Treskur gave the assembled souls a moment to absorb the news. Many got loud, and many got quiet. Beyond that, she didn’t care to observe the souls closer. She just wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.
Mentally reminding herself that there was no point in ‘elevating’ her speech since these weren’t her followers, she took a breath and continued speaking.
“Most of you likely don’t believe me,” Treskur said, her words cutting through to be heard despite the cacophony of a billion souls, “but that’s fine. For direct proof, I offer only the fact that I was able to whisk away every soul in the Great Beyond without breaking a sweat. If your deities were still around, they wouldn’t let that happen.
“If, however, you believe that this is all a hallucination or some test of faith that your deity has placed upon you… First of all, you had a pretty manipulative god if they’re the type who would gaslight you like that.
“Secondly, if you believe none of this is real, there’s nothing I can do or say to change your mind, so just be quiet and let me talk to the rest of the souls.” There was more grumbling and shouting, but Treskur ignored it.
“Anyway, now that you’re all godless, unbound souls, I present you each with four options!” Treskur held up a corresponding amount of fingers and counted off each of the options as she presented them.
“First, I offer annihilation! Many of you have existed for quite a while now. If you want eternal, permanent rest, then this is the option for you.” A portal of inky blackness formed in front of Treskur, and after a moment, it began orbiting around her.
“Second, I offer the unknown! Though I am technically no longer a member of the Inter-Council Assembly, I find it best to comply with the newly adopted Trans-Universe Migration Protocol. In accordance with the protocol, I offer you all a chance to be reborn in a world far beyond your homeland, and beyond Terra itself! I can’t offer you more information than that — otherwise it wouldn’t really be the ‘unknown’ — but if you’re looking for an adventure somewhere else within the Greater Beyond, this is the option for you.” A second portal opened up in front of Treskur, a swirling myriad of vibrant colors. After the gathered souls all got a moment to appreciate it, it joined the first in orbit around the northern goddess.
“Third, reincarnation! This is usually the default for godless souls, and it is the one I recommend. Your personality and memory will be scrubbed clean, though some intangible qualities may remain. You’ll be thrown back into the cycle of souls, fresh and new yet enriched from having previously lived. Upon your next death, you may join a heaven or hell depending on your allegiance, or you might just continue reincarnating until the end of time. Who knows?” A third portal opened, this one showing a rippling image of what resembled a river, and soon it too began to orbit the goddess.
“Fourth and finally, I present a one-time offer! To the best of my knowledge, this has never been offered before, and it might never be offered again. In fact, if it weren’t suggested by a work associate, I wouldn’t offer this at all.
“I offer you reincarnation, but with a twist! You can be reborn on Terra with your memories sealed until the day you reach either thirty-five years of age, or the age you were when you died, whichever comes first.
“Though your gods are no longer gods, they still walk the world as powerful mortals. It is highly unlikely that any of them will ever become gods again, but if you wish to aid them in gaining power anew — or perhaps take advantage of the tumult to gain some power of your own — this option could be… interesting. I personally don’t see the merit in it, but I’ve been told I won’t regret giving you the option.” A fourth portal opened up, holding a watery image of Terra within it.
“I must warn you, however, that those souls who pick this fourth option will be at the back of the line. Those who pick traditional reincarnation will have priority, so holding onto your memories may cost you a few extra centuries of waiting.”
The other three portals stopped orbiting around her and joined the fourth in hovering before her. “Annihilation, the Greater Beyond, reincarnation, or reincarnation with a twist. The choice is yours.”
The ice freezing the souls’ feet in place melted, freeing them, but only a few of them moved toward any of the portals. Even the souls brave enough to drift toward a decision faltered when they saw their fellow souls hesitate. Murmurs of uncertainty passed through them all, but Treskur elevated one man’s voice over the rest in order to guide the discussion in the way she desired.
“How do we know this isn’t a trick?” the man shouted. “What if there’s some other option you’re hiding from us?” The rest of the souls quieted down at his question, and with some shock, the man realized that everyone was paying attention to him.
“Good question!” Treskur said. “There is a fifth option, but I don’t think any of you want to pick it. In fact, option five is the reason you’re all within this sphere of ice. This sphere isn’t here to keep you in. It’s to keep them out.”
“’Them?’” the man asked. “Who are…?” The soul trailed off as Treskur waved a hand, and the sphere of ice went transparent. Once every soul got a look at what lay beyond, she waved her hand again, making the ice turn opaque once more. Each soul only got a brief glance, but it was more than enough.
