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Two lights cruised among the stars. Red and pink. They would be chasing each other at one point, only to come together in a whirl in the next. They would get closer and closer until suddenly coming to a complete halt as one stronger, brighter light. A heartbeat later the two would break apart and start another game of cat and mouse.
Chaos and Hope were like kids fooling around at the playground. And just as innocently happy. With the duty complete, suits and magic returned, they could allow themselves a little fun.
But just as they were about to waltz again, a new light cut between them. It was pure white – and twice as big.
“We need to talk,” said a voice that could’ve been either male or female.
Chaos and Hope backed away and grouped together in front of the newcomer. They silently floated there, shifting awkwardly like kids caught just before doing something they weren’t supposed to.
“Not about birds and bees, I hope?” the pink light mumbled. “We are a bit too old for that, Overseer.”
With a sudden jolt, Chaos rammed into her.
“Owww…”
“Don’t mind her! I think she came out a little wrong when the Makers gave her form,” Chaos said glowing ever redder.
The Overseer remained indifferent and serene. “You all came out wrong. And more than a little,” the cold voice said. It spoke as if stating a fact and continued without giving the two a chance to interject, “But I meant the forgotten prison. You shouldn’t have gone there.”
At that moment, the red and pink lights drew close to each other until their edges touched, then they became completely still. United. Resolved.
“Shouldn’t is not the same as mustn’t,” Chaos said, a smug smirk ringing in her voice. “We broke no rules.”
“Besides, we’ve been going there for a few days. If it’s such a big no-no, why haven’t you stopped us when we went in the first time? Or were you too busy watching someone else, Dear Voyeur… Overseer, I mean?” Hope mused snarky.
“The Cell is the domain of gods, even if they abandoned it,” the Overseer said with a hint of irritation. “But you two kept sneaking in there using magic you weren’t supposed to wield. You brought the prisoners gifts… you gave them means to communicate… when they were intended to wallow in misery, alone and forgotten.”
The pink light flared up. “We gave hope to the ones who were about to break!”
“We introduced a bit of chaos to a pitiful, monotonous existence,” the red light added.
They flew up close to the apex of the universal food chain and said, “We acted according to our purpose and there is nothing you can do about it!”
Their voices hit the Overseer at full force – and yet their light remained just as big and bright. Intense, like a miniature sun. However, Chaos and Hope wouldn’t back away either. Two sides locked in a stare-off.
Suddenly, the Overseer asked, “It was his idea, wasn’t it?”
The Primordials wavered and Hope blurted, “Whatever do you mean…”
“Of course… he could never turn a deaf ear…” Overseer murmured, as if already forgetting about the two of them.
Colors washed over the pale light growing darker each time. Eventually, it turned pitch black and dissipated into nothingness.
***
A man walked around rows of cars at a dealership. An ordinary man, in ordinary clothes. Human, on the verge of middle age. Every now and then he stopped by a car and studied it. He would knock on the windshield and poke the tires, look inside – only to sigh and move on. Several employees offered their expertise but he turned them all down politely.
“I will call for you if I find what I am looking for,” he would say again and again.
There was something about his face – the determination, perhaps – that made them let him be. Although the security would keep an eye on the lone figure skulking between cars.
As the man circled a roofless jeep, a light appeared next to him.
“Yagoo,” the Overseer said.
The man patted his clothes and took out an earpiece. Putting it in, he tapped on his phone’s screen, though nothing was displayed there.
“Omega, what a surprise! We haven’t talked in ages,” he said, eyes still on the car.
“Only one age,” the Overseer corrected. “One meager century. But you act even more mortal now,” the voice noted most disappointed. “Afraid to look at what only you can see… pretending to talk on your phone… because someone might get worried you lost your mind? Since when do you care for the opinion of these ephemerids?”
“It is best to stay inconspicuous,” Yagoo said and glanced at the people around the store. Everybody minded their business, a good distance away. “This is my life now, after all.”
Moving along, he bumped into the hood of a muscle car and grunted.
“Life of a mortal. By your own choice,” Omega said with a note of disgust. “I’ll never understand you… any of you…”
“Oh, please, don’t start. Who’d want to stay… out there and just watch? After all the hard work we put into this project?”
“So you chose to walk among the mortals who poison their own air and the very ground that feeds them. Who kill each other for worthless pieces of metal and paper.”
“Some of them would, yes. But there are also those who would jump in front of bullets for complete strangers.”
“Such individuals are few and far between.”
Omega hovered right before the man’s face. “Is this really what you envisioned for this universe?”
He walked around the ball of light with a small smile. “No, but that was a naïve pipe dream. And where purity and innocence fall short, kindness, loyalty and selflessness pick up the torch. So, I am content.”
“Foolish.”
“Perhaps. But have you come to judge my life choices? Or to scold me for helping Irys and Hakos?”
“Hope and Chaos,” the Overseer stressed flickering momentarily. “Taking mortal names as well… They are perverting their nature.”
