Interlude 7: The One Who Lights The Way

Interlude 7: The One Who Lights The Way

"In the beginning, there was only the Void, but from the Void was born the Flame of Creation, and its light burnt away the Void. And from the ashes of the Void came Creation and the oldest and greatest of the gods."

Dawnscale was no longer in that titanic hall. Instead, she was in a place of absolute and utter darkness. No. The word darkness was not enough, for darkness was merely the absence of light. What surrounded her was not simply the absence of light. It was not merely the absence of sound, and smell, and touch. It was supreme nothingness, a primordial and incomprehensible emptiness so complete and irrevocable that it was no longer the absence of something but the presence of ultimate oblivion.

It was the Void.

Yet from within the Void came a spark of light and heat. The Flame. It seemed so small, so insignificant, so very fragile and fleeting. And yet the Flame would not be quenched. Light and heat erupted outward. If the Void was nothingness, total and absolute, then the Flame was potential, limitless and unconquerable.

The Void was burned away, and within its ashes, Dawnscale glimpsed the first, fragmented beginnings of Creation. Not stars. Not planets. Not yet. But soon. And from the ashes around the Flame itself rose two gods, vast and ineffable, so far beyond the First Gods that to label them the same would have been an unforgivable insult.

"Mighty were the Mother and Father of Creation," the cube continued. "Great beyond all measure. It was they who shaped Creation in its youth, they who made the rules that govern all that is, has been, and will ever be. But they were not the only ones to awaken."

Onward, the light and fire of the Flame pressed, ever onward. Yet the Void was limitless, and in the darkness beyond the Flame's light stirred abominations, formless and crude, inchoate not by design but by necessity, for the Void could never create but only destroy and mockingly imitate what dwelt within Creation.

"As the Mother and Father of Creation were awakened, so too were the Void-Born. They were twisted and misshapen, filled with hate and malice for Creation and most of all for the Flame. They wished for nothing more than to return all of Creation to the primeval darkness and emptiness that had reigned before the Flame."

The Void Born moved, a vast, verminous tide that spanned the edges of Creation. It was difficult to tell exactly how large they were, yet as the first stars were born and bound into the first galaxies, she saw their true nature. They were twisted mirrors of Creation, abominations that could be as small as humans or larger than galaxies.

And there was no end to their numbers.

"The Mother and Father took up arms, and with the first of their creations, they waged a terrible war against the Void-Born."

The two titanic gods waded into the hosts of Void-Born. There were lesser beings alongside them, the primordial progenitors of elementals and spirits. Cosmic thunder leapt from galaxy to galaxy, universes were torn asunder, and the Void-Born were slaughtered in numbers too great to be counted. And still they pressed onward, heedless of their losses, lashing out at the Mother and Father with claws and teeth that unmade all that they touched and reduced entire planes of existence to hollowed out husks that fell back into the pitch-black sea of the Void.

"Despite their efforts, the Mother and Father could not triumph. In desperation, they abandoned most of Creation and forged a great firmament to protect the Flame and its immediate surroundings. There, they concentrated their forces and readied themselves for the battle to come a battle they would not fight as the only gods."

Before Dawnscale's eyes, the seemingly limitless vastness of Creation dwindled until it was little more than an island of light in an ocean of darkness. There, the Mother and Father dwelt, and there, one by one, their children were born.

"To the Mother and Father were born twelve children, gods whose might would one day be almost as great as theirs. To each of those children was given an aspect of Creation to rule over, a power with which to strike down even the mightiest of the Void-Born's champions."

"Who were these children?" Dawnscale asked.

The cube chuckled. "Like their parents, they go by many names. But there is one I am sure you know. He is the oldest and greatest of their children the god whose name means death in every language there has even been. He is the one who rules over death, who brings the end of all things, who breaks all cycles and systems, and whose eyes suffer no lies or deception. There are other gods of death, yes, but they are weak and fleeting things, little more than the shadows he casts when Flame the shines upon him."

Twelve figures sprang up around the Mother and Father, and the first of them was tall and thin with eyes like stars. He was draped in a cloak so black that it could have been mistaken for the Void, and when he looked upon them, the Void-Born were burnt away, the truth of their emptiness laid bare.

