“You can’t see the lights?” I frown.

“No,” Raz says. “They only reveal themselves to the eyes of the Kah-Gash.”

“I don’t understand.”

“There are three parts of the Kah-Gash,” Raz says. “The trigger, memory, and eyes. The trigger is the commanding force. The memory stores all that happens. The eyes see the hidden strings which bind the universes in place.

“This only became clear to us over the long course of time. In the beginning we didn’t know how many pieces there were, what function they played, where they’d gone. We were not even sure that parts of the Kah-Gash still existed.

“The Demonata knew no more than we did, but threw themselves into the search. Their desperate plan was to find the parts of the Kah-Gash, reassemble them, and restore the original universe. It’s a plan they haven’t wavered from.

“For a time we saw no threat. We thought it was a fool’s quest. But then the parts began to reappear. They had the ability to turn up anywhere, in a comet, a rock, a tree, an animal, even one of the new demons. The pieces never merged with any of the Old Creatures or original demons, but all other forms were fair game. They caused no harm, existing in harmony with their hosts, but their reemergence filled us with panic.”

Raz shivers, then continues. “The Demonata pursued the pieces with a mad passion. When they finally found one, they experimented, seeking ways to harness its power. They found they could influence its destination when it moved from one form to another, ensuring it stayed within their grasp.

“The demons searched hard for the other pieces. They couldn’t cross from their universe to ours, but they didn’t need to. The parts of the Kah-Gash passed freely between universes. The Demonata could wait, even though it might take billions of years.”

We come to another elevator and ride it down to a random lower level. I find a park, full of strangely shaped trees and bushes. I dodge between them as Raz speaks.

“We couldn’t let them reunite the Kah-Gash,” Raz says. “We felt responsible for this universe’s new life-forms. They were simple creatures, but they had a right to exist. So we counter plotted. Although the demons couldn’t cross universes, we had the power to enter theirs. We launched a raiding party. After a brief battle, we freed the piece of the Kah-Gash and fled. The Demonata couldn’t follow. All they could do was keep searching and waiting.

“That’s how things continued over millions of years,” Raz says as if talking about the passing of a couple of weeks. “The Demonata imprisoned pieces of the Kah-Gash. We crossed, fought, and freed them.”

“Are you stronger than the demons?” I ask.

“No,” Raz says. “But we only needed to destroy the form in which a piece was stuck. When that happened, it shot free. If the demons had been able to focus, they could have directed it into another form of their choosing, but we distracted them.

“We also searched for pieces in our universe,” Raz goes on. “We had no wish to reassemble the Kah-Gash, but we hoped to capture the pieces and hold them from the Demonata forever. We learned to influence the pieces, but only as the Demonata did. We can keep them in place awhile, but eventually they slip free.”

“Is that the same when the demons capture them?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Then why worry?” I shrug. “If they can’t hold on to a piece forever, they can’t collect them all, can they?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Raz says. “Sometimes all three pieces exist in a universe at the same time, as they do now. When I say we can’t hold on to a piece for long, I mean tens of thousands of years. That’s more than enough time for the Demonata to unite the parts. All they need is a lucky break.

“So we continued to fight,” Raz says wearily. “Every time they captured a piece, we set it free. It could have gone on like that until the end of time, except there were casualties. Some of us always died when we raided. A few here, a few there. When you add them up over millions, then billions of years…” He shudders.

“We’re not afraid of death,” Raz says. “But we couldn’t continue that way indefinitely, because—”

“—you can’t have children,” I interrupt, beating him to the punch.

“Correct.” He smiles sadly. “At some point we would become extinct. Then the demons would be free to track down the pieces of the Kah-Gash and restore the original universe, only this time it would be exclusively theirs.

“We couldn’t accept such a fate, so we did something we were never meant to. We played god and interfered with the creatures of the new universe. We’ve been paying for that mistake ever since. And the universe has been paying for it too.”

Raz turns his face away and says with shame, “We’re the reason the Demonata can cross from their universe to ours.” He brushes a hand across his cheeks, and though I can’t be certain, I think the Old Creature is wiping away guilty tears.

We return to the room with the garden and Raz constructs a new window. We travel for a long time through the sub-universe of lights, finally emerging on top of a stone slab. The walls of this chamber are dotted with holes and windows, through which I can see thousands of tombs and monuments, encircling us like silent, frozen sentries.

Raz slips through one of the larger holes and I follow, gazing solemnly at the ranks of graves. Even though the tombs differ in style and size to those on Earth, there’s no doubt that this is a graveyard. It has the feel of death.

“This place is massive,” I whisper, goosebumps rising.

“It is a cemetery world,” Raz says.

“You mean everybody’s dead?” I gulp. “Was it a war?”

“There was never life on this planet,” Raz says. “But there are populated planets nearby, and advanced beings move freely between them. For centuries they have been bringing their dead here, laying them to rest on a world of their own.”

A world of the dead. My goosebumps spread. I’m not easily spooked, but this is creeping me out big time.

“By shaping the minds of this universe’s creatures, we hoped to cheat destiny,” Raz says softly, returning to the lecture. “We knew we would die before the universe ended. We thought if we spread intelligence, the beings we created might carry on the fight.

“There are now millions of races with the power of thought. Many are more advanced than your people. But intelligence was never intended for this universe. The earliest creatures showed no signs of evolving and developing souls.”

“What do you mean by that?” I stop him.

“Every intelligent being has a soul,” Raz says. “Animals don’t. A soul forms when a creature thinks for the first time, when it reasons and makes plans. It is a fascinating process. In some species it happens in every member at the same moment. In most, one of them makes a mental leap, then bears young and they pass it on, intelligence spreading like a disease.

“We cultivated the disease. It was much harder than we imagined, but once we made the breakthrough, we quickly mastered the arts of education, then split into small groups and set off for the far reaches of the universe, sowing intelligence everywhere we went.

“We had no right to disturb the natural balance,” Raz sighs. “But you are a child of our meddling. Would you rather exist as a mindless beast, running wild, no understanding of the past or plans for the future?”

“No,” I answer after a short pause.

“Nor do most others. They have the choice. We can’t force a species to evolve. Some fight it and return to their simpler ways. But most rise to the challenges we set. Life is easier for animals, but so much richer for those with the ability to love and hate, fight and make peace, dream and hope.”

Raz falls silent as we walk among the tombs and headstones. After a while I come to a small, unimpressive tomb. I almost walk past, but Raz coughs softly and points towards the upper-right corner.