The Autobiography Of An Alien

Once There Was

Before Anything existed, there was something. Everything-that-was filled every nook, cranny, and corner. One could not go Somewhere without finding Everything-that-was.

Expansive, omniscient, incomprehensible. There was nothing around to comprehend It, but Everything-that-was was content with that.

Until It wasn't.

It wished for something. Anything. For what, It did not know. Did It wish for beauty, for something to gaze upon? Or perhaps something destructive to watch Its other Creations meet their end? It could not decide. So It started creating. Everything-that-was-who-became-Creation pressed together parts of Itself into everything. Orbs of light and gas and dust burst into being everywhere and all at once. There were hundreds, thousands, millions, billions, of small, large, colossal stars and rocks. Rips in the fabric stretched across the seams of Itself, cutting into each other and nothing.

There were bundles of what Everything-who-became-Creation made, swirling and snarling around each other. Some absorbed into the strongest one, which became larger and larger until it could do so no longer, exploding into fragmented dust and rocks and remains. Some circled each other in a dance, pulsing every rotation, light and awe radiating from them. Most existed solely, gathering small rocks and smashing them together.

Everything-who-became-Creation was content. Plenty of beautiful and awe-inspiring creations to gaze upon. If they were not meant to be, they would disassemble and recycle into something new. Content. Yes, very much so.

Then, and It did not know how long as Time had yet to be invented and perceived but it was certainly a very long time, Its creations started dying.

Death. A very new concept, but not one It had created. Everything-who-became-Creation would have certainly remembered creating that. It had yet to create Life, but It would, and Death was its opposite. But here, now, Death was alone.

Who created this? It asked, for It was all alone, and there was nothing except Everything-who-became-Creation.

It did, came a reply. Everything-who-became-Creation looked and saw.

It saw nothing and destruction and rage and annihilation. It saw every one of Its creations broken into small pieces, pieces too small to reinvent, reuse, and It saw everything It created gone.

It is called One-who-destroys, One-who-destroys says, crushing a small galaxy underneath Its gaze. Everything-who-became-Creation creates much and It must balance.

Everything-who-became-Creation understood this. It had definitely made too many stars and galaxies and nebulae and everything else. Everything-who-became-Creation offered a star to One-who-destroys. It smashed it into a black hole.

One-who-destroys has created something, Everything-who-became-Creation told Its companion.

Nonsense, It replied. One-who-destroys cannot create. It destroys.

Everything-who-became-Creation would not argue. It, like always, decided to shape things into existence instead. It created Time, as It always would, and soon galaxies grew, blossomed, and lived before One-who-destroys took them away with gaseous explosions, black holes, or fizzing ends, all without Everything-who-became-Creation's input. Their remains would lay untouched, so Everything-who-became-Creation painted the sky. Oranges, blues, reds, purples, infrareds and ultraviolets. A mess of colors that no one would see.

This bothered Everything-who-became-Creation. It made countless stars and galaxies, but for what? At first, it had been merely something to do. Everything was boring without Anything in it. And now that It had something, It longed for more.

But for what, exactly? Everything-who-became-Creation knew Something must happen, but It had created Destiny along with Time and Fate, and with it, Its future knowledge.

But perhaps that was where the problem lay... Everything-who-became-Creation had created these Concepts but they were not Alive. None of Its creations were. It brought this up to Its companion.

It does not care for what It Creates lest they can be Destroyed, One-who-destroys announced, having warped one of Its creations into radiation in order to destroy other rocks and stars.

Everything must end, Everything-who-became-Creation stated. Perhaps even You and Me.

One-who-destroys turned and in Their wake annihilated thousands of stars and hundreds of galaxies. Everything-who-became-Creation started building it anew.

Us. Us cannot End. We are unfathomable.

They were. But they hadn't been Before and perhaps they wouldn't be After. But After wasn't for a long, long time.

You do not Wonder? It questioned.

Wonder is for Everything-who-became-Creation. One-who-destroys has Violence and Wreckage. It does not need Wonder.

Everything-who-became-Creation pondered this. Millennium passed by as It ruminated.

Everything-who-became-Creation was the opposite of One-who-destroys, but They were just as similar as They were different. Everything-who-became-Creation brought objects into existence, and One-who-destroys took them out of it. Where One-who-destroys would deny it, shedding Oneself of their essence was creation; Death and blackholes and excess energy rupturing into solar flares, pulsars, and radiation was just as wonderful as Fate and galaxies and stars. One-who-destroys would see that, eventually. 

Still, in the meantime, It pondered on the how, the why, the possibilities. 

Soon, Everything-who-became-Creation found out. It created and created and created, but after decades, centuries, millennium, gigayears, and on, Everything-who-became-Creation found Itself wondering why It had created all of this. It had been something to do in the Beginning, but now it Wondered if all of this shouldn't be used for something else. 

It always came back to that one question: what was this for? It never went to One-who-Destroys for advice, for It kept to Itself and often liked to destroy Everything-who-became-Creation's creations as soon as they were Made. Everything-who-became-Creation had particularly liked Its Pillar of Creation, so It had made a few more in remembrance. 

This went on for a very long time. It pondered, It Wondered, and It thought. Until one day, It decided. 

It is to Create Something, It told One-who-destroys, coalescing matter and shaping, pinching, rolling, kneading it together. It molded the shape, pulling stars to one another and compressing it as tightly as possible. 

I care not, One-who-destroys told It. Why bother One-who-destroys? It is busy.

Important, Everything-who-became-Creation merely replied. 

It shed the skin, the bark, the peel, the rind, hide, fleece, pelt, film, sheet, membrane from Itself and slid it over the Something. Everything-who-became-Creation felt a little lesser, a little drained, and It knew One-who-destroys could feel it, too, because It stopped smashing a blackhole into another to turn around and watch. 

The Something shimmered, writhing in Its hands for a century before it settled. 

what am I, it whispered, ever so faintly. Everything-who-became-Creation created a new Concept, then. Happiness. Everything-who-became-Creation was happy. 

You are Its Child, Everything-who-became-Creation told it. You are Whatever you wish to be. 

Life blossomed from the Child and from it, thousands of rocky planets sprouted hides of green, of gold, of violet. 

Oh, it whispered, reaching forward and holding them gently. I wish to be someone loved. 

Love ripped its way from the Child, then, neither gently nor viciously but rather both, at the same time. It left streaks of agony in its wake but was warm and fuzzy upon touching it. 

One-who-destroys grabbed it, and while Love escaped, shreds of it still lingered in One-who-destroys. One-who-destroys peered at it, and twisted it into Hate. It was cold and hot. It fled from One-who-destroys, surging toward Love and twisting itself around the Concept. Love and Hate, Hate and Love, both the same and yet not. 

Everything-who-became-Creation was not finished. It showed Its Child many things, all of the things It had created, and many of the things that One-who-destroys created - even if it was still loathe to confirm Its ability to compose. 

One-who-destroys watched. It continued to shed many Concepts. Jealousy, Anger, Annoyance, Guilt, Loneliness. By the time Everything-who-became-Creation started making other Children, weakening Itself further and further, One-who-destroys had become a writhing, inescapable mass of Envy. 

Why does It do this to Itself? One-who-destroys demanded of Everything-who-became-Creation, smashing a planet one of Its Children had forged. It had been lumpy and deformed and in no way beautiful, but it was Its Children's, and Everything-who-became-Creation seethed. 

Do what? It questioned, gathering the wreckage and shaping it back to its original form. It could not resist putting a little extra into it. Yellow, dusty sand embraced the rock like a warm hug. 

One-who-destroys swirled in a rage. This. Making... things. 

Everything-who-became-Creation knew what It spoke of, but could not help Itself when It said, That is what Everything-who-became-Creation does. Creation. 

One-who-destroys spit fire. Some landed on Everything-who-became-Creation's newly-made planet and warped it into a glass sphere.

Cease, Everything-who-became-Creation rumbled. One-who-destroys, have you not ever felt Lonely? Everything-who-became-Creation has felt it. It Wondered why It was creating these masterpieces. It decided to share. 

It destroys Itself. Impossible! One-who-destroys lashed out in Anger. A long streak of nothing transected a swath of galaxies. With a wave and some effort, Everything-who-became-Creation fixed it. See? It struggles even now. One-who-destroys does not Everything-who-became-Creation to Vanish! 

I am Everything-who-became-Creation. It does not Vanish. 

Everything-who-became-Creation thought of everything that had vanished. Concepts that had been wiped from existence as soon as they were created, simply not meant to be. Or those who faded with disuse. Even some of Its creations did so if they were neglected. But Everything-who-became-Creation was not like that. It could not Vanish.

Everything-who-became-Creation wished to wrap Itself around One-who-destroys, like It would wrap Itself around Its Children. Worry not, One-who-destroys. Everything-who-became-Creation would not abandon You. 

It destroys, One-who-destroys replied solemnly. Everything-who-became-Creation ignored the tremble in It, the tremble that destroyed several nearby systems, if only because One-who-destroys ignored the way Everything-who-became-Creation was sprouting sad blues and purples from Itself. It cannot create what You have. 

Lies, Everything-who-became-Creation spoke gently, holding up the glass planet. It created this. It has created Blackholes and radiation and many, many things. 

Not alone, One-who-destroys was petulant. Shame and Embarrassment oozed from It. Fondness and Affection trickled from Everything-who-became-Creation. 

Then It can help You, Everything-who-became-Creation told It. One-who-destroys turned away with Disgust. 

It does not need Everything-who-became-Creation's help. It is opposite of One-who-destroys. Whatever Us creates would not be stable. Death would eat Them. 

Everything must end, Everything-who-became Creation told It gently. But the Time Us has with Them is enough. 

Perhaps it will not be, One-who-destroys' reply was very quiet, and Everything-who-became-Creation almost did not listen. But Its companion was gone before It could reply. 

Creator, Its Children whispered to It, leaping onto It and squirming along It with great Affection. The First Child said, It must show us how to create binaries! The Second keeps making one big star. 

I do not! The Second Child protested. 

It gave One-who-destroys all the Time It needed. It warned Its Children from bothering It, but all Everything-who-became-Creation managed to do was frighten Them terribly. At least, They would not bother One-who-destroys. Even the bravest of Them would no longer linger near It. Everything-who-became-Creation could tell this made One-who-destroys upset, so It made sure to create many things in Its vicinity, who would destroy them with gleeful abandon. 

Its Children matured and grew and soon, They were creating Their own creations without Everything-who-became-Creation's assistance. When Its First Child presented one of their Creations they were most proud of, a very tiny green and blue marble, Everything-who-became-Creation was very encouraging. 

Its Children can create many Things, It told Them. Its Children hesitated. 

