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When the universe was born, there were no creatures around to sing praise to its creator - Her hands weaved through nothing to create something, and the something moved towards Her warm, loving light. The something split into two, then three - three brothers that twisted and grabbed for her embrace. Their first steps were taken together and quickly grew discordant, as without any guidance, they were left on their own. The creator coiled, supporting Her first sons as gently as possible (for they were oh so fragile), and quickly, they grew. Time was the first to open his eyes, for he was the first born, with Gravity and Space quickly following suit - they clung to the eldest for support. When the universe was new, the family thrived, and the Base grew warm with play.

A threat - the children were turned into soldiers. The creature of opposites, a King to rival the Queen, grew ever present, intent on lashing out and claiming the new universe as His own. She roared in defiance and sent the trio to attack, a war growing in the fields they once cherished as playgrounds, each was struck and screamed out for help. The war was quick - only a few moments, a few breaths, and then it was all over. Each was struck down and crippled - Time, blinded; Gravity, broken; and Space, poisoned. In retaliation, the Mother stepped from Her throne, head bowed in respect to the new ruler - only to cut through the beast's body once He approached Her. He was tossed to the depths and sealed away and She turned to Her children, crystals falling from Her eyes in mourning. Taking their broken bodies in Her arms, She returned to the throne and placed them in Stasis to heal. Space did not awaken for a long, long time.

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THIS WAS THE FIRST OF A LINE OF LIES FED.

Space awoke with a start to an empty universe - a universe devoid of light and a place of absolute null. Within this empty empty universe existed another being - a being of nothing, nowhere, nowhen. It twisted, coiled, and writhed, spitting and spilling its vitriol to an audience of no one - an audience of one, now. One singular being surrounded by an expanse of nothing - there was no expanse to be had. It was infinitely large and infinitely small all at the same time, yet it was contained.

The being of nothing turned its massive 'head' and stared its multitude of eyes into Space's own, and at that moment, all was understood.

"YOU HAVE A NEW DIRECTIVE."

Space awoke with a start in a pure white hallway, immediately meeting his brother's eyes. There was a chirped greeting and the pair went on with their lives, jobs set out for them as usual. There was no reason to celebrate the god's healthy return - it was mandated that he would survive.

Everything was hazy. One moment they would be practicing for any potential war - and the other they would be in the armory. There was a rich history here, rows and rows of weaponry lining the walls as flower petals lay scattered along the ground. Space blinked, and something had happened.

Something he couldn't quite recall. Something that made his stomach pitch in a way that was wholly new, his thoughts slipping into sludge.

Rubbing at his eyes, he found his hands were slicked with blood light all the way up to his shoulders - licking his lips, he found more, and glancing over his body, he found he was covered. Unsure and nervous, he moved to investigate his comatose brother, his sights settling on a sibling whose face had been shredded to nothing, an eye missing from its socket. A bad feeling began to settle. The light was dimming. The light was dimming and he had done something horrible, he was sure, he Knew.

He Knew and he was Terrified.

He did not receive a fair trial for his actions, despite running and crying to the Mother they so deeply worshiped. No, despite carrying his brother's unmoving body and demanding help, he was still banished, branded a traitor and cast to the nothing - a merciful punishment, for the other option was Containment.

He spent eons fleeing, the Hounds snapping and clawing after him as he cried and cried to come home, anything, anything to return to Her side and live as he should've, but his cries were never answered. He never did see his family again, not in any form that he recalled from the early days. No, he was bound to a life of solitude.

It didn't change until he stumbled upon a planet with life - originally only a planet that consisted of small organic life forms. Approximately rabbit-sized and photosynthesizers, he found solace in their company. He changed his form to suit them, and spent many centuries living amongst them. From them, he learned peace, for there was no need for war.

When that species died off, as many were bound to do as he would soon learn, he moved on to another planet. It took a while, but he did eventually find a planet containing an aquatic species similar to dragons, yet these moved on six massive flippers. They spoke in a highly advanced language, their entire culture centered around bartering. Adapting, he joined their culture. From them, he learned compassion, for everyone reached understandings and no one was left behind.

This cycle continued, each community teaching him more and more until he eventually stumbled upon Earth. At first, his arrival sparked a panic in those who had witnessed him fall from the sky. It was 1912 and the world was gearing up for hell - yet he was none the wiser. His first steps into human life were unsteady, as he was not treated kindly; he did not speak their language and as such was a stranger in a strange land, though he was quick to learn it. Slowly, steadily, he found himself entering humanity's circle, and soon he found himself involved in hell itself.

