A sense of disjointed motion returned first. That, and a growing awareness of his ever-changing spatial milieu.
Nevertheless, his perceptions were confused. A jumbled hullabaloo of conflicting references and energies that transposed into a gut-churning, bile-inducing freefall of fearful proportions. And yet, though the ongoing nosedive dominated his world, he felt detached somehow—indistinct—as if those sensations were a calamity inflicted upon another person entirely. Any moment now, he was sure he would awaken, only to find himself partaking of the bliss in utmost tranquility.
But no! This horror was real. And it was happening now.
As he regained consciousness, the terrible fall afflicted his very atoms, truncating them within an overwhelming compression field that would condemn him to certain oblivion if left to run its course.
Sight restored—at last, he was stuck by a giddy, kaleidoscopic rush of chaotic impressions. Sound followed in a deafening roar that swamped him, overpowering his ability to form a single coherent thought. Fighting against it, he struggled to establish some form of equilibrium and employed his waning capabilities in an effort of heroic proportions.
I . . . I remain Sachael-Za-Ad’hem. And my . . .? Yes, there they are!
The others were here too, spread out all around him, unwilling participants of this sickeningly endless migration. Over and over they tumbled; darkening the further they fell from the Source; their spectral brilliance guttering as the Flame was leeched from their nexuses, diminishing their life-force into pathetic, somber embers of the splendor they once possessed.
One by one, they too regained a measure of awareness, their rising panic flaring strontium-red amid the bedlam as they approached the geodesic curvature between realities.
The plexus of actuality loomed ever larger.
Brace yourselves, he called: this is going to hurt!
Silent screams filled the ether as the esoteric grip increased, crushing their fragile sensibilities even further. It felt to him as if he had been fastened to a torture rack and was now being stretched to the point of rupturing.
An eternity of purest agony followed—where he was skewered upon a blade of the bleakest torment imaginable—and then he was through, the gray limbo of multidimensional subspace replacing the overwhelming surge of light and sound.
Welcome respite flooded his system, only to be occluded by a presence manifesting behind them.
Casting his diminished senses backward, Sachael-Za-Ad’hem recognized Heimdhariel, Guardian of the Crossing, already in position to bar the way to those who might retain sufficient dynamism to create a bridge. How . . . how did I miss him?
He was about to send a mental query, when a thunderous voice suppressed him into debased subjection.
IN YOUR DISGRACED CONDITION, YOU ARE FORBIDDEN TO INTERACT WITH THOSE WHO ARE UNTAINTED. YOU ARE FORBIDDEN TO REVEAL THIS JUDGMENT TO ANY WHOSE ORIGIN IS NOT OF THE HOST. ONLY THE TRULY PENITENT MAY ONE DAY HOPE TO ACHIEVE CONSOLATION. GO NOW AND REFLECT ON THE ACTIONS THAT LED TO YOUR JUST PROSCRIPTION.
With that, Heimdhariel raised his flaming sword. A blazing tau-field formed within the firmament and time held its breath. It resumed an instant later in an implosion of light, flame and irresistible mass that swept in toward a common nucleus.
As the vortex swallowed them whole, psychic disorientation increased and Sachael-Za-Ad’hem felt more of his anima stripped from him as he was forced through the Celestial Arch. The pulse of ambient life became muted, less fluid somehow, more insubstantial than it was before.
Sachael-Za-Ad’hem crashed through. His life-force shrank, a swing in status that eclipsed and then solidified his constitution in a way that shocked him to the core. This has gone further than I imagined possible. He didn’t have time to dwell on his dilemma, however, for moments later they were ejected en masse from the cosmic axis and found themselves fully bound to the mortal plane.
One of the first to recover, Sachael-Za-Ad’hem scanned their position, confirming their arrival within a huge void at the center of an immense galaxy. A galaxy now bereft of its gravitational failsafe as a direct consequence of their banishment. So, this is what Tartarus feels like?
The energy shift was more pronounced here and so palpable he could taste its nuance in every molecule of his psi-well. His analysis was interrupted by a piercing query: Sachael-Za-Ad’hem?
He turned to find Sariel-Jeh’oel in a quandary, his attention divided between a detailed study of their strange new environment and a broad assessment of the changes taking place inside him. Keeping his tone as level as possible, he replied: Yes, my friend?