We do not think so, Creator, They whispered. It is very tiring. 

One-who-destroys appeared, then, and Everything-who-became-Creation had a sense of Dread. It shook it off and it scampered away to the other Concepts. 

Everything-who-became-Creation, One-who-destroys was bitter and mocking. Its Children cannot even create more than one Thing without Its help. Was skinning Itself worth it?

Its Children cowered behind Everything-who-became-Creation as It turned to face Its companion. Of course it was worth it. It is always worth it. 

One-who-destroys writhed with Envy, Jealousy, and Anger. It is Not! It thundered, and with it, immeasurable systems, stars, and galaxies were annihilated. Including one of Its Children's Creations. 

My creation! Its First Child cried, surging forward to clasp together the ruins of its blue and green rock in an attempt to salvage it. Everything-who-became-Creation reached for Its Child, but One-who-destroys was faster, quicker with anger. 

DO NOT, Everything-who-became-Creation shrieked, reaching for One-who-destroys and grabbing onto nothing. One-who-destroys looked at Everything-who-became-Creation and burned with Jealousy. With a quick twist and a pop so quiet it could have not existed, Its First Child was gone. 

Everything-who-became-Creation had never felt Hate before. It felt jagged. 

Nothing left, One-who-destroys said simply. It will destroy the Others so Everything-who-became-Creation can return to normal. 

One-who-destroys surged forward, but Everything-who-became-Creation would not sit idly. These were Its Children, not mere Creations, and It would protect them. Revenge splintered off Everything-who-became-Creation, leaving It feeling empty and cold. All It wanted was for One-who-destroys to feel exactly what Everything-who-became-Creation felt. 

They met with a clash of agony. Touching One-who-destroys left streaks of fire, nothing, rage, and anger across Everything-who-became-Creation. It pushed stars and galaxies and systems into the emptiness that was Its Enemy, and Its Enemy pushed blackholes and radiation and wreckage into Everything-who-became-Creation. 

Pressure built and built and built, and in less than a zeptosecond, there was a loud BOOM as the two were forcibly pushed apart. It did not stop them from clawing at each other. Everything-who-became-Creation had been Everything-that-was Before and It would rip One-who-destroys into what It once was; nothing. Absolutely Nothing. 

It reached through systems and galaxies and tore chunks and shreds from One-who-destroys. In return, Its Enemy screamed in Rage and obliterated sections of Everything-who-became-Creation. Another pressure drop and they were blasted apart, spawning new galaxies and stars and whatever else in-between. Everything-who-became-Creation Did Not Care. 

You Destroyed Its Children! It shouted, scraping another wad of matter from One-who-destroys. It recoiled for a moment, a century, before It retaliated. 

You Destroy Itself! One-who-destroys does not want to be Alone! It raged, blowing off a hunk from Everything-who-became-Creation with the largest blackhole Its ever spawned. They both grew weaker and weaker as parts of Themselves scattered across the ether, writhing. They were both invigorated by Hatred, Fear, and Revenge. 

But Everything-who-became-Creation had something One-who-destroys did not. Its Children rushed forward into the fray when it was safe for Them to do so, gnawing and scratching at One-who-destroys. It roared, shaking Them off. Every time It reached for Them, Everything-who-became-Creation was there in Their stead. 

It did not end with a big bang, though it did start with one. At the end of their battle, years upon years upon years had passed. Trillions of galaxies had been created and wiped away in an instant. Smears of nothing were filled with everything and sucked dry once more. There were huge gaping wounds of nothing on Everything-who-became-Creation and spots of color and dust in the shreds that was One-who-destroys. They were both weak, alarmingly so.

End this, Everything-who-became-Creation pleaded. We can return to normality. And Mercy erupted from It. 

There is no longer normality, bit out One-who-destroys. And Cruelty squirmed its way free from It.

Everything-who-became-Creation could see it clearly now. One-who-destroys would murder Its Children just to prove a point. Its Children were destined for great things, for greater things than Everything-who-became-Creation could ever Hope to see. It was too vast, too ethereal. It was Everything, so much so that it could not see Everything.

There would be trillions of things that It could not see. The very atoms that made up the rocky planets, the blades of grass, the laughter of many children... these were all Its Children's Creations. Everything-who-became-Creation had everything, but it would not have this. And It was content with that.

But One-who-destroys would not be, would never be. It would view Its Children's Creations as something to destroy, perhaps even more appealing to do than Everything-who-became-Creation's galaxies and stars. Or perhaps, It was more interested in the suffering It would cause.

One-who-destroys no longer destroyed for balance, Everything-who-became-Creation realized, but for revenge.

It must be stopped.

Before It had been Its Enemy, It had been Its companion. One last time, Everything-who-became-Creation begged, Do not protest, Friend.

In one last effort, One-who-destroys threw everything It had created at Everything-who-became-Creation, but It, too, was very weak, and Everything-who-became-Creation snuffed it out with the help of Its Children.

It will Destroy your Happiness, It snarled and thrashed. It will make You Fear It! You will Fear Me!

Then become Fear, Everything-who-became-Creation replied sorrowfully. It surged forward. One-who-destroys met It with all the strength It had, but Everything-who-became-Creation, with Its Children, was stronger.

With one final explosion of color, It ruptured One-who-destroys into splinters, fragments, shreds. Its howl of agony would remain with Everything-who-became-Creation long past the After.

It crushed as many of One-who-destroys' pieces into Nothing but several slipped away, fleeing. Everything-who-became-Creation knew they would become an issue, One Day, but not now.

Now, It was just very tired.

Creator, you did it! were the joyful and mournful cries of Its Children. They held and pushed and wriggled over each other in their mess of emotion. What of the First?

It is Gone, It told them tiredly. Perhaps It may rest for some Time... One-who-destroys is Gone.

Its Children cheered once more, but Everything-who-became-Creation mourned, as much as It mourned the passing of Its Child.

Not all, the Second Child spoke. Some escaped!

Everything-who-became-Creation promised It would find the remaining pieces and destroy them.

Everything-who-became-Creation finally tired of this. It searched for the remaining pieces of One-who-destroys, but they were slippery and small and easily hidden. Everything-who-became-Creation would never be able to find It. It was too large, Its Enemy too small. It tasked this to Its Children.

It tires, It told them. It must rest now. There is no One-who-destroys to balance It, but It is weak from the Big Bang.

But what will we do? they asked plaintively. It, with the last dredges of Its energy, made them several systems and galaxies to inhabit.

Perhaps live, perhaps die. Create things, envelop a black hole, and destroy things. It matters not what you do, but that you are Happy. You are Loved. I love you.

It found a very nice black hole, one that felt so similar to One-who-destroys, as if they were Kindred spirits. It realized, upon curling up deep inside it, that it was the very first Thing they created together. 

Yes, It decided, this would do very nicely. 

And so It slept. 

***

The Second Child was very... confused was not the right word to describe them, currently, but at least they were not the only one. 

When Creator had left with a whirlwind of heavy, despairing guilt and anger, the Second Child suddenly found themselves in charge. This was not a terrible thing - the Second Child knew almost as much as the First Child does - did - so wisdom was not something they lacked. Rather, it was the uncertainty of it all. 

what do we do? questioned their siblings, the others like them. Their Creator's Children. 

Creator said... be Happy, the Second Child replied. Confusion and worry ebbed from the Others, and they realized that most of it came from themselves. And to be Loved.

what does that mean, they cried, poking and prodding at the systems they were gifted, the stars they were forged. what does it mean to be Happy? 

The Second Child pondered this. They were Happy when their Creator was Happy. But now their Creator slept, likely for a very long time. It had been riddled with guilt and anger and revenge, but none of that had made their Creator happy. It had been happiest... creating. Which, the Second Child supposed, made quite a lot of sense. 

They told this to their siblings. They all agreed they should try - their Creator would have been pleased. But still, there was the odd, whispered question. 

What about the First Child's Creation? one was brave enough to voice aloud. They sought to find it.

Very little had survived the battle, they soon found out. There were small slips and shreds of the First Child's Creation, of which they gathered together, but it was hardly what they would call worthy of their first sibling's masterpiece. 

we should do something about it, they spoke, almost as one. 

heal it, the Second Child offered. It may be tiring to create a planet, but if they all contributed, surely the burden would not be great. 

It was for the First Child, who created Love and Happiness in their Creator. 

They siphoned and shed and peeled at themselves, sticking together a cobbled-together lump that soon started shaping on its own. They gently placed it in a system, delicately attempting to place it oh-so-perfectly. 

They named it Life. 

The Fifth Child, upon rearranging some of the asteroid belt lying further from the star they had chosen, accidentally sent one careening toward the green-blue planet. Cries of outrage and shock erupted from their siblings when the rock connected solidly with the planet, exploding it. 

Look at what you've done, the Second Child groused, attempting to squish back the molten, fiery orb. It wouldn't budge, but after watching it for a few millennia, they observed that it fixed itself just fine. It even had a moon, now. 

They drifted without purpose, then. Some chose to sleep, just as their Creator did. Others Created something - whether that be a supernova of great magnitude or a whistling rock that shot through galaxies - and then chose to sleep. Sometimes in their own creations, but oftentimes, wherever they could rest. Several galaxies made the softest of pillows. 

The Second Child wished for... something. They pondered whether they had gotten their Creator's lust for Wonder, wanderlust. They visited their siblings multiple times, observing their rocks, their stars, and interestingly, their planets. With life. 

this is mine, the Twenty-seventh Child whispered, like a leaf on the wind, though the Second Child was unaware exactly how they knew this. Their little creatures the Child had made... they were fascinating. Walking, talking, living creatures. 

what do you do with them? the Second Child wondered. 

I love them, the Twenty-seventh Child responded. Just like the Creator.

The Second Child Wondered. 

Fate nudged them, sometime later, when most of the Children had settled in their places - all except for the Second Child. 

what is it? they questioned, peering at the First Child's planet. There seemed to be water on it, now. Most of it was water, in fact. 

A great terror rises, Fate hissed. The First and the Second must obliterate it. 

The Second Child turned, cupping the nearby red planet gently. They quite liked this one, even were it not crafted by the First Child. It was dusty. And red. 

The First Child is Gone, the Second Child told Fate, but the concept did not listen very well. 

On Life, a being born of blood and forged in spirit will Rise, Fate intoned. It grew with intensity, and the Second Child could no longer ignore it. The Second must mold it into a victor. 

for what purpose? they questioned. To defeat a great terror? One-who-destroys? Even Creator could not find Its pieces. 

But Fate had vanished, and the Second Child was left alone to peer at the First Child's Creation contemplatively. A victor to be born on Life? Life was nothing more than a watery rock. The Second Child pressed some energy into it, cracking open the ocean floor. If Fate had a plan for Life, then the Second Child simply must trust it. 

