Finding Maggie

Chapter Fifty-One - Creation

Chapter Fifty-One - Creation 

At the city's center stood a mammoth sized tower which shot up into the sky high enough that on most days the very top was shrouded by the murky skies of Hell. Standing on at a rather odd slant, must like the Tower of Pisa, it appeared to simply hang in the air, being held up by nothing but the hopes and wishes of those living directly below it. The black stone had been polished so that it reflected like glass, giving off it's own light in a way that Mikhail had always found rather eerie. The blast from Grand Castle had not completely demolished the towering structure but it had certainly seen better days. Mikhail simply stood, surrounded by all of Hell and all of its citizens, staring at himself in the dulled reflection of the rock. Silence was heard for miles as no one dared to move even an inch as their prince simply stood like the stone itself, watching him for any sign that he was going to make good on his promise.

Maggie stood nearby, shoulder-to-shoulder with the massive crowd, sharing their lack of breath as she too waited to see what Mikhail would do. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to pull him away, drag him back to Grand Castle, tie him up, and demand that he stop this foolishness. Surely Leviathan would understand. Someone would help her. Someone else in the masses would agree that Mikhail was being insane. And yet, something held her to her place. A small voice in the back of her head warned her to leave him alone and let him do what he needed to do. Even despite the fact that it was so obvious he was terrified.

The minutes ticked by with unwavering compromise, seemingly uncaring about anyone's plight, until Mikhail let go of a heavy sigh and placed a sweaty palm against the cold stone. Everyone, including Maggie, held their breaths as a low rumble ran from deep underneath the ground at their feet. Like a calm pond being aggravated by a pebble, the tremble began at the tower and emanated outwards. Mikhail closed his eyes and let his creation take him over. His muscles tightened, his blood pumped faster and faster, so much so that his head immediately began to ache with a pounding force. Almost imperceptibly, Hell began to move. Tiny pebbles strewn across the dirt packed streets began to dance, bouncing quietly along with randomness. Mikhail was taking it slow, but only Maggie was relieved to know it. Everyone else simply stood quietly and wondered why it was taking so long. Slivers of glass, most mere remnants of window panes, began to tinkle like wind-chimes as they joined the strange march with the pebbles along the streets.

Pieces of brick and small splinters of wood were caught up in the mix, rolling and bouncing around with seemingly no place in-particular to go. “Do you think he'll make it?” Leviathan's voice broke through Maggie's concentration, ripping her back to her place amongst the crowd. Standing just to her right was the man himself, looking more smug than usual. Several demons cast glances in his direction but otherwise left him alone. No one would dare be dumb enough to correct Leviathan on his rudeness for speaking after Mikhail made it quite clear he wanted silence.

“And why wouldn't he?” Maggie whispered back.

Leviathan simply shrugged his shoulders. “I was just curious.” He offered casually. And with that, their conversation was over. It worried Maggie though. Why Leviathan decided to show up for this was beyond her. They had agreed that it would be in Mikhail's best interest if his father left him alone until the party. She guessed, however, that it really didn't matter. Mikhail was so lost now in his work that she doubted very much he even knew he was being watched at all. Sweat poured down his face, racing down to his chin where the tiny droplets fell to the dirt below. He looked uncomfortable, but not yet in pain, and Maggie hoped against all hope that this was as worse as it was going to get. She didn't care if it took him a week, a month, or a year as long as he didn't kill himself in the process.

Soon, large pieces of debris began rising up from the ashes, slowly lumbering along, weaving in and out around the crowded streets as they began to find their homes. A few of the buildings nearby began to groan as piece by piece they were rebuilt with careful planning. Glass pieces melded together to reform windows. Chunks of brick found one another and became whole before settling in to their places amongst the broken mortar. Tiny splinters grew to toothpicks which then found others and soon whole doors were rebuilt. Even the crumbled up doorknobs managed to reform and clank back into place before the hinges drove home and the doors slammed shut. On and on it went with painstaking slowness until all the buildings within sight were back to they way they had been before Wracke and Ruine demolished them. But Maggie didn't watch. She didn't care about stone and wood and glass and metal. All she cared about was Mikhail.