Disclaimer: I own nothing but the original content, and the twisted mind that came up with it.

Screaming.

Freezing.

Burning.

Slashing.

An eternity of torment.

Then a tiny rip appeared in the air of one unlucky alley in Tokyo, and out from the living darkness tumbled a single hand. Wrist and much of the forearm were still attached but useless and merely dragged across the concrete as the fingers skittered along on long, dark nails. It was the middle of the day in Tokyo, the sidewalk the hand scurried down should have been packed, and yet there was not a soul in sight.

Not that the ancient King of Pluto could see much anyway. That strange Crystal bearer had mangled too much of the dead Queen's body, and when the shell had broken apart he had lost the use of Yovela's eyes. Rage fumed around the sliver of darkness buried deep within what had been Yovela's arm. For a moment he had been able to walk, to touch, to taste air and blood and power. He had been able to see again, really see for the first time since he lost his eyes.

Unnoticed, the fingers stopped for a moment, with the rest of the arm swinging grotesquely to a halt. Pluto's mind faltered as it had not done since before the Abyss. His eyes…garnet and shining, beautiful Persephone had once whispered as she cupped his cheek in one warm hand… before it all went wrong. The same eyes had shone out from the face of his own boy, Chronos. Yet somewhere in the darkness and madness those beautiful garnet eyes had ceased to see. He could feel the others there in the horror, the flickering remnants of auras that had burned with all the might of planets once, just as he had felt when Serenity's little bitch had come tumbling into their midst. But he had no clue just how much she looked like her grandmother. Was her hair silver, her eyes blue and soft, (were they soft once?) or was there the etch of some man within her face, someone who had fallen into the bed of the White Moon?

His blood (fierce and angry, his jewel burning bright somewhere close as he battled the other woman), had she looked like him? Garnet eyes and deep emerald hair? Or had there been a piece of warmth and flowers in her, a trace of sweet lips and a laughter that had also been passed to his boy? (Our boy.)

Even now, he felt the heat of Sol (mother) against the stolen skin wrapped around him, but without eyes he had no idea what had become of Gaia's wilderness. Were there still trees that cast those incredible grey and green shadows? Did her mortals still populate this world with golden skin and golden hair and eyes so green and deep that he had felt himself drowning in their pools?

("I could have loved you for a thousand lifetimes.")

His eyes…their eyes…

Writhing darkness, screaming faces, knives of evil cutting deep into Mercury's skin while he howled in agony… Saturn's face in profile, silent mouth opening in a useless scream, her head turning to show half her face gone, nothing but blood and bone… Jupiter's balled fists, whole locks of brown hair between his fingers… Gaia's fingers curling against her temples, nails biting deep and ripping across her face…

Then only darkness and screams.

How long? he wondered. How long have we swam through that infernal sea?

Still unheeded, the King of Pluto considered from within the rotting shell of an arm.

Silence.

He heard none of the others, or any of the souls sucked with them into the Abyss. There was only the warmth of the sun and the quiet of being alone. The fleeting thought passed through his mind, the chance to scuttle somewhere out of the way where no one would find him and bask in the sun and the silence. The others could carry on without him. They were no longer bound together by ties of affection but only of need and hate. Let them burn creation down if they wanted, as long as they left him alone in the warmth.

Then the cold began to creep up again, thin tendrils of hate as strong as iron, and a memory of beautiful, pale Serenity clawed its way to the front of his mind. A smile like a razor and eyes like ice, no softness to them at all he knew. How could he have forgotten how cold she had been?

She was weak, a voice breathed through his mind. She broke when the circle broke.

The circle.

How had the circle broken?

Weak. But you are strong. Stronger than any alive. Strong enough to take back your Crystals. Take the galaxy back, wipe it clean and start over. Watch the towers and palaces crumble back to dust, wash the stars with ashes of what is and drag it back to what was. Take it all back…strong now, but stronger still with her blood in your mouth.

But first he needed a mouth.

Fingers began to wriggle and the hand took off once more through streets that should have been teaming with life. Any body, he knew, would do at this point. With the single strand of hair from his descendent he had laid claim to this sliver of darkness and none of the others could take it away. At least, he did not think it could be taken. He had no desire to test that theory. He would not be banished back into the Abyss, a powerless voice in a screaming vortex.

Charon. My castle, my palace, my home, mine again. Scratch out the past, the eons, blood to wash away the ages of Serenity, the time after us. Even more, a flood to wipe out green eyes and golden hair, pour the blood of the galaxy down the black stone walls until they crumble, until they flow back into the ground, to the time Pluto gave me form.

Blood of the White Moon to make me young again.

To make me whole.

The rage poured over the mangled soul of the ancient king like freezing fire. They had planned this moment for so long. Nothing would stop him, stop any of them, from clawing their way back to power and laying waste to the entire blighted galaxy.

Then after that we go on. More power. More blood. Take it back further. Stars winking out one by one. A galaxy of ashes as the Flame gutters and dies, and we will crown it our kingdom as we march on the galaxies beyond.

Brittle nails split as the fingers raced faster and faster down the road. Up ahead was a flicker of warmth, the feel of a mortal soul. A body, a new vessel for an ancient power. Pluto's first king could not see faces, had no way of knowing whether it was a woman or man that happened to walk by at just the wrong moment. The heart of the mortal stuttered as something seemed to grab one ankle. A moment later the heart leapt when bruised fingers and blackened nails were seen for just one moment. Then the nails cut deep and the mortal's scream froze, unuttered and never to be heard, and Pluto opened his eyes upon Gaia's world again.

The screams of the Abyss rose up in his head, changing now almost to a chant, to the marching of an army, or to the howling laughter of victory. Those garnet eyes his wife had loved (once) swept over all that Gaia's children had built and smiled as he imagined it crumbling down into darkness.

Yes. Rip it all down, take it all the way back.

Back to the beginning.