Harsh seas buffet jagged rocks below a snaking road. Steel railing wrapping around the cliff side tens of metres above the crashing waves, the growl of an engine dominates the whistle of rain and wind.
A cherry red Mustang cuts down the cliff side road, a true collector’s item in this age. Precise in its turns, its roar intensifying at every straight. With white knuckles and a piercing glare, the wheel is thrown at every corner. “Don’t you fucking do it, If I so much as see the lights flicker, I’ll come for you in the afterlife dammit!” His voice horse, a man’s desperate plea to a lifelong friend and mentor.
The man’s reply arrives faint amongst the cacophony of sounds. “Remember not to blink, you’ll miss it otherwise.” Like dousing a flame, all noise is enveloped by a crack.
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“The storm is getting really bad, don’t you think?” Amanda’s comment accompanied the patter of rain against the office windows.
Glancing away from a blueprint suspended in the air, towards the green and grey clouds above, “It was unusual to begin with, I’m certain they scheduled zero cloud coverage for today.” Cleo pondered; her eyebrow raised.
The tower was hardly an office, instead closer to an atrium. The space spanning dozens of metres in every direction, two large circular lounges sat half a step below the floor, adjacent the largest window in the tower, spanning from one end to the other. A quick glance would capture a plethora of silver spires and golden ribbons of light stretching across the landscape, parted down the left by sandy coasts and a winding highway devoid of traffic in the wake of the storm.
A multitude of star systems and planetary bodies littered Amanda’s workspace. Whereas Cleo orchestrated a lightshow overlaying a single planet, seemingly with one half in the cold abyss of space, and the other swallowed in greens and blues. An otherwise cold, authoritarian atmosphere was interrupted by the orange of cushions atop off-white lounges, and the glow of the holograms above them.
“It may only get worse,” Jolting them from their observations, a gentle, baritone voice carried over the sound of Amanda’s ‘Stuff I like’ playlist leaking through the PA system. Descending from the executive suite, which hanged from a complex architecture of silver supports above the atrium, an Archon of creation in all but name stepped off an obsidian black staircase, its edges gilded in cyan light, “you two should be with your families when that time comes.” The heavy blacks and golden accents of his suit presented themselves flawlessly, without a wrinkle or speck of dust, Cleo found it complimented his sharp features well; she remained dumbfounded at how not a single black hair of his had lost its colour, despite knowing he had lived well before even her great-grandmother had.
The stairs fell apart, returning to their orbits about the atrium as the Archon walked between the two designers. As the two made to reply, the clouds above began to roil and churn, lightening suffusing their form.
“Anyone’d think you’re letting us go home early saying that.” Amanda said, her playful attempt struggling with the tense atmosphere.
Cleo’s teeth barely showing under a forced smile, glancing at Amanda before returning to the Archon. “I guess I could go and visit my brother, it has been hard finding the time lately.” There was very little reaction to her thought, he almost seemed to ignore them.
“Jerekai, how has he been, recovering I hope?” He turned his head away from his mile-long stare outside, half facing her while showing a rare moment of interest in their outside lives. It had been months since she had first spoken to him about her brother, Jerekai, yet he still remembered his name. Though rare, these moments of compassion felt truly genuine.
Cleo perked up, “He’s doing ‘swell’, or so he says, still looks like a sundried tomato though…” She joked, recounting the last few weeks catching up with her brother over Holochat.
At times, a smirk even fought its way onto the Archon’s placid exterior, having now turned to face them, relaxing on a small bench made from the obsidian stairs again gathering below him.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“…weren’t you going to chat with Nylan tonight, Amanda?” Cleo’s snarky comment dashing Amanda’s focus.
“It’s only the third date, I told you not to mention it or it’ll turn into somethin’ serious, Conny!” she returned the dig in kind, Cleo hated the nickname.
Behind the two’s bickering, the Archon laughed. Like an earthquake shattering the air, the pair froze from the once-in-a-lifetime display. “I’m glad to have known you two for the time I have, good memories are fleeting after so long here. Now, you have just that waiting for you two, hopefully before the storm hits.” A disarming charm exuded from the man, before he made his way over to the window, eyes falling back to the scenery below.
