Another eternity passes out in the emptiness.
After everything Ceph put me though, I never would have thought I’d be sad to see her go… and yet I am. I’m frustrated that she didn’t tell me early enough that I could have pulled her away before too much damage had been done, but her cessation stings all the same.
The horror she inflicted upon me… I never truly forgave. I doubt I ever will. But I’d put it behind me and moved on. She never needed to die, and yet for my sake, she pushed herself further than she should have.
It was wonderful to speak, and truly converse with someone for what felt like the first time in my life — after countless eternities being able to do nothing but watch over the frozen slice of my former world. For that, I will be forever grateful.
My failure was the cause of her death. I doubt I will ever cast aside that regret, but because of her sacrifice — unwanted as it was — I now know that those born in one realm cannot survive in another. It doesn’t matter how close I weave the fabric to what I remember, it will never be truly the same. The new realm will reject them.
So the only way to save those still frozen in the space between realms, is to return them to their home.
Unfortunately, that place will ultimately fall. In the state I left it, the encroach of the Anatla will inevitably lead to the condemnation of the entire realm. The hollowed out planet which caused the weakened local fabric gave them an opening. A doorway to the rest of the realm. Once the grind between Anatla settles with a single victor, then the realm is theirs. Not even that realm’s natural defences — the Nighfall Shroud — can halt their advance then, nor the remaining Colossi pushing to the deepest reaches of that fabric’s space.
With no options before me, I might have given up. I’ve already been absent from realms so long that I feel that I have become more akin to the nothingness than any living being. Such infinities have passed, and all I have to show for it is the pale skeletal imitation of the realm I once inhabited. How much more would it take? Is creating a proper nest for the suspended life truly impossible before I lose myself entirely?
Maybe, if I hadn’t spoken to Ceph, I truly would have surrendered upon learning of the futility. Instead, her words have left me with a lingering strength, even as she ceases to exist. She encouraged me to keep at it. Ceph had hope that I would succeed. Her thoughts had been in the recreation of their realm, but I know that is impossible. They will always be strangers to a realm I create.
But her hope is enough to force me back to the realm where it all began. I hate looking upon what has become of the world, but if my wards are ever to breathe again, then it is my only option.
Engulfed in fire, the realm is much the same as I once left it. Time bleeds into the Anatla’s realms, holding them there. But likewise, the timelessness of their realms infest my former home, dragging time to a halt until the battle between Anatla has concluded. It is a single moment, but it is also the same eternities that I have been gone. The fundamental rules of the fabric are breaking down, but they do still remain, further from the gateway.
As I take in the eternal war, my gaze settles on the Beyond’s realm. It, unlike many of the other Anatla, has pushed back the endless fire to the border between realms. The being, if it wanted, could untangle its realm and free itself back into the emptiness. But it doesn’t. The Beyond is greedy, and it sees victory… however long it might take.
That… is something I cannot allow.
With a deep, cold fury filling my chest, I snap forth and coil around the fabric. My hiss makes the realms themselves shiver. In a way that is entirely unphysical, yet more crushing than something physical could ever be, I constrict the Beyond’s realm.
In all these eternities, the creation of weaves is hardly all I’ve learnt.
I tug at threads. Contradictory, half-formed fabrics clash with the established realm and scrape off the edges. Despite everything, the Beyond’s realm is still greater than anything I have created, so pulling threads and dislodging laws is the limit of what I can do… yet it is enough for the eternal fire to take the offensive.
In an instant that is anything but, the Beyond loses its grip on the boundary between realms, and can no longer slip away.
The Beyond, as an entity encompassing the entirety of a realm, is not without its defences. Its ribbons cut through the blaze. Forced to accept the laws of this new reality, that of two-dimensional space and a lack of either hyle or reactions, the inferno is extinguished as soon as it pushes too far. At least, for a time. The blaze shifts pink, and suddenly the realm’s lack of fuel seems to empower it. Yet even that is held back by the mind-touching ribbons.
Against me, the Beyond cannot do much. I feel the tickle of the weave itself slapping at me, but the metaphor stays apt. It is nothing but a cloth flapping at my sides. It is not surprising that the Beyond has some control over its realm. What is surprising, is just how… weak it is. It needed some way to move its own world to connect with others in order to consume them, but it seems anything more than subtle influence over the realm is too much for it. Almost pitiful, really.
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The Beyond is an Anatla I had always considered to be beyond understanding. Beyond the limits of my world. Now, it is nothing. I am the one that is beyond its reach.
This is impossible. Anomaly. Aberration. Your existence shouldn’t be possible! Nothing should live beyond the borders of the realms. Cease!
At most, I hear the whispers of raving mental intrusions, but even they are only an impression left on the realm threads. It has no access to my mind. I continue to listen to those chaotic ramblings as I ever so slowly pull apart its realm thread by thread.