“Now, now, Omega, don’t go inventing new rules. So what if the Council picked a few things from… them?” Yagoo tipped his head in the direction of some people in the dealership. “Hakos and the others are performing their duties admirably.”
The light flickered again – quickly, almost like a snicker. But Omega’s voice remained neutral, “Even the Warden?”
Yagoo’s face clouded. “She assured everyone she will come back should she be needed…”
“And you let her, even though it was clear as day she only wanted to fool around. That is all she is doing now. Enthralled by the countless things the mortals invented to waste time… How ironic.”
“Ouro is doing just fine…”
“There is nothing “just fine” about higher beings behaving like mortals. Forgetting their role, becoming more and more personally invested with the affairs that don’t concern them.”
“They aren’t the only ones…” Yagoo noted glancing at the light.
It dimmed. “And someone isn’t taking this seriously. Need I remind you what happens if a Primordial is erased? Chaos and Hope are inconsequential; without them life would only turn bleak. But what if Nature or Time follows in their footsteps?”
The man pursed his lips tightly.
“Do you understand now? I haven’t helped build all these worlds just to see them destroyed. Surely, the same goes for you,” Omega said.
“Of course…”
“Then why did you send Chaos and Hope to the forgotten prison?”
“Irys came to me first. She felt how those girls were close to despair. So, she asked me to find a way to help them. And I did.”
“By giving them things they weren’t supposed to have.”
“Consoles, TV sets, a PC, an ebook, phones – all completely harmless.”
“Which you created out of thin air and made sure they didn’t need charging.”
“Well, of course! Otherwise, it would be useless junk. But I didn’t create anything that doesn’t already exist. It’s just that getting these devices with unlimited power would be too costly.”
“And connection to the internet reaching a whole other dimension? Is that something already existing too?”
A sly smile appeared on Yagoo’s face. “That one is still in development. Combining magic and technology can be quite tricky. But I know they will succeed eventually. So, I borrowed the idea and…”
“…gave five criminals means to reach the outside.”
“They can’t contact anyone besides themselves.”
“They weren’t supposed to have even that. Do you know what they are?”
“Victims of cruel whimsical creatures? Because that’s what most of the gods are. Our biggest mistake.”
“Made in the image of mortals.”
“But with the power similar to ours – and conscience too small and rare.”
For once, the Overseer didn’t comment.
“Omega, what did those girls actually do? Ravencroft and Koseki were born with powers the world wasn’t ready for. Novella came across something she wasn’t supposed to…”
“And the Abyssguard twins?”
“Small property damage, little mischief here and there. The gods have done worse – far, far worse. They could’ve grounded and lectured the pups, but life sentence… that’s overkill. And even more so for the other three. So forgive me for having compassion. If I can’t set those girls free, then I can at least make their lives more bearable.”
“And if your little gifts help them escape?”
Yagoo looked at the light with surprise. “The prison’s walls are reinforced with divine power. Those electronics wouldn’t even make a dent…”
“You gave them access to the biggest information source in the universe. Not to mention the literature. Mystery novels full of tricks, prison breaks. Shiori Novella might find some interesting ideas there.”
Head lowered, Yagoo fell into thought. Various possibilities flashed before his eyes.
“And then there are the revenge stories,” the Overseer continued. “Mortals love those too, don’t they?”
The man shrugged impulsively. “If my gifts are so dangerous, then why won’t you just take them away?”
“Because in and of itself they aren’t. What you and the Primordials did is within the tolerable levels of involvement. I would be the one crossing the line if I interfered. You’ve thought this through. I will even admit that these people didn’t deserve the centuries of imprisonment and the torture that came with it. Yes, the gods did this for their own amusement. And yes, it was beyond cruel…”
Omega waited for Yagoo to smile triumphant – and then continued just as calmly, “But do you honestly think some games and books can heal the damage already done to them? Do you think they would forget how the gods laughed watching them thrash in their chains? How they cried until no more tears came? How they bashed their heads against stone in vain attempts to knock themselves out just to escape the horrible reality? How they cursed and promised to make all of existence pay?”
The smile faded and Yagoo glared at the light. “Why are you telling me all this?”
“They might’ve been good and innocent girls once. But now who knows what’s on their minds. If someday they escape thanks to your gifts… they might burn the whole universe down. So, next time you get a case of bleeding heart, remember my words and mind your own business, like a true mortal.”
With a blinding flash, the Overseer left.
Yagoo blinked a few times muttering curses. Omega must’ve been really mad to stoop to such a juvenile prank, he thought. But that only added fuel to the doubts flooding his head. Maybe getting involved wasn’t a good idea after all… He started tapping as he recalled everything he knew about the five girls trapped in the gods’ prison.
Suddenly, his foot stopped with a loud “thud”, as if crushing the pesky doubts. This was the right thing to do, he told himself.
“Excuse me, sir,” a voice came from behind.
He turned to find one of the salesmen standing there, along with a security guard.
