had chosen to visit his shrine instead of any other. What could the Blessed Guardian offer Kurt that no other goddess or god could?

Guidance, answered Kurt. The path to Unity.

How do I fix what your followers lost? He asked. How do I achieve a common understanding that may never have existed at all between such different peoples?

And finally, painfully, how do I sever the ligaments that hold us together? How do I let him go?

The Blessed Guardian looked at him thoughtfully. Finally he signaled that he would send a guide for Kurt.

Kurt couldn't help but feel a pang of mild frustration. He didn't want a traditional Nuptial Rite for this soul-walk. He already knew that there were at least a handful of lives in which he and Firae had already been perfectly content together. He had seen them the last time. All the answers Kurt needed right now were the sort to come from the Blessed Guardian himself. All a guide could do was show him what he had already seen or, quite possibly, show him things he didn't want to see. Kurt began to protest, but paused when he felt a cool mistlike whisper of a hand on his shoulder.

He turned around to behold his guide, and all of his arguments against having one evaporated into nothing.

"Mother," he breathed softly, taking her hand.

She was just as he remembered her, with long dark hair and eyes like Kurt's. He took a moment just to drink her in.

She kissed his cheek, and he felt that same cool mistlike touch as her lips brushed against him.

"This way," she said, her voice as musical as he remembered.

She led him into the forest of purple flower-trees, the world around them fading from deep purple into black, and then it was as if he were stepping into the night sky. Galaxies swirled around him, continually growing larger than conceivably possible and then shrinking down until they were smaller than a grain of sand. Kurt had no way to gauge his own size or density, or even if his consciousness was clinging to the illusion of a corporeal body at all. He let himself drift until he found that place, the one place in all the universe reserved for him, his soul, his very essence.

His mother nestled in beside him, and yes, the illusion of corporeal form was back so that he could fully appreciate her presence.

"You have already seen your lives with Firae," she said, and he nodded.

"But there was something else last time, wasn't there?" She continued. "Something that you chose to ignore."

Kurt looked at her uneasily. "I just...I knew I could be happy with Firae. I saw it. I didn't see any need to...make it more complicated."

"And yet it has become more complicated."

"No," Kurt insisted. "It isn't. I want to marry Firae. I...I care for him a great deal, and if I am King I can change things, mother. I could leave a legacy of-"

"Kurt," she admonished gently, "is there no other way?"

Kurt gave her a puzzled look.

"You chose to ignore the other because it scared you." It wasn't a question. "And yet so few in any world are given such a gift. Do you really choose to deny it? Out of fear?"

"It isn't...it's not...he isn't..."

She stroked his cheek. "He found you anyhow, didn't he?" She asked softly. "Even though you tried to keep him lost to you in this life. He still found you."

Kurt felt a flush of sadness. He was sure that, back at the shrine, his body was shedding tears.

"I miss you," Kurt whispered.

"I miss you too," his mother replied. "Please don't resist this, Kurt. You have to look this time."

Kurt bit his (conceptual) lip, looking at the glittering points around him. They weren't actually stars, but they looked very much like them, and he was drawing a particular set of them toward himself. These were the lives in which he and Firae were together.

Past, present and future, scattered across universes, they did have a connection. That much was undeniable. Firae's life fit his, perhaps more like a mitten than a glove, but it fit nonetheless.

Kurt tried to ignore the heat at his back. He tried not to turn around and see what he knew was there, what had always been there.

He had successfully ignored it last time. Why had the Blessed Guardian not simply answered his questions? Why had he sent him a guide that embodied his mother in every way? Why had he made Kurt come back here?

He had ignored what was behind him last time. This time it was even more difficult.

"Kurt, turn around," his mother said gently.

"I can't," he whispered, fighting it.

"Puck, what is this?" Blaine slurred after his fourth glass of nectar. "I feel strange."

"You're just drunk," Puck said idly.

"I've been drunk before, Puck, this feels different."

