In that fateful instant when I discovered my pregnancy, I was immediately struck with the realization that this was utterly unacceptable. The existence burgeoning within my womb held no spark of admiration.
The Avesta whispered to me, branding it as a repugnant abomination, an entity that stood
apart from both myself and my husband.
An overwhelming wave of revulsion washed over me, threatening to bring forth my very bile. Even if swarms of wriggling larvae had taken residence within, it could scarcely compare to the repugnance I felt now. Worse still, it continued to thrive, feasting upon my flesh and sanguine life force. Each passing moment, as I allowed this harrowing state of affairs to persist, became an indelible mark of unspeakable shame upon my soul.
With unwavering resolve, I resolved to terminate this fetus, to sever its tenuous connection to life. Yet, as I poised myself to act, a flicker of doubt stayed in my hand... It was not the pangs of maternal guilt that hindered me, but rather a single lingering uncertainty.
Would it meekly acquiesce to its own demise?
Perhaps it was perilous to judge this being of the other side solely through the prism of our mortal sensibilities, deeming it utterly helpless. Fear gnawed at my core, anxious that it might sense my intention to extinguish it, leaving me uncertain of how it might retaliate.
Thus, I must maintain an icy composure. Emotions must not hold sway. I must embody the sagacity of a seasoned warrior, guided by an unyielding strength of will. I must discern the optimal strategy to corner this adversary and emerge triumphant.
With my decision thus resolved, I immersed myself in contemplation, weighing each potential course of action... And at long last, a singular truth crystallized before me,
resplendent in its unwavering clarity.
Standing upon the terrace of the castle, I gaze into the vast expanse below. Like a voracious
abyss, the precipice unveils itself, a maw of stygian darkness.
Into its unfathomable depths, I shall plunge, relinquishing my own existence, while simultaneously obliterating the abomination that festers within. Through the sacrificial
offering of my own life, I shall assuredly avert an impending cataclysm.
Undeniably, a pang of resentment and sorrow grips my heart, for the path I now tread diverges from the promise I had made to my husband, failing to safeguard the hearth in his absence. Nevertheless, I am his wife. I yearn to embody valor in pursuit of a brighter future, just as he imperils himself upon the battlefield. And when the time comes, when we arereunited in a realm far more resplendent, may he shower me with praise for my unwavering efforts, and my fidelity to his expectations. May he enfold me in his embrace.
"I love you," I whisper tenderly, as I surrender myself to the abyss.
A cacophony of wind unleashes its primal roar, enveloping me in a cloak of impenetrable darkness that engulfs my field of vision. Fear grips me, its icy tendrils wrapping around my very being. But in mere moments, it shall all come to pass. I will not grant it the satisfaction of its inaugural wail. And in that fleeting instant, as I find solace in the certainty of my own demise, and in my ultimate victory...
"Thank you, Mother. This shall mark my first kill," I hear it taunt from within, intoxicated by a purpose distinct from my own, yet undoubtedly grand in its malevolence...
"I love you," I whisper, as my skull connects with the unforgiving ground, the pain of impact
paling in comparison to the overwhelming despair that engulfs me.
***
And in that instant, my eyes flutter open.
If I had just experienced the culmination of my existence, only to regain consciousness the next moment, does this mean I have ventured into the realm of the afterlife? The reality of my situation eludes me for but a fleeting moment, swiftly dispelled as I shake my head in disbelief. For I have just been reborn, and the being that occupied my previous form is not truly me.
As I survey my surroundings once more, I discern a landscape eerily reminiscent of a hellish abyss. Yet, I remain unmistakably myself. Firstly, the length of my hair is in stark contrast to that of the recent mother within my consciousness, and everything around me consists of tangible, physical objects.
Swords and spears lie here, accompanied by an assortment of tools, contraptions, and enigmatic ornaments... A myriad of items resemble living beings in shape or substance, yet none of them stir or emit a sound. They do not exude the aura of someone's remains; if I
were to encapsulate this sensation, they resemble discarded refuse.
In the midst of these towering mountains of garbage, stretching beyond the horizon, I find myself seated in solitude. And still, the piles continue to grow. Like colossal whirlwinds or towering edifices, several undulating tendrils extend from heaven to earth. If one were to compare them to anything, they would resemble waterfalls. High above, amidst the depths of space, there exists something that births these overwhelming objects upon our world. Moreover, I can perceive it with unaided eyes.
Enormous... no, that is an understatement.
It is an indescribably, almost comically immense star, one that defies the limits of human perception. Its sight alone strains the capabilities of the eye. If this is its dump, it is not
difficult to surmise what I must be.
Perhaps I am the star's excretion, its castoffs, or even its offspring. It matters not. What is essential is that I am undoubtedly not devoid of life.
