The very stars buckled under the pressure, giving away to the onslaught of energies that plowed through them, however, not corporeally so - metaphysically, as the cutting edge, sharper than the meaning of itself, sliced through the thin veil of the combined logos, forever reshaping the molds of everything forged within these once bewildered realms.
Though the receding of the waves and swift stabilization of the new magical fields ascertained that this change was constructive in nature, there was a force, watching from realms as far and incomprehensibly away within the esoteric that stared, both in awe, and excitement.
“It seems he has accomplished what fate had brought unto him. Our final hurdle is finally at an end, patience has paid us well.”
Sitting upon the wake of the stars within tangent realms, 8 large pillars of a stone as dark as night, split asunder by ominous crimson lights into a millionth small cubes. They hover aimlessly so, staring into the nascent energy emanating from the core of the galaxy, at the wake of the death - or perhaps birth - of the powerful entity.
“There is little time to lose. Issendia has acquired the key, now we must simply muster enough strength to open the lock.”
From the abyssal darkness amidst the pillars emerged a shape, as if breaking through an extremely viscous substance’s surface tension, the phlegm snapped back, sprouting forth an ornate conjunction of fine craftsmanship, a tall goldenrod staff, a glass-bound shapeless head that flowed like water, coalescing into different geometries with reasons unknown.
“An object of tremendous power left in the wake of dying dimensions. It is what called forth the origin of the phenomena, and thus, its end as well.”
The Staff of the Forgemaster, the tool that talked to the core of The Forge, and much more. It alone saved a large chunk of the megastructure, despite being unable to stop the onslaught of the dimensional resonance cascade, it held it back, as if freezing it in time. However, the much more dire consequence of its history was the collapse itself, the beacon it lit called forth The Messenger, and thus, The Storm with it. With all the motions in place now, The Ambassador completed the journey, bridging the gap with the language of gods, however, how long could such peace last at the mercy of the galaxy’s ambitious nature?
“It is time to begin the first communion as the logos predicted. The time for the Amending draws nigh.”
The Staff of the Forgemaster buckled under the pressure of unseen forces, its intrinsic energy split itself asunder into 8 different pieces, pairs of large, thin and elongated diamond shapes with the goldenrod color and flowing water-like crystal twisted into helicoidal configurations, mesmerizing, they rotated slowly towards the pillars.
“The being from the cosmos revealed to us the liquidity of the mind.
The Vacant God allured us with the promise of the soul, however, judging us unworthy.
Now, unbound by his will and his presence, we will defy the wishes of the gods once again and reveal to us knowledge meant to be beyond the realm of the mortals.
With the first communion, the time of the Amending draws nigh.”
The large lances plunged into the 8 obelisks, piercing through them as if they were made out of water, they rippled and buckled, ebbing from their water-like nature as powers flowed and energy danced around their presence. There was an intrinsic change within their nature, swift, however powerful as it was. They pulsed another crimson wave and regained their prismatic form.
“There is no time to lose now. The first communion is complete.
The mystery of the being is no more. The intrinsic living essence is now instrumentalized.
There is still a long journey to be threaded. The mystery of The World shall be unveiled soon. We have paid our dividend by the Fifth Vault’s completion, freeing us from our original purpose. Now, we may coalesce within this gated cluster and unveil the mystery of The World.”
The large prisms undid themselves like water once again, splashing down onto the ground as a thousand cubes of crimson outlines. Their presence was gone, for now. The Mysteries begin to be unfolded by the powerful puppeteers, as a consequence, the Schism draws nigh.