Within the abyss a multitude gathered to watch for the scene before them to unfold. Above them, storms covered a globe, concealing the truth from their gaze. If what others thought to call the Divine could be accused of being everywhere, they were the opposite. They dwelled below reality, aware yet nowhere.

The horde lacked uniformity, many shadows of what might have once been great, others twisted into unrecognizable monstrosities as if to distance themselves from their origin. Beasts, beings lightning, cloud, and fire turned to smoke and shadow and creatures of many eyes and faces. Their glories withered like a field robbed of a river and rain, removed from the source of all beauty and glory.

Even creatures of the night and the malformed possessed beauty for they still could potentially be loved. Even the most majestic and graceful among their number were wreathed in a sense of wrongness, not for any detail of their appearance but for lacking a key element within themselves to match the loveliness they once rightfully adorned themselves with. They rejected love itself.

Time and space in a place removed from such concepts proved subjective. However, the inhabitants existed before such ideas came into being so this was perhaps where they were always meant to belong. Focus and attention lent a semblance of scale but twisted minds offered twisted perceptions. To them, stars were but mere specks in the vast cosmos yet living souls more grand in measure than the planet they dwelled upon. A heartbeat stretched forever yet an age passed in the blink of an eye.

Time crawled and raced at once to be the worst of all experiences in a way that those that were once beyond such a concept could comprehend. A mortal soul might experience what they once knew as a lifetime in a blink of the eye within that dark realm, moments within the abyss stretched to an eternity to the senses. However, to they who existed long before time an age could pass upon the globe beyond without them ever noticing.

Those further back were denied the spectacle of a dying world by those in front of them. The creatures themselves made the world they watched seem small, they that could rest one foot in the deepest ocean and the other upon the shore. Indeed, the world was small, tiny and insignificant, a speck on the mural of the universe.

Direction and distance meant little within nothingness but at what a sane mind would see as the forefront, nearest to the world just outside their reach stood two figures while another remained seated, legs bent over empty air.

The seated one alone among its company showed no interest in the proceedings, eyes covered by folded wings. Once worthy to be called Olamel, now forever named Astelah. The seated one’s countenance and robes remained almost pure white except the faintest contamination of violet. The shade of color blended well with the light that still emanated from its wings. It lacked the flaws of masculinity and femininity, the embodiment of a singular perpetual existence. “It” proved to be the most proficient term for such a being, something unknown to life and death that always shared more kinship with a celestial body like the planet before it than the dying creatures that were occupying that world.

Astelah read the tablet in its lap through its slender fingers, engrossed in what could be rather than what was. A thousand thousand possibilities were offered to it if only it reached out its hand to claim one.

A string of curses reached its ears. “What is it that raised the Sovereign of the Second Domain’s ire?” the seated one asked.

Those gathered accepted any title except their own two names. To be referred to by their original names reminded them of what they lost. To be referred to by their true names forced them to face what they had become. To protect themselves from that humiliation, they were swift to collect a myriad of masks and roles. Master of a Domain and Truth proved to be such a role.

“See for yourself,” someone in front of Astelah fumed before continuing to voice its outrage as if every word might become a stone to cast. It boomed akin to the peal of thunder with the crackling of an inferno roaring beneath. The seated one found it a pity that one that sang only praises ages before was now such a discordant instrument. If only the Second calmed to express something other than scorn and violence, the sweetness thought forever lost might return to its tongue.

“The world remains,” another answered calmly in a silken whisper, so the seated one need not unfold its wings. The words of the Sovereign of the Third Domain proved to still be soft even in that unending gloom.

The seated one regarded the compatriots before it. It remembered the splendor they once bore and envisioned the corruption that undoubtedly overtook them.

Pitch black wings smoldered like dying embers on the back of one of the two, blood dripping from the edges of its outermost feathers. The one branded as Kharah, unlike its remaining company, possessed six wings from the beginning. White, red, and black. What might once have been pristine armor was stained forever in old blood and charred.

Kharah’s silvering hair retained a golden sheen while ebony flames erupted randomly from its form like violently reopening wounds, leaving patches of shadow where the fire devoured what little could be considered warmth and light.

