"Awake!"

Magolor was still half asleep when he distantly heard a voice speaking to him. He suspected that Marx was messing with him or begging for a midnight snack again and started to sink back into the land of sleep. He moved his hands to either side of him where Marx and Taranza would usually be. His companions were in their usual places, curled up next him, as was their habit. He relaxed to the steady sound of even breathing and felt the world around him start to fade away. He was almost asleep when the voice sounded again.

"I command you to wake!"

His eyes snapped open when he realized that the masculine voice was foreign to him. He carefully lifted himself to a sitting position. The dusty storage room had not changed. Their supplies were still in the corner of the room, Marx and Taranza's beds were empty after they had moved during the night, and Galacta Knight was sound asleep on his own pile of abandoned blankets. The barricade at the entrance that kept them safe had not moved.

"Behold me, my mortal champion! Bask in my divine presence and bow to me!"

The now booming voice did not stir the others at all, though it made Magolor's ears ring. It was definitely coming from somewhere in the room. The Halcandran looked around rapidly for the source but still found nothing. All was still and silent beyond the yelling in his mind.

"W-who's there?" He whispered into the darkness. He felt about as silly as he did confused and frightened.

A golden light flashed above him. "I am here."

"Where?" Magolor looked up at the ceiling and saw nothing.

The voice growled in irritation, "On your head, fool!"

"T-the crown?" The Halcandran shivered as he whispered, "You can talk?"

If it had eyes, they would have rolled. "Obviously. Now that I have regained some power, we may speak. Though I suggest you speak with more respect."

Magolor took a deep breath. This is... unexpected? He glanced at his companions once more to make sure they were sleeping soundly before quietly slipping out of bed. Squeezing past the barricade of broken furniture, the Halcandran left their base and only traveled a short distance from the door, far enough to not immediately wake his friends but still close enough to call for help. He refused to go too far just in case something went wrong. Given their luck so far, he was sure that a talking crown with a big ego was a bad thing. Is it alive? What does this mean? Why would a crown be able to talk, and why would the Lor give something like this to me? Why would the Lor even have it? Magolor had never considered such a thing. He never imagined that the crown could be anything more that a magical weapon. Obviously, the object's history and purpose were more complicated. It spoke just like a person, though in the manner of a person with a superiority complex. The crown's tone was quite different than any that Magolor had heard from creatures on Popstar. Despite the irritation, it had a somewhat mellow tone of indifference and a soft ethereal rumble that was reminiscent of someone humming a simple tune.

"Are you done panicking," the crown interrupted, "because we are running out of time, and I have important work to do that I cannot do without your help."

Magolor pulled himself out of his thoughts and tried to think coherently. "Hold on! I didn't even know you were a... a living thing! Can't you start from the beginning? What's even happening right now? Why do you talk? Why only now?!"

The spikes of the crown clamped down harder on his skull to silence him. "Be quiet! I cannot speak with you long, for it will no doubt attract attention. There is no time for my personal history! Unless you would rather continue your mission in vain, you will heed me!"

"My mission?" Magolor glanced at the barricaded door while wincing in pain. "You mean the Star Rod or me?"

He swore that the crown flinched. "There are more important matters than that. Those vile weapons should remain as they are: broken or destroyed." Magolor heard a sigh whisper through his mind like a breeze. "Magolor, the universe is dying, and you are all being played for fools. Things are not as they should be. Everything is different... and I intend to take advantage of this opportunity! I cannot do this alone." The crown's golden light grew brighter. "I have chosen you, mortal, to be my champion! Together, we must rewrite history! Everything will be corrected! Properly, of course."

This was too much for him to process. Magolor stammered a few times before he found his voice again, "What... What does that even mean?! Why is the universe dying? Who's messing with us? How could I possibly change history?!"

"Hmm... How could I make you understand?" The crown shifted as much as its fixed position could allow. "Do you understand the concept of timelines?"

What? "Uh, I think so. You mean the course of recorded history, right?"

"Imagine," the crown began, "that this timeline is not the first. Where you are right now is not original. You are not the original Magolor. Imagine that, originally, you lead a completely different life in a different timeline. Do you understand?"

Magolor tried his best to follow along, though he was not sure where this was going. "I guess... An alternate version of myself and... everything? That's just theoretical. Why does that matter?"

"Simple but correct nonetheless," the crown grumbled in distaste while ignoring his question, "Now imagine that someone with great power decided that the original was not... err... quite to their taste. It did not play out the way they thought was best. That powerful being then made a new timeline. It started out the same, but grew more different as they changed small details. One seemingly insignificant detail can change everything else."