IT WAS FROM THEM THAT HE LEARNED WAR.

With all he'd learned in mind, he left Earth, a plan in his head - he returned to every planet he'd visited prior and gathered up as many recruits as he could, as peacefully as he could. There was no force applied; those who joined his ranks joined of their own accord, and they were treated as friends and comrades. Everyone knew eachother and there was a synergy created as they all moved towards a united goal.

All he wanted was to talk - but She would not allow it.

His arrival to the Base was not met with a friendly hello. Instead, they demanded he leave, or else they would be forced to attack. He didn't know raising his hand for their attention would be seen as a sign of attack - the Base opened fire, killing everyone but him in an instant.

It was from them that he learned one last thing:

REMORSE.

He never got a chance to explain himself - to explain he never meant anything by it, that he was sorry, that he was scared and alone and just wanted to come home - that he just wanted a family again. They denied him completely, the first thought of "they do not love me" seeding itself in his brain. He escaped that day, barely, but the cycle only continued - he brought less and less people with him until he arrived with no one but himself.

He didn't want anyone else to die.

Even then, he was labelled a threat and attacked without mercy. However, this time he didn't escape. White tendrils ensnared him and dragged him Under instead, the 'water' of the base flooding his senses as he was pulled deeper and deeper, down into an Abyss he couldn't understand or even begin to imagine. He couldn't see from how dark it was, yet closing his eyes only brought brief but intense flashes of pain, neon colors lighting up his sights. It was painful to look at.

In the depths of these visions, he saw something move - something squirm just under the surface - he wrenched his eyes open and saw nothing once more. That was when he began to struggle, wings vigorously pumping as his claws scratched for anything to hold onto - the 'water' moved like sludge, seeming to thicken in places to hold him still. It wanted him to stay, stay forever and never leave - never leave me never leave me-

He broke the surface with a heaving gasp clawing and flailing - "You never once learned how to swim, did you?" - but eventually, eventually, his wings broke through the water, slapping them down as he begged his body to carry him out. With a scream, he managed to slip free, not at all thinking to stick around any longer lest he fall back in - he broke through the Base's defenses, not even looking at the family that had attempted to imprison him.

He was far too terrified of what he saw, what he learned, what he felt, what he did - he didn't even recoil when the spears embedded themselves in his flesh because the momentary pain of this was far better than the terror he saw under the waves - his return to an outside planet was messy, his body broken and exhausted as he collapsed. There he slept for a millennia, unmoving even as the earth grew around him and crystals formed, masking his trail from the hounds that ceaselessly hunted him down.

And thus, the cycle continued. Over and over, he attempted to speak to the Base and its inhabitants, time and time again he was attacked, time and time again he was thrown into the prison he fought tirelessly to worm his way out of. She claimed it was impossible, that there were no cracks in Her defenses, yet he continually escaped. No one questioned it - no one had the courage to question it.

It was at this point that the god began to realize something. No one followed him very far - and for a group that was priding itself in desiring his head, they were doing a poor job of following through with it. Eventually, he learned where the boundaries lay and he knew to take full advantage of it. Coincidentally, earth had yet to fall under her spreading jurisdiction, so that was where he decided to reside.

Timelines passed, his mind now deadset on cultivating this planet to a point of desirability, he began to spread his own teachings to humankind. Speech of kindness, love, and respect - he amassed a huge following and the world grew more and more beautiful with every new day. He was a king in his own right, yet he did not bear the title, nor did he desire to. He was an equal in their eyes, a god in others, and worthy of heaping praise.

Or so it was for a time.

You see, when humankind grows sated with a lifestyle, they begin to forget what life was like before it became perfect. Evil still existed, and eventually, it began to grow into corruption. Greed grew like a weed, much faster than the god could control - humankind became unbearable once more. His teachings had been taken for granted and life fell back into complete disarray - and he stood in the epicenter of it all.

He cried for all that humans had become. He cried for those he'd lost control over, and for all of those who had forgotten their roots. He had learned that humanity was selfish at its very core, yet he did not accept it. He refused to accept it, instead turning around and trying to build the utopia he had lost once already.

His tears created a stronger foundation this time, his most devout bringing his preachings back yet much louder this time, and the god himself showering gifts upon those who spread kindness and peace to those who had grown wartorn. For a time, again, it lasted.