Flames licked its eternal being, inflicting pain that only kindled its fury further to feed the conflagration forevermore. The fire could not end Kharah’s own suffering, only aggravate it.

If Kharah mirrored a mutilated sun, the other, Agbarah, could be called the ruler of the night. The Sovereign of the Third Domain resembled the moon, glowing palely and clothed in thin, azure mist and wind with hair sewn from midnight. Its four wings merged together to form a pair of massive wings draped over the shoulders like an oversized cloak. Dark hoarfrost drifted in the wind, colors frozen and clumped together into inky masses.

The space between the two frontmost Sovereigns churned as flames that could devour anything contested with ice that brought all to heel. Not even the faintest memory of warmth survived in that space, lost to either force. So cold that it burned.

Among the three of them, there hopefully survived some flicker of divinity in their eyes. Their sockets filled with the color of everything made manifest though now broken into glimmering, almost rainbow like celestial brilliance though it would actually be rainbows that mimicked their eyes. The seated one knew its own eyes to be unbalanced, if one looked one would find the same violet that radiated from its being dominated those twin pools of light.

With those eyes, they witnessed the continuation of a realm they thought reached its end. To them who understood the length of eternity. The world’s restoration seemed to occur in the length of a short song for indeed a song it was. The receding of water was followed by the gentle chorus of budding plants.

The seated one listened to life flourish as if the disaster never occurred. To the Second’s vocal irritation, humanity counted among the species to be spared. The vain creatures concentrated together for a brief moment before differences saw them divide, to never be unified again.

"The world that life was created to inhabit is no more.” the Second stated, finally addressing those with it rather than raging futility at one afar that might never answer. Or perhaps Kharah was speaking to itself. “Humanity ruined the very realm it was granted stewardship of. There is no purpose in a place so fragile and beings so careless. Both should be erased once more.”

"If the world might simply be reborn again, what meaning is there to destroy it?” the Third inquired.

Kharah and Agbarah began to argue or rather the Second argued at the Third. The one now recognized as the one that reached the Second Truth once fought against all the others that were gathered, except the seated one and one conceived after their downfall. Kharah sided against the rebels but eventually joined them in their exile.

The two were so engrossed in their debate that they paid little heed to how parts of their company were already departing for the new world or encircling them, sides forming and adding to the discourse as opinions were swayed by passion, insanity, or misguided hope and despair. Those that escaped into the material realm shrank. They were less than microbes, invisible and less consequential than ants but would grow and diminished with the power that the world’s inhabitants gave them.

Those in the abyss should forever remain prisoners but inhabitants of that tiny globe could not call themselves the rulers of that realm without the authority to invite others the way a host could prepare a place for a guest. Those considered sapient opened the gates and offered the keys to the prisoners’ escape whether they knew it or not.

Already, each and every one in attendance already received an invitation, the right to enter the reborn lands. But their understanding of time made their return slow. What seemed like an onrushing flood to them was a slow rot to those within that sphere. Each calamity from within seemed over in the blink of an eye.

Before the world’s ruination, the First had been insistent that it could bring the end via its own power. It taught humans simple secrets so they would destroy themselves. If humanity brought its end upon themselves, the First would have been proven right.

If the heavens were set by understanding the First, Second, and Third had little to share. The First had insisted to be the only one to influence the world, the sole architect of the end. Those calling themselves loyal stayed in the abyss and those with a spark of disloyalty were willing to watch the First fail. Most hated the world enough to not attempt sabotage but there were those that entered the world out of spite.

An age passed over the globe while the two Sovereigns debated for what seemed a thousand eons. As the mortal population grew, forests dwindled fed to the forges as cities toppled and fields drowned in blood. The altercation garnered as little attention from the seated one as the world’s fate had. They presented two sides when it chose indifference.

The Second, in spite of its less than encouraging words and lack of camaraderie, raging at nothing and everything rather than trying to converse, gained a large following. Destruction was not a worse fate than what they currently endured. If it was at all possible for their divine essence to be dispersed by the victor, their maker was worth provoking. To be banished once and forever from existence rather than be punished endlessly seemed a goal worth pursuing. That there was further damnation for them to compound upon themselves remained a prospect to process as the First now lacked further liberties for its actions in the material world.

