Caeror flits another glance at me before resuming his surveilling of the clear morning sky. “Perhaps ‘copy’ is a bit crude. It’s more like…” He scrunches up his face as he reaches for a better explanation. “We’re no less ourselves. Think of it as setting out on a branching path. It’s still you. Just travelling a different road.” I chew over his words. Kindly delivered, but I find little comfort in them. “And this whole world was copied from ours, too?” “It might be the original. I don’t know. But… yes. Thousands of years ago now, but yes. That’s my understanding of it.”