As this realization settles within me, I am struck by another profound truth. It is akin to a rule governing this realm, a principle that shapes the very fabric of the universe. I perceive my position in relation to that of the star.
[So, you are already acquainted with the Avesta?] a voice calls out, relieving me of the burden of inquiry.
[Thankfully, you need not expend your energy.]
"Thank you for the compliment," I reply, my voice infused with a mix of curiosity and respect.
"Pray tell, what should I address you as?"
The spectacle of an eye unfurling upon the surface of an immense star, its voice resounding with such power as to reverberate through the entire world, fails to elicit astonishment within me. I comprehend its nature. Aside from its colossal scale, it is merely a living entity.
There, it merely parts its mouth and extends its tongue. Planets, suspended in close proximity, are ensnared and devoured in a methodical procession.
Perchance the planet on which I stand moves in correlation with it, which renders its motion seemingly stagnant. It seems we traverse the boundless expanse of space at an
ineffable velocity, its vital rhythms akin to a shoal of migrating fish. It appears that its structure is such that the more it consumes, the more it burgeons. The stars encircling it appear no larger than insignificant insects in comparison. I surmise that for ordinary beings, this is naught but a cataclysm of cosmic proportions—a gluttonous hypergiant heralding the annihilation of any extraterrestrial life form.
"You belong to the 'other side,' do you not?" I inquire.
"If I were to designate the side to which I belong as the right, then you, sir, are a formidable representative of its complete antithesis—the left... Moreover, you hold a prominent standing among its ranks, do you not? There are said to be seven of you, yet I am inclined to believe that even among them, you enjoy a special reputation."
This world stands bifurcated, divided into factions of left and right. It matters not whether one dubs them light and dark, white and black, water and oil—the crux lies in the
arrangement itself, compelling both sides to wage incessant warfare.
I comprehend this newfound truth, which I now recognize as the Avesta, with a sense of instinctive certitude. It manifests within me as an unassailable truth, engendering neither queries nor discontent. By all means, it is my duty to bring about the demise of this behemoth, and conversely, it is his to annihilate me. This resolute dualism, I surmise, is
intelligible to others.
"So, we stand as adversaries, yet we shall not act in haste, correct?" I postulate.
"You professed a preference for conserving your energy; were it your inclination, you would have disposed of me long ago. Observe for yourself the situation in which I find myself."
I raise my clenched fist in a feeble gesture toward the gargantuan entity, realizing full well its futility. And given his lack of intent, coupled with my constrained ability, it appears that discourse remains our sole option.
"I hold the conviction that names wield an irreplaceable significance within any conversation," I assert.
[I have no interest in such matters,] he retorts.
[Address me however you please, even if you were to deem me your creator…]
"In that case," I declare, "I shall designate you as my father."
incline my head in acknowledgment, welcoming his words with a sense of profound reason. It is undeniably part of his intricate design that I possess the faculties of speech and
rationality, despite my recent emergence into existence.
The Avesta, perhaps, offered me glimpses of the world's structure, but it did not unveil all its intricacies. It becomes apparent that my assumption, attributing my ease of understanding to my father's influence, was not unfounded.
"I have witnessed a parent engaged in conflict with their offspring before, so it is not an unprecedented occurrence,"
I remark.
"However, I fail to comprehend the necessity of such a display..."
Furthermore, I struggle to fathom why my father chose to bring me into existence. Why bestow life upon a child who, sooner or later, harbors desires of your own demise? If I were an unsuccessful experiment, he could have promptly eradicated me instead of engaging in conversation.
[That is your purpose,] he asserts.
[I am uncertain as to what precisely you observed, but you possess the ability to delve into the thoughts and memories of others, experiencing their perspectives. Though it may prove cumbersome at times, once you become accustomed to it, you can wield control over it with your Commandment.]
"Sharing?"
I involuntarily echo, swiftly grasping the meaning behind his words. Indeed, I partook in a mother's point of view. However, lacking familiarity, my waves surged forth
indiscriminately, dissolving the boundary between us.
The concept of a Commandment eludes me for now, and I shall table that issue for a later time. It is highly likely that it pertains to the Avesta, and eventually, all shall become clear.
Presently, I possess an inquiry unrelated to such matters.
"You imply that this ability holds tremendous importance to you?" I inquire.
[Indeed. That is precisely why I brought you into being,] he responds
His words carry an undertone that suggests I am devoid of merit beyond this singular function. Curiously, I harbor no resentment towards this notion, as I do not harbor any
illusions regarding my own capabilities.
[A few days ago, I terminated individuals aligned with your faction. To be precise, I released some of them from their existence. However, I did not act on a capricious whim.]
"Because empty tasks hold no appeal for you. Naturally, there existed a purpose and rationale behind your actions."
