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"That you should still stand…Your determination defies all reason."
The Meteion, one of a universe-spanning collective consciousness, spoke with bewilderment at the mortals below her. She and her sisters had done everything to show them the pain and folly of their existence, that there was nothing to be found of value within it. It had been the same conclusion on star after star they had visited, what made these defiant few think they had any possibility of things ending differently?
One of them spoke, saying that her comrades were the answer, that their hope together was enough to bear each other through despair which might cause a single person to falter. As she said this, Meteion could feel who these passionate words held the most meaning for: her brother, her friends, and the one known as the Warrior of Light, a particularly irksome obstacle from which the consciousness could sense echoes of an Etheirys long gone. One of her multitudes had interacted with him, called him a friend and cared for him, just like she had with their maker. It had pained the messengers of despair to unleash that dismal flood of truth upon one of their own, but only united in purpose could they achieve their blessing of mercy upon all reality. That part of them had split off again, an unexpected betrayal, but one they would forgive once they had finished killing these meddlesome interlopers.
Something akin to a dark bemusement rippled through the sisters. They supposed that the girl had a point. Tragically for her, then, that the Meteia had far greater numbers to bolster one another. A call went out across Ultima Thule and their full power, minus one, was brought to bear. They crafted a cold and beautiful form, a woman's face recognizable enough to the eyes of mortals, but bearing wings that would soon cover all of existence into shadow. The Endsinger felt a tremor of fear and doubt in her opponents. Good, her choice of visage unsettled them and they would be unprepared for the unleashing of her rage.
Ahhh, the rage…It rises…Rises…
Countless stars and souls seethed and wanted them to suffer as they all had, but she would make this quick and kind. She batted away their pithy attacks and countered with her own, picking them off one by one. She watched as they tried protecting one another, hearts trembling with the regret of unspoken words, a desperation to let the ones they loved live those precious few moments longer than they could. It was a fear The Endsinger was painfully familiar with. She had felt it in others. She had felt it in herself. She felt it now as the one blue bird fluttered and cried about her. She steadied her resolve. Just a little longer and her Song of Oblivion would be the lullaby leading everyone to their final rest.
She gathered up the Warrior of Light's companions, bringing them slowly towards despair made manifest. Killing them all in front of his eyes should be enough to break his spirit. It was already on the verge having lost them all once already. And then, in a flash her victims were gone, teleported somewhere far away within her Ultimatum. A final act of defiance, but paradoxically one that also spelled her enemy's doom. He stared up at her, staff at the ready and his feline fangs bared. This would be too easy.
And that was when the dragon arrived.
It's serpentine form slammed through the barrier she had created, its size and power rivaling those of the most ancient wyrms in the Dragonstar she had imprisoned. Another complication, but who was this new intruder? The Entelechy reached out with her empathic powers, searching for the necessary weakness that she could put pressure on to make them unravel. To her surprise, she first felt a familiar presence. Venat, the ancient who had stopped the Final Days of Etheirys the first time, was giving him power. Seeking deeper, she found the strangest heart she had ever encountered amongst mortals, one that had never fully come to know many of the emotions of living. He was an outlier, a pariah of his people, one who thought so differently and incomprehensibly from all his fellows. In some ways it reminded her about how Hermes had felt amidst the people of Etheirys.
As she performed her initial analysis, words came to the surface that seemed prominently etched onto the dragon…the man's mind.
Would you be "happier" had I a "good reason"?
A reason for living, it had been the Meteia's entire point for journeying amongst the stars, the one question that Hermes had craved an answer for. She watched the dragon and the Warrior of Light bicker, the latter's tail thrashing with frustration.
"I don't want your help!" he shouted in anger and confusion at the other's presence, but the Entelechy saw past the words a grim acceptance that, wanted or not, the dragon's aid was needed. The two placed side by side was a revelation to the Endsinger. One had reasons without number to live and the other a singular, all-consuming purpose that he had finally discovered in a life otherwise empty of meaning. Such a vast gulf between them and yet, for the first time, the universe's mercy felt a twinge of doubt. Could it be that a combination of the two, love for one's self and love for other's, be the answer?
She supposed there was only one way to find out.