"When their children had come of age, the Mother and Father brought down their firmament and went to war again. And this time they won. The Void-Born were driven back, cast once again from Creation, as the light and heat of the Flame spread ever further. All they had lost, they reclaimed, and still they pushed onward, the Void-Born falling before their wrath until finally they halted. They could go no further, lest they stretch themselves too thin. Instead, they turned their attention back to Creation."

The Void was thrown back, and the island of light became a continent, a beacon of light and warmth amidst an ocean of emptiness and shadow. The gods stood at the edges of that continent and then turned their attention inward, to the ashes that had been left behind by the Flame, the ashes from which Creation would rise again.

"To understand the task that lay before them, you must understand the scale of Creation." She could hear the cube's smile. "Imagine that your world is but one grain of sand." They were suddenly on a beach. Waves lapped against the shore, and the sand was fine and smooth between her claws. "Then your whole universe is this beach which stretches further than even your eyes can see."

"But what of Creation?" the cube asked. "How might Creation itself compare. You already know that there is more than one universe, so how many are there? Creation is all that is, has been, and can ever be. It is beyond the past, the present, and the future. It is every possibility. If you reduce your universe to a single grain of sand, then the beach that is Creation does not simply stretch beyond your sight. It stretches beyond infinity."

Dawnscale shivered. As large as she was, she felt incredibly small.

"You see now the task that awaited them. Even for them, it seemed a nigh-insurmountable task. So they created others to aid them, lesser gods to whom was given a universe or perhaps a few universes to care for and craft. But the Flame had also created new gods of its own, gods born of ashes in which the Flame's light and heat still lingered. These other gods were also given their own parts of Creation to tend to as the oldest and mightiest gods once more prepared themselves for battle. For no matter how many losses they took, no matter how badly they were defeated, the Void-Born would never rest, would never stop, would never relent until Creation was destroyed and the Flame put out."

"What of my world?" Dawnscale asked. "Were the gods who made it created by these older gods or by the Flame?"

"Neither." The cube appeared before her. They were now drifting through a nascent universe, dotted here and there by stars with a handful of slowly forming galaxies spinning through the darkness of space. "When the Flame burned through our particular part of Creation, it awakened a new god a god that will seem quite familiar to you."

Before them, a gargantuan figure appeared a cosmic giant wrought of gleaming metal. At first, Dawnscale thought that the god's body was covered in runes. But as she looked closer, she realised that his body was not solid. Instead, he was made of countless interwoven strands of divine metal and upon each of those strands was a rune so powerful that she could not bring herself to look directly at them. And from within his shell of divine metal came light and heat, an ember of the Flame left behind amidst the ashes that birthed Creation.

The god raised one hand, and stars were born atop his palm, more and more until a galaxy had been made. The god set the galaxy in its place and raised both arms. More galaxies formed, more and more and more, until the nearly empty universe was filled with light and life.

"He went from one universe to the next, creating and crafting, forging and honing, bringing life and light to his domain. But his actions did not go unmarked. For as vast as Creation had grown, not even the greatest of the gods could guard all of its borders. And so one of the Void-Born came to destroy what he had wrought."

Universes trembled as one of the Void-Born came forth to do battle against the god. The pair fought, and the Void-Born tore great gouges in the divine shell of the god. Liquid flame poured from the wounds, and where his blood fell, phoenixes were born, eight in total, each blessed with cosmic flame and each containing within them some small fragment of the fire that had birthed the god.

They drove the Void-Born back, and the god slew him and cast his body out of Creation and into the Void.

"The god was wounded in the battle, and from his wounds sprang the eight guardian phoenixes, born of his blood and the fire of the Flame. Together, they drove the Void-Born back and slew him. Although wounded, the god decided to complete his work before resting. When he was finally finished, he sent the phoenixes to guard the edges of his realm. Worried that even the phoenixes might not be enough, he used the last of the blood that dripped from his wounds to awaken some of the stars. To each of these Living Stars, he gave a Word, and that Word became their Name, and that Name became their Truth. The oldest of these Living Stars was the Star of Judgement. The god tasked the stars with guarding the worlds of his domain from the Void-Born and other exterior threats, whoever might slip past the guardian phoenixes."

The massive form of the god slumped, exhausted, and the eight phoenixes flew off in different directions. Before him, stars were brought to life, gifted with noble purpose and then dispatched to guard various worlds, lest some cunning foe sneak past the phoenixes who guarded the borders.