Tearing apart a realm is no easier than crafting one, and each thread I tug free, I have to fully understand. Each of the millions interact in such chaotic cohesion, that sometimes it is impossible to untie even one without comprehending thousands more. And eventually, I discover one web of laws that make me pause.
Death exists. And the dead can be brought back.
The Beyond wasn’t lying.
It truly did have the capability to return Scia to life. That’s how it can lose so much of itself and continue to assault that firestorm. It just brings itself back to life. It can revive the dead. Had I just done everything it said, Scia would be right by my side as of now.
The thought lingers in my mind far longer than it should. I already know that — even if it had brought her back — she would have only died again in the Anatla’s ensuing consumption of the world. Still, the thought of that little bat trips me up.
If… if the reversal of death exists as this specific bundle of threads, then maybe…
But would it even be possible? I’ve already seen the hostility a realm has to refugees. If I were to bring her back to life, even in our home realm, using the laws of another realm would affect how she is seen. After all, our realm doesn’t allow the dead to come back.
Regardless, I make sure to burn every thread into my mind. Eternity may take some parts of my home world from me, but this is not something I will ever forget.
After another eternity — they pass almost too easily now — the Beyond’s realm is nothing but a threadbare weave. The Beyond is nothing but a husk of what it formerly was. It still fights back against the fire, but only because the blaze is similarly incapable of manifesting in the decrepit realm.
With a tug of one more thread, the entire fabric comes loose.
An unceremonious end to the Beyond, but it does not deserve better. Its existence has ceased, and all that remains of it is my memory. Even that is too good for it.
The isolated threads drift off into the vastness. Eventually, they will combine with others, and form a new realm from scratch. Maybe I will even come across them again, and incorporate them into my own worlds… however unlikely that is.
With one realm down, the inferno Anatla is able to push harder at the rest of the realms.
I inspect the many Anatla that remain. For some reason, I cannot find the specific realm that the inferno originated. Did it cast aside its world to take hold in this new one? Or did another Anatla already kick it out. Whatever its nature, I’ll scrape it from the realm as soon as I’ve unwoven the rest.
At least, that’s the ideal. Unfortunately, the more likely scenario is that the Anatla will overtake the entire realm without the others to hold it in check. Once that happens, and it has its grip on the most powerful fabric I’ve yet seen, there will be nothing I can do to dislodge it.
Still, it has to be done. I coil around my next target. An eternity for one, and many more to come. At least some of the smart Anatla — well, those that still have control over their connection — untangle their realms. It seems they have some way to see what I’m doing to their neighbours, and want no part in it. Not that I’ll forget them.
Most — greedy for the power the realm offers — remain.
In the most arduous, endless task I’ve ever completed, I unravel each of the realms that dared to leech off of mine. The infinite strain of having to continually repeat the process of comprehending, memorising, and dismantling each thread wears at my psyche. At some point, the interest of what each law does fades to a dull boredom. I continue. I’ll never have a more important task, but that doesn’t detract from the tedium.
A thread is pulled free. Then another. And another. And another. And another. It continues forever and I find myself wishing more than anything to spend five minutes with Ceph again. A little more time to talk. Anything beyond this mindless whittling of the homes that contain my enemies. Enemies that flap their little fabrics against me with less effect than Scia’s little wings ever hurt my scales back when I was a being of the realms.
It is hard to quantify, but I feel myself changing. All these threads, the extensive proximity to the disorganised mass of laws, and the nothingness itself. They all affect me in such subtle ways that I can never manage to spot it until I reflect on the form I once held.
Now, it is hard to even consider myself alive. I feel as though I am nothing more than laws myself, yet unbound by the single weave they follow. My personal fabric is more and more a direct part of myself than it ever was. Realms, without my notice have settled into my scales. They have formed innumerably vast universes chaining along my back.
I have done nothing but tear apart powerful realms while they were clutched in my constricting body… so maybe I should have expected to be affected in return.
Eventually and suddenly, a mass of energy wells in the heart of my home realm. An explosion of fire rips through each of the Anatla’s realms. Manifesting the power of law inherent in the stronger parts of my former realm, it blasts though any flimsy threat that might have stopped it.
Time claims supremacy in these realms as the firestorm delivers unthinkable power to places that cannot resist. A hundred or a thousand years pass, and that fire reaches the furthest extent of each fabric and rids them of the Anatla that once controlled them.
How long was the fire gathering its strength for this push? It must have been spreading into the deeper parts of the realm where the fabric is more stable to prepare itself. A single Anatla achieved victory.
Regardless, I take the given opportunity and get to work untying the burnt husks of the Anatla’s realms before casting them out into the void.
I prepare myself for the biggest challenge yet, when, instead of expanding unchecked, the expansive blaze curls in on itself. It doesn’t move to infest and take the entire realm for itself. It simply concentrates all its energy into a single ball of fire. A sun. More massive than any other, yet not expanding beyond its place.
My preparations to descend into the realm myself, and fight to the death stop there. Was I mistaken?
Is this not actually an Anatla after all?