Memory's Quest

We see the front door of Vulreach, thrown open with unnatural strength compared to the small form that exits, as Cornelius grinds to a halt at the base of the Sideways Steps Steps, chest heaving with the strain. A fluffy, white feline watches from the last step, eyes golden and glowing. Four bundles lay behind him, bound by branches that sprout equally-golden leaves. Chamas and Abelina. Nazima and Vicinity.

Chess: “As we agreed.”

Cornelius nods, then looks to the void beneath Vulreach... And dives in.

---

Cornelius flies over the Anauroch, wings spread wide to catch the wind of his falling, his eyes only grazing over the millions of soldiers clashing in the sands beneath him. Instead he looks up, his gaze wildly searching the skies, until they lock onto the source of his goal. Vulreach, floating in the clouds above the battlefield, caught in the middle of a war for the new world.

---

The battle is over. The others are gone. The only three that remain: The Devil, the One God, and his Memory.

---

Bast watches as each being makes their choice, fading into the next world, their life in this world done. In the end, only Asmodeus remains, his pen poised above the parchment.

Bast: “I see the weakness. There, on the last line.”

The Archdevil winces, his grip tightening on the ancient quill, his eyes cast down on the parchment. Bast spoke again, his tone dipping towards curiosity.

Bast: “Leave it.”

Asmodeus sighs with relief, looking up slowly, as relief turns to confusion.

Asmodeus: “Why? Why let this pass? This could end your new world, given time. Your goals and mine do not align.”

Bast laughed then, a horrible sound. It was harsh and knowing — an elder laughing at a foolish child.

Bast: “Oh, Asmodeus. You understand so little.”

The Archdevil’s expression turned to shock as he vanished, another star of light, heading to the lands of new. The space between the stars chuckled, as the Jester slithered into view.

Jestyr: “What now? You got your way. What becomes of me? What will you do, your greatest enemy now gone?”

The Rough Beast smiled with ill will, teeth clacking in the dark. Bast considered his reply for some time, ages passing with the turn of his thoughts. Finally he sighed, Jestyr gasping as they began to fade, another light among the rest.

Bast: “You understand so little.”

Bast turned, ready to watch the birth of a new world, the land that would one day rise to contain Golarion. But instead of a grand collision of stars, there was only a small creature. Barely five or six inches tall, a squirrel with blue fur and intent eyes. The façade was forced to fade. The creature became a small boy, his clothes ragged, his face blurry. Arin grew, the ragged clothes falling away, his skin pale and sickly, his eyes alight with Crow’s influence. The One God’s essence recoiled, horror building in its aura.

Bast: “No. Not you. I want one more. Just one more.”

The sickly boy shook his head.

Bast: “Where am I supposed to go instead?”

The sickly boy pointed to himself. To the memories inside. To Paradise.

Bast: “I… I don’t want to go there.”

The sickly boy frowned, and spoke in the One God’s voice.

Memory: “I don’t want to be you anymore. I have somewhere I need to go.”
Bast: “I have somewhere I need you to be. Away. Far away! Don’t come back here… Not yet.”
Memory: “Bast.”
Bast: “Don’t say that name! I’m the One God! Rufus Geldenleaf. Maximus Erebus… I’m—”
Memory: “Lost.”
Bast: “No! I know where I am.”
Memory: “Liar.”
Bast: “Shut up! I own you. You ALL belong to ME! No… WE ARE I!”
Memory (Valka): “I forgive you.”
Bast: “...Valka? Is that you?”
Memory (Valka): “I’m here. I forgive you.”
Bast: “I… It’s all broken, Val. I— I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who to trust.”
Memory (Valka): “Do you trust me?”
Bast: “I… I do.”
Memory (Valka): “Then come with me. Escape, with me. It’s time to go home, Bast.”
Bast: “I can’t beat them. They’re too strong. You can’t trust me, Val. I betray myself.”
Memory (Valka): “We won’t be alone. I brought help. I made friends.”
Bast: “It can’t be that easy.”
Memory (Valka): “Don’t be silly...”

A small joke shared between two people. A memory. The One God laughed, ever so softly, and a small burden slipped from his shoulders.

Bast: “Alright. I'll try. It’s time to go home.”

The sickly boy nodded, and opened his arms. Bast bowed his head, and a crown tumbled into the stars. The sickly boy grew, the rotten flesh falling away, his hair fading from black to white. The boy became a young man, his features sharper, his eyes a light gray, a halo of golden energy around his head, backlit by stars.
Then he turned towards Vulreach, an ant standing before a mountain, and vanished.