The Fifth Guardian: A Symphony of Discord

The Fifth Guardian

A Symphony of Discord

Barry M. Fellinger

Copyright © 2025 Barry M. Fellinger

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Cover design by: Paula Telizyn

For Lindsay

Dedicated to all those whose lived experiences of unexpected tragedy and loss have made them believe that perhaps the universe is not always unfolding as it should…

And I would choose you,

in a hundred lifetimes,

in a hundred worlds.

In any version of reality,

I would find you and I’d choose you.

Prelude: Guardians

At the Crossroads where the origin points of Space and Time intersect with those of Eternity and Infinity, the Four Guardians hold in place. 1For untold millennia they have been there. Aloof. Steadfast. Silent Sentinels. Vigilant protectors of The All.             

They exist, often motionless, consistently genderless, even the memories of their own origins of how they came to be, lost across the vast oceans of time. Neither fully omniscient nor fully omnipresent, yet they know much and see much, for an extremely high level of cosmic perception is theirs. They do not know all, nor are they able to traverse the flow states of Time, limited still to only The Now.

Their mission: to Guard The All, from any and all threats, within and without. The Guardians are ever ready to stand against and protect the fragile balance at the entrance ways of the thresholds to the Primal Forces of Infinity, Eternity, Time and Space. All interconnected, yet separate, they keep all that is, as it should be. All joined, yet each to their own purpose. They guard against anything that would disrupt the Harmony that is The All.

The Guardians exist as both corporeal and non-corporeal entities depending on need. Their density, when corporeal, so full that they pass through matter as most sentients would walk through air. With thoughts interconnected, they can turn them, singly or collectively, to reach out, search and view within and across The All, as need arises. Most times, passive observers, rarely intervenors.

They do possess the ability to appear in corporeal form to the vast array of creatures and sentients who live, move and experience being across and within The All. Those are rare occurrences and seldom do the Guardians engage in such, except in dire need. Regardless, all creatures, including the sentient beings who populate The All, have no concept of the Guardians, nor could most grasp even the simplest aspect of their being without their minds collapsing.

The Four Guardians hold in place at the Nexus.

Prelude

A musical section or movement introducing the theme or chief subject (as of a fugue or suite) or serving as an introduction to an opera or oratorio.

PART I

Harmony

In music, harmony is the process by which individual sounds are joined together or composed into whole units or compositions. Often, the term harmony refers to simultaneously occurring frequencies, pitches or chords.

The little girl has been walking for a long time, yet she is not hungry or thirsty.

She does not know why. She just is not. She keeps walking.

CHAPTER ONE

Da Capo

Da Capo is a musical term that means from the beginning.

Lindsay – Nightfall

Sixty-six universes over from its first iteration, and 1,986 galaxies in, on the inner edge of the Orion Arm, in one of the four spiral arms within a solar system whose third planet from the sun boasts a billion plus sentient lifeforms, a young father holds a prematurely newborn infant in his arms as she struggles to breathe, fighting for life. Except for the tears, his wife remains quiet, feeling both fear and anguish as she lies in her hospital bed after having just delivered. It was too early.

This backwater mud ball, as the father sometimes calls it, does not possess the medical technology necessary to intervene and save the baby’s life. Perhaps two or three decades later it will exist. But not now. Too soon. Too late. The father, tears running down his face, dedicates his baby daughter to the God he thought he knew. His wife remains too angry to cry or to believe in this moment. Too much emotion. Too many questions. Too few answers.

Knowing her life will soon end, the father lets his wife hold the dying infant one more time before they return her to the nurses. They cannot bear to see her last moments. Their time too brief. This is too much. Not enough. The whole scene feels surreal, the evening lighting of hospital corridors and rooms only adding to their sense of distortion, disbelief and detachment as they experience both life and death so eerily proximate.

They name the baby Lindsay Marie Hope. At least they have that much: a name by which to remember their first daughter. Hope springs eternal, after all. Still, all seems hopeless. They had such dreams for her, believed she would do something significant, something special for their world. Something truly unique.

The young couple grieves. A malevolence observes. A Guardian weeps. A thread ends.

Interlude - The All

The All. It is simply that: The All, The Everything, The All-Encompassing. All.

Those sentients among the more evolved races intelligent enough to grasp the basic concept, have varying names for it. Words such as Omniverse, Ultraverse and Multiverse allow a basic, limited level of comprehension. Truly though, their terms fall far short of attempting to describe the true nature of The All.

Certain civilizations with deeper advanced languages where words may have multiple meanings, could go a bit beyond scratching the surface of the concept of The All. Even then, deep words with many meanings only go so far before they too, fail. Eventually language, regardless of how advanced or how precise, is limited and unable to reveal or express the true nature and meaning of The All.

Those species within The All who came into existence as forms of energy, or races evolved to that higher state of untethered consciousness are probably the only beings that can come close to truly comprehending The All, particularly the ones able to communicate without words, using only the energy of thought to convey meaning. Those are rare; even across the infinite number of worlds The All holds, these higher beings are statistically few. However, of all the sentients, regardless of form, corporeal or otherwise, they come the closest to perceiving the true nature and essence of The All. Still not fully, though. Still limited. Still incomplete, unable to fathom or know The All in its complete fullness.