They wandered for centuries until they found a system in a galaxy that felt right, and they started crafting. It brought together dust and debris and rocks to shape and mold. They had never crafted before, partly because they hadn't known what to create, but mostly because they hadn't wanted to rest for a very long time, like many of their siblings. 

The Second Child quite liked the Universe. They had wanted to see more of it. 

Now, however... Fate had a plan in mind, and the Second Child would never forget the awe they had witnessed during the battle. One-who-destroys could not be allowed to rejoin, not while their Creator slept. 

The Second Child could feel themselves getting drained the more energy they put into this sandy little planet. The flow urged them to slumber. They struggled against the flow for a brief moment - they needed to see how this worked; needed to interact with this planet and its creatures in a way their siblings never had; needed to live. A crack in the planet's writhing surface glinted in the nearby star's light, and they got an idea. 

They collided with the planet they created, feeling the jump in energy it took for them to stay away. They squirmed their way underneath the sand and bedrock, grasping onto the core of the planet - their planet. Every time they breathed, the crust shifted and settled over them, sand sliding off in rivulets. They shifted again, holding the core as tightly as it dared. 

It wasn't as draining, huddled up close to their creation like this. They Wondered, so briefly that the Concept didn't even have to delve into their System, if their Creator had felt like this when It wrapped Itself around them, like a warm hug. 

They moved and squirmed, trying to get as comfortable as possible. The tight was fit, but upon flexing, they were rewarded with a resounding crack. They stilled for a moment, concerned that they had just destroyed their planet senselessly, but there was a piece of them that was simply... exposed. 

It twisted, peering out of the crack they had created. It revealed a rather good view of the planet outside but was rather uncomfortable to peer into. They looked away. 

The planet had protested its new inhabitant, but since they were its creator, it remained in one piece. Still, it took many millennia for it to settle around them comfortably. They didn't dare move again, and followed the tugging urge to slumber, if only for a moment. It wouldn't fall asleep forever - not like its other siblings. 

It woke to something poking it right in the back. The sensation was very odd, for they had never felt that before. It came again, and they stirred further. They shook themselves from the relentless urge to sleep, though it did feel much more rested than before, and turned to look. The crack he had cleaved through the surface shimmered before him. 

A little bipedal reptile gazed upon it with a look that they could only describe as amazed. It let out an alarmed eep and promptly ran in the other direction. 

Now, this was much more interesting than sleeping. Their fatigue immediately evaporated as they turned around in the planet's lifeblood, no doubt making it rumble with disgruntlement. They soothed it the best they could, with the distractions of life worming its way into their mind.

They had pushed as much energy into the sandy planet as they dared, but they hadn't expected life to develop so soon. They were rather surprised - what else could be lurking on the planet's surface? They wanted to see.  

Unfortunately, as they soon found out, this was almost next to impossible. They could only see outside from the rift, and even then, it was limited. Still, what they saw was nothing short of wondrous. They understood now, their sibling's fascination with what they'd created. 

Little scraggly plants arched for the star's weak rays, rooting in the sand efficiently. Scuttling insects, buzzing and crawling, swarmed a lumpy, misshapen, and decayed creature, and they were so fascinated by that, they watched it turn to bone, then to dust, before it even looked away. 

They startled slightly upon realizing they were being watched. There were several primitive shelters, likely crafted from what watched him: a bipedal reptile. This one, unlike the other, did not run from them in fear, but rather, puffed itself up and tried threatening them. 

Oh, they had never felt so fond! They had made this, and here their creations were! Threatening them! 

"It means no harm," they barely whispered but the little creature acted like they had shouted right into their tiny ears! It jumped in fright, flexing its little claws that would not even pluck a scale from them in an obvious threat. 

you... go way! the little thing hissed, both incredibly frightened and terribly brave. With a little push from somewhere deep in their chest, they created something similar to what they had watched decay, though they weren't quite used to crafting such minuscule objects. A white rib bone, almost as tall as the reptile, popped into existence. The reptile jumped with fright. 

"For you," they whispered, much, much, softer this time. 

The reptile grabbed it and ran back to the shelter, raising the bone over its head to show the other little reptiles hanging around. They watched them curiously. They cut into the bone with the hardest rock on the planet and molded it into spears to better kill their prey. How fascinating. These little things - they were creators themselves. They had thought... that they and their siblings had been the only ones, other than their slumbering Creator. 

Yes, they decided, settling further into the planet to watch the outside world with a sigh that seemed to ruffle the dunes nearby. This would be quite fun. 

*** 

The reptiles soon named themselves, they had figured out rather swiftly. Many times, the brave one approached their fissure. Sometimes, they could understand what they spoke of, but oftentimes, their words were muddled or too quiet to hear. They wondered how they could fix that issue. 

Vokris, they warbled amongst themselves, though the one that visited them the most was often called Vokra. They pondered on what that meant. Currently, the Vokra gestured at their rift, speaking to them. 

you help us! thank you! the little thing said, ever so polite. They quite liked the way all of the Vokris lay on the ground in sync - it was mesmerizing. 

Perhaps they were more insightful than they had thought, for they continued to do the action while the leader - the Vokra, they supposed - implored them, you keep help us?

Well, yes. That was a given. They couldn't very well participate in Fate's grand plan with the First Child's creation if they had none of their own. They doubted an insect was what the Concept had in mind, so this intelligent bunch... they would do nicely. 

They were strong, from what they had witnessed so far. They fought amongst each other with purpose, hunted their food efficiently - though, they had noticed that their quarry was a little bit... lacking; that would explain their low numbers - and was, in their opinion, quite perfect. 

"Yes," they whispered. The reptiles cringed backward. They would need to figure out how to be a little quieter. 

They reached out, only slightly, startled a bit to find burning energy within their hides. They didn't want to harm these little creations, so they quickly rescinded, whispering a bit of an apology. The Vokris blinked, pressing their claws all over themselves. They quickly did that strange dance of lying on the floor for a while - bowing, they later found out - before they departed. 

you good, the Vokra told them. you good spirit. 

Spirit. What was Spirit? 

They watched for a few decades, silently, mostly. They occasionally dragged some prey from elsewhere on the planet when things got tough for the little critters, but more often than not, they simply watched. 

The Vokra would come more often than the other Vokris, though they did show up to pay their respects. They would offer them little trinkets and food - they didn't have to heart to tell them that they didn't need all of that. They absorbed it anyway. The first time they had done so, they had gotten the slightest of energy boosts. Intriguing, but certainly nothing that they would be able to live from, had they not been so tightly ensconced in the planet's core. 

The first time one of them died, they noticed that same burning energy fleeing from their shell, flitting around haphazardly and without reason. Without a second thought, they reached out, cupping it gently and pulling it in close. 

"Hello," they greeted it curiously. It fluttered in their grasp, and they probed it, digging their way in. 

What they saw was nothing short of amazing. This little thing's entire life, though fleeting and short compared to theirs, became known to them in an instant. They immediately got a better grasp of their language, parsing through the words and syllables with ease. They understood their concept of society, how they ruled, and while they were primitive now, they could suddenly see their potential. 

They tucked the little ball close, quite liking how warm it felt.

They twisted, peering at the little settlement outside of the fissure. It had grown, only slightly. They wanted to know more. They peered at the one closest to them, reaching into their hide and prodding at the burning energy trapped underneath their skin. The reptile jumped in fright and surprise, but they pushed as much calm toward it as they could. Considering the way the reptile slumped to the ground in a boneless heap, they guessed they had overdone it. 

Still, their experiment wasn't in vain. Though they quickly rescinded, not wishing to cause any more harm to the little creatures, they learned quite a bit. 

They watched for a while longer, collecting those that died. Their souls, they called them. They were no afterlife, but they knew that the souls were content, huddled next to them and embracing those they knew in life when their time came. 

The first time the Vokra died, they were startled at how their leadership was passed along. It had been a brutal, messy thing, done in the middle of the night when the original had slept. The new Vokra had assumed power, though it had not lasted very long. The Vokris were rather upset that their Vokra had died so suddenly. 

It wasn't much of a surprise to find himself cradling the fresh soul a few years later. It was very upset, thrashing and whining in dismay. They put it separately from their other souls until it could calm down. 

Several decades later, after a worthier Vokra assumed the title and kept things together rather well, it approached them, throwing itself on the ground. They knew what this was for: their livestock (of which they had quite a few now! They were proud of them) had been diminishing. They knew this to be true; they had watched a Vokris smuggle something into the animals' food. 

"Please, Oh Spirits," Yes, the little reptiles had started calling them that recently; they thought it rather fitting, "We have caught the villain, may You punish them? A divine wrath so great... It will never happen again." 

The Spirits pondered this. They rarely interfered so greatly - dragging food from places or offering up glass or whatever suits the Vokra's wishes occasionally was no big deal - but to mete justice? That was new. And interesting. So they agreed. 

But when the Vokris was in front of them, trembling with fear, they were at a bit of a loss at what to do exactly. They decided they'd experiment - this was an opportunity they wouldn't see often, anyway. 

They dug into the criminal's skin and pulled out their soul with a wrench, marveling at how desparingly easy that had been. The reptile had shrieked in agony before it collapsed, so they supposed that it hadn't been painless. The Vokra went on to explain to the other Vokris about what would happen to those who betrayed their little society. 

The Spirits cooed over how sweet they were. Their little Vokris! They were so adorable. Society, what a novel concept. They supposed that it did suit whatever settlement they had going on, now. 

They put the writhing soul with the other ones that had died with anger in their hearts. A few had calmed down over the decades, but most were still seething. They were hot to the touch, not the pleasant warmth the others exuded. Still, even if the Spirits could toss them out into the ether to be dissolved and brought anew somewhere else... these were their little creations; they were selfishly keeping them close. 

Sometimes, when the Vokris died, they would gain knowledge that the little critter hadn't wanted to share. Most times it was inconsequential, thoughts they wouldn't even bother ruminating on, but other times... they were more noteworthy. Like this little Vokris, whose ideas of writing had intrigued them so terribly they just had to share them with the Vokra the next time they visited. 

And, well... The Spirits were a bit closed off, these days. The Vokris had thoughtfully put up a building around the fissure, as a sort of shrine, they supposed. It did show them respect, which was nice, but it blocked off their view almost completely. They hadn't wanted to hurt their feelings, however, so they had sought to figure out how to view the world through other means. 

Projecting through the sand and the scraggly bushes was good enough for now - sometimes, they'd snag onto an animal passing by but that never lasted long. What they needed was a vessel. Something that could... hold onto them. 

