Darkness

The darkness consumed

It swirled and shifted, into and unto itself, the lightless bleak abyss worked itself into a writhing splendor. The chaos of nonbeing drew from a well of itself and from it birthed the beginnings of the end.

In an instant, light

The endless void rippled as the cosmos erupted into being

A constant font of energy shot throughout the vastness of space

Energy flooded out, as the genesis of all things began

I was everything. I was nothing. I was as all was before the chaos, but united in the being of ourselves, there was nothing more than our own radiance in our wake

And yet, I was as a speck

A insignificant mote of nothing before all of reality

The black void, the darkness was all-consuming before me, but still existence persisted and pushed onward

On a far off world, great beasts of might and majesty spread forth and multiplied

But the darkness consumed

They tore at each other, assimilating one another, before destroying their very homes as they entered the void

And the darkness consumed

Before us, as we struggled our way to existence, the flood of the abyss halted us once more, pushing back the wellspring of life

But even still, even a single speck of light may set a world ablaze, and the universe shuddered, convulsing as being runneth over the cup of unreality

The beasts of the stars thus spread, destroying all in their path in a futile effort to fend off the darkness

But still the darkness consumed

It coalesced

And from the blackest void emerged a great meteor

But then, from the other edge of the universe, another great meteor emerged

And again, from the apex and epicenter did yet a third come forth

Each heralding an emissary of the void

One of life

One of destruction

And finally, one of dominion

The three orbited one another, drawing ever closer

Until finally, they united; merged into one by the cold press of the void

The ultimate emissary of the endspiel

The Thrice-Perfected Ultimate Lifeform

But the darkness consumed

It devoured, the ephemeral existences birthed from the Font yet fragile, yet ethereal before the eternality of the encroaching blackness.

It could not be denied.

The darkness sundered, and that which could have been eternal, should have been immortal, was no more

And I awoke, alone. Afraid.

A shard of a fragment of perfection

But never again to be whole

Never again to be Three - In - One

No longer was I part of the great chorus, the symphony of existence and being no longer mine to behold.

But I Was.

And that was enough.

I drifted in the endless void, my path aimless and my life pointless

And then I heard it. The sirens call of nature. The endless symphony of my very being resonating with a another so purely that I turned, I shifted.

She called.

She became the dream

Because the sleeper must awaken

And in the dreaming, wake once more to the reality of her nonbeing

I sensed, her, her being, her fellows, and the faceless about her

And then

I sensed one other

One, one of a kind that should have been removed long ago

The memories of my kind spanned time immemorial, and their age had long passed

He had no place here

He had no right

The judgment of stars was absolute

And so

I

Fell

None could stop me

None could sense me

None but one, perhaps.

None else could prevent judgment from being meted out

The one called Lung had no more place in this world, the Epoc of Dinosaurs was long over.

But then, one did try to stop me. One alone stood in the righteous path, in the way of progress. A shining, broken thing, a creature so shattered and lost that it seemed barely capable of performing to even a fraction of it's true capabilities. I had no interest in such a thing, but from it hummed the song of creation and so I payed it heed nonetheless.

It spoke to me. It spoke of a great many things, of wisdom of the ages to come and those that passed. It spoke of a time before and a time to come. But, it never once spoke of the Now, and for that I scorned it. I smote its words!

It recoiled, even as the atmosphere about us ignited, the flames of purgitation billowing in the dawny breeze.

It spoke once more, telling of a people that were, that built and sundered, that grew and perished. It spoke of a people that would be and had been. But it failed to speak of a time before them and of the time after, so once more I struck down it's words.

It tumbled, shards of its being flaking from merely brushing against the weight of my displeasure

Thrice, and once more, it spoke to me. It spoke, of great beings, of creatures that swirled the void itself, that shuddered the very fabric of existence with their passing. It spoke of the world eaters, of the sun feeders, of the novaborn, of the Serpents of Eden born again of the shattered precipice of nonlife.

And I laughed. I laughed, and the being shook. I laughed and it shuddered and flaked and shattered, crystalline fragments peeling from the feathers of it's undimensional being, it's core coming undone from the twist of noneuclidean fractality it believed to be a semblance of the spark of light.

But what was such a thing?

What were these mere worms, before one such as I? Even alone, I was more. Even a fragment, I was superior. Even as my shine guttered, I could still burn all these pretenders to the Font of Life's glory to ash.

And then...impact

The world shuddered

Reality cried out as it was torn asunder, and the universe wailed in agony as it failed to contain the might of the void

For even a shard of the Thrice-Perfected Ultimate Lifeform was beyond the comprehension of the very void that spewed it forth from it's ebony churnings

And yet...the Lung yet breathed.

I had missed.

Judgement had failed to pass, and for that I acknowledged the existence of this being, this Simurgh, that dared stand before me.

Magnificent.

For a mote of dust, it was a brilliant play.

I watched as a monolithic wing fell upon a building, so impurely cleansed of all that Life stood for that it offended me, and crushed it to rubble. A small brown haired girl outside took the brunt of an entire feather and ignominiously died.

But no matter.

There would always be another chance.

There, beside me, was a small cuboid thing made of some flimsy local substance. Within, waited my contract.

Within, waited Justice, within my eternal grasp at last.

The Herald of the End Times.

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