Yes, this is a novelization. Yes, this is NOT one of my M stories, apparently. Is the main character an OC? Yes. Is this a sucked-in fic? So to speak, but, not quite.
prologue
Into . . .
Enter the silence of eternity. Enter the cosmic void of living time. The force that wraps itself around all worlds like a serpent. Yes, this force lives. It breathes. It knows. And it sees. Is it a watchdog for some greater, far more incomprehensible force or being? That is unkown. It is not important. It is, and that is the end of the matter. However, it is not the end of the story. What I have come to believe is that time is either the writer or the curator of all stories. All tales, whether they be fictitious or factual. It is the guiding hand that places you where you need to be when it deems you need be there. Shaping your mind, your heart, and your soul throughout your life for something. Something that will be of the greatest importance to you, personally. And maybe to others, as well, possibly.
So, yes, from what I understand time has created good and evil. Or at least what it perceives to be good and evil. It shapes those who are good, righteous – or at least fight for the greater good – like a master artist carving his work from stone or wood. And so in a similar way it must warp evil. Creating a mind that is twisted or misguided enough to cause destruction, death, and sorrow. And, whether it has meant to do this or not, evil became the greater force.
Like a malignancy it spread throughout the universe – or universes – and consumed the minds of the weak or the very strong. Good was in such few numbers, and those of evil – those consumed by darkness – were many and far stronger. The early beings who formed in the universe fought against this tide, and many lost. However, the forces of good proved their worth in one final strike. Just when all looked lost, there was a final, ultimate strike that shattered the strength of evil.
But the dark can never be killed.
It came back like a festering wound; a virus. Seeping into societies and corrupting them across the expanse of space and time. No longer as gloriously magnificent as it once was, it was mostly satisfied with simply ruining lives and eventually causing whole worlds to implode; their societies destroying themselves in their corruption. Those great worlds that once fought off the dark so valiantly – and won – had now been consumed by it all over again. But not nearly to that extent. Good was still prevalent, and the dark never had enough strength to amass itself anymore.
However, on worlds where hate was strong, the dark was equally great – and became greater. - May Fires Speak Truthfully
XXX
Fiction can become real so easily. The pages of a science fiction novel can suddenly leap out at you, because we know nothing of the nature of reality. Humans, as we are, have barely scraped the surface of what is out there; of the truth of things.
There are two sides to our world. One where strife now reigns, and the other where there is peace. It is, and is not, our choice which side we are on, or when and how we may travel from one to the other. This burns beneath the skin of many, driving them to the brink of self-destruction. However, for others, this knowledge grants them vision. A key to the door. A beginning of an awakening.
How immanent, this light?
This is not fact. This is not fiction. Listen with an open heart; hear it with a free mind. Let this telling be true, and let it overtake you.
Listen to our story. For it bridges eons.