[Indeed. The crux of the matter is that I failed to comprehend them. That is why I yearn to attain understanding.]
My father utters these words in a tone that suggests it is a commendable sentiment, but in truth, his mistake is glaringly obvious. We and they are fundamentally different.
Mutual comprehension of these entities remains an insurmountable barrier, for it is an
inherent aspect of our very creation.
[They relayed the following to me. Our collective prayers shall engender hope. Its radiance shall yield a miracle that will inevitably vanquish you... Yet, I struggle to grasp its essence entirely. What exactly constitutes a miracle? What does hope truly entail? How does one measure 'all of us'?]
My father continues to grumble, his disquiet reverberating through the cosmos, igniting a flame from which both heaven and earth are consumed. The spectacle unfolds akin to a workshop where annihilation takes shape.
[Specify a number. If the intent is to manifest a miracle, how many of 'all of you' are required? How many prayers must be uttered? How many wishes expressed? And how
many tears shed? What purpose is there in speaking in abstract terms? Show me the composition of courage. Offer a numerical equivalent of determination.]
I pause momentarily, allowing the weight of his words to settle in the air.
[I conveyed this very sentiment to them, but alas, they failed to comprehend my perspective.]
Curiosity tinged with skepticism emanates from my father's gaze as he contemplates his
query.
"And how did you arrive at an answer, then?"
[There was no alternative but to embark on the arduous task of counting them myself. I meticulously calculated the expanse of space under their dominion, quantified the
multitude of planets held within their grasp, and estimated the presence of sentient beings capable of even the most minimal mental activity... The tally amounted to approximately one galaxy. What are your thoughts on such a figure?]
He deliberates for a moment, his contemplation manifesting in a measured response.
"I cannot definitively say. Perchance, it is a considerable number. At the very least, it is no triviality," I concede, a flicker of acknowledgment present in my voice.
"If such an amalgamation of desires were to converge, their collective power would be
formidable, or so it appears to me."
[However, throughout my existence, I have laid waste to five hundred galaxies. Do not mistake my words for falsehood. I hold an aversion to deceit. I comprehend that my existence revolves around numbers, thus I place great value upon precision.]
I harbor no doubt regarding his proclamation, for my father speaks with unwavering sincerity. It may be uncommon to witness a personification of violence engaging in a
discourse about their actions, yet it serves as a testament to the vast disparity in our existence as sentient beings. While humans may perceive a galaxy as an immense entity, my father regards it as nothing more than a resource or sustenance, viewed through a practical lens.
[The magnitude of what I have consumed far surpasses their notion of 'all,'] he continues, his conviction unwavering.
[This incontrovertible fact dictates that they hold no grounds to demand from a position of strength, would you not agree? I harbor no intention of diminishing the significance of their prayers and the like, but I hope they refrain from minimizing my own existence.]
"You speak truthfully," I interject, acknowledging the equilibrium in the conditions set forth
by both sides.
"You have grown by consuming the entirety of 'all' sadness. Even if hope and despair differ
in their vectors, they are inherently equivalent."
[Indeed,] he concurs, his voice tinged with a note of triumph.
[Hence, my victory was an inescapable outcome, mathematically proven. The facts were not in their favor, and yet, inexplicably, they refused to acknowledge it. They vilified me, branding me a deranged individual, as if I had uttered the unfathomable.]
In his grievance, my father poses the question of who truly embodies madness. While I possess no obligation nor inclination to console him, the direction of our conversation is gradually becoming clearer. However, there remains a crucial point I must clarify before delving further.
"And what is your perspective on this matter? Do you view my comrades as pitiable fools, incapable of basic calculation?"
I inquire, seeking insight into his thoughts.
[No], he responds, his voice carrying a measured tone.
[They possess a logic of their own, one that eludes my comprehension. If I were to dismiss it as nonsensical, I would forego any opportunity for personal growth. Similarly, our side perceives their viewpoint as madness, for all that is unknown has the potential to pose a threat.]
And so, these words are spoken without any hidden agenda by a being that now likely encompasses the vastness of the entire universe. Alongside my astonishment at this realization, a profound sense of awe takes hold of me.
Undeniably, it is a terrifying prospect. Devoid of knowledge about the limits of his own abilities, my father can only forge ahead with an alarming innocence. In a typical conflict, no
one would stand a chance of catching up to him, let alone halting his advance.
"And that is precisely what I require... isn't it?"
I utter, attempting to organize the information we have gathered.
My function, enabling me to delve into the thoughts of others, alongside the power borne from universal prayers. My father approached it through the lens of arithmetic, refuting it with his sheer numerical advantage, but my comrades refused to accept his conclusion.