"And for a time, all was good. The god rested and healed, and his creations prospered. Countless worlds flourished, and civilisations of every kind rose and fell with the passage of time. But the god's victory against the Void-Born had not gone unmarked, and when next the Void-Born attacked, it was with great numbers led by a mighty champion."

"Where were the other gods?" Dawnscale asked. "Why did they not help him? If they were so mighty, how could they stand by and leave him to fight alone?"

"As mighty as they were, remember what I told you of the sheer scale of Creation. How could fourteen of them ever hope to be everywhere at once? The next attack on the god was part of an offensive that spanned almost half of Creation." For a moment, Dawnscale saw the beach again, but this time, a tidal wave was bearing down on it. "In the face of a tidal wave, what is the fate of a few grains of sand?"

The cube sighed. "The god fought, and he fought well. And with him were his phoenixes and stars. But they were not enough. One by one, the Living Stars fell until the night skies no longer shone, and one by one the phoenixes fell until only one of them remained. Wounded to the death, the god refused to let the Void-Born devour him and takes his power. Instead, he shattered himself into countless fragments and scattered them throughout his domain. If the Void-Born wished to take his power, they would have to go from world to world. It would take them time, and they would not be able to simply destroy all that he had built as they had originally intended."

"That that is why the gods are made of god-metal," Dawnscale murmured. "My gods they are fragments of that god, pieces of something infinitely greater. And they turn to fire when they die because it was fire, the Flame itself, that birthed the original god. And it is to Flame that they return. The cycle of death and rebirth it's real, isn't it?"

"Yes, the cycle is real. All that comes from the Flame shall one day return to it," the cube replied. "And it also explains why all the gods I have encountered or heard of in our part of Creation have always been incomplete and specialised and very much made of god-metal. Each of them embodies a single rune from the original god's body, and what some call divine runes and primordial runes are merely pieces of runes that are unimaginably greater." The cube bobbed up and down. "Your gods are grains of sand on a beach too large for you to imagine."

Dawnscale was silent for a long time. "What happened then? Something must have stopped the Void-Born. Otherwise, we would not be having this conversation. Did the older gods finally come?"

"No. But someone else did. As the god died, the last of his phoenixes refused to abandon the place where he had fallen, for he had chosen to make his final stand in the same place he had been born. It was hallowed ground, the most sacred place in his whole domain, and she would not abandon it. Instead, she fought, and her cries of rage and fury and grief echoed through Creation. And they were heard."

Before them, the verminous multitudes of the Void-Born swarmed over universe after universe, plunging the god's domain into darkness. Alone in all of this was the final phoenix, tears of stellar fire dripping down her cheeks, her body rent with countless wounds, and her claws and beak stained with the nothing-blood of her foes.

And then there was light.nove(l)bi(n.)com

Light so bright that Dawnscale thought it was the Flame itself, come to banish the Void-Born once again. But it was not the Flame. It was a dragon. The dragon.

He was larger than the god who had fallen and larger than the Void-Born champion who stood triumphant over the wounded phoenix. His scales were blacker than the Void save for a patch of gleaming white upon his snout. Atop his head burned a crown of twilight flame, and symbols of triumph and glory shone about his head like stars twinkling in the night.

He roared, and Creation trembled. Twilight poured out of him, a light of absolute purity that banished all corruption coupled with a darkness that devoured all things in its path. The lesser Void-Born fled before him, and where the twilight touched them, they burned as though struck by the Flame itself. Only their champion stood his ground, and even he did not linger long.

"A dragon came, a dragon beyond all other dragons, born of light and darkness, of absolute purity and ultimate corruption. He should have died long before he hatched, and he should have grown up wicked and cruel. Yet he lived, and it was not cruelty that guided him but wisdom and mercy. But he had no mercy in his heart for the Void-Born, not after he laid eyes upon the phoenix and understood the fate of the god who had fallen. And staring into his eyes, the champion of the Void-Born learned something new that day." The cube's voice was cold. "He learned fear."

"The Void-Born champion fled, and the dragon pursued him. In the end, the dragon caught him, and his wrath was terrible to behold. He tore the champion limb from limb and roared his triumph for all of Creation to hear. And then he unleashed his light again, and the darkness that had been swallowing up the dead god's domain was driven back. The worlds he had worked so hard to craft were set free, and the gathering emptiness that had threatened to plunge his part of Creation into the Void was destroyed, never to return."