Sariel-Jeh’oel’s distraction was compounded as he widened his scans to include those scattered nearby: I am . . . we are . . . enveloped by corruption! Even you and I, who were of the Primary Echelon, are now debased. How were we so harshly judged?
Sachael-Za-Ad’hem directed his most intimate companion’s attention to their brothers and sisters, most of who were already squabbling: It would appear those responsible for provoking resistance insist on trying to validate their actions . . . see? Though they coveted what didn’t belong to them, their perverted ideals still dominate their aspirations, blinding them to the truth. We should not have tried to speak out in favor of a lighter ruling.
But we took no part in the revolt! Sariel-Jeh’oel retorted: We only expressed our doubt as to the wisdom of banishing them from their proper dwelling place among the Host. Surely, the Prime Causality must realize that such action reflects poorly on Him?
Singling out one of the largest group of radicals, Sachael-Za-Ad’hem replied: Ah, but in expressing doubt we inadvertently raised a challenge against the wisdom and validity of His judgment. We allied ourselves with these the moment we uttered our reservations out loud. Because of our station, an example had to be made. We left Him with no other choice.
They gazed across to where Psiedoni-jah and his cohorts—Menoetius, Arestartus, Porphyries, Mnemosyne, Bael-zebad, Hestan-eal, Hadez’ekiel, Adionysus and Ophaestus, were already trying to field the complaints of those crowding in on them.
Although not of the Primary Echelon, their glory as members of the Median—or Secondary Echelon—had become tainted over time. In an effort to win power and influence, it was these in particular who had started to obtrude in the affairs of the lower realms. It went without saying that they wanted to be worshipped as gods. Something they felt was their right as superior life-forms and members of the Heavenly Host. Those of the Exterior Echelon, who had been swayed by their more senior kindreds’ arguments into joining the insurrection, were now questioning the wisdom of following their leadership.
As de facto leader of the rebellion, Psiedoni-jah’s rebuttals were the most vocal: I tell you we can turn this abasement to our advantage. If you’d all just listen, we can establish a strategic pres—
You call this an advantage? Selene interjected.
Her allusion to their dismal and degraded condition was not lost on the majority. Undaunted, she swept on: No matter what our station within the Host, we were glorious. Look at us now! Are you seriously trying to suggest we fall even farther by continuing this madness?
Psiedoni-jah’s puppet and most avid supporter, Menoetius, sneered: You are a fool, Selene, if you think we shouldn’t dominate the mortals inhabiting this realm. Yes! We can all feel the effects of our exclusion, but our grandeur still far exceeds anything they possess.
Psiedoni-jah’s aura flared in approval: Menoetius is correct. This venture has cost us our true standing, so it is only fitting they offer recompense in the form of subjection, as is our rightful due
A score of others flickered in support.
Marking them, an exchange passed between Sachael-Za-Ad’hem and Sariel-Jeh’oel. The latter reacted directly. Storm loud, his rebuke sliced through the chatter: FITTING? RIGHTFUL DUE? Reining back his ardor, his irony became cutting: Were you asleep when we were torn from our home? Or did the worst affair in our existence mean nothing to you?
Silence!
Having captured their attention, he continued: Your corruption sinks deeper than I thought. Tell me, Psiedoni-jah, is psychological derangement a prerequisite to membership of this little coterie of yours?
A menacing undertone began to coalesce amongst Psiedoni-jah’s most ardent followers.
Hadez’ekiel cautioned: Brother, guard your opinion! Psiedoni-jah’s assessment is sound. Yes, we have fallen from grace, but that is only because of the strength of our convictions. Would it not be a course of wisdom to capitalize on the situation we now find ourselves in?
Murmurs of support rippled forth—and from some—a deeper nuance of stubborn defiance.
Sachael-Za-Ad’hem moved closer to his friend, blushing toward the infrared end of the spectrum in warning. The gesture was not lost on the majority. God’s Angel of Vengeance and Destruction would still be a formidable adversary, fallen or no.
Nevertheless, Hadez’ekiel doggedly pressed ahead: We are cut off, there is no way back. So where is the harm in making the best of our circumstances? The beings of this realm are fleshly. Weaker. And Fallen or not, we are superior to them.
Sariel-Jeh’oel whispered: Strange you would forget Heimdhariel’s words so easily. I fear that for those like you, there is no way to return.
Sachael-Za-Ad’hem detected a kernel of intent forming beneath the surface layers of Psiedoni-jah’s consciousness. An intent mirrored by those possessing a similar temperament. Swiftly gaining both strength and purpose, that seed sprouted, blossoming toward impending action.
