The Prison that Walked

I am a guard. I am only one. I guard the prison and its inhabitants. I have no other function.

I go by many names, though I have no memory of a title from my maker. I am called Behemoth, Minotaur, Leviathan, Wormwood, and many other such names. I have no memory of what my title was.

I am large. I am small. I have no place, for I stay in no place for long. I guard the prison, or I am the prison. The inhabitants live inside of me. I move. I walk. I travel to no land and no time. I slip through dimensions and appear as the world would see me. Sometimes as a great beast. Sometimes as a small particle. Sometimes has a vast expanse of emptiness. I am strange. I am uncertain. Whatever I be, I become frightful to behold. I guard the prison and its inhabitants by fear, so that others would stay away.

My inhabitants number three. Three is all there are. Two of them sleep, but one is awake. He walks within me trying to escape the prison. He has been there a long time. I was made for him, and I guard him.

He is great. He is weak. He works to be what I am not so that he might leave. When I am small, he becomes large, hoping to break his cage. When I am large, he becomes small, trying to slip through unnoticed. When I move through dimensions and other worlds, he fleets and vibrates, trying to send small signals into the new reality around him.

He is in agony. He knows there are others but he cannot find them. He know who I am but he cannot petition me. I do not know his name or what he has done. I know I am his prison, and I was made for him.

I walk through space and time. I guard the prison and its inhabitants. I am only one, but I am many of one.