The Grove was a central town space filled with olive trees, and contained a bevelled building, with one lower edge carved out and supported by pillars that led towards the entrance. Inside was an empty, dome-shaped hall, and once Theora and her companions had found their way in, all entrances and windows were shut, leaving it in complete darkness, until a lamplike magitek device lit the walls with countless stars.
Then, one of the scholars knocked their staff on the floor to make it glow, illuminating the room in dim light.
“Glad you were able to make it,” the person said. They had an androgynous appearance; a shaved head and very loose, simple linen clothing. “I’m Un of Heofen. It is a pleasure to meet you, despite the circumstances.”
Heofen. That person too was from Theora’s hometown, then. She nodded in response, and looked around. Among the people who had gathered here, some had a sizable presence, although they didn’t necessarily seem like combatants. Yesterday, Wels and Halla had mentioned [Diviners], so that was Theora’s best guess.
“What are the circumstances?” Bell asked.
“Right. Let’s get right to it.” They folded their hands. “Approximately 243 days ago, a catastrophe class aura eruption was emitted from the Grand Observatory of Fiction. As is customary, following the event, [Diviners] have set out to renew their Legendary-Rank projections. After finding some irregularities, astronomers were consulted, and a council was formed. We have verified our findings with great care and under meticulous scrutiny before deciding to reach out. If you allow, we would like to present our findings and consult you for possible measures we could take.”
“Oh no!” Isobel let out, clickety-clacking. “Is a meteor coming our way?”
This question had the effect of a whip lashing out across the room. Some people flinched, some looked at the ground.
Un of Heofen cleared their throat, and took a calming breath. “The universe is considered to be largely empty,” they began, their voice purposefully steeled against breaking. “[Diviners] and astronomers are not aware of many lifeforms that do not live on Himaeya, and the brief period of space exploration by the Protans of the Feverwoods has not resulted in many findings of life away from our home planet, either.”
A brief period of space exploration? When did that happen? Theora must have missed it.
“That said,” they continued, “hints of what we call Ocean Life have been seen traversing the Grand Voids.”
A few crackles erupted, and it was apparently Isobel who could not contain her excitement. “You hear that Bell! Things like us, out there!”
“None, they’re trying to tell us something important,” Bell hissed in a whisper that everyone could hear.
“But it’s so cool. Imagine a giant None between the stars.”
That got a few people to chuckle. The thick tension of the hall shifted into something a little more bearable.
Un cleared their throat once more. “What we call Ocean Life is not necessarily how it evolved in oceans on Himaeya, although it could be similar, given they travel long distances through areas with little sustenance. There may be cases of convergent evolution.”
“Giant Iso!” Isobel blurted out.
Un tapped their staff, and suddenly, a very large, fuzzy shape of light appeared in the projected sky on the walls. “As you may be aware, Heofen is a town of scholars dedicated to studying the Ancients.” They nodded at Theora. “The Ancient Hero.” Then, they nodded at Dema. “The Ancient Evil. Both of you have libraries dedicated to yourselves in my hometown. This here” — Un gestured at the projection — “is what we call the Ancient Devourer. We have been studying it for a long time, following its routes and habits, but it was always just a curious project of scholarship, nothing more. Until now, that is. What you see is a reconstruction based on some of its surmised properties, including its gravitational well, mana pool, and electric radiation. This is, however, an old snapshot.”
Dema perked up. “Old snapshot?”
Un nodded. “The creature is still far away, the information is as old as it took for the radiation to reach us with the conventional limitations of the laws of nature. This visualisation thus depicts a state from a few thousand years ago.”
“So we’ve still got a lot of time?” Dema asked. “’Til it’s gonna get here, I mean.”
“Unfortunately, the conventional limitations I mentioned can be exceeded by unconventional means,” Un said. “Legendary Skills of [Diviners] and some high-level communication Skills can in certain circumstances avoid that restriction—”
“Oh?” Iso let out. “Won’t that cause issues with causality?”
“Well,” Un went, “it can be worked into the equations as a hidden variable — the result of the divination or contents of messages being determined in some higher plane at some previous point in time and only revealed when performed.”
“Ah!” Iso nodded and clacked. “That’s clever! That way it doesn’t break the laws of nature.”
At that, Un actually laughed. “Oh, don’t worry my dear, it most definitely breaks the laws of nature. All Skills do. That is their purpose.”