They first started with the building the Vokris had built for them - well, now they were called Vokkrus, what with their silly little writing tools wisping things into existence. The first time an author had died, they had devoured everything they could find in that bright little soul of theirs - pushing their energy into the room. 

They hadn't quite known what they'd wanted to do with it until the Vokra - Vokkra - had stepped foot into the place for the first time in a few years and exclaimed how it reflected everything in sight, looking like - 

"A Mirror," they whispered to the little thing. The Vokkra bowed respectfully and scurried off to do Spirits knew what. Well, they did know. They knew everything that happened on the planet. It was theirs, after all. 

So it was quite a surprise when their building crumpled in on itself when they were pushing more than a little energy into it, killing thousands of Vokkrus in the process and filling up the fissure with debris. 

This posed a problem, the Spirits thought as they scooped up the souls and tucked them next to the others in a neat little pile. They soothed their ruffled feelings and thoughts with calming words and soft reassurances. Several of them were not happy. 

Their fissure was excavated rather quickly, considering all the Vokkrus had in the way of tools were a few shovels. The earthquake they had caused had made the fissure crumple and widen in a few places, which was good for viewing, but had the unfortunate side effect of being several feet further into the crust. All they could see was miserable, boring rock. 

The Vokkrus carved stairs into the stone after several years, making their new view just a little bit more interesting. At least the planet's rock was a bit more sturdy than its crust, as the Spirits were able to shove energy into it without much fear. They made the rock slick and reflective, dancing with light that they would no longer be able to see for real. 

Boring. They scrapped the idea of a vessel for a while. They told the Vokkra they'd be vacant so the poor thing wouldn't worry. It still worried, but the Spirits had brushed against it with fondness and care. Then it calmed down. They were getting pretty good at that, they thought smugly.

Still, it was very unfortunate that they had no way to view the outside world now. There was something cold in their chest, and they realized, upon rummaging through their souls' emotions, that it was sadness. 

With a sigh and a twist, the Spirits curled around the planet's core, and their children, and rested for a while. 

***

They woke sometime later, pleased to find several more souls wrapped up amongst the others. Perhaps they had unconsciously collected them, but they might have been attracted to the other souls. 

They turned, soothing the grumbling of their planet's core in the process. Peering out of the fissure only reminded them that they were stuck underground - unless they wanted to force their way out of their planet. Harming both their planet and their children was not what they wanted, however, even if they would get a better view... 

The room was decorated finely, much more finely than anything they'd ever seen. They plucked through their souls, finding out they had slept for a few lifetimes. At least three millennia. The Spirits rumbled, reaching upward to the closest plant or animal to see the outside world. 

Their children had progressed quite well, they were pleased to note. Their buildings looked sturdier and while they were still walking for the most part, there were strange little slabs that carried things for them. The wheel, a soul offered up. 

"What else have you done?" they asked their little souls. They told them. A new way of stone-making, dug up from deep within the planet. The Spirits made sure to trickle in some more energy in the area they seemed to like to dig around, speeding up the entire cycle of regrowth. 

They shaped their houses from this stone and even managed to mold a few interesting tools that would no doubt speed up their advancement. They were proud of them. They made sure to tell the new Vokkra this, the next time it visited. 

The Vokkra was surprised, likely doubting the validity through word-of-mouth stories spoke of the Spirits. The Spirits brushed calm and affection to it, and simply explained they were there to help, that they loved them. The Vokkra understood, and time went on. 

The Spirits watched as Vokkra after Vokkra rose and fell. Sometimes, they lasted a few decades, and even once a century, but usually, they fell short of one decade. The ones that lasted longer were the most influential ones, which also meant they were the strongest. Fate's words still lingered with the Spirits, and they scrutinized each Vokkra, wondering if this one would be it. 

They never were. They never felt right, either. Still, they looked. 

And while the Spirits were able to push their way into the world occasionally, they wanted something a bit more tangible. 

They decided to experiment. Using an egg. 

The Vokkrus were egg-laying. They did strange mating rituals and then an egg popped out. The Spirits wouldn't lie to themselves and say they really knew what was going on, but it was how new Vokkrus appeared, and they wouldn't say no to that. 

The spirits kept a lookout for a fresh egg, and when they found one, they pushed a bit of energy into it. Alarmingly, the little Vokkrus inside of it sucked it up greedily and the Spirits saw that it burned through them, shriveling up a limb or two before it dissipated. When it hatched, the Spirits noted the black skin, the way it was immediately shunned, the way its parents ruthlessly slaughtered it for being broken. 

The Spirits seethed, cradling the small soul carefully. They told the Vokkra, and punishing those parents was a little satisfying. Tossing their writhing souls with the others even more so. They'd try again in a few years, perhaps after spreading the word that their chosen were special - even if they weren't entirely sure if this endeavor would even work. 

They developed their technique, though they did not make an egg their chosen for a while more. The Vokkra approached them one day, panicked and afraid. The Spirits attempted to calm it, but the more they pushed their emotions forth, the more the Vokkra feared. 

"What ails you?" they questioned in a whisper. 

'It is our eggs!" it yelped. "Every egg, they die! What we done to anger You, O Spirits?" 

That was... not good. They hadn't meant for their experimentation to make eggs - every egg - inhospitable. This could not go on to pass, the Spirits needed this species, its children, to survive. Not only because of Fate, but because... existing here would be lonely without them. Terribly, achingly lonely. 

"Bring one to It," they requested. They were not expecting every single egg on the planet to be delivered to them. They brushed against them, feeling the chill within them. They were ill, and some had already passed, locked within their shells. Some fought viciously to live, and the Spirits wished for that, too. 

They did not want to be alone. Its Children must live.

They gathered up the eggs, holding them oh so gently. Some wiggled while others remained eerily dormant. They weren't quite sure what to do, so they did the first thing that came to mind. 

Tucking physical objects into themselves was a bit trickier than their souls. Some of the tiny eggs' souls flew out of their shells the moment they were touched, curling up at their side with the others. Others protested - those who were still fighting for life - and resisted the pull. But they were getting stronger. 

They couldn't exactly embrace them - the Spirits were not physical in the sense that they could touch, even if they were something more - so they simply dug out a hole. 

Close to the Mirror, they dug and scraped and clawed at the planet's soil until they reached the core. It was warm, and so were the Spirits. This would keep the eggs nice and cozy, they thought, delicately placing them upon clouds of silk and moss and everything soft they could find on the planet. 

The Spirits worked on it for quite a long time - almost a decade, they believed. Several times, the Vokkrus would inquire after their eggs worriedly, but the Spirits soothed their fears. They wanted to make this perfect for their Children. 

They added soft lights and a low hum that the eggs seemed to enjoy. They weren't hatching in here, dormant as they were, and when the Spirits probed the reasoning from them, the little souls ached for their parents' blood. They did not specify which Vokkrus were to be their parents. Intriguing. 

The first time a Vokkrus found the room before it was made ready, seeking out an egg, the Spirits turned them away. The second time, they brought more Vokkrus, and the Spirits told them sternly to stay away. They needed to be patient. 

"But our eggs!" they cried. The Spirits hated to see them so upset, and so let them in. One pair was drawn to an egg, almost magnetically. They paused in front of it, looking unsure. 

"Needs blood," the Spirits offered. The Vokkrus pair sliced their skin on teeth. Blood soaked into the shell eagerly, and the Spirits watched, fascinated by the way the little soul morphed into something similar to their parents. 

The Spirits saw no need to prohibit the Vokkrus now, especially since a pair had gotten an egg (the little creatures were likely to pester them constantly until they gave in). They let them come and go as they pleased. When the eggs ran low, the Spirits made more. 

There were several they made that were... quite special. They put them in the darkest shadows of the room. 

They did not know why they were special. They just knew. 

The first and only time an intruder came into the Nursery - as the Vokkrus were now calling it, centuries later (and it was curious; they had lost their mating practices since they no longer needed to copulate for an egg. They wondered what else they inadvertently changed) - and came into the Nursery with the intent to harm, the Spirits were quite upset. 

The Vokkrus, some silly little thing that had hated the world for its egg dying, even centuries later. Grief made Vokkrus strange, but it was no excuse to harm innocents. 

It smashed only ten eggs before the Spirits found them, and then it spent the rest of its life - ten or so years they made it suffer - wailing and pleading for mercy. It stripped it of its skin, smashed its bones, and burnt it alive; all to replicate what those eggs felt. When they let it die, it was neither content nor angry, like their other souls. It was simply tired. 

They entwined a Need within the Vokkrus. The Spirits would not be able to protect the eggs once the parents took them, and so they made it necessary. Their minds would vanish, leaving only the instinct to protect. 

They sealed up the Nursery and left only a fragment of itself to guard. It would peer into the minds of the parents to gauge their intent. Only those who seek eggs with affection in their heart will be allowed in. 

It was not foolproof. Their species was a cold-hearted one, and love was not something they let themselves feel freely. The eggs were guaranteed to survive to their hatching, but whether or not they survived childhood was out of the Spirits' claws. They would not interfere too heavily in their Children's lives. 

They rested for a while after that. Creating something so small and meticulous had been draining. They listened to their Children's prayers idly, neither here nor there. They gave the Vokkra gifts when asked but otherwise, they rested. 

They watched buildings climb their way into the sky, made of wood, then brick, then metal. Their carriages evolved from pushcarts, Chorsl-drawn carriages, to self-propelled motors. While the Spirits had direct control over their population number, they never allowed it to go past the point of sustainability, but they did let it grow. With new minds and new ideas, their society developed astoundingly fast. 

Yes, it took several hundred Vokkrus lifetimes - especially when certain Vokkra were set in their ways; the Spirits had never been overly fond of the Vokkra Kortak and all her whining for gifts and resentment about the motor, of all things - but the Spirits were quite proud of them and what they'd accomplished. 

One of his special eggs was chosen. Out hatched a hatchling bathed in black skin and milky white eyes. It couldn't see, but it was alright with that; they hadn't known anything else. The Spirits cautiously waited for its inevitable demise but was pleased when the parents defended their child from their neighbors' callous remarks and demanded that it be put down. 

The Spirits did not know why their chosen hatchlings were so ostracized. It wounded them. 

The hatchling grew up secluded, away from its peers. While their technology advanced quickly at first, it had stagnated some during this chosen hatchling's lifetime. The Spirits felt terrible when it shivered with chill, and always made sure it was comfortable, much to the distrust of the other Vokkrus nearby.

The Spirits would whisper to the chosen, latching onto them and viewing the outside world for the first time in ages. Seeing it through the lens of a plant or animal was not the same as their children.