Changing tack, Sariel-Jeh’oel tried to reason the matter through: Tell me Hadez’ekiel, what would you and those in your group do for these lesser beings?
Do for them? Are you mad? They are beneath us, Brother. We should be considering what they can do for us. They owe us their servitude. Their devotion. We could reign supreme here!
Menoetius, Hay-yel, Mnemosyne, and Porphyries started to fan out, their auras deepening to scarlet, betraying their murderous inclinations.
Acknowledging their posturing, Sariel-Jeh’oel remarked: It is evident Sachael-Za-Ad’hem and I made the gravest of errors in trying to speak on your behalf. I did not realize the depth of your debasement, nor indeed how poisoned your souls have become. Addressing Sachael-Za-Ad’hem directly, he emphasized: We were deluded to think that the Prime Causality wouldn’t know the full extent of their iniquity from the outset. What have we done, Brother?
Absorbed as he was by the maneuvering taking place before them, Sachael-Za-Ad’hem didn’t reply. He watched closely as Menoetius barked in contempt, a scornful act signaling the commencement of something far more provocative; the invitation to form a harmonic link, open to more than a dozen of his more aggressive contemporaries.
Sachael-Za-Ad’hem restrained himself admirably. Until Menoetius’ threat pushed things too far: You are all imbeciles. Especially if you think to oppose us now!
Before a connection could be established and before any of its contributors could react, four coherent beams of devastating energy stabbed out. The containment thresholds belonging to Menoetius, Hay-yel, Mnemosyne, and Porphyries were breached instantly. For what seemed like an eternity they hung there—impaled and shrieking in agony—before they ruptured, their atoms vaporized into a quartet of spiraling dust clouds.
All minds turned to the originator of those lethal blasts: Sachael-Za-Ad’hem. His glacial brilliance hadn’t phase-shifted once during the attack.
Subsuming the essences of the would-be murderers into his already mighty complexus, he then seized the rest of Psiedoni-jah’s lackeys within a vicelike mental grip, causing them to cry out in anguish.
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The unfathomable embrace faded, only to return a heartbeat later in the form of a gentle insinuation that rested innocuously against their psyches. Each and every one of them shied automatically, tensing in trepidation.
Sachael-Za-Ad’hem hovered there, calmly, until everyone acknowledged the weight of his rank. When he spoke, he uttered a veiled threat of his own: It looks as if Sariel-Jeh’oel and I retain an echo of our capacities as members of the Primary Echelon. Remember that, should you be inclined to further foolishness . . . or scheme treachery in the future.
The point was well made. A minority of the Fallen started gravitating toward Sachael-Za-Ad’hem and Sariel-Jeh’oel immediately, the former noting they were composed mostly of those who were regretful of the wrong they had perpetrated.
He continued: Do you not appreciate the reality of our situation? We are now afflicted by Tartarus. A condition we were never meant to have. I cannot believe I stood before the Assembly of the Heavenly Host, advocating a more lenient form of correction for your errors. I see now I was wrong. Your stigma runs deep. If you do not make a determined effort to leave such error behind . . . well . . . you have no future.
So what would you have us do, Brother? Psiedoni-jah demanded, the barest flicker of sincerity brightening his visage: Ignore them? Cast them adrift to folly entirely?
The shamed Destroyer withdrew, seeking counsel from his ranking counterpart. A buzz of telepathic activity spurted back and forth between them at lightning speed. In due course, an accord was reached. Breaking the link, Sachael-Za-Ad’hem replied for them both: Listen, everyone. Listen!
Enfolding their minds within his vast nexus, he ranged for billions upon billions of leagues in all directions, searching out the telltale signs indicative of fledgling sentience. He found it, though such life was newly introduced on this universal sphere: These humans require our help. They need to be nurtured, guided. Are you so blinded by ignorance that you can’t perceive their potential? Yes, they are fleshly. Nonetheless, they contain a spark of the divine flame within them. When it matures—thousands upon thousands of their cycles from now into the future—will they not bring glory to the Source in their own unique way?
A number of the Fallen flashed brighter at that suggestion. Some in hope. But sadly, most in outright rejection.
Flustered, Psiedoni-jah hissed: What? You would have us stoop even lower and . . . and play nursemaids to them? Really!