They shared a look, processing the odd feeling. “Oh, okay, we’ll see you tomorrow, sir?” Amanda spoke for them both, a strange compulsion suddenly disappearing.
“Enjoy your night, Amanda, Cleo.” Was all he said, the lights dimming while the lifts doors slid open at the end of the atrium.
Amanda’s steps bounced from the walls, traveling further towards the doors, Cleo following close behind. As they made their way into the lift, the doors gliding to a close, Cleo observed the man once more, his silhouette backlit by green and grey from the storm beyond. A steady feeling of weightlessness was all the indication given of their descent.
“Shit, I forgot my ring.” Dejection apparent on Cleo's face.
“Just grab it tomorrow, no biggie.” Her friend’s words did little to comfort her. A mix of emotion from the chat with the Archon just now, and the thought of finally being able to visit her brother, warred with the frustration she felt at forgetting her ring.
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Bathed in a green glow, the two designers having left hours ago, the Archon gazed at the clouds above. His steely focus went beyond what the layman could see, the thunderhead hardly an obstacle as he observed the shifting of space behind. The Archon’s chest deflated, a steady breath bringing a subdued restlessness to bare. His porcelain like fingers tapped the keys of an invisible piano along his thigh, the actuators running the length of his forearm, an orchestra of sophisticated engineering, each piece playing its part flawlessly.
His eye’s pulsed orange, the deep browns drowned in colour for a moment as his chest rises again, hesitation breaking his silent melody.
“Rellor,” like the crackle of fire, The Archon’s austere friend, Lyle, addressed him with all the compassion of a redbrick wall, “what’s going on, I’ve just gotten back from Tyr’s performance, and there are at least a few dozen alerts and emails from the Chain Facilities about spacial anomalies, even temporal overlaps! Our big stormy friend isn’t the only one either, the climate centre is telling me they’re popping up all over the sector. What do they mean ‘intangible’, Rellor?” His accusatory tone would have hurt to hear if the man’s suspicions weren’t true.
The Archon of Creation, known as Rellor by those who didn’t venerate him, calmed himself. He knew this moment would come, though the feelings of apprehension caught him off-guard. Had he made a mistake, or are these emotions only showing themselves now because he can finally put a number on the time he had left?
“The temporal overlaps are unexpected. Though, the intangibility is no surprise because the storms aren’t real.” Rellor felt he answered Lyle’s real question, along with a nugget of truth.
There was only silence on the other end. It was at this moment Rellor noticed the Fabric finally weaving through the distorted space overhead.
“I’m coming down there, I’m getting dressed and I’m coming down there, then you’re going to take me through exactly what’s been done, and then you’re going to undo it with those ridiculous powers of yours.” Lyles trepidation was apparent. He had a family after all, a son, Tyr, and a husband who Rellor liked almost as much.
“You won’t make it, Lyle” Rellor said.
Lyle’s rushed pace could be heard on the other end, doors slamming, laboured breaths, and finally the thundering roar of an engine. “I get it, I get you’ve always been the observer, always the one to listen and never speak, but right now you need to find the words. That idea of yours to ‘mend’ the universe, your ambition was getting ahead of you, friend.”
A sombre feeling waded over Rellor, it had been too long. “Do you remember when we first met, Lyle. I had thought you a boy without a home…”
Despite the situation, Lyle let his friend reminisce over the old days, if only for a moment.
“…everything has led to this, my good friend. The scope of things cannot be comprehended, even by myself. Do not confuse my vagueness as an excuse, it truly cannot be understood as we are.” Rellor said.
Lyle’s voice raged, “You know as well as I do that’s bullshit!”
The lull on the other end was a skewer to Rellor’s heart, “The fabric has adjusted, I recommend you look to the sky, it will be quite the light show.” The Archon felt a heat rise in his chest, anticipation building. The storm was a shade darker when accompanied by the howls of Lyle.
“Don’t you fucking do it, If I so much as see the lights flicker, I’ll come for you in the afterlife dammit!” Lyle screamed.
Rellor was lost in the undulating sky above, space itself morphing unnaturally, gossamer sheens reaching from the heavens to consume this world. “Remember not to blink, you’ll miss it otherwise”, was his only reply, before everything went white.