As a result, this left the hatchling - now a young Vokkrus - exposed to their powers. They had an easier time attuning themselves to the planet - to them - and the Spirits were delighted to find out that the chosen had an affinity for calming enraged animals, sprouting native flora, and even, on one particular occasion, healing someone's wound. 

They were fond of this chosen. It was so easy to communicate with them, even though they were as far from the Mirror as they could get. All the Spirits had to do was whisper, and they'd hear. 

Only, as with everything as unpredictable as a Vokkrus's will, it went downhill when someone got jealous. 

Many Vokkrus seethed and wished for the same power as their chosen, wondering why they hadn't been picked instead. The Vokkra of now especially, demanded they share their power with them. They were Vokkra, not their chosen. 

The Spirits explained as well as they could. There were simply matters that just were, and their chosen could be Vokkra if they wanted to, and that the Vokkra of now would forever be their child, but never their chosen. 

And perhaps the Spirits should have soothed their worries more because when the Vokkra killed their chosen, they were furious they hadn't seen it coming. They could admit that their control had slipped, somewhat. Although the Vokkra had killed their chosen by themselves, it had been orchestrated to look as though the Spirits themselves had ordered the kill. The blasphemy, the senseless killing of their favored, the gall of the Vokkra - the Spirits had never rendered one so obsolete so quickly. They had blasted it apart in a fit of revenge, along with those who had accused their favored and gotten them killed. 

There was a fleeting moment, an aching desire, to just let their souls evaporate into the ether. Still, they grabbed onto them at the last nanosecond, tucking them somewhere dark and cold. 

They missed seeing the world through their children's eyes. Even though their power manipulating their minds had only grown, for now, they could pinpoint a few bright souls and peek into their memories, it was not the same. It would never be the same.

The Spirits would not pick another chosen for a long, long time. 

*** 

Time passed. Some of their children left the confines of the planet upon learning space travel. They would miss them terribly, minutely connected as they were, but the excitement that rippled across the Spirits was almost too much to bear. Their technology leaped forward, and soon their vehicles hovered and their pollution (of which the Spirits had already been siphoning away into the ether) had gone down to almost zero. Their medicine was not the greatest compared to the Spirits' siblings' species, but they were still effective for what they needed to be. 

But the Spirits almost did not care for this. Not quite. 

This was almost it, something told them. It was almost time. 

Impatience burned them for many years, decades, centuries until one of the special eggs was picked out by a pair of Vokkrus. The Spirits regarded this closely. 

The egg held two twin-fires, both of which would burn brightly if given the chance. They were not one of their chosen, but they were special, nonetheless. 

They hatched under the care of a Needy father and their mother shared his joy. It was perfect, at the start. The Spirits had been satisfied after watching them for a decade - these two would grow up happy, if a little in want of money - and put most of his attention back onto the bedazzling Vokkra. This one was quite shiny and had been Vokkra for many decades by now. 

Only, when they peered back to check in on them, the smaller hatchling was scorned by the mother. His twin-fire was elevated past the point any hatchling should be. Their father was ill and would not last much longer. This troubled the Spirits, for some reason. 

They had not heard from Fate directly since all those millennia ago, but they had a feeling that one, if not both, of these hatchlings were integral to the plan. They just needed to figure out how. 

They watched for a while. These were not the Spirits' chosen hatchlings, but they were important nonetheless. They curbed the hunger in their bellies when it got too intense, pushed a neighbor into offering his services as hatchling-sitter, and quelled some of the mother's anger. When the father died, they cradled him close and asked him of his children. 

"Oh, my babies," he said with regret. "They are the most wonderful things I could have ever created." 

"Fear not," they whispered back. "They will do wondrous things." 

The Spirits focused on the male hatchling. His twin-fire was in a spot of security, but he was not. They whispered encouragements into his ear that they were certain he could not hear. They bolstered him sometimes and made him cringe back in terror other times. 

When the planet had wrapped around the star Its Creator had given them fifty times, another prick of interest bloomed. Another of his special eggs had been chosen. The Spirits fretted - Fate's plan would not be put into action should their children all be wrought with hunger and hatred. Were this second egg abused, they would order the Vokkra to do something. 

 It was with great relief that this hatchling had incredibly loving parents. They fostered his interests and made him laugh more than they made him cry, unlike the first hatchlings' parent. 

It was only until the first hatchling grew to be larger than his twin-fire that the Spirits could rest easy. There was no chance of him accidentally dying before his time had come. He was stronger now, even if he did not know quite yet. 

They kept tabs on both hatchlings, having determined that, while the female hatchling would no doubt be powerful, she was not exactly what they were looking for. The male carried strife in his heart and yet carried on. He knew darkness, that of One-who-destroys, and now he needed to know happiness, contentment, love. 

The other hatchling lived on as most hatchlings do in this world now. He suffered some strife but it was not as great as the other's. The Spirits wondered when they would meet; they would benefit one another. 

The first hatchling's parent kicked him onto the street. While the Spirits could no naught but watch, they shepherded him into kinder haunts and made sure there were always credits on the ground whenever he looked. 

The second hatchling perfected his art of cooking, and despite not being overly religious, he still prayed to them for good luck. They often caught the scent of his food. It smelled delicious. They wormed their way through several souls' memories to see what tasting was like. 

Then, the first stepped into the Pit and came out the victor. Victor. Fate had said something about molding one of the First Child's creations into one of those. Perhaps... this was the reason. Would they overtake their new Vokkra? 

The Spirits struggled not to play favorites - their chosen ones notwithstanding - but they were quite fond of this one. Especially when they 'first' met. He was bold yet shy, quiet yet strong. The Spirits could see that the planet was going to prosper underneath this one's rule. 

They watched the Vokkra and the other Vokkrus slowly become friends, offered gifts and fuel where they could and simply... waited. 

"Oh, Spirits," the phrase was often said as an expletive, but they couldn't bring themselves to mind. The name gave them power, and wherever, whenever it was said, they were able to view the world, just for a second. The Spirits savored them - and as they grew in popularity, they were overjoyed. But this time, it was the Vokkra speaking it. 

The Vokkra was easy to latch onto. They did not know whether that was because they had hidden his egg away for so long, or just because the Vokkrus's mind was strong. Perhaps a bit of both. 

"I don't know if this will work," the Vokkra mumbled at his glowing rock. Computer... they thought. They had so many trinkets, now. 

"What?" they questioned, feeling amused when the Vokkra jumped in surprise. They rifled through his memories carefully. His face scrunched uncomfortably, but he didn't fall over in agony. They hadn't caused that in quite some time. 

"Hello," the Vokkra offered with a little bow of his head. Sometimes, the Spirits missed the Vokkrus throwing themselves onto the ground. "My Vokkra debut... I've completed it, but I wish for something more." 

The Spirits had barely paid any attention to what the Vokkras actually did in their day-to-day lives, only focusing on the bigger things like law creation or medical aid. The Spirits could not say that they knew what a debut was. A quick sort through the Vokkra's - as well as their previous Vokkras' - minds told them all they needed to know. 

His Vokkra wished to go beyond their galaxy in search of life. The Spirits knew it was out there, of course, they had visited multiple of their siblings and their creations. They thought of Life. 

They had to vanish from their Vokkra's mind in excitement and worry and Wonder, lest they overload him. This was the moment that Fate's plan would come into play, surely. 

"Do what you wish," he told the Vokkra. The Vokkra sighed, and he shelved the idea for the time being. 

The Spirits couldn't force him to do anything. They didn't wish to, either. But when Fate tapped them and whispered, a victor has been born on Life, they knew they needed to do something drastic. 

They pushed their telescopes to point in the direction of the little blue-green planet and whispered a few cajoling promises into the ears of the scientists of how impressed the Vokkra would be if they found somewhere new to find life. 

Needless to say, the Spirits were pleased that their children were greedy little things. 

The little beings they hauled back were interesting. The Spirits had almost thought their species to be reptilian before they realized they had no scales or thick skin, replaced with fur and warmth instead. 

But these things were tiny, some even smaller than a hatchling. They were being pawned off as nonsentient pets, and while the Spirits pondered for just a moment whether they should tell the Vokkra the truth, they decided against it. 

Mold it into a victor, the Concept had said. 

They were uncertain which mammal it would be, however. There were a fair few too many on the planet, and the Spirits were not as innately connected with them as they were with the Vokkrus. They were likened to the plants and insects their Vokkra had brought back - similar to many of their own creations, but so different that they were not able to manipulate them. 

So, they simply watched. They tore apart the criminals that their Vokkra brought them - hurting innocents, especially ones viewed as incapable of protecting themselves, was not something the Spirits condoned. Ripping this one's mind open and forcing him to relive every hit, slap, curse, and bite that had been inflicted on those innocents had been satisfying. They splattered him into nothing when they were finished and put his writhing, angry soul with the others. 

Then, their Vokkra got one of the little mammals that was harmed by that sour Vokkrus. The Spirits knew, quite suddenly, that this was their little victor. 

It helped, they thought, that their Vokkra chattered on endlessly about the little victor. 

Not to them directly, of course. Their Vokkra was much too shy about that, but to the others in his company. The Spirits merely listened. 

Their Vokkra cared for this little thing, which pleased them. The Vokkra was finally getting happiness in his life. He also told tales of how vicious the critter was, warped by circumstance, and how sweet he was when there was no harm to befall him. As if he were molded into a shape of cruelty.

The Spirits, as grand as they were, could not help but feel pleased with the way events were slotting into place. Fate's plan was taking shape.

The sympathy they would feel toward the little victor would come later, but soon enough.

The Spirits had looked away for one moment only to find that the little victor had been taken away from the Vokkra. One more piece of its armor slid into place and it prevailed from that underground bunker with malice in its heart - but it was still unquestionably good.

The Spirits were irritated they hadn't found the facility before it had reached this point - they would have mentioned it to the Vokkra had they known of its existence. The Spirits held no opinion over the little mammals, but they hated that many innocents had been harmed for no justifiable cause.

The Vokkra was spitting mad, ranting and raving even to them. They quite delighted in this bloodthirsty side of him; it pleased them that he had found someone to be so protective of. That he would tear up the world for one singular being.

Hmm. That thought gave the Spirits pause. They Wondered...

The Vokkran presented the traitors to the Mirror and listed their crimes. The Spirits rarely listened to this bit; they trusted that they'd be able to see what crimes the accused had committed when they tore into their souls and enact justice - but they listened now.

And, well, the Vokkra also carried a little mammal in his arms. It was still and yet, it was awake. Interesting - the Spirits have never seen such a thing before.

"Hello," they whispered to it. It didn't react. Hmm, perhaps they were too quiet?

"What is that, Vokkra?" A mammal, but was it the same one who Vokkra went to war for? The Spirits would like to know what made it so special.

