Gotcha', didn't I? Here's one of the epilogues I promised. What does one call the epilogue to a prologue, though? An e-pro-logue? That's trademarked, by the way.

Astaroth slowly made his away across Dizalakine, the Gate of Entropy. He wrapped his wings around him even tighter, conditioning himself against the cold, foul wind that swept the plane every now and then. The sky above was filled with thick, dark gray clouds. Light came from somewhere, despite the lack of a sun, but it didn't penetrate the thunderheads. 'Thunderheads' was a misnomer, however, for no lightning ever appeared. Rain might come from the clouds every now and then, but it was hardly noticeable. There was no sound on Dizalakine, save for the howl of the wind, the caw of a crow, and the weeping of Raum.

For this was the Harbinger of the Apocalypse's personal layer of the Abyss. The Gate of Entropy was somewhere near the bottom of the Abyss for nowhere else would a layer be so deserted or dismal. It resembled a perfectly flat plain, with dry grass growing out of the dirt. Every now and then a single, low, dead tree erupted from the earth and lifted its bare branches to the sky. A few gangly crows perched on the trees, but not many, only a five or six to every couple of dozen miles or so. The entire layer was gray: the sky, the clouds, the grass, the dirt, the crows, and especially the ruins and Raum.

Yes, especially the sole ruins that sat in the middle of the bleak layer, which watched over the dead landscape like some horrible bird. There weathered stone upon weathered stone seemed to make a good-sized tower. But the structure was empty; There were no floors except the ground, no rooftop, part of the side was missing and holes were scattered all through the walls. Some wondered what had caused the destruction; for it was obvious the only residents of the layer were its soothsayer and his birds. What almost nobody knew was that the tower hadn't been destroyed; it was being built. For this place would be the birthplace of Raum.

One of the Abyss' greater secrets was the origins and life of Raum. Raum was a full-fledged Demiurge as many knew, and it appeared that he had always existed, for no one can remember when he, his doom saying, or his book was not present. This was because Raum was a temporal anomaly. Raum had (would) been (be) born exactly five seconds before the total and final Apocalypse, the end to all the multiverse, Destiny closing his book, the great inevitable, Apollyon's greatest hour, and the last ride of the Four Horsemen. The moment he was born, nobody, save Raum, knows what, something happened. Raum began to live backward in time and age at an astounding rate. Three seconds before he was born, he was fully grown, five seconds before he was born, he was wizened, and ten minutes before the Demiurge came to existence, he was the pitiful creature he is now. The Harbinger of the Apocalypse lived all of the End Days backward, seeing, hearing, and feeling the dying multiverse in reverse. The reason everybody remembered him is because Raum was not destined to die until five seconds after the creation of the multiverse. Raum does not know this of course. Having lived the Last Days up until the present, Raum believes he is somehow intimately tied into the events of Armageddon. And so, the Demiurge culls followers to help set up a preliminary Apocalypse to spare Raum and the rest of the multiverse the suffering of the End. At least it would be faster and less painful than hordes of fiends washing across worlds, stars and poison plummeting from the skies, the people crying to dead gods for an end, and eldritch horrors rising from their arcane cradles. (To put it simply; his future is our past, and his past is our future. If you're confused, than it would be best to just forget about the whole issue and roll with the story.) This was the plan, doom, and mercy of Raum.

Astaroth gritted his teeth as another rock stabbed his bare foot. The Diabolus had left his dragon behind somewhere lest some other demon should search its memories for what was to be discussed here today. He thought about flying, but Astaroth was currently using all his wings to keep himself warm. As he walked, he at last came into sight of the paradox tower, a building all at once, like Raum, being born and dying at the same time. A murmuring seemed to come from above. There, on what would one day be a balcony, Raum stood staring into nothing. Astaroth wasn't sure what the clairvoyant was saying, perhaps he was predicting a plane-quake, and perhaps he was repeating a conversation he had with a friend who would not be born for another thousand years. Either way, the current premonitions would have to wait until Astaroth was done, for Astaroth needed a divination from Raum.

The Diabolus stepped inside the tower. The rafters that would one day be floors were covered in crows. Surprisingly, there were no droppings or nests or even food. There was just an occasional 'caw' from the avians. For these were not ordinary crows; these were the souls of those who pledged themselves to Raum for secrets, for power, for knowledge (to Astaroth, all three were the same). Astaroth cast a spell of levitation and floated into the air, floating to the platform. Some of the birds scattered and shrieked in annoyance, flying out of empty windows and through the not-yet-existent roof. Astaroth set his feet on the balcony and stood next to Raum.

The Gray Seer was now silent and clutched a book to his chest. Old and bound in the skin of a dragon great wyrm, the book was shackled to Raum's left arm by a rusty chain and a tight manacle that cut into the diviner's flesh, making him bleed and the scar rot. The book was Raum's own, but the chain and bond were actually a concept he got from Destiny several millennia later. He liked to think that he was bound to the fate in that book, just like Destiny, and that it was his burden alone to carry. In truth, this was because Raum was right. Only the Gray Seer had experienced the future so totally. For inside the book was a thousand disasters, each one the Demiurge had seen, had lived through. The farther you go forward in time, the smaller the book gets, while the reverse is true for those who go back in time. By Raum's death, the tome is so thick and heavy that the Gray Seer must carry the grimoire on his back. But Raum reserved the ink of his own blood and the blank pages for truly horrible catastrophes that he has seen, the end of worlds and planes and cosmos. For this was the definitive source on calamities, this was the book of Raum.

Astaroth stood next to Raum and tried to think of how to best start the conversation. It was not easy to talk to the Gray Seer, to ask a question. For there was a price to the valuable knowledge of the future. Astaroth knew very well; at the end of time, it was said that the Diabolus would burn his whole library, a copy of every book and tome that had ever existed (save Raum's book of course, for only the Harbinger of the Apocalypse had that book). At the very least, patience and sanity had to be sacrificed for Gray Seer's wisdom. Finally, Astaroth said, "Sooo… Lovely weather today, huh?" Raum said nothing to the small talk. Astaroth said again, "Did you happen to catch that little show on the Prime, Raum?"

Nothing was heard from the Gray Seer. He only stood and continued to stare at the landscape, as if expecting to see Abaddon himself on the horizon. Astaroth continued, "You do remember of course?" Astaroth had almost forgotten that because Raum had met Raven in the past, the Gray Seer had yet to actually be introduced to her. "Of course you don't." the Diabolus affirmed to himself. "A shadow dancer by the name of a black-bird. A Hecate reborn, all at once divine, terrestrial, and infernal. A great destiny tied to her." Muttered Raum.

"A great destiny you say? Now Raum, I know you. When you meet that girl on her sixteenth birthday, you are going to look in your book and see fate swirling around her storm. But there in is the question. You only reserve that book for true catastrophes. When she does summon the demon Trigon, his immediate reign will only be a few miles, and the spell she will cast after his defeat will rectify most casualties. Surely, such a minor conjuration is not worthy of the blood of Raum?"

The Gray Seer said nothing. Astaroth continued, "What then, did she do that was so great that even YOU took note of it? It could not possibly be that little curse attached to her at birth could it? Was that the apocalypse you will speak of for her? Was that the origin of your prophecy? Was that her great destiny, Raum?"

The Harbinger of the Apocalypse looked up at Astaroth for the first time with his gray eyes, and a single word was said by Raum:

"No."

I'll try to get the other e-pro-logue up soon.