In a random location in deep space, an old man in a worn toga, stood; starring into seemingly distant nothingness with a puzzled look on his face. Strange as it was for a genuine mortal man to be standing in space, stranger still was what was happening around him.
A tentacle made of translucent maggots dripping milky slime seemingly peeled from reality. More squirming tentacles emerged, the mere sight of which was enough to make hundreds of trillions of mortal men and women explode in showers of blood.
Γ Never have I ever seen such a filthy soul. ˩
The sentiment radiated from across all of deep space, proof that the tentacles were embedded within every single thread of reality across the universe. The old man though? He kept silent for a minute. Then raised his knuckles, ready to bring it down; when suddenly, the threads of reality formed a wall around it preventing him from moving it further. The scroll of time refused to record the disposition of his knuckles through space, stories were woven by fate —exciting bards of the knuckle never descending, space stretched and curved back into itself trapping the knuckle, errors and inconsistencies in known and unknown laws and constants of physics formed a sphere around the knuckles —Overkill to stop an old mortal man from moving.
The old man sighed and kindly spoke to the threads of reality, “I only wish to teach the child a lesson. Please, let me through.”
Suddenly, all threads of reality not only went back to normal, but they also gladly enhanced and transmitted the impact of the knuckles to every squirming worm embedded in the threads of reality all across the universe.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Γ “Hey! That hurt!” ˩ the aggrieved sentiment once again radiated, ignoring the fact that the threads of reality and all laws within them just betrayed it, Γ How someone so violent became a Saint is beyond me! ˩
“It’s ill mannered labeling people you hardly know.” The old man lectured, still looking into deep space. The old man was peering into the Soul-World where a soul was drifting at a steady pace. The soul was strange in it’s composition and was being held together by a leaf from the tree of life.
After some thought, the old man shrugged and let it be. The tree of life’s affairs were its own and though the soul was indeed very strange in an unsettling way, he decided to simply observe. He had to admit though, for a mortal to resemble creatures from Sheol yet its innocence being plain in his eyes made his heart ache. As a parting gift, he asked the threads of reality to protect the thousand broken pieces that desperately clung to the soul along it’s journey. In his eyes, they were all children walking a horrendously difficult path and he hoped from the bottom of his heart that they didn’t give up.
He turned around and space gladly parted before him, leading him to a quaint cabin on a hilltop in a small farming village.
“Thank you, old chap” he said as the space behind him shrunk.
Deep in space, the distortions of the squirming tentacles receded and the laws settled back to normal.
————
image [https://github.com/DAN-BIWOTT/DAN-BIWOTT.github.io/blob/b2ee9aee6e4230656ebcbe6254020eb1f0b1fc99/assets/svg/img.png?raw=true]
Echoes from Eden
[ Rise, Sire of a Thousand Young ]
[ Rise, Chosen of The Tree of Life ]