"How?" Dawnscale asked, as the scenes the cube had described unfolded in front of her. "How can you know this? And how can a dragon possibly grow so powerful?"

"What did you do?" Dawnscale asked. "How could you go on?"

"I will admit that I raged for several thousand of your years. I hated my creators for being so foolish. I hated myself for not stopping them. I hated everyone and everything until there was nothing left in me but hate. And even that faded until only emptiness remained. The others they left, one by one, they left. It was driving them mad staying near a galaxy-sized graveyard. Unit 04 took it especially hard. Their primary objective was to protect our creators. You can imagine how hard it is to fulfil that purpose when they're all dead."

The cube spun slowly. "I didn't leave. I couldn't. I was the one most closely connected to the communal link. I felt everything from all of them their joys, their triumphs, their loves and their deaths. How could I leave with all of that inside me? Instead, I cast my psychic presence out into the depths, seeking whatever wisdom or knowledge I could to ease the ache in my soul. It was on one such trip that I met the phoenix. And it was on another such trip that I met the dragon."

"You met the dragon?" Dawnscale cried. "What what was he like?"

"I expected him to ignore me. He was resting at the time, I think, in between battles. Who was I to him? I was nothing and nobody. What was the fate of a galaxy to a being who fought to defend Creation itself? But he did not send me away. Instead, he beckoned me forward. He asked me who I was and why I grieved, and so I told him. He listened. He really listened. And somehow somehow, I knew he understood. I asked him how he could possibly understand. Do you know what he told me?"

"What?"

"He told me that long ago, in the days of his youth, he had been far weaker than I was. He was born a hatchling, perhaps a foot long. He wasn't even raised by another dragon. He was raised by a pyromaniacal elf that he mistook for his mother since he set his surroundings on fire when he hatched, and she was the only one who didn't run away. But that elf she loved, and he loved her, and he was so happy living with her and the friends they made. It was a simple life, but a good one."

Dawnscale tried to reconcile the image of a tiny hatchling with the titan she had seen and failed.

"It reminded me of that day with the ducks and the one who made me and his family. All those years had passed and I still remembered them, still grieved their loss. But what was my loss worth when there was so much suffering out there, so much death and destruction and sorrow? He told me that it still mattered. That to the universe, I might be just one person, but to the right person, I was the universe. All the suffering, all the death and destruction and woe did that undo the joy I had felt living alongside my creators? Did it negate all the triumphs, happiness, and love we had shared? No. It did not. It could not. Because those things they still dwelt within me, they were all still a part of me. I might be just one person, but in my memories, in the bond that we once shared, there was a whole universe."

Dawnscale thought of the life she had lived, of the joys she had experienced, the sorrows she had felt did it really matter in the end that her world was so small and Creation was so large? It was her home. It was where her friends lived. It was the place her friends had chosen to defend. She thought of Doomwing, of the words they had exchanged when they'd parted. Would he care if he found out that Creation was so vast? Perhaps, but it would not lessen his love for their world or weaken his desire to protect it. If anything, it would only harden his resolve.

She could almost imagine the words he would say.

"This is just one world in the universe. But to me, this one world is the universe."

Yes. That was exactly what he would say.

Shame welled up inside her. She had run. And for what? To be confronted by a truth that even now she was struggling to accept. She didn't want to feel small, but she did. She didn't want to feel hopeless, but she did.

"I do not need telepathy to know what you are thinking." The cube shone a comforting yellow, warm like a candle. "The dragon knew how hopeless I felt and how even his words could not shake my belief that Creation was an ugly place. So he showed me something and told me to show it to others if I ever thought it would help."

"What?"

"Close your eyes and open your mind."

Dawnscale was floating in empty space. Around her there was only darkness and a deep and terrible silence. Yet as she watched, a single light appeared, and a single voice began to sing. It was a fragile song, weak and tremulous, but it was filled with hope and a desperate longing for a brighter future.

Another light appeared. And that song grew stronger. And then another and another. Little by little, light by light, voice by voice, the darkness ebbed and the silence fell away. In their place was light and hope and the promise of better days to come.

She heard a voice, not the cube's. It was deep and gentle. It rolled through her like cosmic thunder, and the words were like rain on a parched desert.

"A single candle can illuminate even the deepest shadow. A single voice can break the silence. You think Creation is an ugly place, but I will show you how beautiful it is."

And then she was everywhere and nowhere at once.

