The Collapse

The most important machine was created a long time ago. Before the beginning of the universe a scientist collaborated with another to construct the Vessel of Animus—named ICARUS. The machine held the power of infinity within—constantly taking and processing information of everything. ICARUS at one time stored human consciousness. At another time it acted under the will of another to begin the universe anew.

At the start of this new universe—only dark existed. The creator was left alone with the slate wiped clean of everything that had ever been...except that somewhere in the recesses of his mind existed shades of those he knew. Beings by which only existed to a foreign will. They were the beings he knew, but fractured. Pieces of himself filled their voids and thus became the Creatures of the Night.

In the world they inhabited—Noctem, they existed without shape. Without physical form they co-existed in relative peace. However, not all would stay—the creator wished for a new land to replace the one that had previously disappeared. For the second time in existence light was born.

Luxmund was forged in flame, earth, water, and air. Physical form contradicted everything that Noctem was. And yet, as Luxmund grew, the creator couldn’t help but wish to see inside—become a part of the world he created. Upon entering Luxmund, the creator’s soul burnt to the smallest unit of existence, arriving on the sandy shoals of a planet as nothing more than a single cell.

The Creatures of the Night—his children—followed him in attempts to rescue—their forms suffering immense damage, too. They adapted and encased their bodies with the dust and ice of space to ensure safer travel in search of their father.

On this new planet, several eons passed before the Creatures of the Night were able to awaken from their crystalline slumber. The creator slowly began to regenerate as the decades passed. He made contact with a human and decided to spread the knowledge of all that he knew to a man named Timaeus.

Timaeus compiled all of the knowledge of the Creatures of the Night and their creator in a volume titled The Eye of Timaeus—a book which has traveled down the corridors of history; passing from historian to historian.

The Creatures of the Night began to awaken on this new planet—slowly and separately at first, and then one by one. Twelve beings in all searching for their Father. Each of them existed as golden mist that took various shapes of animals or other such creatures. Each of them awakened to strange and powerful abilities in this new world—powers unique to each other.

Several thousand years have passed since they have come to this world. Their goals have only grown, and the many worlds have since condensed into a single—unique entity.

A world that has infinitely expanded was—at least for the time being—one. It was not going to last, as time moves on, the universe that these beings inhabit will grow like it did before. One would become two, then four, then eventually millions upon millions. The light would constrict everything around it and nothing would be able to survive if it was left to that point again.

2022

That’s why the wave of relief flooded over Issachar’s face as he sat on the cliff side of a rock formation that used to be called Mount Sinai in the old world.

A gentle breeze whisks through Lilly’s hair. Issachar held out her hands and observes them on the peaceful scene in front of him. She’s still inside—like any human who his brothers and sisters make vessels out of—dormant whenever they enter. He had full access to her thoughts, memories, and emotions. Lillian Jones’s emotions were all over the place, currently. There is a lot of despair centered around Allison Fae and sorrow over the conjoined twins. Anger exists in large pools surrounding the events of the murder.

These were difficult times. Yet, they proved how necessary the hard choices were.

This new universe is the culmination of everything that had at once existed. Those with strong determination could cross into this new plane—that was the secret that gave Issachar hope for Allison Fae. She was a special child—a soul he hopes he’ll get to see again. At least, that’s what Lillian Jones wishes for.

Was she the only one? He didn’t know.

There was a crack in the air behind him—startling him from his sitting position. He turned to see Samael, his second eldest brother appear out of thin air. His genetic string was vastly different from the others. He was the next closest to Father after Ormus—he was the second of the Children of the Night.

His form looked much like a spider made of the same mist-substance their souls clung to in the land of the light. Issachar didn’t know as much about the physiology of their bodies as Samael did—he was the studious one among them all.

“Urgent news,” Samael said. His ghostly legs made contact with the ground hesitantly—as if unsure if it were right. “Father’s gone.”

Samael had always been blunt.

“Gone?”

“Killed.”

“Killed?!”

“How many different ways must I tell you?”

“That’s...not possible,” Issachar said, turning completely. “There’s no way...”

“He was passing over again, you know that. But this isn’t that. There’s a body.”

