Tale:Syx and Seven Part I - Finality Saga: Prologue/Alt
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Version with author intended formatting can be found here: Syx and Seven Part 1 - Finality Saga: Prologue
Syx and Seven: The Finality Saga.
Written by LordSkorne7
The great dominion of Divine Typhonia had passed: A time of gods, of conquest, and celestial order, now undone.
They were banished in the wake of Infinity's End, and with their fall, the Succession of Amaranth passed to their progeny: the Inomeni.
Among them, three rose high — brilliant and terrible in their glory.
First came the Isariel:, immense, radiant, and fair beyond measure.
They bore the pure inheritance of their Lady, named of Amaranth, and were deemed the most worthy of all who yet lived.
Second were the Manalords, beings of great stature and power, reflections of the ancient Annuat, who ruled before the Divine themselves.
Not made by hands, nor born of thought, but stood as legacies of the unknowable Mavimyst, silent and deep.
And last — last below all were the Seraphnim:, the final and most fated of the Near-Divine.
Bound in covenant to their Sovereign:, they gleamed with the golden light of Libation and its Great Collective.
Wrought of divine logic and perfect design, they were beings of purpose — unyielding, inevitable, and destined for eternal power.
Though multitudes of the Inomeni inhabited the primeval stars, it was within three that power — true power — took form.
In them stirred the burning hunger to rule, to bend the celestial atlas itself beneath their feet.
In no other had such will amassed in such impossible density, and the result was war.
Not war born from conquest; but of belief. For the very nature of their beings within existence.
All of Ambrosia was divided into between the Dyad Powers:
The Isariel, ruled by their radiant Godqueen; Juno — ever proud, ever resplendent —
stood against the Seraphnim, those sanctified and winged warriors whose Golden Sovereign; Serranna, wove her decree through song and fire.
Between them, the stars bled.
The two clashed in brutal, unrelenting war, one which spanned the whole of the Galaxy and time beyond measure.
Neither could conquer the other.
Their hearts were blackened by malice, driven by a hunger for dominion, and fueled by Darkness itself.
Worlds — unfathomable in their beauty and their vastness — burned to dust. Bled dry. Vanished.
But the Divine's children had deceived themselves.
The dominion of Darkness was never theirs to claim.
Within the Void of Totality — eternal, silent, and blind in its absence — beyond the Amaranth Veil, he waited.
The Divine Vuhlore; third-born of Typhonia, omnipotent father of Darkness — but not its master — remained sealed.
Locked away since time unrecorded. Banished by his own kin after his failed bid to carve dominion from annihilation itself.
His name, forgotten.
His presence, erased.
Yet from within the blackened well of Totality, his will endured — unseen, unhindered.
And from his hate — for life, for breath, for being — the breath of the Unifier — forged from him a great Evil.
Known by many names.
But to the Inomeni, it would simply be called: "The Void."
An eternal unity of that which is not. A convergence of absence.
A mass of oozing and viscous blackened shadow, swallowing all light and concept it crossed.
Driven mad in its contradiction, aware only of its own exclusion.
It could not understand existence. It could not accept itself.
And so it reached outward; toward identity, toward soul, toward the living.
It consumed, it absorbed, it devoured all it found, seeking what it was never meant to hold.
Being...
Tearing through the Veil, it descended into Ambrosia like a wound split in the skin of reality. World after world fell.
Soul after soul dissolved into a collective of absence — each voice swallowed in the endless scream of unbeing.
Not silence, but a cacophony of lost names howling into a nowhere known only to itself.
Pain beyond death awaited all who stood before it.
Agony eternal, in the wake of its blackened will.
And from it came unspeakable monsters;
entities of boundless power, shaped from the shadow of demise itself.
Forged from the suffering of thousands, they rose, tethered to the nothing mass from which they spawned.
Their throng of nobody surged forward, carving entire worlds to ruin.
The Void’s conquest was swift and terrible in its scope, unrelenting in vile advance. Its power grew with each consumed star, until even the greatest among the Inomeni could no longer deny the truth.
