The Soul's Reflection: Ipsanyol's Redemption

The fierce battles of early Renaissance Mars had become intense for the small princely state of Ostium. Its mighty ruler, Prince Ostium, was the backbone of this powerful kingdom, and he let nothing stand in his way-- no matter the cost. Little did he know, however, the cost would soon be great. One day, the prince was presented with two boys of similar age and demeanor. Both boys bore the same name-- Ipsanyol. It was immediately apparent that this was no coincidence. These boys had been sent to the prince by powers unknown, and it was up to him to determine which boy was the real Ipsanyol-- and the destined heir to his small kingdom. Thus, it was settled that these two boys were to fight each other in a vicious battle to the… death. The prince and his court watched with macabre anticipation, waiting for these boys’ fate to be decided and their secret story revealed.

The boys could sense the anger and energy exuding from one another. Tightening their killing grip tight on their rusty blades, they measured each other up carefully. So, they were two halves of one whole… a familiar yet odd sensation filled them from within. Nevertheless, they paused, waiting for the signal from the prince to charge. Upon the drops of his majestic golden crown, the fight would frolic. A deadly clash of blades, their fate would soon be announced. With a pound of confidence, Ipsanyoll stepped forward with a swordsman's swagger and lunged for his counterpart. The other Ipsanyol, now flustered and surprised, dodged his first blow and swung his sword with an unbridled rage. Both boys' weapons met like metals that clashed for fate, each knotting up the other. The force increased and clanging runes echoed slowly through the hallowed space. They had begun trading technique and tactics-- thrown this way and that-- but both had succumbed to a more primordial state of stasis. Not a questioning, but a knowing, the secret of the true Ipsanyol began to slowly reveal.

The battle raged on, each blow landing them closer and closer to a single truth. Through confusion and fatigue, they pushed each other far. The sheer force and might of the confrontation had become overwhelming, and they could feel a certain level of understanding unraveling between them as one. More than combatants, the now-connected duo both knew what had to be done. Without so much of a breath, the Ipsanyol silently looked one another in the eye. Was there still a chance for mercy amidst their supposed to-the-death battle? Questions arose in minds both old and new since their connection-- a twin soul split in two-- had made itself known. After a brief scuffle, the pair quickly halting their melee as unity and trust filled the void. Mystically, time stopped with a wink and, in the midst of the battlefield, everything lit up—brighter than sunlight. The prince and his court were helpless in their looking-on as they watched the two Ipsanyols realize and unravel the truth between them.

Frankly, confusion ensued as the prince demanded answers and Ipsanyol stumbled over their words. Little by little, the pair figured out that they were one and the same person, merely split in two, who had become much different but also very much alike. Dreading his wrath, they poured out the truth-- they were two halves of the same being. Together, they held the power and wisdom to choose, if only they acted in time, who should be the real Ipsanyol. With time slipping by, it seemed the real Ipsanyol hadn’t chosen the prince. That alone was blasphemy, and it was clear to the prince what had to be done.

The prince had seen enough and decided it was time to put an end to these dramatic events, sentencing both Ipsanyols to death. The impossible choice had to be made-- who was the real Ipsanyol, and who had to die? The Prince called the two forward and stated to them, "Through determination and truth, maybe you, Ipsalanyol, will live. Choose one to be the real Ipsanyol, and the other will bear all the weight of death and ascend to heavens." Pause enveloped the space as both simmered over this grueling decision, heavy in its weight and implications. Each of them wanted to live, but the path was clear. In the split between the two, a single rib left for the prince. It was one or the other. Finally, Ipsubanyol stepped forward, gazing past the prince and into the mysterious unknown that came with ascension. Ipsubanyol declared and announced with a firm belief, "I am Ipsubanyol, and I believe this might be the end. I thank you both for a wonderful adventure. I shall take upon me the punishment and live on above, to carry the light this fight has brought." Prince Ostium accepted this decision with a soft nod of respect and understanding, a rare thing between two rulers. He ordered his court to arrest the remaining Ipsanyol and declare him the real one. Much sorrow and grief filled the room. Meanwhile, the taken one was spirited away, ready to passing and led away by a series of angelic beings towards a divine fate unknown. The real Ipsanyol was now born to take on the fortune of life and ascend through Renaissance Mars. Once again, Prince Ostium reigns with a peaceful knowledge of what it is time to do—distribute mercy and honor. Through the heat of battle and a battle of words, a new life was born and a new purpose was started.