She saw fields filled with lush crops. Farmers wiping their sweat off their brow. Families laughing as they delighted at the rich harvest.

She saw ships sailing through space. Happy people thrilled at the prospect of a new home.

She saw a child being born. A new life welcome by loving parents and smiling siblings.

She saw the hustle and bustle of a city, a person playing an instrument on a street corner. Pedestrians stopped to listen and offer money, and the musician's heart swelled at the acknowledgement.

She saw strange creatures singing in the depths of space, their song carried on gravitational waves to every corner of their galaxy. They were songs of peace and plenty, songs of a home they would finally return to after their great migration.

She saw young lovers walking arm in arm along a beach, their hearts filled with nothing but each other. Above them, the moon shone, and amused whispers followed in their wake.

She saw a great union of species that spanned universes and dimension standing side by side against the tide of darkness. They were all so different, and yet they stood as one and called each other friends.

She saw a titanic dragon cradle a dying universe and breathe life back into it, and she saw that same dragon, but so much younger and smaller, swoop down to carry a sheep to safety from rising flood waters.

She saw more and more and more and more and she felt the souls, so very many of them, reach out to her, a deep abiding warmth spreading through her as she realised the full scope of what she was experiencing. This was all that was good in Creation. This was why the dragon could keep on fighting. This was why Creation and its people were worth protecting, no matter how hard it became.

"It is so easy to remember only the ones you could not help, but you must never forget the ones you did help. You must never forget that each person you help is another light in the darkness, another voice in the silence. Creation is still beautiful, and the people within it are still worth saving. The Void wants us to give up. It wants us to despair. Because it knows that one day we'll win. Something that can only destroy can never defeat something that can also create. What you see as a small deed, barely worthy of notice, could mean the world to someone else. Don't underestimate yourself or the good that you can do."

At last, the vision faded, and Dawnscale found herself back in the giant hall with the cube.

"That thank you," she said quietly. She felt at peace for the first time in a long time. Her vision she had blinded herself. She had dwelt only on the ones she had failed and had all but forgotten the ones she had saved. She wasn't perfect. She never would be. But she was trying, and that mattered. "That helps a lot."

"I'm glad." The cube bobbed up and down. "I think I think this is where we part ways."

"I think so too."

"If I were you, I would seek out the phoenix. If you want to learn more about the Void-Born and how to deal with them, there are few others in this part of Creation who know more than her." The cube sent a thought to her. "That should help you find her."

"Thank you." Dawnscale nodded. "For everything. Just one more question."

"By all means."

"I haven't been speaking to your actual body at all, have I?" Dawnscale asked.

"What gave me away?"

"Your presence it's not only in your cube. It's all around us."

"Very good. We are currently inside myself. As for my actual body"

They vanished, and when they reappeared, Dawnscale found herself looking at a vast cube within which was an entire galaxy.

"I am The One Who Remembers," the cube said. "That galaxy that I carry within myself is the galaxy of my creators. It is frozen in time only moments after their demise."

"Why?" Dawnscale asked. "A monument?"

"Originally, yes," the cube said. "But before I parted ways with the dragon, I asked him if it was possible to restore them. If it was, I wanted to be the one to do it. I wanted to show that my creators were right to put their trust in me, that my name was well earned. Others might have forgotten them, but I never will." The space beside the cube shimmered, and matter began to appear, drawn out of nothing through psychic might alone. "Matter can be created from energy. I have all of their memories, all of their emotions, everything that makes them who they are. I can remake their bodies. The only problem is their souls. I cannot create those. Instead, I must find a way to locate them through the cycle of death and rebirth and bring them to me."

"I have light and astral magic," Dawnscale said. "I will share what I know with you."

"Thank you. In the same way that a sufficiently advanced artificial intelligence can gain its own soul, so too can sufficiently advanced science and mathematics alter the very fabric of reality. I possess the knowledge and wisdom of an entire galaxy, as well as all the knowledge and wisdom I have gleaned from my visitors, and I have been studying for almost nine million years. I cannot restore them, not yet, but one day I will. And when I do, I will not repeat the mistakes of the past. I will teach them as they taught me. I will guide them as they guided me. And I will love them as they loved me. I will show them a better path. Once again, their lights shall shine in the dark, and their voices shall break the silence. I shall be The One Who Remembers no longer. I shall be The One Who Lights The Way."