Eyes, flesh, energy, madness, sanity, incomprehensibility, emptiness, infinity… all that and more lay within the eldritch other that filled in the gaps between heavens. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that the heavens and reality itself were strange bubbles of logic and causality floating within the dark waters of what was better left alone.
“Any of you ever have the pleasure of experiencing eldritch magic?” Treskur asked. “Option five is like that, but more. You all have four hours to decide. After that, the portals will disappear and the sphere will dissolve. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have my own heaven to oversee.”
She summoned a flurry of ice and disappeared, teleporting away. She hadn’t lied about needing to return to her own heaven — technically the only heaven now, at least in this reality — but she couldn’t help but leave behind an aspect of her awareness to observe what the souls would do.
It began with a trickle, but after an hour of scattered debates, a deluge of souls floated toward and through the four gates. Many of the most ancient souls picked annihilation, more than satisfied with their run at existence. Those souls that tended toward intrepidness picked the second option, prepared to embark upon a multitude of adventures unknown.
Much to Treskur’s pleasant surprise, the majority of souls picked the third option, joining the queue of souls awaiting standard reincarnation. Perhaps it was simply because Treskur had described it as the ‘default’ option, but whatever the reason, the third option was popular.
And then there was option four. Some flew into its portal with obvious fervor, determined to be reborn and help their god again achieve ascension, no matter how improbable Treskur had described the task to be. Others flew in with an equal amount of ambition, but of a more selfish variety. Many of the formerly damned floated through as well, their grim expressions set on revenge against the gods who had judged them to be unworthy.
“Hello, Treskur,” came a voice, “though I suppose calling you that isn’t entirely correct, since you’re just an aspect of her awareness.”
“Hello, Gatekeeper,” replied the aspect of Treskur’s awareness. Of course, as aspects of divine beings who did not wish to be seen, none of the souls could sense them, and though they spoke aloud, none could hear them except the other.
“I’m all for being pretentious,” Treskur’s aspect went on, “but would it be alright with you if I just called you Hadraniel? You could just call me Treskur too, if you want. We may be able to communicate at incredible speeds, but ‘aspect of blah blah blah’ is still a mouthful.”
The angel smiled. “Sure thing, Treskur. I came around to give you my thanks. Without your help, instantaneously saving all these souls from the void between realities might have actually taken some effort. Yesterday, when Aolyn told me to be ready just in case every deity in the world simultaneously disappeared, I didn’t take him seriously. Oh, and thanks again for including that fourth option.”
“No problem, but why are you still here, Hadraniel? Your only obligations were as a contractor. Without anyone left to pay you, shouldn’t you have merged with your main self in your own reality by now?”
“You should know by now that I never accept a job for the payment.”
Treskur rolled her eyes. “Some of us have to work for a living. We can’t all be disgustingly powerful multiplaner beings.”
“Haha! I’m well aware, but since I’m already ‘disgustingly powerful,’ why shouldn’t I enjoy it? You see those two souls over there?” the angel asked, pointing to a pair among the few million that had yet to decide which portal to traverse.
“The ones bickering like an old married couple? They look like brothers. Were they Sol’s?”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Right on the nose! The angry one is Arthur Kingsblood III and the exasperated one is Brandon. They were the [Champion of Sol] and [Tactician] that failed to kill Aolyn’s latest [Daemon Autarch]. In a way, you could say this whole [Divine Apocalypse] is their doing.”
Treskur snorted. “We both know this was Aolyn’s doing. As much as I’d like to credit a pair of dead mortals with the downfall of this world’s pantheon, that’s simply not the case.”
“True enough, true enough… but I can’t shake the feeling that those two can do great things if we give them another chance.”
“And what do you think I’m offering them right now?”
“Point taken, but hear me out. I’d like to offer them something special.”
Even though the pair’s conversation was already private, Hadraniel leaned in to whisper his next words into Treskur’s ear. When she heard what he had to say, she paled.
“You can’t be serious,” she said.
“Oh, but I am.”
“It will destroy them.”
“Only if they let it.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Or perhaps I’m just foolishly optimistic… which I suppose is the foolishly optimistic way of describing ‘crazy.’”
----------------------------------------
“Arthur, I’m telling you, seeking revenge against a god, even a former god, is suicide. Either give up this vendetta, or let’s just go through the regular reincarnation. Hell, I’d rather take my chances in the [Greater Beyond] than try to kill Sol.
“We’ll just be another pair of mortals, Arthur, and we won’t even know to prepare for the first thirty-five years of our lives! Depending on how long the reincarnation line takes, Sol might already be a dead or a god again by the time we can do anything. Seeking revenge is irrational!”
