Why does the pain of losing loved ones dull over time, leaving behind a quiet, serene sadness? Rationalists would say we simply forget. The residents of Kemmesa, however, believe that this pain is carefully taken away by the mysterious Guardian of Pauses.
They say he embodies the very pause between inhalation and exhalation, the space between sleep and waking life. He appears as a skeleton in a perfectly pressed tailcoat and top hat. In one bony hand, he holds a cane for beating time, and in the other, a pocket watch whose hands have stopped an eternity ago.
When the longing for the departed becomes unbearable and louder than the ticking of any clock, the Guardian appears to the sufferer. He says not a word, but merely turns the key on his watch. And time stands still. In the ensuing absolute silence, the world grows thinner: a faint scent of perfume wafts through the air, the echo of long-ago laughter passes, a fleeting touch is felt.
This is not a visitation from the other world. It is a sign. A quiet, barely audible message: "Everything is alright. We are here. You must move on."
Having done his work, the Guardian of Pauses removes his top hat with a silent bow and disappears as silently as he appeared. He takes with him a sip of time, filled with pain, leaving relief in its place. He serves as a reminder that the true connection between worlds lies not in moments measured by a mechanism, but in the eternity hidden in the pauses between them.