"Well, you've never had this to drink before, right? You're probably just not used to Faerie nectars. You'll be fine."

Blaine furrowed his brow. "You only had one."

"Uh, yeah. I thought you needed it more than me today."

Blaine looked at him suspiciously. "Puck, what did you-"

Blaine's eyes rolled back in his head and Puck caught him as he fell, utterly unconscious. He carried Blaine to the bed and laid him down gently.

Puck paused before leaving the room to look down at Blaine with a smirk, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"You'll thank me later," he said cheerfully, as he sauntered out the door whistling to himself.

Kurt's mother squeezed his hand gently. "It's time for me to go."

"No!" Kurt swore he could feel his heart beating with alarm. "You just...it hasn't been long enough. Don't leave me yet."

"Kurt, there is nothing else for me to show you. You're choosing the path of least resistance, and there doesn't seem to be anything I can do to convince you otherwise."

"No! I'm choosing...it's not the path of least resistance."

"It's the path of least pain, Kurt," his mother ammended.

"You can't be serious. If you even knew how painful this is for me-"

"Is it more painful than letting yourself love as deeply and freely as you are truly capable, knowing that he will leave you alone in this world when he dies?"

Kurt stuttered a bit before finally responding. "It nearly killed me when you died. I don't know if I can do it again."

"Sweetie, you can. You are so strong."

"I don't feel strong," Kurt whimpered brokenly. "I'm just trying to do what's right, and...even if I am afraid, and even if the fear is part of my decision, I can't let the brutality in the world continue. I just can't."

"I know you care about your world, Kurt. You will continue to care, no matter what happens. But marrying Firae...you can't think it is the only way."

"What other way is there?"

"What other ways have you considered?"

"I..." Kurt didn't know what to say. All he knew was that his mother simply didn't understand. If there was another way, of course he would have found it.

He would have.

Wouldn't he?

"Kurt, turn around. You owe it to yourself to at least see what it is that you are rejecting."

"I know what I am rejecting," Kurt said sadly.

"You know a piece of it. You have the opportunity to know more."

Kurt swallowed. Or seemed to swallow, anyhow.

His mother hugged him. "It's your choice now, Kurt," she said, giving him another kiss on the cheek. "I trust you can find your own way back."

"But I...no..I..." Kurt was so distraught that he didn't even notice the familiar presence at his side.

The presence that was so familiar, it was like another part of him. Connected by the finest ligament.

His mother did notice, and her eyes shone with what appeared to be tears. Her smile was dazzling.

"Oh, Kurt, he's beautiful," she said, and then she was gone.

Kurt glanced at the spot where his mother had been looking and was stunned to find Blaine standing beside him.

"Kurt?" He ventured nervously.

"Blaine, what are you doing here?" Kurt whispered. This was absolutely unheard of.

"I was looking for you." Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist. "I found you."

Blaine was obviously dreaming, there was no other way that he could be there. But even in the dream state, how could he find Kurt? This place, this reality that Kurt was occupying was deeper than the world of dreams, and only sages and Elder priestesses could reach it without-

Puck.

Of course.

Kurt hoped he remembered to thoroughly throttle his friend when he returned to Cloudlen.

"Kurt, where are we?" Blaine asked dreamily. "I feel like if I let go of you I'm going to disappear."

"We...we're somewhere you probably won't remember, Blaine. We are at the heart of all worlds."

"What does it mean?" Blaine asked, his arms grasping Kurt more tightly as he nestled his head against his chest. Kurt was surprised by how warm and solid Blaine felt, almost as if they had never left their bodies at all.

"I'm not sure anyone really knows. But we Sidhe believe that this is where all souls are born. And this is where we come to connect to our other lives."

"Other lives?" Blaine asked with interest.

"Yes. This life is one of many that you have lived and will continue to live. Your essence is not bound by your flesh."

"Are you in any of my other lives?" Blaine asked, kissing Kurt's shoulder.