Now, the First was trapped somehow even further below, further away than anything ever could be. If the divine was everywhere, the only place one could be exiled to was nowhere, the deepest darkness of the pit where even the First's light was swallowed and hidden so it could lead no others astray.

Words of revenge rang hollow to Astelah. Vengeance was pursued by those that were convinced that what they truly wanted was impossible to reach. The seated one knew revenge was beyond its grasp. If forced to choose anything to pursue, it would seek the mantle of madness.

Insanity proved to be the greatest if not only escape from their condition. Even the world of flesh they were invited to was hell for one that experienced paradise. However, those with minds meant to last forever were also cursed to remain lucid. The most they could hope for was to wear madness as a cloak but they could never truly forget their circumstances. Little more than a mask that might blur the edges of their awareness at best.

“Why destroy when we could rule?” Agbarah tried to sway the Second from its path. “We have fallen but this is our chance to ascend.”

“Ascend?” This seemed to at least register to Kharah who until that moment for all the cosmos could have been mistaken for being blind and deaf to all but its own pain and vendetta. “Not even the First would say such nonsense. Even if the fool thought it might be able to ascend, it would not debase itself to use the world’s filth to accomplish that ambition. Life dies, all it is good for is to burn and incinerate the very realm it inhabits.”

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Kharah’s own reference to the First somehow hinted at further vitriol. Ridicule, familiarity, and unmasked hatred flowed from its mouth while its wounds and the glow of its wings flared.

The First dared to believe it could control three domains. When the strain proved too much, the second domain was passed to Kharan. The First’s remaining authority was brilliance, just brilliance. Magnificence without warmth.

The Second Truth could not be fully realized until loss. The Astelah even came to understand its role before the Second became one with its truth.

As much as the Second resented the First, it complied with the First’s wishes. The seated one assumed the Second’s compliance to the First until that moment could be attributed to some hope the First accomplished its goal just as the Second hoped that the First failed. If the First could make the world collapse by humanity's hands, that would be justice.

The Second proclaimed it fell because it believed in justice. However, the Divine was not fair. The Divine was perfect but, by any measure, was most certainly not fair.

That justice was one defined by witnessing its own kindred’s punishment. A viewpoint shaped from the adoration and love Kharah once so blindingly shined with to appease its creator who set such a verdict.

Now, even if the Divine one miraculous day absolved the fallen ones, Astelah doubted Kharah could overlook their transgressions. The Second in its imprisonment proved vocal in its claims that it could not even forgive itself or its own maker. No one found reason to believe its barbed words carried any deception or doubt when voicing only rage.

The Divine was eternal, those that refused change were perhaps those that were closest to their creator in principle. The First and Second could undoubtedly rival each other for the intimacy they claimed to possess though if either remained truly steadfast in their endearment was a mystery to all. The Second’s wings glowed dimly with anger but resentment required sustenance and what better kindling was there in that empty realm than unrequited affection.

Agbarah let Kharah fume and waited patiently to be sure there would not be an outburst to drown out any counter the Third might offer. “If you are so intent on seeing the world drawn to its ruin. You will need to rely on life and those mortals to walk upon that soil, particularly humans.”

The Second did not answer immediately. Astelah envisioned Kharah glaring but digesting Agbarah’s words with honest consideration though ready to spit or vomit as the very idea disgusted the Second.

“If I must be a guest in that world, I will accept no invitation from a human. Anything but a human. If you are suggesting I take a body, I have a number of creatures to choose from.”

“Humanity will be the easiest to influence but I see the appeal of a more exotic host,” the Third humored. Astelah sensed the veil of ice around Agbara dissipate so nothing could conceal the Third’s soothing smile. “I would wish for one that never faded.” The Third looked to those that remained at their side, knowing their faces and forms with the most ancient of familiarity. “What you find so sickening, a number of us have already performed. I see the Fourth is no longer among us.”

The forever wounded one blinked and finally regarded those gathered around them, trying to find the subject of the Third’s attention. “What wretched souls would invite and offer a place for the Fourth?”

Astelah remembered the Sovereign of the Fourth Domain, now Yahanah. A strange one even by their company. If the foundations of the world were laid by wisdom, the Fourth’s corruption left it with little wisdom to hoard. Wingless and golden, unable to fly but able to climb a mountain of what it was unwilling to part with.

