The 6 corners of the world

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An ancient place and a young man. The place encompasses all and the man stands surrounded on all sides. Not by any direct malignancy, considering on of the participants, but as a specimen may be surrounded by interested scholars.
They crowd around him, and at the same time, seem to occupy all the space in the area.
The oldest of forces in creation carefully consider the youngest.
To his right and left stand what he can accomplish. Good and bad. Good, self assured and righteous, ignoring all calls for mercy. A true tyrant who would impose their thought on a subjugated populace, for their good of course. Evil, a chaotic entity for endless freedom, great potential and unending conflict. An ever changing concept that would see each and every man empowered to make his own decisions and terrible choices.
To his front and back stand entities as opposite as day and night. Light and darkness. Light, impatient and raging, trying to destroy all intrigue, all subterfuge. Seeking only to burn all in it's light and consume them. Darkness, reposed and confident, clever and patient, seems to blink in and out of sight. He hides and bides his time.
And above them all, is the emotionless stoic who has cut ties with all the four forces and risen above them. He floats serene, confident in his independence from and supremacy over the other four. But he is yet a prisoner of his own vigilance, constantly looking for chinks in his armor.
And below them, where the shadows between light and dark fight for supremacy, in the wailing shadows, amongst dying motes of light, is the writhing form of a young child. She who sought to keep all within herself and so transformed. Hysteria. Her smiles are broken things and jagged edges, her cries are monstrous and yet filled with great longing for joy. Her laughs is wide and cheery. Too wide, too cheery and never reaches her eyes. Awash with the sorrow of a world, she seeks refuge in madness. She stills for a second, turns and looks into his eyes.
Darkness pours out of them, studded with flashes. The shadows scream at him to run. To break contact with her, but the boy is held mesmerized. She gnashes her teeth and shows him exactly why the number eleven smells purple. She pours into the cracks in his heart and soul, expanding them and engorging them. She pulls out the thorns of regret and plunges them in deeper into his heart and mind.
In that moment, he is lost. She finds purchase and rushes in. Trapping him in a static moment between gaining and losing everything. Between continued life and inevitable death. She has him now, a plaything. A companion. The shadows obey as they wrap around their new brother and drag him into the pit.
" Amusing as that show was, what was the point of this whole exercise?", intones evil.
" He chose her. Even before he stepped into this place to ask to be our champion, he chose her. Broken between duty and freedom, caught in a vicious cycle designed by a superior being. His humanity stripped away and his very suffering made into a joke. She had prior claim. Merely exercised her right.", clarifies the dissociated voice of the stoic, not really caring about the young man's fate.
"Should we not rescue him? Surely we cannot condemn a man to eternal suffering!", blusters good, with light nodding vehemently.
"Be my guest, great hero. I'll be right behind you in you wish to step into that poisonous pit.", a sibilant hiss announces dark's intentions to do exactly nothing.
"Enough!", Stoic's voice reverberates. "We are done here. A champion has chosen and been accepted."
They leave that place and the pit seems to writhe into itself for a while before becoming still.

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