Bran Ty Jos – Despondent

Bran Ty Jos is drunk. Again. And broke. Again. The card game is going so well. The winning hand, his without question. Until the other gamer produces a stronger one. It does not make sense to Bran Ty. Nor does it help when he accuses the other of cheating. That earns him the loss of all his earnings, plus a rough escort out the back door into the alley behind the bar.

He still smarts from the bruises. Bruises earned after being picked up and tossed like a rag doll by the owner’s burly helper. Well, at least being drunk has its advantages; the bruises could hurt a lot worse, but the strong drink lessens the pain. Then again, senses dulled, he cannot tell if anything is broken. The drink is a great balm to ease other pains too. His sister’s death. His grief. His fault. His pain.

Perhaps this is a good time to seek out the consolation of a woman. At the very least, Jerine might take pity on him, and offer him something to ease the pain. Of course, there is Martara, but she loves him too much to put up with his nonsense. He does truly love her, but not enough to let go of his addictions, so she dismissed him. Jerine at least tolerates him. Maybe.

Last time they didn’t part on the best of terms. Not when the creditors came looking for him, breaking down her door and he took off leaving her to deal with them. Risky to return, but worth a try. He straightens his tunic, confirms his trousers are still relatively clean and heads down the familiar path to her house, one he knows from memory, even in his intoxicated state.

He is almost there when he thinks his drunkenness has gotten the best of him. Jerine’s dwelling is not to be seen. The whole area where her place should be is bathed in an extremely bright luminescence. Worse yet, it pulsates, driving its intensity right into his eyes, prematurely awakening the effects of the next day’s hangover. Is that actually a doorway?

Overwhelmed, this citizen of the tenth planet from its star, in a relatively younger galaxy, part of the 121,984th universe, Bran Ty Jos, promptly throws up and passes out.

Martara continues to mourn. A Guardian glowers. A malfeasance chortles. A thread sleeps.

Interlude – Coalescence

It began coalescing an eternity ago. Negative destructive emotions and energies from countless universes and innumerable worlds across space and time, gathering from an unimaginable number of life forms, both lower biologicals and sentient beings. Anger. Fear. Rage. Hate. Loss. Grief. Jealousy. Despair. Pain. Purest Evil. So much more. So many more.

These wayward remnants of emotion wandered between the empty vastness of space for ageless millennia. Eventually, separately, they all found their way to the same destination. Over multiple spans of time, magnetically drawn together by their likeness, they slowly buried themselves deep within one of the earliest black holes on the outer fringes of the ever-expanding All.

It lies dormant for many lifetimes. Quiet. Still. Silent. Sleeping through immeasurable centuries, It did not mark or measure their passing. Biding Its time as It grew. Somewhere along the way It awoke, the beginning levels of a primitive consciousness taking shape.

It remained unmoving. Until It felt hunger.

Insatiable hunger.

Jason Toma – Chaos

Jason Toma’s planet is nineteenth from its sun, part of a collection of twenty-five planets overall, within its universes’ limited array of only five hundred galaxies. His planet has seen fit to evolve beings of immensely powerful gifts and abilities. By the Guardians' count, it is the 121,992 trillionth universe of The All.

Jason comes to, trying to sort out what just happened. Usually, he does his crime-fighting solo, but this time he decided it would be prudent to join forces with stronger allies. For the task at hand, this group’s strengths complemented his heightened intelligence and ability to rapidly learn other combat styles. His fighting skills are bar none, yet it was his doing that led them into the ambush.

Uncertain how he missed something so obvious, he berates himself as he pulls the bullets from his armour. He holds one up to examine it. These are different, not the norm. His mind does a quick analysis. Power dampening bullets. He hears noises behind him. He turns and looks on in horror at his new allies lying on the ground, two already decapitated and a third about to be. He quietly climbs regains his footing while reaching into his belt. Silently withdrawing his slicers, he targets a sword-holder standing over the third fallen body. Jason’s personal vow of only disable, never kill, succumbs to his anger and vanishes into the ether.

The slicer hits the assassin just above the nose, embedding itself deep into his forehead. Blood spurts out, coating the accomplice standing next to him. Jason’s second slicer hits that one in the throat, catching the carotid artery, shutting off the blood supply to his brain. They are both done.

He catches up with the other two. His rage palpable, he speaks no words. They beg for mercy. Instead, he smashes their heads together and then rams both of their skulls repeatedly into the brick walls of the alley until blood flows from their ears, eyes and noses. One almost falls over, but he catches the man and snaps his neck. Jason believes he is being merciful. The other one, terrified, falls to the ground. Jason continues stomping on the man’s head with his boot until his face caves in. He walks over to tend to what is left of his allies.

Better to keep working alone, he mutters to himself.

Something laughs. A Guardian hesitates. Some mourn. A thread frays.

Interlude – Nexus

The Nexus. Both by purpose and design, it is the way station. A gateway between all the worlds, universes, dimensions and myriad places of The All. The Nexus, more without The All than within it, yet both part of and not. The Nexus exists both within the flow of Space-Time and beyond it. For the Nexus, all Time is The Now. A holy tension,