“Control, it’s a trick of the light. An illusion preached by kings and congress across the known universe and history. A crumbling capitol, a god forgotten, an eternal mountain worn to dust by the wind and rain.”

 

The Vaynegia created itself; a force alien to the universe and in contrast to all natural laws. Using its unreal power the ancient dragon Sellaya crafted great cities, spanning galactic clusters, and instruments that defied and defined the very fabric of reality. All came with a price. The universe strained and split and god itself was refracted into a rainbow of deities: the Ogigah wraiths. A soul divided cannot survive and schism blazed across all space-time.

To right this wrong, Sellaya attempted to summon the Vytorneyga; a force outside reality to erase the decay. In doing so the universe would heal and merge but it would also bring a cataclysm to end all life. The guardian dragons Sayth and Spiral fought against this fate and instead found a force of creation. In this convergence, the universe was reunited and the Ogigah destroyed. A waning rainbow. That was one year ago, today.

The absence of gods created a power vacuum. Reality bending technology and cities of the ancients waited like precious jewels for the taking. The blood king Phallun was the first to snatch away these miracles. He sought to resurrect his love from beyond the ghate, a dimension where souls pass from one life to the next. In doing so, he slaughtered mercilessly to tear it ajar and waged war across the universe and its pocket dimensions. Gaining the power of the ghate, none seemed able to oppose him. The war of life raged on.

 

 

1

A young girl, not more than the age of four by appearance, found herself in a dark room with no memory of who she was or how she’d gotten there.

“Hi, hi!” she shouted. Her sweet voice dripped off the drapes and dark stone walls like honey. It was cold, old, wet and cold. The stain glass windows offered but dying light, sharp and unwavering. They presented vivid triangles of violet and red encasing thorny roses drenched of blood. A lonely, sunken room of someone else’s memories. Only her echo answered back.

She stumbled nervously down the corridor. A black cloak and hood swaddled her tender frame and bright red hair. Robes of equal black adorned her chubby body. The rich carpet felt plush and lustrous beneath her bare feet. A massive rug over dark marble. It too was stitched of elegant roses and bordered in gold thread.

The path stretched on, long and narrow, and at its winding peak she could see a great double door of arch wood. At the end opposite stood a statue. A woman, marble blue and white and grey. She was dressed in a ball gown, drizzled of fringe, and atop her head was found a crown. Not a word passed her cold stone lips.

“Hello-y oh-y,” cried the girl. Nothing and no one; not a soul answered back.

She stumbled on towards the ebony doors. It was scary here, not immediately frightening but that tense static found skittering down the back of her neck. The patter of rain beat beyond the walls, light yet irregular. Her still breath seemed to shout in an otherwise silent hall. And that hall seemed to stretch forever. Or maybe it was her apprehension holding her back. For as unheard and unwelcoming as the room might be, she couldn’t help but wonder what monsters lie in wait on the far side of the foreboding doors.

That was not the case however as that very moment a women burst through the stain glass window, dribbling black trickles of ink. She was tall, tall as any would seem to the small child, and towered above her. Black, gold and violet robes covered her body save her face and in intricate patterns about them was found the mark of a crooked and squiggled “X” with two opposite corners longer than the others. A black cloak concealed her eyes but strains of long, crimson hair could be seen cascading down her shoulders. She walked forth on a muddy trail, each step a clap of thunder. The girl gasped.

“Come here child,” the woman cooed. She dashed forward and caught the girl by her collar, hoisting her off the ground. Her hood slipped away and the girl could see violet eyes burning like tiny bonfires. Five more eyes opened across her smooth and perfect face; two on either side and one on her forehead. Seven total, violet and alight. The woman held her free hand aloft and her many fingers grew long and sharp like knives toward the girl’s face.

Suddenly, some force burst in a boom of air knocking them apart and to the ground. The girl rolled across the floor.

“Run!” a voice said in her head. The girl pulled clumsily up and fled. Her stubby legs carried her to the great doors. She strained at one’s brass handle, higher than she was tall. Slowly it crept open. It weighed a terrible burden and creaked eerily with the motion.

The woman with many eyes seemed held down by some unseen force but broke free and flipped to her feet. She glided across the room, cruel fingers outstretched.

The girl slid through the doorway to a bright light on the other side. She toppled over.

“Close the door! Close the door!” the voice yelled. She kicked it shut with a hollowed slam and collapsed to the ground in tears.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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