There was no other choice.
So it was that the Dyad Powers, once locked in endless war, forged a union born of desperation — not alliance, but necessity itself. A final, fragile coalition against a greater doom.
The Inomeni fell in droves. Entire armies swallowed in moments. Defenses obliterated before they could be armed. Civilizations reduced to streaks of vanishing light, pulled beneath the inky tendrils of a thing that was not death, but worse.
Oblivion...
Genocide on a universal scale was imminent.
Before total extermination, Serranna — the Golden Sovereign — beheld the inevitable fall of the Inomeni.
She saw their end.
She saw the stars go dark, saw all future life strangled before its first breath, saw the universe drown in a tide of everlasting Darkness.
And she would not allow it.
So she swore: if life must end, let it end by her will—not in silence, not in shadow, but in defiance.
And through their destruction, may the next generation of life take root — unshackled and untouched by the Darkness.
She gathered the totality of her power.
Poured every fragment of her near-divinity into a single creation — a final answer to the Void. a construct beyond comprehension; a weapon not to preserve, but to unmake.
To end everything. Living and unliving. Forgotten and Void:
Finality...
Yet this was not a decision Serranna could make alone.
Only in the face of the unavoidable and "ultimate" end did she even begin to consider the unthinkable.
And to do so required the unanimous assent of her most trusted council; those who history would later come to remember as her three Key-Bearers.
For if Finality were ever to be unleashed, it would bring the end not just of their war against the nothing, but of all immortal life within Creation.
It would awaken the dormant crimson light of Alizarin; the concept of the finite made manifest, a force that would crush all eternal spirit into pure Entropy.
And when the time came — and come it did — there was no shortage of opposition, even with utter subsumption looming on the horizon.
Foremost among them stood Juno; Godqueen of the Isariel.
She made her final and brutal stand atop the surface of Finality, defiant to the last.
With fury unmatched, she cut through the rising tide, struck down the three Key-Bearers who had given their assent, and tore through those who stood guard as Serranna began to weave Finality into being.
Her wrath was legend.
She fought not for glory, nor revenge, but to preserve what fragments of life remained.
But it was all in vain.
Amid curses and flame, through blood and broken prayer, Finality was unleashed.
And with it — the crimson light of Alizarin made itself known.
Ambrosia was consumed.
In a single instant, everything — Void included — was annihilated, baptized in the bloodied edge of Amaranth's twin. In a rufescent tide drenching all the stars, endless souls collapsed into the Great Collective, stripped of form or Remnant of their being.
The war with Void had ended...
...as did all life with it.
Existence rendered now untouched.
Silent.
Bare...
..empty.
Sleeping in a night without end.
All save two...
Juno and Serranna — alone, still standing by will and power beyond reckoning.
But the Sovereign’s work was done. Her vow fulfilled.
And a heart now heavy with remorse...
She made no move to resist as Juno, broken but unbent, raised her blade.
And the Godqueen struck her down.
And left her where she fell — on the scorched face of Finality.
Then vanished, to wander a hollow galaxy with no life, and no song.
Only empty shadow.
In time; life returned to Ambrosia.
Alizarin — unbound and unchallenged — left to freely flourish across a galaxy no longer shaped by the hands of the Divine or Near- Divine, now could mortal life come into being.
From silence rose a menagerie of peoples and races, civilizations blooming over tens of thousands of years since Finality’s slumber.
Empires rose. Wars waged and burned the stars. Cultures thrived and withered. And through it all, the memory of Finality, the Void, and the Dyad Powers faded — from legend, to rumor, to dust.
Their relics lay hidden and forgotten across the stars uncounted.
And Finality itself endured — silent, still — a monument to an ancient genocide beyond reckoning.
Suspended above the galaxy like a Godly specter, its Alizarin blade forever lowered in judgment.
Entombed in silence. Circled by its own visages, acting as silent and resting sentinels.
Unmoving.
Untouched.
Unseen.
Undisturbed…
...until now. ...until now. ...until now. ...until now.