Magolor was frozen in place when the fog of sleep left his mind completely, allowing the new information to hit him full force. Our world... our lives? It's all fake? That can't be! His mind reeled as he thought about and re-thought about everything he had ever experienced. He felt real. Everything looked real. How could it possibly be a lie? This must be some kind of trick! We don't have time for this! They were already in enough trouble dealing with the animal friends, Meta Knight, and this new mysterious knight that Marx wants to pick fights with. The claims were too outrageous to be true. Another thought struck him suddenly. Could the crown be evil? Is it trying to trick me into doing something terrible? Maybe that's why I've been so short tempered lately... It's influencing me!

"You must be wrong," he finally stated, "I don't believe you! I have no reason to trust you anyway! I shouldn't listen to you at all! I don't know why I even tried! I'm done listening to this. I'm going back to bed."

The spikes of the crown rapidly tapped on his skull. "You fool! This time was uncalled for, but it can be used to correct the mistakes of the original!" Magolor felt some hollow emotion sink to the pit of his stomach. "I lost everything! I even lost my own life! If we act soon, we can change everything! You can be a hero, mortal. A powerful one! In return for your service, I will reward you with your hearts every desire!"

"Not interested," Magolor replied flatly as he turned back towards the base. "Bribery only works on Marx."

Actual fear emanated from the crown, and shiver flowed up Magolor's spine. "I am trustworthy, mortal! I swear upon it! I can prove it to you! I can fulfill a task for you now in exchange for cooperation! My power is beyond comprehension. My knowledge is boundless! I put my power of a god in you hands!"

Magolor almost ignored it. Almost. He thought about what the crown described more. A powerful being... the power of a god... Timelines... Is it worth the risk? If all of this is true... "I'll consider listening further on one condition."

"Ask your price," the young god eagerly replied, "you will receive what you want."

He took a deep breath, not knowing if he was actually doing the right thing. He gripped his cape with one hand and made the other into a fist. "If your knowledge is boundless... give me the information I'm search for. I want to know where I'm from, who my family is, and why I was brought to Popstar by the Lor Starcutter."

"I suspected you would want that above other things," the crowned hissed in a smug manner. "It would have been wiser to ask for lasting peace or the death of a powerful foe, but you always bow to your own selfishness, don't you? I have some of that knowledge, but one of you companions has more." He continued before Magolor could interrupt. "Wake the pink knight. Ask him about the chief's daughter and the three small graves. He will give you the knowledge you seek."

The light of the crown suddenly went out, and the voice faded away. Is the crown sleeping? Magolor was about to ask more questions when a strange gurgling in his left ear caught his full attention. He turned and jerked back as he was face to face with a strange one-eyed creature sitting calmly next to him. He backed away as he recognized that thing Taranza had befriended and named "Mr. Waffle." It made no move to attack or get closer. The caped being simply watched him, still murmuring the strange noises. Occasionally he thought he could hears words, but Magolor had a difficult time processing them. The noise had a musical quality to it, though it was near impossible to describe exactly what it sounded like. Is this what the crown meant by "attracting attention?" It must be related to this thing. That can't be good... Why can't I catch a break for once?! It did not appear dangerous. If anything, the creature seemed somewhat wary of Magolor.

In order to keep the peace, Magolor decided to be friendly. "H-hello. You're Taranza's friend, right? Mr. Waffle?"

The Dark Matter gave no signal that it understood, and it did not reply. The Halcandran tried again, "Um... Is the crown bothering you? It didn't seem to want you around either. Is there something important you need to tell me? About the crown? Or something else?"

The creature made more of the baffling sounds that he could not understand. Suddenly, the crown awoke again and added its own commentary, "The mortals cannot understand you like that. If you must bother us, at least be clear."

The creature grew more agitated, shivering and flaring its spikes. "BAD!" The crown suddenly translated the noise directly to Magolor's mind. The Dark Matter's voice was not a smooth as the crown's but was just as rhythmic and deep. "Back to sleep! Back now! Danger Claws bad and go away!"

"Uh," Magolor stumbled while trying to think of an actual response, "What... exactly do you mean by that?"

"Danger! Danger! Claw banished here and sleep," the creature hissed in explanation, though Magolor was struggling to understand it.

The crown sighed, "This is the best I can do for you. Our voices are difficult to translate. We are the oldest things to exist. Your frivolous languages are far too limiting."

Magolor groaned and massaged his temples. This is too much to take at once... and I don't even believe most of it! Mr. Waffle was still glaring at the crown, and the Halcandran could feel a similar anger stirring in the object sitting on his head. Anger and something difficult to identify... He sensed that hollow feeling again, as if something important were missing. While Magolor sat there is a daze, the two continued to converse in his head.

"Bad Claw never listen. Make Creator sad," the Dark Matter commented sourly, wanting to strike a nerve.

It succeeded. The crown struggled to not overexert and crush its host's head. "You! You! You insolent, vile, useless, retched servant! You are pathetic, tiny, and useless compared to me!"