Brandon watched as his former [Liege] glowered at him. He had no idea why he was even arguing with the idiot. For all intents and purposes, Arthur wasn’t his problem anymore. He should’ve just let the hothead run off to meet his doom… but for some damned reason, he still felt a shred of responsibility for the nitwit. Perhaps it was just a habit born from their years campaigning together, but Brandon couldn’t help but try to knock some sense into the former [Hero].
“Face it, Arthur. It’s impossible.”
“And what’s the point of being a brilliant strategist if you can’t do the impossible?” Arthur countered. “Remember, I’ve seen the world through your eyes! I know better than anyone else the levels of genius you never got to show the world. If anyone can help me kill our former god, it’s you, Brandon.”
“And why would I want revenge in the first place? He put you in hell, not me.”
“I saw the way you lived, Brandon,” Arthur said. “I saw the humiliation I and every other member of the courts put you through. I’ll never be able to make up for how terrible I was to you, but that whole system — the system that dragged your name through the mud and denied you the recognition you deserved — that system was built by Sol.
“If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for the next Brandon. Do it for the next kid who could have been great if only they’d been born somewhere else.
“Destroy the system that made your life a living hell! Burn it down, and in the ashes build something new! Create something better! You’ve always wanted to change the world, Brandon, and now is your chance!
“We both know the world will never change so long as parasites like Sol are running around. Sol doesn’t want what’s best for his followers, Brandon. He never did, and I’m beginning to doubt if any god ever did. To change the world, we need to destroy that which keeps it the same!
“I won’t try to further convince you that fighting is the right choice. I won’t try, because I don’t need to. You already know it’s the right thing to do. You’re just too scared to admit it.
“You’re a genius, Brandon, but you’re also a coward, and you know that to be true. Stop hiding behind logic and face your greatest fear: that you might actually be capable of changing the world, if only you’d be brave!
“There is a time for reason, and there is a time to be bold. So tell me Brandon, what will it be? Do you want to be rational? Or do you want to be remembered?”
Brandon was struck dumb by Arthur’s sudden eloquence. There were a million things he wanted to say, but before he could say any of them, he heard clapping.
He and Arthur turned to face a new pair of beings beside them, both of whom Brandon recognized. One was the rugged-looking woman who’d addressed them an hour earlier, the goddess Treskur. The other one — the one who was clapping enthusiastically — was a face Brandon had never expected to see again.
“Gatekeeper?” he asked.
“The one and the same!” the angel cheered before turning to address the other soul. “Arthur! My word! Your time in hell did wonders!”
Arthur tried to lunge at the angel, but Brandon held him back. Some of the surrounding souls gave them strange looks, and when he traced their gazes, none of them were staring at the pair of divine beings.
“They can’t see us,” the goddess Treskur explained. “We’re only here for the two of you.”
“Please calm down Arthur,” Gatekeeper said. “We’re here to offer the you both a chance at a source of power, and if you can attain that power, it will be yours to do with as you wish. Speaking plainly, it would be your best chance at revenge, or changing the world, or whatever you wish to use it for. Power is just power, after all.”
Arthur threw off Brandon’s grasp and glared, heedless of the fact that the angel could probably wipe him from existence. “And why would you do that?” he asked. “You’re the one who damned me in the first place. Why help us take down your boss?”
“Oh, he was never really my boss. As I said when we met, this aspect of mine was just on loan for some contract work. Now that the contract has been rendered useless, I’m free to do as I please.”
Brandon piped up, hoping to preemptively diffuse the situation before Arthur could further provoke the divine entities. “Forgive us for being suspicious of your motivations…but we’re just…” Brandon suddenly realized he had no idea how to end his sentence. “We’re just…suspicious of your… motivations?”
“No need to be so nervous,” Gatekeeper said, smiling a grandfatherly smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “My motivations are simple. I am but one aspect of a much greater being. That being has existed far longer than this world, and will likely continue to exist long after this world’s eventual demise. I have seen every manner of event take place, every possible permutation of every reality.
“The conscious mind — even the conscious minds of divine beings — can only store, retrieve, and correlate so much. My main self has likely forgotten more information than will ever exist in this ‘Terra.’
“The subconscious mind, however, can never forget.
“Every so often, I get a feeling, and over the eons, I’ve learned to listen to those feelings. Through some transcendental subroutine of ever-shifting algorithms, something within my unthinking mind has told me that the two of you might achieve greatness in your next lives… but only if you stick together, and make a choice that is, by my own admission, incredibly foolish.”
Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Why should we do whatever it is you suggest if even you think it’s incredibly foolish?”
The angel shrugged. “Like I said, it’s just a feeling. You can still ignore me and pick one of the four other options. If you pick either of the reincarnations, I’d put your chances of getting revenge against Sol at about one percent.”
Brandon shot Arthur an ‘I told you so’ look, happy to be proven correct in thinking that reincarnating for revenge was doomed to fail, but Arthur continued to glare defiantly.
Hoping to drive home the point that avoidance was better than confrontation, Brandon asked a follow up question. “And what are our chances of avoiding him entirely and living a relatively peaceful life if we give up on our vendetta?” he asked.
“About one in a million.”
Brandon’s ‘I told you so’ look froze. “What?”
“Sol will undoubtedly search for as many of his former [Heroes] and their lieutenants as he can. If you reincarnate back onto Terra, he’ll find you both eventually.”
Now, it was Arthur’s turn to smirk at Brandon, but Brandon did his best to ignore him. The former [Hero] turned to the pair of divine beings. “And what’s our chances if we do this ‘incredibly foolish’ thing of yours?” he asked.
“I have no evidence of this beyond my gut feeling,” Gatekeeper began, “but if you face it together? About one in ten.”
“And separately?” Brandon asked.
“Zero,” Treskur said plainly. “In fact, I believe your chances are zero no matter what. If you ask me, you both should just flee to the Greater Beyond and be done with it. I will admit, however, that my friend here is more knowledgable than me in things of this nature. If he says there’s a chance, then there’s a chance.”
“Alright,” Arthur said, turning to Brandon. “Even if these divine beings didn’t insist on us sticking together, I would have begged you to accompany me regardless. So, what will it be, Brandon? Will you steep in your reservations, or will you join me in revolution?”
Arthur held out his hand, and Brandon eyed it, considering. He had to admit, he’d already lived his first life playing it safe, and it hadn’t exactly worked out. Perhaps it was time to try something bold. But first…
“Do you promise that this time you’ll always consider what I have to say seriously? That you’ll treat me as an equal, and not as a flea?”
“I swear upon my very soul,” Arthur said without hesitation. “I would swear on my heart, but I don’t exactly have any organs at the moment,” he went on with a grin.
Brandon let out a heavy sigh, but smiled back. He grasped the other’s hand. “Alright, Arthur. Let’s do this.”
The two turned back to Treskur and Gatekeeper, who had been patiently waiting for them to come to a decision.
“Alright, Gatekeeper. What’s this ‘incredibly foolish’ thing you’d have us do?” Brandon asked.
Gatekeeper smiled, but Treskur winced.
Treskur waved her hand, and in front of the pair of souls opened a fifth portal. Brandon tried to look within, but his mind couldn’t comprehend what lay there. His gaze was thrown around the contents of the portal, trying to make sense of what he saw. Lines, shapes, colors, and textures… it was as if he were always on the verge of recognizing something that lay on the other side, but it was always just beyond his capacity for comprehension.
It was mad. It was maddening. It was madness.
Worst of all, Brandon got the feeling that there was something looking back.
He pulled his eyes away before he could lose himself entirely. When his vision cleared, he saw Arthur was similarly shaken, looking away from the portal.
“Gentlemen,” Gatekeeper’s voice began, though neither the former [Hero] nor [Tactician] had the strength of will left to turn toward him, “I’d like you to pick option five.”
----------------------------------------
For Melpomene, the day of the [Divine Apocalypse] was back day.
She was performing weighted pull-ups when suddenly, she felt heavier. Not physically heavier, but ethereally, as if the weight of a bounty had just been placed on her head. She finished her set, making sure to to use a full range of motion, before lowering herself to the ground and taking off her belt to which was strapped enough iron to outfit a battalion.
“Is something wrong, my [Liege]?” asked Eurymedon, pausing their own set of alternating pendulum rows. “You took a long pause in the middle of your set. Is something bothering you? Shall I fetch a healer?”
“No, it’s alright. But Eurymedon…”
“Yes, my [Liege]?”
“Do you ever get the feeling that an extraplaner deity has placed a bounty on your head? And that whoever slays you in an epic battle will be granted a wish? And that the wish was supposed to be limited in scope, but through a loophole, there’s no longer anyone left to place restrictions upon that wish, turning what was supposed to be a neat little reward into a boon of potentially world-shattering proportions?”
“Um… no, my [Liege]?”
“Oh. Alright. Never mind then. Let’s finish the workout, then we can finish planning the logistics for our invasion of the [Solarian Courts].”