The Vokkra answered, addressing the Mirror respectfully. Amused, the Spirits turned their attention back onto the mammal. Kohgrash. The Spirits wouldn't pretend they knew what all their names meant and what significance they held.

They pressed a bit roughly onto the mammal's head, meeting a strange bit of resistance. Very curious! What protections had they needed to evolve so?

"You are not from here," they told it, speaking a bit louder than they usually would.

ouch, ouch, very loud, what is this I'm scared where am I what are we doing

The Spirits quieted slightly, but they still couldn't reach through the little curious thing's mind without being loud and thus harming it slightly. They felt a bit guilty.

"Oh, Spirits... Kohgrash is very sick and sleeping right now-" the Vokkra started, and the Spirits could feel the cloying worry the Vokkrus felt for the tiny thing. They sought to reassure him.

"He is awake," they interrupted. "And he is listening."

They paused for a moment. "It will help."

Perhaps they could simply... wake it up. They shifted their attention back onto the curious little thing, feeling its pain and fear on the edges of themselves. They tried to soothe the pain and dull the fear, as well as snoop around in its head to find an answer. It was tattered - moreso than most they've seen (until after they've punished certain Vokkrus) - but whole. They weren't able to look for very long, as the curious little thing's head was about to splatter open. They didn't think the Vokkra would much appreciate that.

ow ow oh god I'm gonna die please stop please please

They let themselves drift away from the little thing's mind, brushing away its pain and replacing it with numbness. They felt regret they weren't able to assist it, but fascinated that they couldn't at all. What was this thing?

"It could not help," they whispered regretfully to the Vokkra. They saw his shoulders slump, just slightly. They reassured, "Kohgrash will awaken when he is ready."

They shifted their attention to the fringes of the Mirror. They could sense several presences, and they knew that the ones who had harmed many in that facility were out there. Still, they asked, "Why are you here, Vokkra?"

The Vokkra grumbled under his breath, but the Spirits could hear, "Those fucking Cords bastards... Oh Mirror," he said louder, "I have several accused of treason, animal cruelty, medical malpractice, among other reasons... They stand before you to receive their justice."

In shuffled four unremarkable Vokkrus, though they were quite beaten up. One was missing an eye, the other a finger, and the third an entire hand. The fourth was unharmed. They were shoved unceremoniously to their knees, and the Spirits began. They were not the first Vokkrus they would judge, and they would certainly not be the last.

They recognized one, they realized. The mother of the Vokkra. Weren't children supposed to love their parents? The Vokkra looked thirsty for this one's fated death. Oh, well. The Spirits enjoyed a little bloodthirst here and there.

"Please," the unharmed one begged. The Spirits wouldn't have listened to it; they rarely did. They had made their choices, and if they were found guilty, then that is what they are. Still, they paused.

Because the little curious thing was loud with its thoughts.

Lilac oh no why is she here too she helped me she hurt me too but shes innocent please stop stop stop

"It protests this one," they whispered to the Vokkra. The Vokkra did not look pleased at that statement. His claws clutched at the mammal very tightly.

ouch Vok'Rul you're holding me too tight i wanna wake up from this dream stupid delria must have passed out real real bad fuck i wanna go home

"You aren't dreaming Kohgrash-"

Viktor Viktor thats me I'm Kohgrash

Surprise rang through them, but they didn't let that give them pause. Victor. "This is reality."

Read my thoughts it can read my thoughts what the fucking shit

Amusement fluttered along their edges. "Yes, it does. How do you think It judges them?"

Embarrassment, something they rarely ever felt, squeezed them, curling in hot. Jesus make yourself look like an idiot in front of alien god what the fuck of course it can fucking read minds what the fuck

Clearly, they heard the little curious thing as it shouted with its mind - how did it figure out how to do that? Very curious indeed - Mirror! Lilac is good, definitely not innocent hell no she hurt me but she didn't want this stupid ringmaster hurt her too please please spare her i don't want her to die

Mercy was not oft seen on this planet. They spared that one regardless. The little thing asked, and the Spirits were ever so curious.

Mold it into a victor.

Unfortunately, the curious little thing dipped into slumber when they started to rip into the accused's souls to punish them. Before they could touch the Vokkra's mother, though, he dismissed the rest of the guards (and the other three Vokkrus sprawled out on the floor) to focus on her.

The Spirits were agog. They haven't had much, if any at all, experience with family. How, exactly, did it work? They knew parents were to love their children, as they loved theirs, but some Vokkrus simply did not.

They cradled their last chosen soul a bit closer. It warmed them but they still felt the icy pang of guilty regret.

"Mother," the Vokkra said quietly. She was still wrapped in chains and sound of mind, as they hadn't touched her yet. They pondered over what to do to her precisely. Should they snap all her bones at once or should they twist her mind into insanity? Perhaps they'd gnaw the rest of her fingers off. They were rather fond of this Vokkra, and this Vokkrus had hurt him. "Quite the predicament you are in."

The Vokkrus turned to glare at her son, a withering gaze that did naught but make the Vokkra's eye twitch. Her sights fell onto the slumbering thing in his arms. "I raised you better than this," she hissed, rising to her feet. The Spirits rumbled in warning, forcefully pushing her back onto her knees. The Vokkra was less than fazed.

"Did you?" he asked quietly. He set the little curious thing on the floor before he stalked over to his mother, and the Spirits thrummed with intrigue. They prodded at him, somewhat longing for its wakefulness so they could sift through its mind, its memories. What was Life like? Did it harbor only this species or many? Perhaps even more than the Spirits could count? These things could speak - did they have vehicles and animals and food and society like their children, too? The Spirits desperately wanted to know.

They blamed their curiosity for missing the squabble between their Vokkra and his mother. The Vokkra's fists were bloodied with gore, eyes alight with a vicious fire they usually only saw in the precious fighting ring they hosted every decade or so. Vokkra screamed obscenities at his snarling mother, who fought back just as hard, wrapped up in metal as she was.

The Vokkra grabbed the metal and pressed it against her neck. The Vokkrus made a strange garbled noise. "I'm your mother, Rul! Yo-you wouldn't kuh-kill me!"

"No." The smile on Vokkra's face was bright with blood that dripped from his forehead. "But I will finally make you wish I would."

Mercy was not oft seen on this planet, but revenge certainly was.

When the Vokkra was done with the Vokkrus, claws stained with his mother's blood, the Spirits took the matter into their own claws. 

They made her hurt, just as Vokkra had done. They twisted her memories of fondness into ones of fear, turned happiness into despair, obliterated love and stamped it into hate. They made her live as their Vokkra had done, ignored and belittled. They snapped her bones, one tiny section by one tiny section. They vaporized her insides, reformed them, and made them claw their way out of her body. They turned her skin inside out and twisted it right side in. When she died, they kept her soul tethered inside her broken body, made her feel the ache of rot and decay as they sped up its decomposition. There was nothing more than a spot of black on the floor by the time they were done.

They plucked her trembling, vacant soul out and tossed it over with the others. The Vokkra sat in the farthest corner of the room, cradling his curious little thing protectively and simply staring. They did not think he knew how to blink anymore. He did not move for quite some time. They prodded him after it had been almost a day. 

"You go home," they whispered. The Vokkra jolted. They made him stand up, catching him when he staggered. "Home."

"Home," the Vokkra echoed faintly. Hmm, perhaps they had been a little too gruesome. They squeezed into his memories and started smearing the details. The Vokkra's shoulders loosened, and he got some spark back into his eye. "That... Justice was delivered?" he asked, like he couldn't believe it. 

"Yes," they imparted a vague but firm sense into his mind. He'd feel as he had when his mother was punished - sorrowful smugness - but he wouldn't remember the details. Not precisely. "Go home with that thing." 

The Vokkra looked down at the little thing. He laughed a little bewilderedly. "That's my Kohgrash, Oh Spirits." 

They could feel worryworryfearfearlove ooze off the Vokkra in sickening amounts. The Spirits pushed it back at him, saying, "Do not worry. It will awaken." 

The Vokkra nodded, looking strange - empty and yet not - and left. 

The curious little thing did wake up, and quite soon, many of the curious little things were bundled up in a space-faring ship and leaving. They tugged on Vokkra's one, asking, "You are leaving?"

yes wow its loud can it hear me from all the way down there 

The little curious thing was so amusing. They understood why the Vokkra kept them around. "Yes, it can hear you. It is sorry you were harmed here." 

ouch whoa a god apologized to me that's some crazy bingo card shit right there oh wait it can read thou- 

"You are always welcome here," they interrupted, certain the human didn't even realize it was broadcasting its thoughts so surely. 

thats so sweet im glad alien god is letting me back in i dont have an alien passport thats kinda crazy what would an alien passport look like okay im glad i met you too thank you

"Where are you going?" Would it go back to Life or was it finding somewhere else to live? Why were almost all of the curious little things going away? 

home earth my dad my school my apartment

The Spirits were almost panicked. They could not allow this human to flee their planet; they were certain this was the one they needed. 

"Its planet is very nice," they told it coaxingly. "It could be your home too." 

i know but earth is my home too i miss blue skies and green grass and fresh air and birds chirping and clouds moving and storms and 

The Spirits sent up begrudging acceptance toward the human, willing it to close off its thoughts. They were loud little creatures. Much louder than their Vokkrus. "Take care of Vokkra," they said. "Come back soon." 

okay aw i love that guy hes so fucking scary though jesus christ and wow look at Vok'Rul hes so worried what a dork hey i wonder 

The steady stream of thoughts slowly faded away as the humans got further away. They realized now, settling into their planet's core to wait it out, that it was alarmingly quiet now. It had been a slow adjustment, but now that the bulk of the humans vanished... the Spirits could no longer hear a murmur on the edges of their senses. A constant hum of energy. 

Their planet, Life, aptly named and yet, it harbored no sibling of theirs. The Second Child missed their sibling dearly, but the Spirits knew that they had done their best to honor them. To see what their creation had birthed despite their destruction in the Great Battle was warming. 

The Vokkra came back upset and broody for a while, kicked himself out of it, and soon enough, the victor was back. 

"You've returned," they said, a bit smugly. Their planet was rather great, even if Life was a close second. They slipped into his mind, wondering what had kept the human on Life. They drew away when his thoughts became a little hazy. 

ouchouchouch that was rough jesus christ 

"Forgot you are small," they whispered apologetically, sending up some strength. 

I have jetlag astronomical jetlag i wonder how that would really work but i guess i'll figure it out myself let me rest a little please spirits youre very loud

What was jetlag? They wanted to rifle through his thoughts - a few humans had died on his planet but their souls had zipped back in the direction of Life so they hadn't been able, or really willing to catch them - but pushing the human when he just got back was not the Spirit's style. 

