The Iris

Peter Fae and Calliope stepped into the room, its vastness filled with an otherworldly light that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at once. The floor beneath them shimmered like glass, reflecting their forms and the infinite stars above. At the center of the room floated a globe—not the Earth as seen on maps, but an Earth alive with motion. Rivers of golden light coursed across its surface, forming constellations and pathways, each pulsating with energy.

Calliope stepped forward, her quill hovering in her hand, and gestured toward the globe.

“This is the Iris,” she said, her voice carrying a reverence that made Peter pause. “It’s a lens through which we see the mortal plane, your plane, and the specific journey you’ve walked. Every individual has their own Iris, their own unique map of incarnation. Here, we look into the moments of your timeline to uncover the larger pattern, the mythos, and the meaning behind it all.”

Peter moved closer to the globe, his breath catching as he saw familiar places illuminated—cities he had walked through, forests where he had meditated, and faces of people who had changed him. The pathways of light shifted as he observed them, forming intricate patterns like the strands of a web.

“It’s…” Peter began, searching for the words. “It’s beautiful. But it’s also… alive.”

“Of course it is. This is your story, Peter. Not just the events and places, but the energy that flows through it all—the synchronicities, the choices, the connections that weave your life into the Great Story.”

She pointed toward the globe, and a small portal opened along its surface, revealing an image of Peter standing on a windswept cliff, his hands raised toward the sky.

“See that moment? That’s when you made the vow beneath the lightning. The Iris doesn’t just show where you’ve been—it holds the essence of who you are and the meaning behind every step you’ve taken.”

Peter studied the portal, the memory vivid and immediate as if he were reliving it. He turned to her, his brow furrowed.

“So, the Iris… it’s not just a map. It’s a mirror.”

“Exactly. It reflects not only your journey across the mortal plane but the deeper patterns—the archetypes and elements that shaped your choices, the trials that forged you, and the treasures you’ve uncovered.”

She gestured to the room around them, and Peter noticed the many doorways lining the circular walls. Each portal shimmered with a faint light, as though waiting to be opened.

“These are the gateways into the moments of your life. Each one leads to a scene, a memory, or a turning point. Through these doors, we can explore the threads of your journey, not as isolated events but as pieces of a larger tapestry.”

Peter approached one of the doorways, his hand hovering just shy of the light. Through the portal, he could see himself sitting by a fire, surrounded by allies whose faces he hadn’t thought of in years. The crackle of the flames, the murmurs of their voices—it all felt so real, so close.

“What happens if I go in?” he asked, his voice quiet.

“You’ll observe it, as if standing in the memory itself. But here, in the Iris, you’re not bound by the same limits of time and space. You’ll see not only the moment but the meaning behind it—the lessons it offered, the archetypes it revealed, and how it fits into the larger pattern of your story.”

Peter exhaled slowly, lowering his hand.

“And this is true for everyone? They all have their own Iris?”

“Yes,” Calliope said, her tone soft with wonder. “Every being who incarnates on the mortal plane has their own Iris. Each journey is unique, yet all are connected. The Iris reveals the threads of fate, fortune, and free will that weave their lives into the Great Story. And from this place, we can see not only where you’ve been, but where you’re going.”

Peter turned back to the floating globe, watching as the rivers of light continued to shift and flow.

“So, what do we do with this?”

Calliope’s quill glowed softly in her hand, ready to write.

“We tell your story, Peter. We dive into these moments, these portals, and uncover the patterns that others can follow. Your journey isn’t just yours—it’s a guide, a map for those who seek their own mythos.”

Peter met her gaze, the weight of his quest settling into clarity.

“Then let’s begin. Let’s show them what it means to live their myth.”