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To The Horizon

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It all ended quietly. No screams, no thunderous roar or pounding of destruction. Nothing.

God died in a single Moment, between one breath and the next.

And there was nothing .

 

And then the Darkness destroyed everything .

 

 

 

The Darkness, Amara, was alone. There was nothing left of her brother’s creation. Not a speck of dust or flicker of light. No souls in heaven, for there was no more heaven. Or Hell. Or Purgatory. There was nothing but her and The Empty.

It had been eons since the instant she had destroyed Creation, her brother. And ever since, she had felt nothing but remorse for her actions. A deep rooted pain echoed within her, the jagged edges of her very being aching where her brother was supposed to be. She could feel the traces of where he once was, phantom echos of his Grace along the rip inside her.

Amara’s grief was immense, not only for her brother (though he was the majority), but for his creations as well. The Host, and His favored children: humanity. She thought hard over all them, recalling what she had seen and experienced in her short time among them. Hindsite gave her a new perspective, and she could, begrudgingly, see why he loved his creations.

Amara regretted it all. So much. She wished she could go back, rewrite the script and prevent herself from killing her brother. She wished she could bring him back. But not even time was an escape from death for a primordial being such as her and her brother. When they died, they died not only in that instant, but in all time and in all space. No going back from or preventing her mistake.

And so, alone in the Empty, Amara mourned for all she had lost.

 

 

 

It was longer still, Amara existed alone, her sadness an impenetrable force.

But then, so long after everything had ended, she felt something. A flicker, a whisper of light. Of Grace.

The Darkness grasped desperately at the flicker of light, cradling the small wisp in the center of her being. She weeped from unbelievable joy at the feel of Grace, the smallest of fragments of Him.

She cradled and nurtured the wisp for ages, urging it to grow and live . But it soon proved futile. The Grace, while Him, held nothing of Him. No consciousness, no thoughts or feelings flitted about the Grace. It was stagnant and dead in her grasp.

In that moment, her being shattered once again, the budding hope she had allowed herself to feel ripping away harshly and taking more with it than she could handle.

Losing her brother once was unbearable, losing him a second time was agonizing.

 

She could already feel it, her darkness eating away at itself, ripping apart pieces that floated away and became nothing within the vastness of the Empty. She knew, soon, she would join her brother wherever he rested.

It was as if a switch was flipped with that thought. There was no fear in her at the thought of her ceasing to exist, just sheer determination and rage. She couldn’t leave everything as it was. She couldn't leave her brother’s creations as they were.

Using her power she reached out, hands dipping through time and space to Moment it all ended, the hairsbreadth before the end. And in that Moment she grasped the two things she was looking for and pulled them through.

Not like this, never like this…

She poured the empty Grace within one, her Darkness within another, the fragments aligning within them before settling.

Invigorated, Amara reached back out, grasping at threads and tattered remains of her brother’s creation.

Back in the Moment, Amara had destroyed this universe and all in it. It the first of all Verses created. The first thing created within a snap of his His fingers. This universe had been an anchor to the multitude of others and since all had been without it, all would die. Every universe, alternate timeline, mirror dimension would collapse within a matter of time. The shockwave of destruction rippling out like a drop of water in a still pond. Many had been destroyed already. Billions of them collapsing without the tie to the first. But there were few more, and Amara could save those ones for her brother.

So she grasped and she pulled, pouring every ounce and inch of her power along the strings left of Creation and anchoring them once again, to a universe similar, but different to the first. Her power dug through the mesh of its creation, darkness sinking into the fabric and locking the strings into place. With a new anchor in place, the other universes were safe for now. It would buy time for someone to fix them.

But not her.

A wisp of Darkness cradled the two fragments of Creation and Destruction, power drained and will to continue gone. With the last bit Amara had left, she pushed the two fragments along the strings and into the the new anchor universe.

Amara faded away, echos of her brother’s Grace lulling her into an unfamiliar darkness. And for the first time in a long time, she felt joy.



God is dead. Amara is, too. And somewhere, far far away, two brothers open their eyes to a new horizon.