Once Seth got over the shock of this glorious stranger appearing from nowhere, he forced out the first question on his mind, "Who are you?"

"Now, I am no one," said the woman in white. "But the day is coming when I will come to be, and I will be known as the Starlit Empress."

Seth's first instinct was to laugh at the ostentatiousness of the title, but the glow around her and the way she so instantly changed what was supposed to be his world gave him pause.

"So, you're from the future?" said Seth.

"I am," said the woman in white. "Does it surprise you to know that the world of Ymir has one?"

Seth hung his head. "After what I saw, it strains credulity, to say the least."

"What you witnessed was the end of the First Age of our world." The Starlit Empress closed her eyes, as if trying to recall something. "There will be more Ages to come. Again and again, the people of Ymir will rise to great heights, and the false gods will strike them down and start over with a remnant of the population."

Every muscle in Seth's body tensed. "Billions of people died but a few days ago. Are you telling me that billions more are yet to die?"

"That would be true with or without Empyrean," said the Starlit Empress. "I see the hurt in you, but I wish you to take heart in this, for Ymir is not like the rest of the universe, for this is the place of the One's prima materia. This planet houses adonium, and your former friends have only scratched the surface of what it can do. They do not yet know that it can anchor souls."

So much in what she said confused him.

The One? Prima materia?

"What do you mean 'anchor souls'?" he asked.

"Everywhere else in the universe, souls instantly pass into the next plane of existence when they taste death." The Empress opened her eyes, a smile forming on her lips. "But here on Ymir, the prima materia allows us to see beyond the dream, and in so doing stay in it a bit longer. It is their ark, in which they will wait out the false gods' destruction. Those people who died at Empyrean's hands, they are still here, in the depths of the underground. There they await a coming day of resurrection, at the time of the Third Genesis."

Seth opened his mouth to ask a question, but the Empress spoke first.

"Your colleagues called their work on this world the Genesis II Project, did they not?"

"They did." Seth scratched the back of his head.

"When the age of The Third Genesis comes, Ymir will be free of all false gods, idols, and pretenders. It will be a time of peace, and I, the Aeon in White, shall guide Ymir in its bright future."

"This is all very encouraging," said Seth, "but what has any of this to do with me? You said I had work to do."

"Indeed you do." The Empress rose from her throne and strode toward him. "The remnants who survived Empyrean's bombardment will need someone to lead them. At a time like this, when one's supposed gods destroy the world, there are only two conclusions a person can come to. The first is that mortals had turned so wicked that the gods had to destroy them. The second is that the gods are the ones who are wicked. You will guide those who embrace the latter explanation."

Seth smirked. "So, you want me to start a rebellion against Empyrean?"

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

"You want to start a rebellion against Empyrean," said the Empress. "Don't you? Isn't that why you wrote your book?"

"I..." Seth paused, considering his answer. "Yes, I suppose it is."

"And you have my blessing in your endeavor." She reached out and brushed a lock of dark hair back from his face. "You will often be frustrated, and your way will be fraught with pain, but because of you, hope will never burn out in Ymir. You once pretended to be the god of justice. Now it is time for you to bring justice to Ymir."

With hands on either side of his face, she guided him to look down so that she could place a kiss upon his forehead. An electric tingling sensation lingered at the spot where her lips touched his skin. Seth closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.

When he opened his eyes again, the Empress was gone, as was her jewel throne, and the forest had returned to the way it was before she appeared.

. . .

After taking some time to collect himself, Seth emerged from the forest to greet the others in the Sanctuary. The survivors gathered in front of him, staring with curious eyes. Shoftiel stood among them, wearing a worried expression.

Seth took a deep breath. "I have every intention of answering your questions. I will even pay for my crimes in any way you see fit. But first, I want a chance to say what needs to be said."

He paused, waiting for any objections. When he heard only the stillness of his Sanctuary, he continued, "Earlier, Shoftiel asked me if there was such a thing as justice. I said there is not. That wasn't true." He raised a hand to his chest, attempting to still his pounding heart. "Justice is an ideal, not a tangible thing. It exists as long as there are people who can envision it, imagine it, and strive for it. Right now, it lies dying with most of Ymir, but we will help it thrive and bloom out of the ashes of the old world."

"How?" asked someone in the crowd, his tone almost accusatory.

"We will start a rebellion against the false gods who did this, and one day they will pay for their crimes."

Murmuring spread through the crowd.

Shoftiel's worried expression grew worse. "Master... I mean, Seth, how do we fight against power like that? They laid waste to everything in less than a day, and they did it without setting food on Ymirian ground."

"We will find a way," said Seth. "All of us here survived using the strange magic of this world, and the reason the false gods decided to destroy Ymir was because they were afraid of what Ymirians might be capable of. In time, they will learn that they were right to be afraid, though dead wrong about how to handle it."

The drake, her scales shimmering, took two steps forward and said, "You're proposing we overthrow the very beings we worshipped for thousands of years. Where would we even begin with such an endeavor."

Seth gestured at their surroundings. "By turning this Sanctuary into a great city, where we will bring those who wish to stand with us. Here, we will survive everything they throw at us, and our numbers will grow, until we find a way to defeat our oppressors."

"What advantage could we possibly gain over them?" asked the drake. "We have adonium and magic, yes, but so do they."

"But you were born here on Ymir!" said Seth. "Don't you see? They can use magic, but magic is a part of your very being. Plants pull adonium dust out of the ground through their roots, then animals eat those plants, and you eat the animals. There's adonium in your blood, and it fundamentally shapes you." He turned to the rest. "So, let's get to work. Let's make this place a city of refuge for those who have had enough of the false gods' lies."

. . .

Following his speech to the survivors, Seth answered whatever questions they had for him, sharing many an uncomfortable truth. Much to his surprise, they did not seek to punish him for what he'd done, but rather rallied under his leadership.

Rather than simply use his control over the Sanctuary to build the grand city he envisioned in an instant, he insisted on working with his own two hands beside the other survivors. The only thing he used magic for was to provide raw materials and tools.

"We need to build this together," he said. "That way, it's something we made. A labor of love we shared."

When at last the Sanctuary had been turned into the beginnings of a city they could be proud of, Shoftiel approached Seth and asked, "So, what will we call this place? New Takhar?"

"I've been thinking about that a lot." Seth scratched under his chin and wiped sweat from his brow. "Back on Urth, we had this old story about someone called Prometheus. According to the myth, he defied a pantheon of tyrannical gods by giving knowledge to mankind, making them a threat to the gods." He gazed out upon the survivors as they walked among the houses they'd built. "I like to think that's what we're doing. So, let's call this place 'Prometheus City.'"

Thus began the Second Age of Ymir, with the seeds of Rebellion planted in fertile soil. In the centuries that followed, whenever things looked hopeless, whenever freedom and justice seemed too far out of reach, Seth remembered his strange encounter with the Starlit Empress and the promises she made.

The Third Genesis will come to fruition.