"Yes," Kurt admitted softly, all too aware of the heat pressing in behind him.

"Can you show me?" Blaine whispered, and Kurt felt his resolve begin to crack.

He didn't turn around. He couldn't. But he did glimpse over his shoulder just long enough to find a cluster of the light-points. He reached behind himself and drew them to his chest.

The small, bright entities swirled before them, and Kurt held his arms around them loosely, tentatively, almost as if he were holding a baby.

"These are lives we have had together, Blaine. Just a few of them." Blaine peered at the tiny star-like lights that seemed to dance in the cradle of Kurt's arms.

Blaine reached to touch one tentatively, and gasped as a bolt of light shot through him.

"Kurt, that was...it was...I mean, it was us, but..."

Without finishing his thought, Blaine touched another light and then another. He stared up at Kurt in wonder.

"Is this real?" He asked in a whisper.

"I suppose that depends on what you mean by real," Kurt mused.

Blaine sighed and wrapped his arms back around Kurt's waist.

They stayed that way for a measureless space of time, until Blaine began to fade, back into the world of dreams, back toward waking life.

Kurt felt so cold and empty when he'd gone.

Blaine had not been afraid to let the visions wash through him. If Blaine had only known what it was that was really pressing in from behind them...

No. Blaine would not have been afraid of that either. Of this Kurt was certain.

The Blessed Guardian had sent him here for a reason. And with or without Puck's interference, the Blessed Guardian had allowed Blaine to find him because he wished it to happen.

Kurt took what he perceived to be a deep breath.

"Courage," he whispered to himself, and turned around.

The multitude of tiny lights was so intense it nearly blinded him. There were too many to differentiate, too many to count even if he had the rest of his long life to try.

His mother had been right. So few in any world were given such a gift. Such a terrifying, humbling ocean of a gift.

Centering himself, Kurt made a choice.

He allowed his defenses to melt, surrendered all semblance of control. The edges of his form began to blur and drift, and he cast himself wide across the heavens.

The millions (billions?) of twinkling lights began to surge forth, rushing through him, permeating him completely.

And he saw it all.

There were worlds much like the one they lived in now, and worlds that were different in every conceivable way. There were worlds where they were both human, worlds where they were both Sidhe, and there were worlds where they were some other kind of creature altogether. There were lives where they found and lost each other quickly, and lives where they stayed together for years upon years. There were lives where they loved free and proud, and lives where the love they shared got them both killed. There was every kind of barrier and every kind of victory. There were lives of misery where they never truly saw what they were to one another, and there were lives like precious jewels where they found each other so, so young and saw one another with clear eyes from the very first moment.

And in every life, in every world, their essences were unmistakable. They were Kurt and they were Blaine, in any language, in any interpretation. It was always them.

No matter what happened in any world, they would always find their way back to one another.

And no matter what happened in this world, no matter what Kurt chose to do, he and Blaine would belong to each other forever.

With that final realization, everything around him reverberated with a loud, echoing snap.

Kurt's breathing felt thick and heavy and hard, and it took several dizzying moments to realize that he was back in his body. He slumped to the ground, aware that the sun had already set and that he had a long walk back to Cloudlen.

Kurt allowed himself to lie in the grass for awhile, re-adjusting to being in a body, to time and space and width and depth and shape and size and color. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

His soul-walk had not left him with the sort of firm confidence he was expecting. In fact, he still had some thinking to do on his journey home.

Kurt ate a quick supper of berries and grasses and drank deeply from his flask of water.

As he began the trek back to the Great Hall, back to Firae, who would almost definitely already be waiting for him by now, he pondered.

Two hundred years with Blaine or eight hundred with Firae?

A simple route to lasting power or a slower and currently unclear path toward the change he needed to see?

Fear and pain or comfort and ease?

Searing passion and blinding love or simple contentment and familiarity?

Kurt spent the entire journey home utterly lost in thought.

And when he reached the Great Hall he had finally made his decision.