Creation Of All Things

Celestial Plane – The Hall of Threads

The stars didn't move here. They watched.

The Hall of Threads was woven from the first words ever spoken by the Origin Gods, suspended in a realm between what was and what could never be. This was where prophecy lived—and where truths not meant for mortal eyes were born and buried.

Thea stood at its center, her white robes brushing against the flowing stream of reality that cut through the floor like liquid glass. Her silver eyes flickered violently, the strain of what she'd just seen trembling in her hands.

She whispered, voice trembling.

"The madman did it."

Around her, the ancient strands pulsed in discord, twisting and bending as if trying to untangle what even fate couldn't hold.

"We are in a big mess now."

A mirror formed in the air—no frame, no shimmer. Just a window, and within it… him.

Adam.

Moving.

Not with rage.

Not with sorrow.

But with purpose. With a clarity that made even the gods feel small.

Thea's breath caught. "He's no longer following the script."

She turned toward the shadow at the far side of the chamber. A figure stood in stillness, unmoving despite the roar of the prophetic stream.

Mael.

The God of Intent.

Not just divine—but precise.

A being who didn't act without design. Every word, every motion, was a declaration of truth.

And he stood there now, quiet, eyes half-closed. But even in his silence, power bled from him like heat from a dying star.

Thea's eyes narrowed.

"As if not seeing his future wasn't enough…"

Her voice cracked now—biting, cold.

"…he had to gain the power to see the future. And beyond. Absolute Sight. Chrono-Dominion. Even the title sounds like madness."

She pointed toward Mael, her voice trembling.

"This is your fault."

Mael's gaze didn't shift. He remained still.

Calm. As if he had expected this.

Thea continued, voice now filled with frustration.

"You befriended him. Joshua. Aurora. You infiltrated their circle. You studied them. Learned them. Smiled at them like a brother. When you should have uprooted them there and then. And now—"

She stepped closer.

"Now the man they trusted is the one they have to face."

Mael finally opened his eyes.

And the air folded.

His pupils were like inverted stars—gravity wells shaped like intent itself. Looking into them wasn't seeing—it was realizing.

"Don't mistake my silence for guilt, Thea," he said, voice smooth like stone dragged across crystal. "I walked beside him not to destroy him… but to understand why he keeps breaking the rules and surviving."

Thea scoffed.

"You mean you feared he might surpass you."

Mael didn't respond immediately.

He let the thought hang.

Then—

"He already has."

The silence after that was suffocating.

Mael stepped forward now, and the shadows bowed away from his form.

Not because he was divine.

But because he wasn't what they remembered.

This was no longer Mael the Nephilim.

No longer the friend.

No longer the brother.

This was the being behind the mask.

God-Form: Mael – The Architect of Dominance.

His robes tore away into fractal pieces, revealing an obsidian form etched with symbols no mortal tongue could hold. His body pulsed with intent—literal, weaponized purpose. Around his head spun a halo—not of light, but of law. Celestial edicts, orbiting him like divine satellites.

Each one whispered one rule:

Obey.

Thea staggered back. "You—You're forming your God-True Self?"

Mael raised his hand. With a simple gesture, the Hall of Threads obeyed. Reality paused. Even the stream of fate coiled around him like a leash waiting for a master.

"I must," Mael said, quiet. "He is coming."

And then, with unshakable calm:

"Adam is no longer a storm to be weathered. He's a world you must choose to live or die inside."

Thea trembled.

She felt it.

Even from here.

The echo of him—breaking closer.

Tearing through divine veils. Shifting closer to truth. To them.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, voice raw.

Mael turned to the stars above.

His voice dropped, calm and cruel.

"What I always intended."

"Teach the false gods that intent alone shapes reality."

He looked back.

Eyes burning.

"And remind Adam that he may see the future… but I am the reason it happens."

The Hall of Threads cracked.

Thea stepped back, biting her lip. Something in her chest felt wrong.

She had seen a thousand ends.

None were written like this.

And the worst part—

Now?

She wasn't sure which of the two monsters would win.

Ostarius – Deep Wing, Lower Archives

The light was low in the vault. Just enough to see, not enough to feel warm. The air smelled of dust, ink, and memory—like old battles still echoing in the stone.

Aurora stood in the middle of the war room's projection table, arms crossed, cloak trailing behind her like a shadow that didn't want to leave.

Her Eclipse Sight still refused to function. Every time she tried, it was like staring into static.

She hated it.

Kaiden was across the room, leaning over an ancient map etched with dimensional lines and ley pulses.

Joshua stood nearby, tapping the hilt of his blade against his palm—quiet. Restless.

Vael was upside down in a floating chair he summoned out of nowhere. "Anyone else feel like we're watching the beginning of a bad dream?"

Alice snapped at him from the other side of the table. "Not helping."

"I wasn't trying to."

Aurora finally spoke. Her voice was cold. Sharp.

"I still can't see anything."

The room went quiet.

Joshua looked up. "Not even fragments?"

She shook her head.

"No echoes. No forks. No timelines. Whatever erased the faction did more than wipe them… it silenced everything tied to them. It's not time magic. It's not dimensional corrosion." She looked at them now, her voice tightening. "It's something higher."

Kaiden frowned. "How high are we talking?"

Aurora didn't answer right away.

Then finally: "Think beyond gods."

Joshua muttered, "Great. Just what we needed."

Aria stepped into the room then, her eyes scanning the shifting glyphs on the archive wall. "I found something."

Everyone turned.

She placed a stone tablet onto the center seal. Light scanned across it, and then—an image hovered in the air.

A map.

But not of any known world.

It pulsed with inkblot voids, jagged pulses of energy arcing like nerves through a decaying brain.

"The Endlands."

Draken leaned forward. "I thought that was just a myth."

Veyrion shook his head. "It's where erasure magic bleeds into reality. A graveyard of failed dimensions and timelines the system tried to forget."

Joshua looked up at Aurora. "You said there were no futures left. What if they weren't erased?"

Aurora met his eyes.

And the thought clicked.

"What if they were dragged into the Endlands…" she said, breath slow. "…and buried there."

Kaiden stood straight. "So we're going in."

Vael whistled low. "I've never liked this plan."

Alice didn't even hesitate. "We've faced worse."

"No, we haven't," Vael replied, sitting up for once. "You don't understand what's inside the Endlands. It's not monsters. It's… fragments. Pieces of gods that failed. Things that never got born properly. The further you go in, the less real you become."

Aurora walked forward and touched the edge of the map. It warped slightly under her fingers. The pulse was faint… but it was there.

"We're going anyway."

Aria looked up. "Then we prepare. I'll rework our anchors. Anyone without an existential tether won't survive in there."

Kaiden smirked. "Guess I should stop drinking Vael's reality-warping tea."

"Please do."

Joshua turned toward the large arch-door behind them. "Do we tell Adam?"

Aurora's eyes narrowed, thoughtful.

"He already knows."

She stepped back from the map, her voice low, almost to herself.

"He always does now."