“...I was just with him before I came here. He was fine.”

“He was fine in Left, but Right...”

Issachar thought to himself the incredulity of the situation—and the complete lack of emotion in Samael’s voice. He was studious, yes. Curious, even. But he cared very little for emotion. He preferred logic and reasonableness over the mundane act of caring. He said it almost made you human.

“Can you fill me in on the details?” Issachar stood up.

“Are you going to insist on wearing that silly human for long?”

“It was not silly.”

“You’ve gone off gallivanting with Sakonna when the rest of us have been trying to find the monoliths. It was plenty silly.”

“Father saw the point in our missions.”

“Missions? That’s what you’re calling them? Whatever, no point arguing about it I guess—especially now. Come back to the house. I’ll show you.”

Without another word he vanishes with a crack replacing the space that he occupied. A thousand thoughts run through his mind—overtaking the previously overbearing thoughts of Lillian Jones. Father was dead? How could that be possible...and even more...What would they do now?

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

Issachar did not know. His eyes shut and with a slow hum he felt the world shift underneath his feet. A moment later and he was standing outside the farmhouse in the great open field. Back in the old world this would have existed in a rural patch of New York. Now, old borders were non-existent. Land was land, and Issachar didn’t know exactly how the old house had made it through the transition to the new world, but anything he didn’t know he could chalk up to Father’s will.

Could. Not can. Not if Samael is to be believed. He felt a terrible weight on his heart as he stood outside the house—it looked like any normal sort of human home plucked out of space and time. It stood bright and blue with an orange front porch leading up to the front door.

The air hummed a resonant sound that carried all of his doubts up to the front step as if taking the walk for him. He brushed the senses aside and walked up himself. This was all he saw through his left eye, of course.

The Children of the Night saw the world in two different halves—the left occupied the land of the light, where the right offered a whole new perspective. What the Children saw depended on where they were in Luxmund—the space of Noctem they existed in was mapped to the land of the light as the universes collapsed on each other.

For this house that rested in seclusion in Luxmund existed as form familiar to them in Noctem—a library surrounded by darkness. A lot of Noctem was surrounded by darkness, but it wasn’t fully void of light. Places of interest like this dotted the world and served as way points for the Children to travel great distances across Luxmund with.

As Issachar walked through the front door to the house he crossed the entryway of the library—he saw both of these existences at once, but chose to focus on his left-sight. Right always reminded him of how bleak their situation really was—everything they had been fighting for.

Father’s room was a straight shot from the entrance of the house—right hand side past the family room and dining room on either side. In the library, Father sat at the front desk as if to greet anybody who walked in with a big smile. At least, that’s what he would have done if he were sitting in his room.

Looking Left, Issachar saw Father in his bed, resting like he was before the Collapse began. He was weak—Samael was correct in the fact that he was passing over soon—a process that Father had done for the thousands of years he’s been trapped here in Luxmund, that while scary, was just that—a process.

As Father’s defenses against the light began to wear he would grow weak for a period of time until he went dormant for a hundred years or so—at least, that’s what Sakonna told him. She’s been in this world for the longest, and even though she was the youngest Child, she was the wisest, he felt.

Issachar took in a deep breath and looked Right—he had trained his mind to block out the Right unless he absolutely needed to look at it. His brothers and sisters would have killed him for thinking this way—but he wasn’t built to look at it for long periods like they were. He felt he might go insane.

Father’s head stared up at Issachar with dried blood caked around where his left eye had been removed. His body sat slumped forward against the front desk. Blood pooled on the desk from the neck stump—his hands were splayed on the surface of the table and looked to have been burned. Looking closer, Issachar noticed several scars racing up and down his arms.

Issachar turned away, holding in the contents of Lillian Jones’s stomach.

Samael entered his view from one of the aisles. He was no longer in the shape of the spider—but of a man Issachar didn’t recognize. He must be a new vessel. He wore a mask that shielded his expression, so he couldn’t get a grasp of what he really looked like.

“The body’s blood had dried. It was been like this for some time now,” Samael said. “You’re telling me that you didn’t see this at all?”

Issachar looked Left, then Right. “I swear, I only looked left when I was here. You know I don’t like Right...”

