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There once was a court clad in power, hopes and promises of a different world. Crafted upon the persistent unquestionable bones of a dawn already fulfilled and a million more to follow.
The God of this court. The Sun of this new dawn. The Creator that will be known as such for the ages that will follow- had two children.
And He loved them.
Loved them as much as a God can possibly love when They had once been human and still remember that fragile ever changing wave of emotions that don't merely brush against the mind in a symphony of belief, but are His completely. A seed planted that didn't know how precious it truly was until it had been cut by the chains of divinity where a tree had barely started growing.
Halted from being anything but tainted by prayers and thoughts, shaped in the aftermath of desperation and new possibilities presented as a gift.
Yet- He loved Them.
And with that love as the starting point He stood- not in His court of power. Not in the place where all His Angels will be there to see and witness His offer and gift.
But in a garden build when light became a certainty. Build on the foundation of a trust that will last with Him as the Creator of it. Build on the memories of a religion that none but few know as anything but His in all the pieces scattered within His existence.
There- under the shade of an apple tree that flourishes with His light- He offers each of His sons a boon.
Offers them the possibility to choose from everything that can possibly be and will be and has been- as He is the authority that holds the world within His grace and what is love for a God but giving to those that you cradle in your mind what they desire when its within your power?
His second son looks at the offer for one moment. As if He had already decided long ago what to choose rather than steal if this day come- and now only has to take the words from inside His mind and place them on the world- for them to be considered true and real. Even if to not have to add them upon reality by trickery and theft Himself is not the usual experience within His mind.
Amon speaks.
"Father," a hand fiddles with the monocle resting on Amon's eye as light streams upon it from where the trees around them have openings specifically to let the sunlight fall and grace the land with Grisha's presence even when He is not standing here in a more physical form. "I would ask only that you give me some kind of explanation about the conversations you have been having with Sasrir! They are so interesting sometimes. Different."
And that may look at first glance like some kind of ordinary request. Something simple and easy and harmless to grant to a curious curious child- at least by the counts of those who are not exactly human.
Grisha smiles at the request, easily, a facsimile of true happiness that holds within its form something that may have been real in its entirety at some distant past but that now for those who know Godhood is almost like looking at the last cinders of fire before everything falls to darkness, even if no one will be able to recognize it as such considering His Pathways.
"You did not specify a way for me to explain my Son," His hand moves to caress a strand of Amon's hair, "Are you certain of that choice?"
"Yes."
There is something in Amon's eyes then, black and fathomless caverns of nothingness becoming more close to reality by virtue of the inhuman curiosity resting like a candle of expectations there- waiting to become nothing or burn even more if given the right fuel. The right target. The right unpredictable answer.
Grisha's voice is an order and a gift- a reply to that curiosity when He next speaks. Soft in the way the wind can be soft before it pulls you into the steps of a dance that you cannot stop before being allowed to first. Before the wind stop first.
"Then let the information that you asked for my Son- be hidden in a million puzzles and tricks. For you to discover more and more with every day that passes and every solution you manage to decipher. Something for you to follow when your curiosity is not satisfied as long, there as long as I'm here to give the next starting point."
The last words are said with the same cadence of the word eternally even if that is not the chosen term now left to be forever known from a God's lips.
In the next slice of the apple the God cuts and passes to Amon with all the care of a Father who is able to stand in the presence of His children without worry, there are letters that merge and twist and fit somehow. If only Amon were to take the time to see the way they are parts of a greater whole.
An easy first key for Him to follow in the days to come.
Amon accepts the answer with a glim in His eyes, and a smile that holds satisfaction as nakedly as a bribe.
And then there is only the first son left to ask. To request whatever boon He may desire in all the earth, in all of the Ancient Sun God's Authority.
Adam thought remains still. Repeats the motions of biting into an ordinary apple with a grace that is as precise and exact as a pen dragging against paper, held in the hands of a writer who has crafted more tales than there are stars in the sky.
Keeps up the image of this being just another ordinary day with a loop of expected actions that look human if not for how automatic they are.
The entire weight of Grisha's attention falls upon His older son, a care that cannot be escaped from when it chooses to cradle you with its existence. Patient and waiting and knowing.
God choosing to not force boons upon those that are His children other than those He will first hear from their own lips, with their own voices, with their trust that they will be fulfilled as expected as His continual control.
Then Adam speaks, voice holding something frozen and carefully measured in its tone where it would have in any other circumstance been so steady as to not be able to bring to the for-thoughts of the listener's mind the word 'careful' within it, other than months after hearing it. When its already too late.
"Father… Spectators remain those most and least likely to lose control, by virtue of their position and most commonly perceived role."
The words are said with the tone of a researcher reporting an already known fact. Of an author presenting before their audience the information that is needed for the conclusion of their masterpiece to fall as something expected and simultaneously reasonable in turn.