And then it fell again. He rebuilt it once more, and it crumbled once more. Over and over and over, timeline after timeline, he tried so hard to create a peaceful utopia for humanity, yet greed continually tore it down. Soon, he grew weary of repeating himself; he decided to ask humanity one last time to love itself, and then he fell into a deep sleep.

To say humanity crumbled would've been an understatement.

Wars raged, the seas turned vile, the sky poisoned, and soon, humanity wiped itself out. When the god awoke to an empty, ruined planet, he did not weep - he had grown used to the cycle by now. He had learned it was impossible for a species like them to stay united for long - whether it be from faulty memory or an inherent need for violence and turbulence, he could never understand.

From then on, he existed much more quietly. He still tried to spread love wherever he went, but it quickly grew hollow when he saw it was never appreciated, never spread, and never once returned. "Humans are selfish" he once heard someone say, and he agreed - humanity was gravely selfish.

Soon, he stopped caring altogether.

The thing about not caring about things is, while a good defense mechanism against getting hurt, it is still an incredibly unhealthy mindset to have, especially when you exist as a god with nearly limitless power. His curiosity grew unsated, his own questions and searches for the answers soon leading him to questionable actions.

And from there, it turned terrible. The very creatures he'd spent millions of years trying to help became his own test subjects, his experiments becoming known across the universe as vile. It was from this that his brother finally caught wind of his location, immediately getting sent off to retrieve him and drag him back home.

However, a small problem arises when your enemy is surrounded by mortals. Typically, fights between the gods were catastrophic, the vast reaches of space perhaps their only reliable warground as it was not in anyone's best interest to have unnecessary casualties. Cand, however, was on a large planet densely populated with mortal beings - and attempts to get him off the planet ended in failure.

Time would have to improvise - and improvise they did, crafting arrows of light with nearly 100% accuracy. The gods fought with well-placed, well-timed blows, yet neither could get close enough to capture or kill the other. It was a stalemate, and one Cand had grown increasingly good at.

It was an on and off thing really, Time trying to find more and more ways to stealthily attack Space, while Space looked for more ways to exist on the defensive, all while juggling his own projects.

Alongside this war, however, humanity still had yet to lose all traces of the god's previous worship; these beliefs spread, twisting to suit each individual culture as they spread. Soon, Cand had become an object of worship once more, though not under the same rules or names.

GOD.

He had become god himself in the eyes of some; and it was from these beliefs that new, weaker gods emerged. Religion became a force in and of itself in the universe and, while vastly weaker than those that governed how the universe functioned, they still held sway in their own councils. Cand took a liking to these gods in particular, oftentimes speaking with them as a casual friend.

Many lived in fear of him, as no one had the strength to stop his gradual descent into madness.

Eventually, a thought crossed his mind; 'Why must I exist only as myself?'. The god pondered for a while, a very long while, before settling on a decision - gold bands adorned his tail as he set towards the deepest recesses of space. At first, the Base was unaware of how to handle this sudden change, yet when the news finally reached them that he was devouring his own family one by one, the war efforts were kicked into high gear.

Unfortunately, they were not fast enough to stop him from eating a majority, but their ceaseless efforts managed to push him back enough to the planet that was slowly but surely becoming his own special prison. Not that he minded of course - he delighted in having so many creatures to toy with.

When he met Lucian, all hope of the loving, caring god returning had been vanquished. Even when he gave the man eternal life, murdered his family and burned down his church, and destroyed the man's own sanity, the god did not feel remorse for his actions, nor pity for the man that had grown deeply broken after the experience.

He did not care, glee instead overpowering his senses as he carried on through life. A monster of his own design, he smiled as he destroyed all he had once deeply cared for.

It was only natural, then, that he seek out a following. His grand actions soon grabbed the attention of a few, his sweet words manipulating hearts and he twisted more and more souls into the dark. He'd learned already that words were his strongest weapon - he had plenty of experience rallying people to do good, so turning them towards their natural inclinations would be easy.

His cult grew and grew and grew, the god and his broken husband heading the efforts as it spread across the globe. His influence had spread to every corner of the globe, yet he still existed in obscurity, his name, appearance, and othersuch information never once matching a previous account.

It was from then on that he existed in a position of power. Yet.

Yet it was not enough. It would never be enough.

HE MUST HAVE THE THRONE.

HE MUST HAVE HER THRONE.



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