Both sides fail to comprehend one another, each considering their own perspective to be the correct one, leading to an unending cycle of violence and death. And now, I find myself standing amidst them, aligned with their interests in this particular scenario. Answering my father's question becomes imperative, serving as proof of the truth sought by my comrades.
Thus, I require...
[You must obtain a miracle,] he declares.
[Touch upon their prayers, delve into their essence and reveal their hidden meaning. Is it truly a matter of mere material advantage, or does a supernatural element lie beneath... You must uncover it. You have no right to remain ignorant. Acquire knowledge, for I shall consume you.]
A colossal entity pours its entire being into this command. In response, I nod in affirmation. Yes, it shall be done. Engaging with humanity, acquainting myself with individuals, and amassing their thoughts and emotions, I shall derive the equation of a miracle. I fail to comprehend why they deny the power of arithmetic even when faced with annihilation from an adversary boasting unimaginable material superiority.
As of now, with limited interaction with my comrades, much remains unknown to me.
Therefore, I shall seek them out. And then, I shall learn from them. Discovering a hero capable of cleaving the very fabric of the universe, I shall return here, and then...
"I will end you without fail," I respond.
As soon as these words leave my lips, the world itself undergoes a disorienting upheaval.
[Let it be so.]
My father acknowledges, placing great faith in my eventual return.
[I hold high expectations for you, my daughter.]
The jarring shift that upends the heavens and earth lifts me aloft amidst a tumultuous surge of debris. In this weightless state, I struggle to discern whether I am falling or floating.
With no time to regain my composure, I am expelled into the depths of outer space, devoid of any attire. It is then that I finally grasp the understanding that I have no need for
respiration, and my anatomical composition enables me to endure the harshest cold and radiation unscathed.
...Ah, so this is it. I am not truly a living entity. Though my appearance may resemble that of a human, at my core, I am no different from the garbage that surrounded me.
I am a soulless and lifeless instrument, nothing more than a tool.
Undoubtedly, my father scatters his numerous offspring in this manner. In accordance with his aesthetic preferences, beliefs, and various enigmatic judgments, it matters not whether it holds meaning or not. He persists in creating and discarding, utterly indifferent to who may come across his creations. Regardless of the consequences that may ensue.
Yes, it is the epitome of irresponsibility, but such is the privilege of the mighty. After all, no one can impede him.
As much as I may have declared my intent to stop him, I now realize that I am but one of the few children who hold some significance in his eyes.
While he expressed his hopes for me, even without his expectations, my determination remains unyielding. The world is arranged in such a way that my father and I are destined to clash, and in this battle, we must strive for victory.
Around my increasingly distant, yet still dauntingly colossal father, a multitude of massive planets orbit. Like migratory fish rushing past me from all sides, they form an elegant
procession. There appear to be approximately fifty of them, each possessing the same characteristics as the central star—unthinkable monstrosities, ceaselessly multiplying and growing in size. This congregation of predatory planets, I have dubbed it theAnnihilation Star Cluster.
Time is of the essence before they devour the entire universe before the power of the left side eradicates the right. The weight of responsibility upon me is immense. I must address my aimless drift. I shudder to contemplate the consequences of wandering through space for thousands of years; the notion is far from amusing.
Perhaps the Commandment holds the answer... My father insisted that I understand its essence, even if it merely aids me in fulfilling my function more effectively. If that is the case, then let me embark on unraveling this mystery.
I will seek out intelligent life forms, establishing resonance with their consciousness to ascertain their precise location. Subsequently, it appears that I shall endeavor to navigate
toward them.
My physical form is resilient, so even if exhaustion takes its toll, I am unlikely to succumb. There is no time for respite, thus I swiftly set about my task. Closing my eyes, I contemplate for a fleeting moment before opening them once more, initiating the first step.
"My name is... Quinn."
First and foremost, I must assign myself a name. Though speaking within the vacuum of space may be futile, it feels dignified to give voice to it. My purpose revolves around
communication, necessitating adherence to its fundamental principles. Ultimately, I possess the agency to designate my own ego, and by understanding myself, I shall undoubtedly uncover the depths of the Avesta that elude me. I comprehend the nature of this Commandment.
"I have adopted this name from an unfortunate mother. And even though I am not her, I believe it is my duty to inherit her posthumous will. After all, I stand as her ally."
The battle between parent and child... one that 'Quinn' may have lost, but one that I shall emerge victorious from. This name shall be etched into the annals of the right side's
triumph.
Can you hear me, my comrades-in-arms…
Where are you, children of hope...
I yearn to touch upon your desires, to witness the radiance of your light…
Praying, searching, drifting through the expanse of space, repeating words that I shall undoubtedly echo many more times...
I declare my existence, shaping a prayer for a hero and conveying it to "all."
My name is Quinn. I am the companion to your miracle. May our collaboration be endearing and fruitful.