"There is a give and take in all things. This is a simple, fundamental, unavoidable truth of the universe. You cannot gain without loss, and often the greater the loss, the greater the gain.
Knowing this, then, tell me: for one who sacrificed his entire world, what kind of power would he gain? The answer, of course, is..."
***
[C0rrupt3d-SP4C3]
In the deep, shattered silence of space, a hidden monitoring satellite hovered ever-watching. Beneath lay a luscious world, green and blue and white uniting to create a vivid image of life. The pinpricks of light scattered about the surface, concentrated on a few areas, indication of more than just that:
Indication of civilisation. That beautiful flame that appears when life becomes aware of itself, burning its own soul as tinder, forging a path anew. The truest, most ancient miracle of the galaxy was just that. The fact that nothing more than a collection of self-sustaining chemical reactions could come together and against the sheer impossibility of infinity, blaze their own, unique trail.
But there was no such thing as an eternal flame. All things flickered and died out, reduced to embers and eventually to ash. The ash of extinction was a taste familiar to many, one that coated the entire galaxy in a thick layer of sediment. A constant reminder for all those who existed in that moment, that they walked upon the ground down bones of behemoths.
Wandering an empty graveyard, until they themselves would too be consigned to be buried in the crypts therein.
Yet, as if it was engraved into the laws of reality, life refused to give up. Stumbling often, falling always, but surrendering? Never. It is as beautiful as it is pitiful.
And it is pitiful.
From the blackness, a pinprick of light appeared, expanding into the miniaturised form of a blazing star. Yet, just as soon as it appeared, it shrank away into nothingness.
No, not quite.
It returned to the palm of the being that appeared, taking back its spot amongst the thousands. A humanoid figure, but its skin was a canvas of the starry night itself and, upon the centre of its forehead, rested a star greater than all the rest. Shifting its head slowly, like the movements of a glacier, it surveyed the planet below.
An expression could not be found on its face devoid of facial features, only the magnificence of the unfeeling, callous void looking back. A chillingly inhuman gaze as if all that it surveyed was lesser. A form of life inherently inferior.
Turning that glacial gaze to its side, it pierced through the cloaking that hid the satellite from view. With a lazy motion of its hand, the metallic structure collapsed in on itself as if under the immense pull of gravity. Crushed into a fine point before being shattered into dust finer than the eye could see.
With a final glance at the planet below, a shift in the constellations that marked its skin the only indication of a change in expression, it raised its hand once more. Again engulfed by an expanding star, disappearing from that system as if it had never been there at all.
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As before, and so after, the planet continued to spin around its axis unnoticing of the changes that occurred in those brief moments. It's people continued, ignorant of the truth that their flame had long since been marked for extinction.
That forces far greater and older had set their ancient gazes upon that place, for what reason none could yet fathom. Though, perhaps, it would not be wise to underestimate them either. After all, an insect too can rage against the heavens.
And so it was that far below, one inquisitive being looked at the disappearance of a single satellite, and instead of taking it at face value as so many before, had the gall to question why?
***
Far from that place, in a place no less bizarre, two odd figures had turned their back on a cliff, taking their first true steps towards infinity. Behind them, the sun shone bright in the blue, cloudless sky, the empty horizon holding the promise of an entire world to explore. Secrets to uncover, buried memories to return, ties to be severed.
But such things are talk for the future. For now, the odd pair simply were. Nothing more nor less, than existence.
"How does it feel?"
A deep baritone voice broke the silence. It came from the four-legged monstrosity, three horns on its head, two scaly wings upon its back. A form that scratched and itched at the edges of insanity, refusing to be fully rendered as if reality itself rejected its profanity.
"I thought we had gotten past this phase. I suppose it was too much to ask for from one lacking in basic necessities like a functional central nervous system like you."
The voice that replied venemously came apparently from nowhere. Upon closer inspection, one would finally notice a small insect in the grass. A cricket. Heh, dumb little thing.
"You know what I am talking about, little cricket, no need to act obtuse. Drifting, drifting, drifting in the wind. Are you not excited? Does the blank canvas not boil your blood with the promise of what it could be?"
"Heh, the blank canvas already restricts what can be done. I reject that idea, for the universe itself is my canvas and my Will is the brush!"
The larger figure merely sighed. Closing its eyes, it surrendered itself to its senses. The feel of the soft, green grass beneath its hooves, of the playful wind whispering secrets in its ear. The taste of tomorrow's rain was bittersweet upon his tongue.
"Purpose is as much a bridle as it is that which drives you, little cricket. In moments like these, on the liminal threshold between before and after, take the time to simply exist."
The insect narrowed its eyes, looking upon the larger figure's meditating form with burning, overflowing, endless hatred.
"Existence is a privilege not all are afforded. You forget that my purpose is more than that: it is the responsibility of an entire race upon my shoulders. Can your pitiful mind even fathom such a thing? The weight I bear? The lives that rest upon me? So no. I do not have the time for such a useless endeavour, as simply to exist."
The cricket spat the words with acerbic wrath, not targeted, but rather its target was everything. The larger figure opened its eyes at last, the single spark in its depths reflecting adopting a sombre intensity.
"I know, little cricket, of the burden you speak. I know it well, for its weight has never left my shoulders...not even once."
"Then you are a greater fool than I thought," the insect jeered mockingly. "I pity those who rely upon you; a lumbering buffoon, incapable of even recovering his own self, how is he to save any more than that?"
For once, the larger figure was silent. The insect grinned malevolently with the sadistic joy at having finally stabbed a hated opponent in the metaphorical appendix where it truly hurts. At last, it spoke sadly, its deep voice rumbling with echoes of remembrances past.
"How indeed, little cricket. That is, after all, exactly what we are here to find out!"
And yet, with unparalleled mental fortitude, he stared out at the world, the spark in his eyes recovering that steel long hidden and covered in dust. With renewed confidence, he continued onwards.
After a brief moment, the little cricket followed behind, his thoughts his own.
At last, having escaped that suffocating path, the threads lie open before us. A new world.
I, for one, cannot wait to see it burnt to the ground!