Why not? Sariel-Jeh’oel exclaimed: Who better to help us understand the hidden depths and scope of the Prime Causality? Perchance our banishment here can be turned to our advantage, though in a different manner than you intended. Who knows, our service might even facilitate our eventual return.
Service? Psiedoni-jah didn’t sound convinced: But how will serving them, serve us?
Sariel-Jeh’oel glanced Sachael-Za-Ad’hem’s way, and replied: Our decline was due in part to our presumptuousness. A number of us thought too highly of our own opinion. Others craved that to which we are not due. Whatever the reason, a willingness to capitulate requires humility. A characteristic lacking in some more than others! Who knows what might be achieved if we but put our minds to the task?
Sachael-Za-Ad’hem scanned the throng about them as they considered Sariel-Jeh’oel’s proposal. Some were obviously keen to accept the challenge. Of these, Hera’n-el, Cassiel, Selene, Za-Hermesiah, Raphael, and Din’athinae were to the fore. Others cogitated more deeply, clearly troubled that they had been led into wrongdoing so easily.
A few—led by Mae’loch and Bael-zebad of the Median Echelon—remained rigidly inflexible. When they started to edge away, Sachael-Za-Ad’hem decided to deliver a blunt ultimatum: Persist on that path if you must! The choice is yours. Regardless, it would bode you well to remember a simple fact. If you ever set out to govern any of the beings inhabiting this realm, I will ensure you face the consequences of your error. Reduced I may be. Yet I remain beyond you and would make a fearsome adversary.
His remark was accepted with a grudging acknowledgement.
In close series, the diehards departed, fading into self-imposed banishment whilst sulking openly over lost chances and what might-have-beens.
Ruminating privately, Sachael-Za-Ad’hem watched them go. Fools, they think to gain a measure of freedom. All they are doing is condemning themselves to petrifaction and extinction.
His brooding was interrupted by a gentle request: My friend, Sariel-Jeh’oel probed: out of all of us here your intuitive sight is the strongest. Please. Reveal the hurdles ahead of us so we may better decide our course.
Doing as he was bid, Sachael-Za-Ad’hem mitigated his demeanor, cast out his senses, and gathered the entirety of his immeasurable precognitive faculty to him.
Once his summoning was ready, he commenced linking facets of its potential to the legion of causational probability nodes saturating the subspace medium. Priming those nodes, he then sent an almost insubstantial pulse along each one, before releasing them to their—as yet—undetermined fate.
A multitude of incorporeal destinies sickened the instant they appeared, inundated by a swarm of muddy green shrouds that smothered, and then choked the life from them. Discarding such refuse, he sent another, deeper burst of power along the remaining cords.
Again, most expired, flaring into brilliance for the briefest of moments before fading away to nothing.
Sachael-Za-Ad’hem continued his ministrations, exerting his will, over and over without letup. Every effort became more refined and precise; his control, more polished and explicit. As the number of viable alternatives dwindled, they started gleaming, and Sachael-Za-Ad’hem was quick to entice a melody from each latent source of joy until the ether glowed hot with brilliant pinpoints of light.
In the end, a mere seven remained.
Erupting in argent radiance, their lustrous character generated musical notes of the purest stripe. Swiftly, dexterously, Sachael-Za-Ad’hem set about gathering them together with a finesse only the Prime Causality and the First could hope to surpass.
Awestruck, the others admired his work from a distance.
Lost to a cadence of his choosing, he wove his will into and around the texture of those filaments, coaxing them toward the plausibility apogees they might one day encompass. As he did so, Sachael-Za-Ad’hem extended his mighty precognitive faculty along each node, whereupon he instigated an in-depth assessment of their worth.
Finally, after more than an hour had passed, he was able to share his prognosis.
A squadron of delicate, fernlike fronds lingered upon the threshold of existence, a whirling multicolored structure of intricate design, pleasing on the eye and soul alike. Fluttering on gossamer wings, they peeled back their outer layers to reveal a series of expediencies that would need to be followed as the centuries passed. Projecting them into the far distant future, Sachael-Za-Ad’hem realized only four might stabilize into a solid temporal stream. He sighed: It would appear we have a choice before us, Brothers and Sisters.
An unexpected bonus, Sariel-Jeh’oel acknowledged: But which offers the best outcome for the mortals of this realm?
