You Will // Be Mine
The Dream Team faded from the Rambling Road, and left the forced choice before them behind. Wyatt stepped away from the Starwatch as they began their screaming, realization dawning on their faces as the brand of Hell began to blossom on their necks, surrounding their skulls in fire.
But Wyatt heard the warning too late, Vivian's burning visage consuming him, the Book of Serpents hurled away from the flames to rest at his feet. The emerald cover was suddenly wet with blood, glinting off of the serpentskin binding with a sentient hunger. Wyatt had only the time to register Fūten Masamune pulling out of his chest before collapsing into the dark.
Melody limped away from the Starstone reactor, climbing over Reptoid guts and Gray corpses, towards a service elevator at the end of the hall. Thauvian's laugh echoed after her, but she hadn't the strength to respond. Even her misery had been overridden by her need to survive, even if Absalom Station were to fall. A shadow fell across the light of the hall.
Absalom Station exploded from the depths of the Ghost Levels, the debris slicing into the Armada and setting off a fiery chain reaction. The Forge lilted back, crashing through starships on its escape path, sliding behind Apostae just before Ark Prime returned to life. The Sivv Dominion warship bombarded Apostae until it split in half, and then turned to ram through the bubble cities of the Burning Archipelago and Ezorod. Both were lost in the blast, which carried Noma straight into the side of the Forge. The two crumpled into each other, spinning off into the stars, leaving nothing but debris and echoes to mark the last stand of mortalkind. Then a rift broke the center of the ruin, a black hole swallowing all that remained, and from its depths vomited the great planet of Golarion. Light both unholy and divine clashed all over the planet's surface, as gods and unspoken evils went to war for the soul of a girl, and a single man held them all at bay. Ihys stood over the corpse of his brother, the cycle of familicide now complete, the original sin rewritten. In his dragon heart burned the twelve fires, and upon his lips came forth the Song. Zelophedad and Achates stood bastion in his shadow, Mystra in his weapon hand, and a Lantern in the crux of his arm. Zon-Kuthon came first from the darkness, and the Wizard King cut him down. Sarenrae leapt from the light, her good intentions severed from her wings by Amaunator's promise. Eloritu brought forth his secrets, and Tyr Orion brought his pain. The latter was greater, and so reason left the world. Aroden made mortal that which was not, and a dozen lights flashed towards the Shield of Men, only to be cut down. Then Caesura walked from the weird, spoke the True Name of his father, and separated the Wizard King from his hand. The Lantern went tumbling away, and a feline paw slipped out to catch it. Kesil howled as more lights arced across Golarion to bar his path. He begged as Chess handed Lalantha over to Valentina Terris. He cursed them all as the prismatic Lantern shined, and Golarion became another darkness among the stars.
Hush grunted as the black stone clicked into place on the tower, nearly tall enough to require that he move on to the next. He looked out across the brackish plains of Aucturn, at the obsidian monoliths that now ringed the Gravid Mound. The rabble of the Cult still danced around the husk of Righteous, its shining visage now reduced to granite after the fall of Heaven.
Crow watched as Lockette shattered the Dragonglass, but they could not see the world as she did. Instead, they saw their impending victory. The fall of the Dark Walkers, the Guardians, and the Skinless. The end of Paradise. The birth of the Worm. The light fading from Baxter Logan's eyes. But then the Tinker did the impossible. A thread was pulled, and the First World collapsed, the bones of that old house pulled apart at last. Crow laughed at the futility of this final act, and felt his steed rise up beneath him. He lifted the Staff of Whispers, brandishing it towards the fleeing form of Ana Logan, and Three Owls darted ahead to follow her.
The milky-white portal crystallized, shattering apart as Lockette returned from the depths of the Window. Although she had entered alone, a new figure now stood beside her. A middle-aged woman with a downcast gaze, the rings under her eyes as black as her ebony hair, which waterfalled from the top of her head to her feet.
Melody limped away from the Starstone reactor, climbing over Reptoid guts and Gray corpses, towards a service elevator at the end of the hall. Thauvian's laugh echoed after her, but she hadn't the strength to respond. Even her misery had been overridden by her need to survive, even if Absalom Station were to fall. A shadow fell across the light of the hall.
Feral: "Melody?"
Melody couldn't look at it. Not again. She pushed harder, stabbing at the button to summon the elevator, reaching out to the darkness for aid. Her shadow men were all gone, her servants spread across the realms now spent or taken. She even called for Wyatt, but to no avail. The thing made no footsteps, but Melody knew it was coming. She tried to use technomancy to pull the elevator down faster.
There was no magic to call for.
Feral: "I told you, child."