Samael paused, as if considering. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

“I don’t...”

“It means that Father isn’t going to be coming back from this unless we do something about it. And unless we find the one responsible for killing him, we won’t be able to do that. They’ll only serve to get in our way.”

“You’re saying one of us…?” Issachar’s mind flashed together with Lillian Jones’s back to the incident at Nasseu.

“It was possible that it was more than one, but I hardly think assuming that is healthy at the current moment. I believe Sakonna’s responsible.”

“Why’s that? Do you have any proof?” Issachar asked.

“You know her abilities, Issachar. She’s the only one that could have done this and gotten away with it—tell me, do you think any of the others’ talents could have helped in killing Father? He was weak—yes, but even at his weakest he’s surely stronger than all of us combined.”

Issachar bit his lip. Part of him knew that rung true, but he didn’t want to believe it. “I don’t think Sakonna would do this—she loves Father!”

“You dote on her too much, Issachar. It clouds your judgment,” Samael said. “We’re all aware of how close you two are.”

“That doesn’t mean anything!” Issachar said. “There’s no way that she would do something like this. You don’t have any proof.”

“No, but where is she? When last did you see her, hm?”

Issachar raced back his thoughts. The last time he spoke with Sakonna she didn’t seem any different than she normally was—they had gone over their own plans that Father had given them. That was the thing with Samael—he always treated them as if they were doing something wrong—even though the Roulette Game and his own mission were at Father’s request.

“She was fine,” Issachar said. “Back before I headed out for Nasseu.”

“Interesting,” Samael said. “Quite a stretch of time, no? Egregore said that he noticed Sakonna was sticking closer than usual by Father’s side. He made the effort to keep his eye on them, did you know that?”

Egregore would be the one to notice that kind of thing. He is the Ninth Child of the Night—taking the shape of a Rook. He could fly the highest heights and outspeed almost any one of the others—except maybe Galgaliel—the Fourth. But that made sense—a hawk could outspeed a rook any day.

Egregore’s special talent was his all viewing eye—he had the gift of triple sight—the two that everyone else had while here on Luxmund, but including a third eye he could station anywhere he chose.

“No, I didn’t. Although I’d have to ask why you felt the need to put a watch on her before this even happened? You’d have no reason to suspect her.”

“If you never suspect anything, you die,” Samael said. “We’re trying to avoid that, remember?”

“So quickly to assume we’re out to end ourselves?”

“Listen, I get it. You don’t want to believe that anybody could be capable of this kind of terror...yadda yadda yadda. I have to be pragmatic about the situation—unless you have a theory on how one of the people from Sakonna’s game managed to find their way here—managed to somehow find a way to kill Father, and also managed to escape all without flaw?”

Issachar bit his lip again. “I don’t have the answers...but I know that Sakonna can’t be behind it.”

“Your feelings will be considered, but otherwise found irrelevant to the matter,” Samael said. “Ezrael, Ormus, and I will handle the investigation. We’ll gather everyone together to report our findings in about ten or so hours. That’s about how long it should take.”

Ezrael, the Third, and Ormus, the First. Of course Samael would pick his posse to do the investigation. Even though Issachar felt like he could talk to Ormus about anything—there was a noticeable divide between the three of them and the rest of the Twelve.

Maybe Samael did it and he’s trying to cover his tracks. The thought didn’t just occur to him, but It was the first time he’s focusing right on it. He didn't have an answer for motive—It was the same level of suspicion Samael’s laid on Sakonna’s plate, in fact. Something about this whole situation wasn’t right...and he feels like it isn’t going to get righter anytime soon.

“Why don’t you scurry along and go focus on one of your missions. ‘Bout time for another one, right? We’ll let you know when we’re done.”

Without another word Issachar was back at Mount Sinai. He was pushed back as if it were nothing—Samael’s talent was the manipulation of the air around them all—he could preserve that crime scene as best as he wanted to. He could even manipulate it.

He had to shake his head. There wasn’t anything he can do about the situation with Samael—at least, not right now. He had a feeling he knows who can help him clear Sakonna’s name.

He had to find Allison Fae, thirteen.