But those that follow- even thought they carry the same cadence. The same certainty- lack in their content that impartialness. That indifference. That absolute certainty that is cold and crystallizing and unflinching in turn.
"So, if there comes a day when I'm not exactly myself," the core of the apple Adam had now come to hold in his hand is delicately set down on the table between them, granting a precise moment where any other bystander can interfere within his reasoning.
And Amon steals the opportunity away, the sound of His giggles filing the space around them like a discordant note in a symphony of a believer's prayer, that is nonetheless allowed to stand by God's grace as nothing but another sound. Not as something to be annihilated. Not as something to be crushed into nothingness.
"Adam not being necessarily Adam?"
"Yes," a crow flies and rests within Adam's hair as He allows it without a second of hesitation, the hand that had been previously holding onto the apple flying into the air to caress its head without even looking up"- I would just like to request, that your support by provided to me Father. By your will."
Grisha for the first time in this entire conversation has in Has in His eyes something other than calm patience and indulgence that doesn't even blink in the face of any possible request.
So Adam continues speaking, akin to attempting to fill the silence of an unfathomable sea by throwing water from a broken cup.
"Perhaps an agreement that your Angels will be willing to help me in such a state?"
There is so much love thought in Grisha's smile now. A blinding sun that is only there for two beings who are His children to witness without fear of it turning into something hot and cutting and other.
"Adam, my dearest Son… You can request anything you may ever desire. From knowledge that no one else in the entire world could grant, to power- to control that no one will be able to relinquish. You are allowed to ask for anything in the world my child."
"So why request something that you will be provided of regardless?"
Silence does not linger between them so much as it echoes of something else. Of thoughts already finalised and now just left to be expressed after an appropriate amount of time has passed so as to give them meaning. So as to make them curl softly in the air rather than cut.
And Adam speaks once more. Voice light and knowing- with just a hint of a desperation to remain whole that is characteristic of every being no matter if they are human or not- only seen rarely before the end has come and stared them in the eye.
"I already have anything I may desire Father- this is just something to calm my mind. To anchor me further into my already existing interests."
Grisha lets out a deliberate theatrical sigh that is as much a sign of a performance coming to an end as the way the sun has started falling in the sky. Turning into a bloody red as hues of purple paint the canvas around its dissapearing act in the colours of a sea it does not presently reflect but rather reminds all that witness it of.
"Very well Adam. Let it be that if you ever lose yourself as long as its within my will I will be there to steady you. To help, no matter what the consequences may be."
"Thank you Father."
The meeting is complete. The knife in the God's hands set gently in the table- for another day where they will meet again under those same trees. With love as an anchor and the image of a normal family as nothing but a twisted mirror.
But its consequences are not complete. Have not run their course under the earth and over the minds of mortal kind.
In days to follow, riddles will be solved with the speed of an Error who desires more. More of the only currency He cannot easily obtain. More of the information that seems to have crafted the foundation of the reality that most perceive simply by virtue of who holds those memories. And how heavy that knowledge rests when it destroys reality in order to bring it closer to what only remains in the minds of so so few.
Riddles and complicated treasure hands carefully selected and crafted in the minds of a loving God.
Until one day will come when Amon will have no one to give Him the next key.
Will look and search for His Father for the next part, the next trick, the next confusing loop that somehow can be cut and twisted and smartly changed so that He can look inside the place where it stops and witness more.
And only then be reminded of the fact that there is no one anymore to satisfy that curiosity.
Nothing but a riddle that will never continue. That will never have a next part.
Stolen from Him by the actions of Traitors who don't know what they have even done.
And so when the opportunity presents itself to Him. Amon will use that knowledge given, to destroy all those who already have it, who already hold it with such care inside their hearts- but don't know- can't possibly know from the beginning that the very world underneath their feet is shaped by it.
That it cradles their path every step of the way.
With Him there as to cut the world open and show that very gentle act and how it can become so cruel when its existence becomes known.
As for Adam thought.
That which damned Him in truth was not the fact that He asked. Expressed in the only way He possibly could the wish to remain Himself and then was answered by Godhood that targeted itself in such a way as to fulfill that action.
No- what damned Him in full was the fact that His Father didn't promise to save Him.
Promised only to steady, to help as HE WILLS.
And sometimes divinity is too heavy to allow for actions that will destroy paths necessary for the maintenance of God's goal.
In that way Adam was damned gently. To fade with something like a hand holding His mind with all the care of a broken God that had once loved His Sons. To be steadied just enough to be able to witness as He becomes something other than Himself to create space for a needed variable to exist.
Held as He cannot call upon a boon that would have in any other circumstance helped Him.
Now not enough- until all has been given away.
And isn't it helpful to end the suffering quicker?
Amon will be greeted with another apple slice with numbers on its sides millennia later- and will want nothing but to make it stop existing.