The Fourth received a summoning early into the age the Second and Third argued away. The other two perhaps were called earlier but the Fourth had always shown a greater interest in the material than any other and eagerly departed.

Kharah snarled at the absence of its fellow Sovereign. “Then I would join the world if only to correct the Fourth’s misconception,” the Second declared. “To prove that all it treasures is but ash. It was with us when the stars were wrought, it should know all must fade.”

Kharah could not sympathize with the others. It did not fight alongside them so it neglected to understand their ideals. The Fourth which learned to never give up what belonged to it was alien to the Second who would burn itself to eradicate those it called foes.

“The wisest decision the creator ever made when mortal life was born, was the concept of mortality,” the Second continued as it reached out to the globe. “That those strange creatures would only defile the world for a short time.”

Astelah would nod in agreement except life proved already it could persist. Mortals had a way of making more of themselves, a rite that the prisoners themselves lacked. Mortal lives were worthless but still part of a limitless growing horde.

Life was a flame, first kindled by the Divine but now able to spread beyond its origin. A forest fire need not be sparked afresh when there were still embers to spread.

The Second extended its hand further as if it could crush the world in its grasp. Instead it was pulled into the realm of flesh and blood where it vanished from sight like a dying ember. Kharah’s followers tailed behind it from a distance. The world carried on no noticeably more violent in scale than before the Second chose to join it. Bloodshed and wars that would span entire continents were not ambitious enough to require the Second’s involvement.

The Third watched the Second’s departure with pity or disgust. Astelah, imagined a multitude of expressions and was uncertain which was true.

The Third turned its back to the globe so it might address all. Most prominent of those that remained was the seated one and the Sovereign of the Fifth and Sixth Domains who saw fit to observe the proceedings between the Second and Third.

If knowledge saw fit to split the waters, the Sovereign of the Fifth Domain knew little of itself. The one now called Quanah let itself be reduced to what seemed a droplet of water to those that remained giants. A memory remained of a flaming wheel with many eyes that followed the Third or was it the Third that once followed the Fifth? The many eyes wept, extinguishing the fire until only its tears remained.

The serpentine river that took Quanah’s place with the lingering impression of what may have been wings survived as vestigial fins. Its body reflected a faint green glint of infinitely distant stars.

Looming hungrily over all was a collection of horns, antlers, wings and all things beautiful and sacracent compiled at such obscene volume and density that no matter how artfully arranged was still impossible to notice or appreciate every detail. The Sixth possessed every trait, thus it resembled nothing else in creation, more a barely contained myriad rather than a singular being.

Around it was a well where everything was drawn to it. An orange corona surrounded it where light bent to be absorbed into what bore the name of Zolelah.

Between the Sovereigns of the Sixth and Seventh Domains, one possessed an excess of understanding, knowledge, and wisdom and another would be found lacking in all such prospects. Which one was which remained a mystery.

"If we leave the realm of mortals to the Second, the world will be wasted, what it truly has to offer left unappreciated at best and lost at worst," the Third observed. “Come let us take refuge in this new realm and protect it in turn if we must.”

Astelah raised its head, recognizing itself as among those the Third would seek to guide. However, the dream Agbarah offered tempted it not, so it remained quiet lest outright rejection spurn the Third to try to reason with Astelah.

“Our goals align,” many wondrous voices spilled out from the Sixth, drowning each other so that it all came out as an ugly cacophony. “You may count me among your allies. While the First and Second would prefer to be alone, I see no reason to believe our truths contradict each other.”

Astelah said nothing but felt obliged to open its mouth to say no truth contradicted another. If all were gathered together, the world’s decay would be certain, a calamity to overshadow the First’s. All truths harmonized with each other, even the Second’s in spite of the Second’s belief that hate was sufficient motivation.

The Third looked between the Fifth and Astelah. “What say you who have remained quiet until now? Speak so all might know the wisdom of those that first reached grand truths.”

Silence fell. While the multitude waited for a response, the world continued to rush towards its destination.

“I have nothing to offer that would aid or hinder you to know or to remain ignorant of,” Astelah, the Sovereign of the Seventh Domain lied.