It depends on how many of the Host joins us on this venture . . . observe! Sachael-Za-Ad’hem then highlighted the variances involved within each strand; the specific obstacles that needed to be overcome; the victories and defeats they would have to endure as the eons rolled slowly by. He finished by stressing what would be required of them.
Sariel-Jeh’oel expanded his perceptions: Who is with us?
Gaur-el, Hera’n-el, Cassiel, Selene, Za-Hermesiah, Raphael, and Din’athinae gravitated to their side without hesitation. When no one else moved, Sachael-Za-Ad’hem regarded the stragglers wearily.
He needn’t have worried. It was clear some were still deliberating the matter, while others couldn’t seem to decide, one way or the other.
Considering his options, Sachael-Za-Ad’hem decided to test the waters with persuasion: Why do you hold back from what needs to be done?
Appalled, Hestan-eal spluttered: Mu . . . must we adopt a restrictive lesser form? Surely there’s another way. Is guiding these . . . these insects not enough?
The alpha probability indicates the best results will be achieved by walking among them as humans. Shepherds must be approachable. Our current form, although darkened, would no doubt result in them attempting to blindly worship us. That must be avoided at all costs. Agreed?
Hestan-eal turned to her sponsor, Psiedoni-jah for support. In turn, Psiedoni-jah beckoned to his remaining advocates, Arestartus, Hadez’ekiel, Xe-Dionysus, and Ophaestus to come and link with them. They were joined by Liwet and Xaph-ean.
A multitude of opinions flashed hither and thither between them, the volume of crimson and ruby eruptions providing ample evidence of how heated the debate was.
As they argued, the rest of the Fallen gravitated away slightly . . . just in case.
Eventually, the ad hoc meeting broke apart and Psiedoni-jah spoke for his cabal: While we question the wisdom of this charade, we feel that perhaps it would be a course of prudence to at least make the attempt . . . If only to see how long this madness can last.
Seeds of ill-concealed malice burned deeply within Psiedoni-jah’s complexus. An attitude sadly prevalent amongst his supporters—especially Arestartus, Hadez’ekiel and Hestan-eal—who seemed incapable of repressing their true feelings sufficiently to hide them.
Sachael-Za-Ad’hem’s counsel trilled along Sariel-Jeh’oel’s intimate mode, expertly masked: We need to watch them closely! Even if we end up trapped here forever, they will seek to turn this situation to their own advantage.
Sariel-Jeh’oel’s mental overlay revealed his fatigue: No, my Brother. You will have to watch them. After what we’ve been through, I don’t have the stomach to play nanny to these idiots as well as steer the younger race toward enlightenment.
Sensitive to his companion’s shock, Sariel-Jeh’oel made haste to continue: Oh, don’t worry too much. I wouldn’t leave you completely alone with such a monumental task ahead of you. I’ll wait until after the intervention has been initialized before I begin my own personal penance. Indicating the huge void around them, he teased: I was thinking here would be as good a place as any?
Following his friend’s line of thought, Sachael-Za-Ad’hem took the measure of the surrounding abyss. It was evident their arrival had triggered a major catastrophe by destroying the resident black hole that had anchored the galaxy in place among the expanding cluster. Without it, the entire star-whorl would gradually cool, slow, diminish, and die.
Stunned, he replied: What? You intend to fulfill the function of a singularity?
It will be a sound place to start. Who knows? It might even work! If you read between the lines, I think Heimdhariel was trying to give us a hope as we were cast down. . .
. . . I’d like to think so anyway.
Sachael-Za-Ad’hem didn’t think it rude to let his reservations show.
Directing his attention toward the more responsive of the Fallen, Sariel-Jeh’oel tried to brighten the mood: And to be honest, I don’t think you’ll face the task alone. There are enough Median Echelon members here to help you keep our wayward brats in check without having to resort to drastic measures.
While that statement was true, Sachael-Za-Ad’hem didn’t fail to notice that nearly a score of the remaining Fallen—a number representing nearly all the Exterior Echelon in fact—were reluctant to join them. Of those, the majority seemed contrite, though they were evidently still overwhelmed by the events leading to their ostracism. What’s more, the outer veneer of their auras revealed no hint of malice. Projecting his question toward them in particular, he demanded: What will you do?
Gaia-le’el was the first to answer: I, for one, need to be alone. Seclusion will give me the opportunity to reflect as I sojourn the cosmos. If we are expected to nurture the infants of this plane, then I may go ahead of you and determine how many empty worlds are suitable for life. Maybe the timely manipulation of each planet’s essence will help prepare them for future habitation?