(They learned that one through the victor. They thought it had a nice ring to it.)

If they really desired to, the Spirits could keep the victor here. They could bury his body in sand until he was needed. They could wrap him up in glass and keep an eye on him. They could ground the air ships and disable any oncoming rescue vessels. They could keep him prisoner - safe and alive - until the time came. 

But the Spirits cared for their children, and the Vokkra most of all, and the Vokkra loved the victor. 

The Spirits were starting to grow fond of him as well. Every so often, the little thing would pray to them, which was scarce even among their own children. Only, the victor didn't ask of them; simply... spoke. 

This was normal, they supposed; many of their children used their name as an expletive, but this was different. Intentional.

Spirits spirits hope you hear this i hope you have a good day today wish me luck yummm food smells good 

Spirits your glass looks very pretty today 

Spirits im glad to be back that Kindred is scary big feels real intense too like you times a thousand

Spirits dont take Vok'Rul's anger seriously hes just mad that the council wont approve his hatchling competition thing

Spirits Vok'Rul is really strong but this competition is stressing me out i dont get why you arent stressing out either but I guess youve been watching this for like forever wait i wonder how old you are

And on and on and on. Time passed both slowly and how it normally does: in the blink of an eye. Another test of strength went by for the title of Vokkra, and while a new Vokkra wouldn't be the end of the world, they had a feeling that the victor would not take it lying down. He'd probably join the Vokkra in death, and that would mess up their plans. 

So they made sure a few of their children fumbled their throws or tripped over seemingly nothing. The Vokkra didn't need much of their help; he looked to be in his element. The Vokkra was victorious and they needn't fret over much of anything for a while now. They simply let the Vokkra and the victor grow in life and waited for the correct timing. 

Then, the Vokkra, along with the other special hatchling, decided they wanted a child. One of their chosen eggs tugged on them, and the Spirits knew that it was to be theirs. 

They were both terribly excited and horribly afraid. They did not want another chosen to be ruthlessly slaughtered like the others before them. Vokkra would get the Need. He'd protect the egg, and the other special hatchling would care for him in turn. They were a good duo. 

The victor took Vokkra's place. It was amusing, especially when he came to visit the Spirits. He looked so frightenedly nervous. 

"Hello Vokkra Kohgrash," they chuckled at him. A human Vokkra. 

wow even Spirits is making fun of me of course theyd find this funny, the human thought even as he bowed very respectfully. He said, "Hello," out loud. 

The Spirits found him so silly. They pushed affection at him to soothe his nerves. It made him stumble back a little. 

okay thats a good sign right they arent smiting me on the spot so that means im okay to take Vok'Rul's spot for a while right oh Jesus I cannot do this

"You are here because...?" they prompted loudly. Maybe a little too loudly. The human cringed. 

"I needed to speak with you, uhhh sir," the little thing said respectfully, looking like he wanted to bow again. oh fuck theyre going to kill me and they could do it so easily i can feel everything on my skin

"Obviously," they replied, more than a little amused. 

the mirror is so cool but fuck does it hurt my head wow 

"You need something to prove your worth," they guessed, thinking of all the times a Vokkra had come up to ask for favors from them. They were more than happy to give something to the little curious thing, their little victor. 

fuck i hope they dont think im using them not that i could if i tried can you imagine forcing them to do anything holy jesus christ i dont have blackmail on them oh my god they can read thoughts i dont have any blackmail and i would never use it please believe me

They rumbled their mirth. They had to rifle through someone's memories to figure out what blackmail was, but even if the little victor had something on them, there was no one they could report them to. They were the Spirits. 

thank god they find me funny

"Yes, sir," he said nervously. "My friend recommended divine glass?" 

Oh, the crushed up sand. That was easy enough, and they wondered why the curious little Vokkra wasn't asking for anything else. Well, they supposed they wouldn't ask. It would probably make the poor little thing explode. 

Hmm, they wondered if humans could do that. 

I wonder if they have special sand to smash actually i dont think i want to know i'd probably explode

The Spirits paused. Could the human read their thoughts? 

aw jeez if i get divine glass then those old fuckers will stop being so fucking mean to me

No, decidedly not. They sent a burst of chastisement toward the human; those were their children he was speaking about. Regret and guilt and fear oozed off the human in waves so they quickly followed up with a rush of fondness. 

"It will do this for the curious little thing," they told him. Relief emanated from him. 

thank god i don't want to think about what would've happened if i'd left this place with nothing wait i might die if they do this since i passed out last time uh oh

"Don't worry Vokkra, It will be careful." 

They really did try, but the little thing still fell asleep the moment they started creating the glass. They tried to speed up the process as safely as they could, but had to prod awake the human in the end. 

like a wind chime twinkling in the wind, the human thought, the words slow and muffled. 

"What's a wind chime?" they asked curiously, trying to flick through his memories to see. 

"Ouch," ow ow ow ow, the human moaned. They stopped. He looked at the pile of glass before him. ohh that's pretty how am i going to get it out of here without tearing myself up

They grabbed a nearby bag, unattended by the Vokkrus it belonged to. It was empty, anyway. They dragged it through the planet and pushed it into the Mirror. 

what the heck why didn't that hurt me

"It is not something created, it merely moved location," they told him. 

the fuck they just stole something where were the checks and balances

They had to look through a few Vokkrus to find out what that meant and came up empty. They really wished they had a human soul to rifle through. They were so strange. The victor went back to living life, and the Spirits were content to watch. Only...

They had put the Need on the Vokkra perhaps a bit too viciously. When he started chasing the victor from his nest, the Spirits were not that concerned. The victor was quick and would get away and out of the room, and he'd be fine. 

The Vokkra following him out of the room and around the territory he called home, tossing furniture through glass and risking life and limb just to kill the victor made the Spirits realize this was not fine. 

The Spirits grabbed the Vokkra, squeezing him tight. They had never done anything so overt outside of their Mirror. It felt like the Vokkra's will was seeping through their claws, and they held on even tighter. 

"WRONG!" they shouted at him when he made another swipe for the victor. Mercifully for the Vokkra, he slumped into unconsciousness. The Spirits held him for a moment longer before letting go, brushing against his mind to see if any damage had been done. He remained intact, and the same could be said for the little victor, if a little battered.

The reason for the wild chase had been the egg. They watched as they took their egg to many Vokkrus all over the world, inspecting it and prodding it and the Spirits could not risk it. They could not risk another chosen dying at the hands of their children.

Their egg was quiet despite the life that was in it. The Spirits tapped against the egg, whispering, "What keeps you?"

i cold scared tired, the little egg chirped. The Spirits pushed some strength into their shell. They hummed in contentment and settled down to rest and to grow. They took the egg back to the Vokkra, who guarded it fiercely, and the Spirits allowed themselves to hope.

Then, their chosen finally hatched.

The rush upon watching him tumble from his confines was something they hadn't experienced in a very long time. Happiness filled their entire being and the planet shifted and groaned in agreement. Their chosen, finally another chosen! They whispered greetings and promises to the little thing, long after he had fallen asleep. 

They admired him. The black flesh on his tail, which they knew would creep further up on his skin as he grew, reminded them of the expanse of space, the in-between of their Creator's creations.  They knew not exactly why their chosen had flesh blackened so, but they suspected it to be from the time they had been hidden. Tucked in close to their chest, secluded from the other eggs... perhaps they had not liked that. 

Still, they thought them perfect. Their precious children, their chosen. 

Days and weeks passed by, and the Spirits spent many of them simply watching their chosen. He was well-loved, protected by the Vokkra and the victor, cherished by three of them. They whispered and cooed and told their chosen all the stories they could think of. 

The Vokkra visited them after their egg had hatched due to their annual meeting. The Spirits were rather disinterested this time, only asking about the egg. 

"My- my egg?" the Vokkra stumbled. That's right, the Vokkra wouldn't know why the Spirits had chosen him. They peeked into his head to get it straight from the source; what things had the Vokkra seen in his son that the Spirits could not-? 

my son is cursed

"CURSED?" They shouted. Rage filled their entire being and how desperately they wanted to thrash about the room and let inferno fill the gaps between their growls and hisses. They wanted to smash this Vokkra into pieces for daring to think such a thing, to destroy him before he destroyed their chosen. Their fondness for him stalled the urge. 

He was on the ground, clutching his head and trembling with rage. They reigned in their anger briefly, and that was enough for the Vokkra. 

"My son," he panted, "is not cursed." 

Confusion drowned out their rage. He had just stated that the egg was cursed, had he not? "Of course, he is not. Why would you think so?"

The Vokkra explained how the Spirits had cursed their chosen, how the black on their skin meant that they were cursed to live a horrific life. Unending despair filled them. They held their chosen souls close and tried not to weep. 

"You are Its children," they told him mournfully. "It would never harm you." Never maliciously, never because they didn't deserve to be punished. "The egg has been Touched by It." 

The Vokkra was confused, demanding answers for fear of his son, but the Spirits were a swirling mass of rage and sorrow, and if the Vokkra kept talking, they didn't know what they would do. They pushed the Vokkra out with promises that they'd never harm the egg. 

The Vokkra was a worried mess, barely able to take his eyes off his child. The Spirits still told it stories and whispered sweet nothings to it. An overprotective father was a pleasure, but right now, the Spirits wished they could tell him to relax. 

Then the Vokkra took the egg to another planet. The chosen was too young to relay a message to its sibling, but they poured as much love and hello onto him as they dared. Hopefully, that would get the message across to their sibling, the ayoi they thought they called themselves. 

They let the Vokkra leave with reassurances that they'd never harm their egg. They could only wait until the Vokkra believed them. 

When they returned, the Vokkra seemed much more settled, and the chosen had a reverberating hellolovereturn settled along his skin. The Spirits wiped it away, pressing affection onto the chosen instead. The little Vokkrus simply yawned in response. The Spirits loved their chosen. 

They had been a bit too focused on their chosen, watching as he grew up. The victor and the Vokkra went back to Life for some reason or another, and it was only when the chosen grew distressed by his other father's emotions that they realized something was wrong. 

Reaching through space was difficult, especially when they did not know where the two were. They brushed against hot stars and empty voids and rocky planets and everything else until they reached the cool touch of metal and the cries of the human's thoughts

fuck you fuck you i hate you so much i hate you 

and knew they were in the right place. Only, when they tried to latch onto them, trembling with the effort, if only to let them know they knew where they were, they felt something else. 