The Fifth remained quiet, recoiling at the attention. The Third offered a hand to the Fifth. “If the Fourth could share, I would think we along with the Sixth could form a trinity to surpass the First’s vanity. Will you take that place, Soverign of the Fifth Domain?”

What came resounded with an echo as if two spoke out of sync. “I would have to witness what power you can muster before believing we might rival the First,” Quanah assessed, its surface rippling with every word.

“A fair request but one I can grant at this time,” Agbarah replied. “We know not why it is the First has been punished further. Whether it was a display of power or success that damned our leader, I would wait to see what liberties the Second and Fourth are afforded before raising my own hand.”

“Then I will wait on you to show me your capabilities just as you wait for them to test our Creator’s patience,” Quanah stated.

Astelah brushed its fingers against the tablet. It searched and found the world’s new history written clearly. It appeared that they would need to watch for the Second as the Fourth’s fate was soon to be decided.

Agbarah smiled. “If that be your wisdom, do as you please. But I must ask if I fail to meet your expectations, are you who sang before creation content to dwell in the corpse of what never was forever?” the Third inquired.

No one answered.

“Join us when you are ready,” the Third offered as Agbarah entered the world as a bewitching breeze.

Many followed the Third into the world as did the Sixth rush in after. Sight of the world was blotted out for an instant as something larger than the universe entered reality. For the moment before it shrank Zolelah encompassed all of the finite.

The Fifth lingered and watched as countless others of its kindred flooded into the developing world as structures and societies grew to blight the face of the world like creeping tumors.

It was among such hushed company that the Seventh found itself to be the one to speak. “If you wait, they might claim everything.”

“I would say the same to you,” the Fifth replied. “Though I would then have to ask you thus. If they claim everything, will they be able to keep anything?”

Astelah withdrew its fingers from the tablet. “I do not wish for the responsibility of prophecy. Whether they succeed or fail, let it be on their shoulders alone.”

In the war, the one that was not yet Astelah had not been told to rebel but it had not been told to not rebel. The choice was its make and the one that would become Astelah chose not to choose. To side against the rebels was to accept the responsibility of fighting its own kin.

Not that either side would have benefitted from its contribution. The war had been futile. It raged without reason and ended the instant the Divine’s will was made known.

It was over before one could even be aware. The firmament of the heavens themselves was torn asunder without warning and healed as if the upheaval never occurred while the rebels plummeted into the abyss long enough to realize how pointless their conflict had been.

There were others that refused to fight their kindred. Those that refused to enact violence where there should have only been peace but they were not there with Astelah. They might have even been praised in their place on high. The Seventh’s crime was doing nothing.

“But if I may ask a question without owing you an answer for your own,” the Seventh probed. “Why be cautious with the Third now when you rallied readily when you both heard the First’s call.”

“The First was someone worth following,” the Fifth remembered, twisting about in search of some sign of the First lost brilliance.

“The First tried to imitate the Divine,” Astelah reminded its companion.

The First’s ambition corroded from being acknowledged as the greatest among creation to the ideal of remaining unchanged like the Divine. To prove that no change in place or time could transform its eternal nature. The prospect enheartened them to know that the chief among them remained defiant in the face of loss.

Silence fell for an age. The many peoples of the world the two watched began to rediscover each other. The globe became at once vast, yet so small. Filled with many differing ideals and customs yet connected through the exchange of such concepts.

“I think I will join them…” the Fifth decided. “If only because I will grow lonely with you as my sole company.”

“And you can participate in the designs of the others, however slight, while you take your measure,” Astelah added.

“Is that a prophecy?”

“It is a possibility.” The Seventh could at least wish its kindred well.

Quanah flowed into the material realm. The Fifth paid so much attention on the others that it remained ignorant of how its essence began to branch off as it entered the world.

Its essence scattered across the globe as unseen rain. Perhaps if split apart, it could finally observe itself. Covetousness required two.

However, the Fifth did not leave the Seventh as the lone occupant of that space. Within the darkness remained a shadow darker even than midnight black.

A being born after the Fall as such a thing never existed before loss. Yahsh, the one with vacant eyes that never once beheld or contained wonder.

The Seventh greeted the one that never should have been as it lurked behind Astelah. "So, you intend to wait as well, Eighth?"