Both Sachael-Za-Ad’hem and Sariel-Jeh’oel radiated approval. It would be a worthy task, stretching across the endless expanse. More minds were quick to add their support.
As Gaia-le’el summoned her hyperspatial translation field, she was joined by Azala-Jophiel, Aslan-di’el, Ocean-az’el, Sachael-Yao-teth and Olinda.
Ocean-az’el was moved to express her small cadre’s desire: We would come with you, Sister . . . if you don’t mind the company to begin with? Your offer has spurred us to consider similar ideals. I assure you, it won’t be for long. And once we’ve determined where best to concentrate our respective endeavors, we can go our separate ways.
Gaia-le’el’s aura mellowed to a rosy hue: You are welcome, Brothers and Sisters. Come. Let us depart in haste so we may begin to soothe the scalding heat of our disgrace.
And with that, the most compassionate of them all winked away into exile.
Sariel-Jeh’oel turned his attention to those of the Exterior Echelon who had yet to assert their position: And you? Have you determined the path you would follow?
At first, no one dared answer directly—although the mental chatter between them increased tenfold. Nevertheless, a united consensus soon predominated.
Leaping on it, Sariel-Jeh’oel inquired: You have a question, Gazad-riel?
Gazad-riel remained unsure. Hesitant: As the least of these, our Brothers and Sisters, we may be unequal to the task ahead. Would you welcome us in sharing some of the load?
Glancing toward Sachael-Za-Ad’hem, Sariel-Jeh’oel showered feelings of support and comradeship upon their lower brethren: Be in no doubt, your assistance will be sorely needed and greatly appreciated. The road ahead of us is long. Your contributions will no doubt be a vital factor in ensuring the success of our endeavors . . . Sachael-Za-Ad’hem?
On cue, Sachael-Za-Ad’hem stilled his mind. Concentrating, he wove the personalities and influence the remaining members of the Fallen would contribute into the still vibrant causality matrix. The four nodes inside chimed, reverberating with sonorous tones as they were projected toward their respective probability climaxes.
The assembled host waited.
At last, one of the matrices blazed as bright as a sun cresting the disc of an occluding planet. Sachael-Za-Ad’hem was jubilant. Expanding the crown of that quasi-reality for all to see, he declared: See there? A theotet! This is the canon we must commit to, to ensure the fulfillment of our goal.
The scale of his ingenuity was mind numbing. Weaving a rich tapestry of circumstance, cause and effect, he went on to emphasize exactly what would have to take place across millennia in order for them to stay on course. It was a grand enterprise. Majestic in scope and purpose. But it came at a price.
A price some were unwilling to pay.
The midnight canvass of space disappeared as two of their number—Gau-re’el and Elphaesus—ended their lives in an act of self-immolation. The glare of their sacrifice caused all present to throw up hasty shields. All, that is, except for Sachael-Za-Ad’hem, who swiftly subsumed their ruptured energies into his own potential.
Before anyone could express their outrage, he flatly stated: What we do here affects the outcome eons from now. You all know my cardinal attributes. I’ll not see vital strength wasted on futile gestures or petulant outbursts.
Ignoring further protestations, he activated the probability strand again, held his ethereal breath, and assessed the node’s integrity.
His relief was as profound as it was personal: Thank the Maker for that! The theotet’s structure hasn’t been compromised. We still retain a viable option for progress.
Satisfied, he turned to Sariel-Jeh’oel: You were generated before me, Brother, so it is fitting you should shoulder the burden of headship. Please, lead us all in harmonic union. I need to detail our path in its fullness before demonstrating how we may empty ourselves of our Divine nature to assume a human form.
Sariel-Jeh’oel consented. Coming together, the last of the Fallen bound themselves in a state of utmost intimacy.
They remained that way, locked in position like a cluster of orbiting stars, for an age of days. During that time, the secret to Unification was laid bare in all its magnificence. Once the revelation was over, all were content to float quietly in the vastness of space, meditating privately on its implications for the future.
In due course Sariel-Jeh’oel suggested: Shall we?
And with that, the obsidian backdrop of the void was split by a supernova, an event signifying the commencement of an immense journey toward a tiny planet lying so very, very far away. If all went to plan, their ministrations there—due to culminate only after thousands and thousands of years had passed—would yield everlasting results.
If all went to plan!