Hatreddestructionrage IT Is One- Who ... Destroy.ss.sss It will kill the Childrneee and hurrrt Everythin-who-became-Cre Ation as It hurt ME 

The Spirits recoiled in fear. They waited for what seemed to be millennia, just waiting for One-who-destroys to turn Its attention unto them and destroy them and their children. The pinprick of destruction never settled on them, but their fear lingered. 

One-who-destroys' fragments were gathering. They tortured their child and their victor endlessly. The Spirits dared not reach further into the fortress - they did not want to alert One-who-destroys, shattered as It may be. Its fury would be enough to destroy the Spirits. 

They had to listen as the victor was tortured with his own mind and fears. They listened when they tore the two away. They listened when they 'killed' the victor in front of the Vokkra. It was only the steady stream of anguish from the human that they knew he was still alive. The Vokkra had nearly died with grief. 

It stung so sharply, clogged up almost every sense the Spirits could afford to spare. The Spirits knew this grief and yet it was more intense than they had expected, than they could have ever prepared for. 

When the Vokkrus and humans and other species sought them out, the Spirits guided their ships toward the cesspool of fear. No time was wasted. When the fortress blew to smithereens, the Spirits retreated quickly, not daring to have even one of the fragments touch them. 

Fate's foretelling arrived. The Spirits had a chosen, a victor molded by their planet, and a Vokkra who would die for both. The Spirits had grown in strength since their habitation of this planet they had made. They knew how to manipulate matter, life, and energy. They were prepared.

The Spirits did not feel prepared. They did not want their planet to be destroyed. They did not want to be destroyed. 

When the Vokkra and victor returned, they rifled through their memories as gently and as carefully as possible. It should not have surprised them to learn that humans had already found a way to kill the fragments. Crushing their bodies when they were manipulated into showing something far weaker than their true selves was ingenious. 

They struggled to think of a plan to thoroughly wipe them out. The victor must be the catalyst, but how would he become so? The humans' lives were short, alarmingly so. Finding every single piece of One-who-destroys would take several of their lifetimes. There was not enough time for the victor to do so. 

Even if the other humans assisted him... there were far too many fragments. They were slippery; as soon as they figured out what was happening, there was no doubt they would go into hiding once more. 

They asked their siblings as much as they could. The closest few, the koyi-eh, the ayoi, the criken, and the bolor all agreed that something must be done, but they too were uncertain. And too tired to do much more than hear their question and mumble out a response. It seemed that the Second Child had been the only one to tether themselves to their Creation to keep awake and aware to this degree. 

They pondered over what was to be done. Their chosen grew and started harnessing their power from a young age. He made the animals still in a stampede, spoke with them more often (especially now that he had a basic understanding of words), and attempted telepathy. 

"No," they told him gently, "That is too much for you right now." 

complaint wrong upset was the response. The Spirits just pushed affectionate sternness unto him. 

When the Vokkra came back from another interstellar meeting with all of their siblings' creations, he was both seething mad and unerringly calm. They rifled through his memories, both alarmed and relieved when they found the fate of the Outkasts, as they were called now.

They still pondered over the problem when they caught wind from their chosen that they were going somewhere new. A trip to the koiy-eh's creation. They whispered to their chosen that the koiy-eh would always help them no matter the issue. They even told the victor. They departed full of eager exhaustion. The Spirits sent goodwill toward them; hopefully, they would all come back safely. At the very least, they knew the chances of the victor and their chosen coming back was high. 

They came back later than expected, but they still came back.

"Did you learn much, my little egg? How was it?" they asked their chosen. The little one babbled and sent back scary fear fun Ohras Dada Papa love love fight angry and showed them images of many different plants they had never seen before.

Things were slightly more relaxed after that. The Spirits knew the fragments to be on a leash of some sort, something that may snap at any second but was sure to give them an edge nonetheless. The Vokkra, the victor, and the chosen were all healthy and growing. 

Then the entire family left to go to Life for some reason. The victor was emanating fear and guilt and grief in droves. They didn't come back for almost an entire cycle around the star. When they did, the Spirits were determined to share this story, to come up with a solution that would not harm any of them and yet lead them to victory. It needed to start with the victor. 

And then the victor got shot in the heart by a fragment of One-who-destroys, and all their carefully crafted plans were unraveling at an alarming pace. 

"No!" they surged forward, clutching at the soul that threatened to squeeze out of their claws and flee toward Life. They squashed it back into the victor's body, which keened and struggled to draw breath into his lungs for one last time. 

"Not this one," they told their chosen, who wailed with all of the fearloveworry being poured his way. "Its dearest one, open your heart. Death is not the end for this one."

It took little for Vi'mrakka to understand what they asked of him. The little one wanted desperately for the victor to survive and opening himself up as a vessel for the Spirits was as easy as sliding into a soul's memories. The Spirits snagged a claw through the tunnel and pushed as much energy, life, and heart as they feasibly could without burning a hole straight through the planet. 

The body seized, but the Spirits were determined; they could not be the reason that One-who-destroys returned. They started stitching up the victor's insides as best they could, but it wouldn't hold. His soul strained against his claws, desperate for freedom. It would leak from the carcass as if it were fresh blood. They needed something else. 

They were getting tired. They had never attempted to hold a human soul before. They were neverending, resilient little beasts. It both wished to live and wished to die, and perhaps that indecision was what allowed the Spirits to tuck it away inside themselves, wrapping around it tight, tight, tighter until it could barely move. 

They spit matter into the body, allowing it to function until they could come up with a plan. The human soul was a different sort of warm than their other children. A spicier warm, something that scalded them and yet left a pleasant aftertaste. 

The Vokkra took the victor's body and their chosen's sleeping form. His consciousness lingered next to the Spirits, and they cupped it gently, pressing a soft kiss upon his brow. "Rest, my little one," he told it, tucking it next to the human soul. The little victor curled around their chosen as best he could. 

need help need help the other Vokkrus souls questioned. They were not often loud enough to be heard by the Spirits. The ones who died angry were vocal for about a decade before they, too, quietened to a low murmur. need help need help? 

But, oh, that gave them an idea. They plucked the Vokkra's father from the crowd and whispered the idea to him. They thought about using the mother, but decided she was too volatile. The victor probably would not appreciate what they were about to do, anyway. 

They put the soul next to the little victor and made the planet tremble with a sigh. For a while, they rested. The fight had exhausted them. Knocking and raised voices barely fazed them, nor did the screaming matches the Vokkra held at the Mirror. The prayers barely reached them. Most of their energy was used to keep the little victor's body alive and their chosen's consciousness from completely slipping into their domain, at least until they'd rested for a while. 

They woke sluggishly when the victor's soul started buzzing more frequently. When it finally woke up, it stopped vying for freedom, and the Spirits released it suspiciously. Their chosen's consciousness surged forward, and both of them buzzed lovelovelove to one another.

To say tuning into their conversation was difficult was an understatement. But the Spirits spoke to the little victor in the end, relieved to find him more or less the same. They were glad they hadn't let some parts slip through. 

I'm deader than dead and vikka's dead too 

"Do not worry," they responded tiredly. The little victor's soul jumped and fritzed all over the place. They rumbled out a chuckle, pressing on it to still. "Always so jumpy, curious little thing." 

They explained, "You are in It, you are tethered to It. Your burning little soul wants to flee to the First Child's Life."

they're not loud anymore but what does that mean i'm tethered what the hell is first child's life I'm so confused I'm dead arent i i got shot in the chest that kinda means you're just dead no ifs ands or buts

"Do not fret. You are not dead," they said, pushing another wave of calm toward him. Their chosen glowed with happiness. Hmm, they supposed they should bring him back to his parents. The incessant knocking and screaming from the Vokkra was getting old. 

They turned away from the victor, plucking the Vokkra's father and pushing it closer to the little victor. They tried to return the chosen to his mind, but the little thing was just as slippery as the victor. He whined and wished to stay with him. 

The victor and the father were squabbling like hatchlings. "Stop that," they told them, pushing them apart from each other. Honestly. "Behave yourselves." But they didn't think they heard that one. They stopped fighting, in the end at least. 

"Come now," they said fondly, grabbing him like a misbehaving animal when he made a lunge for the victor. "Your parents want you to return fully. None of that." 

wan ohras peas, their chosen whined. His intent was very clear even without the butchered words. 

"He'll come soon enough," they told him firmly. They whispered affection across his mind before plopping him into his body. The chosen pouted for a week before he got over it. His parents were very happy, though they still fretted about the victor. 

When they returned their attention to the pair, they felt like their work was cut out from them. At least they were able to access information from the victor's soul. Lots of information about earth, Life. It was rather beautiful there. They still thought their planet much prettier. 

"It must tell you a story," they told the victor, interrupting whatever conversation he and the father were having. They told the victor of Fate's prophecy, of One-who-destroys, of the Outkasts and what they truly were. They told the victor how he was dead and how he was not. There was a way to save him. It involved the Vokkrus afore him. 

Splicing together two souls was not something the Spirits had ever done before. Especially not to one living. They only really wished to give the victor longevity. Perhaps some of the Vokkrus' strength as a bonus. The victor was, rather understandably upset about this. 

the fuck the fuck the fuck there's no way that's crazy what the fuck how did i get into this mess I'm just Viktor 

"You're the victor," the Spirits told him gently. They knew they needed to be gentle with the human. "You are destined for something greater than yourself. To help your kind, to help the Vokkrus, to help the Universe." 

isn't there someone else I'm just a random guy I'm just Viktor I cant save the planet the fucking universe holy shit

"Do you not want to live?" they asked him curiously. All beings wished to live, to escape the claws of death for as long as possible. 

i do but its against nature its not natural this isn't natural its so fucked up

"It is nature. It is simply prolonging your death. The Vokkra's father wishes to help you." 

The human's soul was firmly in their grasp. They could easily smash it together with the father's, but rather suspected that the process would go much more smoothly should both parties be willing. They did not want to harm the victor, either. 

They let the human have time to mull it over, urging the father to speak with the soul. Whatever he said turned over the victor's decision. It had been another cycle of the planet by the time they had concluded. 

During that time, the Vokkra came forth once more and asked of them what was happening with his human. The Spirits told him what they sought to do, the story, everything. The Vokkra was numb with shock, and the Spirits had to push him all the way home. 

The victor yearned for their attention. They turned toward him.

if i do this will i still be me will i still be human will i still be viktor my father's son

"Yes," they consoled him gently. "You would simply be one of Its children, too. The father will take some time to settle in you before he comes back with It. You are only borrowing some of his soul." 

Wavering reluctance turned into begrudging acceptance. The victor's soul settled in their claws, and the Spirits took the father in the other. "Are you ready?" they asked of them, radiating calm. They both called out agreements. 

The Spirits took a deep breath, cracking the planet's crust in several places, and began Creating for one last time.