Melody: "Shut up."
Feral: "You will—"
Melody: "Shut up!"
Feral: "—be mine."
The elevator door opened. A shadow descended on Melody. The reign of House Marcus came to end.
Melody: "Shut up."
Feral: "You will—"
Melody: "Shut up!"
Feral: "—be mine."
Absalom Station exploded from the depths of the Ghost Levels, the debris slicing into the Armada and setting off a fiery chain reaction. The Forge lilted back, crashing through starships on its escape path, sliding behind Apostae just before Ark Prime returned to life. The Sivv Dominion warship bombarded Apostae until it split in half, and then turned to ram through the bubble cities of the Burning Archipelago and Ezorod. Both were lost in the blast, which carried Noma straight into the side of the Forge. The two crumpled into each other, spinning off into the stars, leaving nothing but debris and echoes to mark the last stand of mortalkind. Then a rift broke the center of the ruin, a black hole swallowing all that remained, and from its depths vomited the great planet of Golarion. Light both unholy and divine clashed all over the planet's surface, as gods and unspoken evils went to war for the soul of a girl, and a single man held them all at bay. Ihys stood over the corpse of his brother, the cycle of familicide now complete, the original sin rewritten. In his dragon heart burned the twelve fires, and upon his lips came forth the Song. Zelophedad and Achates stood bastion in his shadow, Mystra in his weapon hand, and a Lantern in the crux of his arm. Zon-Kuthon came first from the darkness, and the Wizard King cut him down. Sarenrae leapt from the light, her good intentions severed from her wings by Amaunator's promise. Eloritu brought forth his secrets, and Tyr Orion brought his pain. The latter was greater, and so reason left the world. Aroden made mortal that which was not, and a dozen lights flashed towards the Shield of Men, only to be cut down. Then Caesura walked from the weird, spoke the True Name of his father, and separated the Wizard King from his hand. The Lantern went tumbling away, and a feline paw slipped out to catch it. Kesil howled as more lights arced across Golarion to bar his path. He begged as Chess handed Lalantha over to Valentina Terris. He cursed them all as the prismatic Lantern shined, and Golarion became another darkness among the stars.
Hush grunted as the black stone clicked into place on the tower, nearly tall enough to require that he move on to the next. He looked out across the brackish plains of Aucturn, at the obsidian monoliths that now ringed the Gravid Mound. The rabble of the Cult still danced around the husk of Righteous, its shining visage now reduced to granite after the fall of Heaven.
Lea: "Marvelous, isn't it, Zikura?"
Hush looked to the woman sitting on the dark tower, overlooking the end of creation, the fires of corruption burning where her eyes should be. She tossed a ruby back and forth between her hands, which seemed somehow linked to the woman in red beside her.
Zikura: "A work of art, my queen."
Lea gave the woman a sidelong glance, and Hush guessed that the honorific was used mockingly. Something seized in his chest as he crept closer, his lips making prayers to the old gods as he listened further.
Lea: "I will free you from this trinket, if you offer me allegiance. I have need of you and your sisters."
Zikura: "I refuse."
Lea: "Then I will force you."
Zikura: "You may try."
Hush could hear her grind her teeth from where he hid, but the woman said nothing else. She merely clenched the ruby, and Zikura disappeared. Then Lea murmured a name, and a spirit twisted from the stone. He was not death — Hush had seen death, Charon was no stranger to Aucturn. He was undeath, a creature with as much a claim to the term as Urgathoa herself. The very sight of him elicited a flight response, the Gnome scurrying towards the next tower before he could think. The creature's voice haunted him all the way down the path, his words alone enough to destroy all hope.
Zikura: "I refuse."
Lea: "Then I will force you."
Zikura: "You may try."
Zandarul: "As you command."
Crow watched as Lockette shattered the Dragonglass, but they could not see the world as she did. Instead, they saw their impending victory. The fall of the Dark Walkers, the Guardians, and the Skinless. The end of Paradise. The birth of the Worm. The light fading from Baxter Logan's eyes. But then the Tinker did the impossible. A thread was pulled, and the First World collapsed, the bones of that old house pulled apart at last. Crow laughed at the futility of this final act, and felt his steed rise up beneath him. He lifted the Staff of Whispers, brandishing it towards the fleeing form of Ana Logan, and Three Owls darted ahead to follow her.
The milky-white portal crystallized, shattering apart as Lockette returned from the depths of the Window. Although she had entered alone, a new figure now stood beside her. A middle-aged woman with a downcast gaze, the rings under her eyes as black as her ebony hair, which waterfalled from the top of her head to her feet.
Ana: "Come closer, Einherjar. We do not have much time."
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