Chapter Text
His name was not Sonic.
It knew that for a fact. It knew a lot of things about it's Key. At first, he was a mere peculiarity. An anomaly to exploit. It had never quite cared about mortals. This was it's first time exacting it's will through one, mostly due to lack of choice. It was stuck, the boy was not, with some luck he could widen the cracks of it's prison enough that it could finally be free. What became of him after, at first it didn't care.
…But then. Then it had nothing to do but watch. But learn. Pry into the boy and who he was. He was full of Ends. Of moments were things stopped. As all living things were, yes, but it had never bothered to look at them, not truly. This boy was the first it did so with.
…This boy, he was not just mortal.
He was, of course. He was entirely mortal. With a mortal Soul, Mind and Heart combined to form it. But he was not just mortal. It looked and found something familiar in him, something it once thought would march by its side to the End of the universe, and seeing it in the boy was so truly baffling because it was the first hint that in the eternity it had been imprisoned, things had changed. Celestial bodies kept turning.
Gods kept meddling.
Of course, the boy knew not of this. His feeble little mind was concerned with a number of other things, mainly his friends, some other trivial things, desires it cared not for… Except for one. A deep-seated kind of desire. One that grew louder and louder the more it demanded from him. The more time that passed.
A peculiar kind of desire, it being the only kind of desire that it could grant.
A desire for rest. For an end.
This boy was almost nothing but a husk. A husk of that was constantly under pressure. A husk who people constantly took from. It was not the only one who had used the boy to it's advantage. It seemed, almost, that was his constant state of being. One of being used. Of being abused.
He was nearing the end of the line. His little mortal soul didn't have much more left to give.
He was crying out for it.
And what a bizarre thing it was. Because it could also easily see he was so startlingly attached to everything it opposed. His eventual betrayal was no surprise. Little Life, he almost was, because it just seemed to dance for him. But despite how much he loved life, living, everything it was destined to end…
He still cried out for it.
The crying was loud and sorrowful and desperate. Everyone around him did everything they could to deny him his biggest desire. They hurt him and tortured him and told him sweet gentle little lies as they dragged him on, kicking and screaming, but it could tell, deep down, all he wanted…
Was to End.
And now, they danced with the heavens. The boy abandoned the engine he fought to fuel to come face it himself, and how foolish he looked, truly. He was insignificant, compared to their magnitude. If Supreme had a been a moth drawn to it's flame, then he was…
"You glitter." It told him, because what was he but a speck of glitter to it? Something that only shone when it caught the light? "You fly about me like a gnat."
He kept advancing.
Tackled it.
The blow was more than it expected but it knew he could not win. He could not kill it anymore than he could kill gravity, polar forces, the stars, the universe. He could not do it. He was mortal. He was weak.
It could even feel him, relying on the Emeralds. Without them, he could not even see it. Could not perceive it. Could not harm it.
"You strike this incarnation with all your might." It told him, and this was true, this was true because more than those metal constructs, he dealt damage now. It wondered why the Emeralds so foolishly sided with him. Then again… they had no sentience, and were clumsily monitored. "It changes nothing."
Win or loose this battle, it would always win the war. It was its nature.
The boy fell back, ceasing his onslaught. His glow wavered now. He was but a match. And such a feeble ember could only burn for so long.
"You are not brave." It told him, because he was not. It could still hear it. His cries for End. Brave would be to give in to them. Even now, he was driven by fear, and cowardice. "You are not victorious."
"I am." The boy said. Voice light like a wish. Light like destruction. "We are."
That startled it. The voices echoed in his own. So many. So terrifyingly many. Far more… far more than it thought. Embers in need of snuffing, lest they burn out on their own. And the boy spoke with them. The boy spoke for them.
…how foolish. To pick him as their savior. How foolish, when so easily, when kindly, even…
"Tell me, little life, how long do you plan to defy me? How long do you hope to uphold eternity? You see beauty in the Chaos; I only see mayhem. I bring peace, I bring rest."
How foolish to rely on him. His eyes betrayed nothing, but his eyes were worthless to it anyhow. It was in his soul. In the screams. He still screamed the loudest of them all. His pain was… it was pitiful. Poor thing. He was to carry the blame for mortals, and that blame was to no end. Out here, in the heavens, no one would forgive them.
So it asked. "An end, is that not what you wish for?"
And there it was. He hadn't even known. His eyes widened. Fur flickered, for a brief seconds one with the nothing instead of that blazing gold.
Poor thing he was. To keep going, having to drown his own Heart.
"How can you stand and deny me then? How can you fight me then, my key? Am I not what you long for?" It beckoned him closer.
It liked him. It had decided that, now. It liked him. Tortured beast he was. Mortal soul, something divine because gods could not stay their hand, could not see that for him they had done everything and that for him that would never be enough. Because mortals had always wielded their influence over gods, easily. Because gods could not triumph over mortals and it was mortals that had put every single blade into the boy's back and twisted as much as they delighted.
This boy wished for life and cried for death. This boy dared fight it, dared defy it, while preaching on it's behalf. This boy would never rest, forever suffer, if allowed to return to the mortals that sent him out here anyways.
No. This boy had a special place in the universe now. It would keep him close, and keep him safe, and he would forever rest, he would never have to suffer anymore. It's gift to him, as the only one who could give him what he truly desired.
"Come to me, little life. I'll make it be over. I'll give you what the whole world keeps trying to deny."
Rest.
An End.
The boy stared. The space between them was deafeningly silence.
And then he fled.
It cried for him.
It felt him burn.
It felt him.
He killed it.
In that moment they both knew what his End would be. His true End.
…
What a quaint notion.
It let him go. It would wait for him.
He would be back.
And then, he could finally End.