At the End of All Things
Through the flames and shadows he rises, through the firestorms and lightnings.
Below him the land is a fractured desolation; the once lush fields vitrified and the ice-fresh rivers boiled into dust. Around him float the crumbling, monolithic remains of the great temple of the Three and the mountain range it once stood on; soaring aloft in the tumult of forces unleashed during the Sorcerous battle.
Wreathing his will about himself he soars through the raging thunderheads turning aside the malignant energies that wash over him. Finally he clears the seething clouds to see the last of his fellows fall lifeless from the blazing sky. Dominika, most beautiful of the Sorceresses and the last to join the rebellion. With regret he looks away from her frail, tumbling form and raises his eyes towards the light, towards his foes.
Arrayed in a searing brilliance they float above their creation; majestic, inhumanly beautiful and terrible to behold. He knows the truth of them though and can see the cracks in the glorious facade; can see where the divine radiance flickers and the silver flesh is marred. His brethren have died to leave those wounds but in defiance of the mustered power of the Sorcerers' the Trinity have endured.
With a thought he comes to rest in the air as the gazes' of the Trinity fall upon him.
"YOU HAVE FAILED. YOUR REBELLION IS OVER." Comes a voice of such piercing beauty that he has to suppress the desire to weep.
"HOW MANY HAVE DIED IN SERVICE TO YOUR HUBRIS?" Pronounces a second voice with words that burn themselves into his mind.
"AT THE MOMENT OF YOUR UNDOING WE WOULD KNOW WHAT PRICE YOU WOULD HAVE HAD OTHERS PAY FOR YOUR VICTORY?" Speaks a third, its power rumbling across the heavens.
His fury flares as he spits his reply; "You dare to judge me! You who have enslaved my kind for a hundred generations and my species since the dawn of time. You have no right!"
"WE HAVE EVERY RIGHT." Echoes a harmony of the three voices, "THIS IS OUR WORLD AND YOU AND YOUR KIND ARE OUR CREATION. WE GAVE YOU LIFE, PURPOSE AND FUTURE. WE GAVE YOU EVERYTHING."
"Has it been so long that you have come to believe the lies of your own church?" He cries, "You created us slaves; every man, woman and child; every Sorcerer, priest and King ensnared in your web of fate. Bound by the chains of destiny you forged and the prophecies you made. We are nothing but playthings to you; pawns to be toyed with as your whims see fit."
"PROTECTED, NOT CONTROLLED." Sings the first voice.
"TESTED, NOT MANIPULATED." States the second.
"GUIDED." Thunders the third
He almost laughs at that as he meets their timeless gaze. "Even now you still don't understand why we fight you. I don't think you could, even if you cared to."
"YOUR THOUGHTS MATTER NOT. YOUR APOSTASY IS FINISHED. NEVER AGAIN SHALL SORCERY THREATEN THE ORDER OF THIS WORLD. YOUR DEATH SHALL BE THE END." Speak the three as one.
He feels them draw upon their divine might; that which binds the world, that forged creation and guides it still. In unison they gather it about them moulding their anger into his destruction, but he is not helpless and their mastery is not absolute. He reaches for his own power drawing deeper than he ever has before and as his Will comes alive he sees them for what they are, sees the flows and ebbs of their omnipotence and in seeing them he knows their nature and understands how they may be deposed and the price that must be paid...
Distantly he senses their fury wash over him but he barely registers it as his mind struggles with the energies that he seeks to command. His flesh tears, his blood boils and he knows he is being torn apart by their onslaught, but still his mind endures. The balance between what he wills and what is teeters, each truth fighting the other for dominion. Desperately he feels his control slip, his writhing body burning, and with a scream he summons the totality of his strength; pouring himself into the act and with a wrench his Will comes ablaze, reality as nothing against it.
"Then I shall meet my end a free man!" He cries through the maelstrom.
He strikes. Sending his power not at the Trinity but instead at the space they occupy, at the fabric of existence itself. For an instant the universe resists, fighting his influence. For a moment he feels the wrath of the Gods waver uncertainly as they sense his purpose. Then with a soundless roar creation fractures and the heavens are torn asunder.
There is only pain as he falls, pain and the infinite darkness.
…