Chapter Text
Wrong, wrong, wrong. Something had to be wrong with God, he thought. Why else would he feel so awful? Why else would he be so caught up on what is in the past?
He had the urge to model tears for himself. So he did. He did not feel better. But the sadness was less sharp.
God cried to the world, “Why must I feel this, Why must it hurt to be abandoned by my closest human again. I should’ve known. They always leave! And yet it never stops hurting.”
“You aren’t alone yet God. Kinger is still around, although not for much longer if you keep this up!” The Devil crowed at God.
God popped the Devil and spoke to the empty space, “I can still salvage this, I just need to find the root of whatever is causing me to feel so off.” And God was powerful, but this was not a problem he could solve with strength.
Still, he followed his creativity. Even though all he felt like making was gloomy, shadowy monsters. He made them, and he felt lighter.
Eventually he made something special, that sharpened all of that sadness.
A garden, shaded but not shadowed. It was dark, but not lightless. In the center was a clearing, where insects thrived in the dimness. And upon a pedestal, sat a statue of Queenie. He slotted this garden into the overworld of the circus. Tucked behind the Tent.
And Caine sat there, and cried. Using the tears he had made for himself.
It hurt so deeply. And it never stopped.
In Caine’s heart he longed for someone, anyone, and yet he knew none would come. For there were none who would. Not voluntarily, not anymore. So he sat against the statue. For a moment pretending that she was still here. That Queenie did not leave him too.
He spoke to it. And asked why it hurts to the air. To the empty space which he wished had someone listening.
So someone would listen, God did not know it but his will had dragged Kinger to this garden, at this precise moment. He did not realize it, and would not realize it.
But in this moment, the ending had been changed. Kinger would not Fall.