An Ending

Yio watched as the Black Angel’s final form scoured the world, the Fallen world that had struggled so desperately in vain to be anything else.

They had never wished for this outcome, and yet it was the only outcome. They had only wished for the reunion with their creator, no, their dearest friend. They regretted this outcome, but they had no regret for carrying it out. A sacrifice had to be made, and all that remained now was to honor the sacrifice of the people of the Fallen world…no, the people of Verail. Calling this desolate wasteland “victorious” was cruel, but the least they could do was call this world the name its people called it in its final moments.

A winged form approached the Black Angel, and vanished. But they knew it well. It would go back, warn others. But those others had already faced them and failed.

The Wanderer, she too had tried countless times to prevent this outcome. She had become severed from this world in the end.

And the wielder of her, she too had used the same hourglass. But her fate was the same in the end.

And the fragments had been reclaimed. They could still feel a part of themself fighting against this. But it was a tiny, fractured part. They could not control the Sjion Soul. Only the First Sjion, the only Sjion, remained. Even the Black Angel’s final form was nothing more than an extension of their own reach now, a tool so they could watch from above and not see too closely as children cried out for parents, and were snuffed out, sacrificed, like all others, for her.

The final soul reached them at last. They did not know if every soul was truly needed, but where else would they stop? Would they spare one person, ten, a hundred? That would not make this action worthy of their forgiveness. Those people were sacrificed, they had to be sacrificed, for her.

And so they cut a path forward through time and space. This reality would deny them, but this power would ignore its cries. These sacrifices were not in vain. They would reach Goldenlake, they must.

And the lake of gold that sits at the center of everything soon stood ahead of them. It had been so long since they saw this place, and yet it had not changed. They saw as well her creator, her “father”, the one who had forced the sacrifice of those people. Eurar.

No words were exchanged, because there were no words left for them to say. The Arbiter of Fate against the Sjion Soul with the strength of an entire world behind it. There were none to record how long this battle truly lasted. Reality was cut, severed, and remade. Yio had freed Eyi, and watched her imprisoned again. They had saved the world of Verail, and scoured it yet again. Their Scythe and Eurar’s blade had been shattered and reforged. How long did all this truly last?

No, time had ended long ago. All that remained of the cycle was this battle. And that too would end.

The last of Yio’s souls gathered against the last of Eurar’s starlight, and collided in a brilliant burst of energy unlike anything the cycle had known before. And in the end, there was no victor. Yio, having expended the power they gathered, was nothing more than the child Eyi first made when the blast tore them apart, and the Sjion Soul within their body was far too drained to persist yet again, as had saved them so many times..

Eurar’s body was nothing more than a drained husk. This was his last gambit, and the power that erupted destroyed what was left. The man who’s name was forgotten, and the world of the Shalvaari, had long since faded from this cycle as well, and so this now broken avatar was the last trace that remained of him.

And Goldenlake, too, had shattered once, and endured, but this was more than any Schism. This power shattered the fragile ground it flowed upon, and the waters of Goldenlake spilled upon the endless expanse.

It was a truth that few knew, that the waters reflected light so vividly that they turned gold, and yet there was no more light left in this cycle to reflect. Those once gold waters turned a dark, obsidian hue.

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

And all that remained was that being, the being that watched from the top of the tower. For Goldenlake did not truly control everything. Yes, it has controlled the cycles for a long, long time now. But that being could remake it. It could start the process yet again.

But what point would there be in that?

These were the greatest beings this cycle had to offer.

A caring friend, a benevolent leader…a brutal conqueror, and harvester of souls.

A loving father, a determined hero…a tyrant, a manipulator, a destroyer of realities

No.

There was no point to it.

These beings, these gods amongst gods, could still only become beings of destruction in the end. Something like this could never, and would never, become beings of creation.

Countless cycles, countless iterations, but it would still reduce itself to nothing in the end. Nothing could not become something. It could pretend, for a bit, yes, but nothing would always become nothing again.

That being was alone.

And it would always be alone.