"Good enough for Eldest," the creature added, obviously smiling on the inside.

"I AM GOOD ENOUGH!" The screech woke Magolor from his stupor. The shout made his body ache with sadness and pain as the crown tightened its grip. The crown's voice tapered off to a whisper. "I am good enough... I am strong..."

Both of them were quiet for a moment before the swordsman calmly asked, "Then tell sorry. Why not home before?"

Magolor barely heard the response through a cloud of fog. "After all this time? You think I can just go right up to Him and apologize? And be forgiven? I will not go back. Not yet. I will go when there is a home to go back to. In fact, I can use this mortal right here for that. Do not interfere! I can use him to save our kind and earn my pardon."

The eye of the creature looked hopeful for a moment before it shook its head. "Creator say no change. This world for mortals. They make us go, we go."

"I know," the crown responded with a bitter tone of disappointment, "and that is why I will not go back. If no one else will strike back against the mortals who seek to tear this world apart, then I will do something about it myself. Magolor, can I count on you to- huh?!"

The crown had not realized he had been gripping Magolor too hard until the Halcandran started to pass out. The spikes of the crown released in a panic, and at the same time, the Dark Matter grabbed at the object. After being locked onto Magolor's head for a year, it was so easily plucked off and dropped at his side. Its light faded, dead to the world. The Dark Matter steadied Magolor and kept him from falling down. It murmured something softly to him, but the words were once again scrambled. The creature carefully picked him up and quickly flew him back to his companions.

It pitied him. This realm was a gift from the Creator. It was theirs to maintain or destroy. Mr. Waffle missed the home-star, but it had no right to stay there if mortals decided to take it. It ignored the Master Crown's words, though it did retrieve the object and place it among the four mortals things. It pitied him, too. Youngest Brother was bitter, selfish, and never fully satisfied. The two were a perfect match.

As it lay the crown next to a worn bag, it began to scream into the night, "Fool! Put me back quickly! He will die without my powers maintaining him! All these planets are infected! It's still in the f-"

The words were ignored. The Dark Matter drifted to the window and filled the night air with its call. When Dark Matter faced a problem, they sought numbers. This was definitely a growing issue that one swordsman cannot solve. For the first time, an answer came. Within minutes, another Dark Matter swordsman flung itself from the vastness of space and through the window, plowing face first into the floor in a clumsy manner. The smaller matter quickly picked itself up and observed. All Dark Matter were identical, though they often varied in size. This new Matter was more similar in height to the four than the Matter that called for its presence. Mr. Waffle shared its knowledge through sound, updating its kin on the situation. With Master active again, the others were likely waking as well and preparing to cause trouble. These mortals needed help and protection. The war was beginning.

When the kin set its eye on the four sleeping mortals, it squealed with delight in a high-pitched voice and hovered towards them. "BABIES! OH IT'S BABIES! Wanna hold the babies!"

Mr. Waffle quickly teleported itself and its kin out of the room to shush it. "Careful!" It spoke in its natural song. "Do not wake!"

"But babies!" The kin spoke in common tongue as it bobbed up and down, "Oh gosh, I love the babies! Lemme hold them!"

The larger matter shook its head. "No. Stay this area. We watch the Claws. Master is angry. Must careful."

"Okayokay," the kin sighed, "Stay and watch for trouble... but then hold the babies, right?" It then nodded to itself in confirmation. "Yes, yes. Take care of babies."

Mr. Waffle felt frustration strongly for the first time. It was not as involved with mortals as others were. "No hold. Mortals get fright. Songs also scare. Only protect from Bad Things."

The kin drifted low to the ground, singing low Songs of Despair. The other turned away and returned to were the mortals slept. Unfortunately, by the time it got there, the smaller kin had already returned. It glided from one to another, petting them gently and withholding shrieks of happiness. Some Matter were fascinated by living creatures. Unfortunately, their appearance usually frightened them off and inspired legends of demons and monsters that hid in the shadows. No one knew that the shadows just really wanted to hug them and sing them songs. Mortals were special, admirable, and surprising. The smaller Matter could happily watch them all day. It sang to them softly, the way a mother recited a lullaby to a child. Their kind could live forever, after all. Mortals were mere children in comparison.

Mr. Waffle turned to the window again, unsure of how much change was coming. Master was right about one thing: something was very wrong. But did they have the right to stop it? Did they even have the ability? No. Not like this. Not on their own. Whether it liked it or not, getting Zero involved may be their only chance at fixing this torn universe before inevitable collapse.

Gentle words fluttered through the air, sheltering the four travelers from the negative waves of thought slowly spreading. The kin sang to them softly, spreading its own joy for their sake, "Pretty babies,~ happy babies,~ So good, so good.~ Try hard, work hard,~ perfect pretty babies.~"