“Are you planning to buy something?” the salesman asked.
Yagoo cursed the Overseer once more.
“I…” he trailed off noticing one car further away. “Actually, yes. I think I just might.”
The salesman frowned but Yagoo walked around him and the security guard. They quickly followed.
Yagoo led his little escort to a four-door convertible. The exterior was dark silver, chrome-like. He looked over the red seats and pictured people inside. Two figures at the front, three smaller ones at the back.
Yes, this would do.
***
Omega returned to the cold darkness of the cosmos. Only this time there were no Primordials, and the presence of Space was but a minor irritation. Solitude among the distant lights of stars. Away from the planets scarred by civilizations. From the filth of life and foolishness of bleeding-hearts.
Perfect sanctuary.
But it wouldn’t be for much longer. The damn mortals were reaching even here. Give it another century, maybe even less – and their stations, satellites and ships would litter this entire marvelous dark ocean.
Yagoo was right – partially, at least. The Makers mustn’t have created the gods. Or any life. They mustn’t have allowed any sort of change, even movement. The universe would’ve been better off forever still. Yes, only back at its infancy had it ever been perfect.
If only Yagoo had never heard the accursed Space…
It was her tearful speech that led everyone astray. That made them create the Laws and the Primordials. And eventually life.
To a point, it was tolerable. Animals, while gross, weren’t destructive, at least. But then came the pinnacle of evolution – humans and the like. The so-called civilized species. Full of greed and lust that they’d mask with some pretty words like “dreams” and “ambitions” to excuse their crimes.
In reality, they were the blight.
The cancer that kept on spreading.
There was no saving this universe anymore. It’d have to be destroyed and built anew. Without any pests, be it Primordials, gods or mortals. Such was Omega’s deepest wish. And it would come true eventually. Absolutely. Thanks to those very mortals.
If not out of greed, then compassion.
The same bleeding heart that had infected the Primordials and even some Makers.
Omega had expected that either Chaos or Hope would overstep taking pity on the prisoners. Ideally, both. Which would in turn offset the other four, make them do something stupid, like seeking revenge. The mortal emotions had already taken root in them, after all.
It’d set in motion such a beautiful chain reaction with the Council erased from existence. Then the Makers would see how destructive life was. Even those who had been living among mortals, who practically become mortals. Yagoo, Gunrun, Sakana, Merry. The others who had let go of their names, of their nature. All the skeptics would have to face the truth.
But it turned out the two busy-bodies still had a modicum of common sense, and now Omega had to wait for another opportunity. Unfortunately, the Overseer didn’t have much power beyond punishing the Primordials who got out of line, so only the most miniscule and precise involvement was allowed. And even then, Omega had to tread carefully. Should anyone catch on these arrangements, they might think the universe’s destruction wasn’t the fault of mortal life.
Thankfully, the Primordials themselves were highly capable of creating disasters – through both sympathy and neglect. Like with the five prisoners that could very much escape now thanks to those gifts.
Or…
Like with the Warden of Time and the Valkyries…
The Valkyries.
Warriors created specifically to help the Warden manage and protect the timelines. Not mere husks driven by duty but people with minds to think for themselves and passionate hearts. Strong, resourceful, intelligent.
As the Valkyries had been getting more experienced the Warden was becoming less active. More so, at one point she put all her duties on the shoulders of their leader and went on a vacation. Indefinitely.
Omega had warned her against it – multiple times. But she was sure the timelines were in capable hands. And her perfect, impeccable judgment could never be wrong.
Managing the whole multiverse was truly a crushing task. But the leader of the Valkyries accepted it without complaints. Though with a heavy heart, she sent her sisters to battle the forces threatening the timelines, mortal or otherwise. Commanding them more efficiently than the Warden ever had. The missions would go over smoother; there would be fewer injuries, with casualties rendered null.
She reigned over time and the Valkyries like a queen – and they crowned her as one.
Monarch of the Multiverse.
A kind, compassionate ruler, keeping a close eye on her domain. Even when there were no aberrations, she would still watch mortals and see their plights. War, famine, plague. So much pain and sorrow. It was only natural her heart would weep. Before long, she started intervening upon the slightest trouble.
Using any excuse to better a timeline.
Omega saw the signs, heard the whispers among the Valkyries. The disaster was imminent. However, the Overseer’s authority extended only to the Primordials and not their helpers. An interesting little loophole in the system the Makers had set up. And the Warden remained deaf to the warnings.
Should Monarch manipulate time in her foolish quest to erase mortal suffering, she would surely affect reality, damage it somehow. There could be no other result when one was ruled by emotions. Now, whether time collapsed due to some catastrophic change or the Valkyries slaughtered each other in fear of repercussion, it mattered little. At last, the Makers would see their mistake.
However long it would take - hundreds of centuries, thousands of millennia – this universe would be destroyed.
And life, the greatest mistake in creation, would be purged from existence.
Omega vowed to see it done.