Bell tangled a tendril around Isobel to keep her from interfering more. “So, why exactly does this creature worry us?”
“Right. Based on its prior path, the Ancient Devourer seems to feed on energy. It spends its life going from one source to the next; that would include supernovae, black holes, nebulae… It comes, and eats heat and mass. Since, relatively speaking, we live in a low-energy solar system, it has not shown interest before. But, after what happened in the Grand Observatory of Fiction, it seems to have changed its course, and is now heading for us.”
“What!” Isobel let out, turning to Theora. “It wants to eat you!”
At that, the room fell silent.
“Wait a moment,” Bell let out, panicked. “Just so I get that right — this gigantic thing is coming because Theora lured it here? She killed us all by blowing up the Observatory?”
Dema swirled around, glaring. “Hey, how dare you. It’s not her fault she’s such a snack!”
Isobel put her chin in her hand with a moss-dampened thud. “Was mommy’s big boom really that big of a boom? If that thing eats supernovae and isn’t even interested in our big sun then why would it care about a damaged building?”
“Yes,” Bell added. “That doesn’t quite check out. If it feeds on heat, it should be going after targets with the highest temperature. I don’t think Theora is hotter than a supernova.”
“Hey!” Dema huffed out, throwing an accusatory finger at her. “You take that back!”
Un, clearing their throat, gently said, “It feeds on heat, yes. But not all its movements are solely motivated by its hunger, seemingly. It has been observed to investigate… curiosities before.” Un pointed at Theora. “The Ancient Hero is capable of ripping the fabric of the universe apart with ease. In this particular case, according to our investigation, she has done so without even being present in this reality at all. Depending on the kinds of sensors the Ancient Devourer has access to, it may simply recognise that something exists here that is far beyond…” They trailed off, looking for a word, and then closed with, “… reason.”
“So!” Iso said. “Maybe it doesn’t even wanna eat us.”
Un shook their head. “It eats everything in its path. It may not come here to eat, but it will most definitely eat. And, even if it doesn’t — the sheer size and violence of its being would rip our planetary system apart and kill us all.”
Isobel gulped. “Well, that’s not great.” Bell gently stabbed her in the hip with a tendril.
“How certain are you that this creature’s radar works faster than the speed of information?” Theora asked, voice laden. Gazes went to her, as if surprised that she could, or would, speak at all.
“Well, it is our assumption, judging from the fact that it changed course soon after what happened to the Observatory.”
Theora bit her lip. “How far away is it right now, exactly?”
Un looked at another scholar, who nodded and answered in their stead. She was wearing a puffy, white and folded dress. “This most recent image you see is thousands of years old. That said, from analysing its previous path and the results of Hareta’s Legendary Divination, the creature appears to be able to drastically exceed nature’s limits — for example, it might have a teleportation Skill, or be able to form or travel through massive bends in space-time. We have calculated its arrival to happen during the tenth month this year. This is supported by divination results. In fact, the truth is — it may already have teleported. It may already be close.”
Bell stepped back, and Dema’s mouth stood open. Isobel tilted her head.
“No, I—I mean,” Theora tried to get out, “the most recent image. How old is it, exactly?” At the same time, she was frantically scrolling through her System log.
“Ah. Well, about three thousand nine hundred years.”
When she found the relevant entry, Theora went to her knees. Isobel scuttled to her side and put a hand on her back, stroking gently. Dema seemed to jerk in her direction too, but decided not to touch Theora at the last moment.
This had nothing to do with the Observatory. The creature may have changed course now, but it wasn’t that. If the creature had changed course a few decades earlier, they would have thought the reason was Theora’s fight against Umbra. Earlier still, it would have been her fight against the Devil of Truth. And a hundred years prior to that, they would have expected the cause to be the destruction of the Cube of Solitude. And before that, among other things, the explosion at the Cnidarian Tower.
The truth was, Theora simply couldn’t stop messing things up.
“The reason we came here is not to assign blame,” Un said. “We simply want to ask for help. You are the strongest entity in the world. Please lend us your aid to avoid a disaster. I realise this is a lot to take in,” Un kept going. “Please, take a day to rest and sort your thoughts. Our people are still working hard to come up with a solution — as long as you give us your assent, we will factor your capabilities into our considerations, no further input required from your side for now.”
“Of course,” Theora muttered. “I will do what I can.”
“It’s gonna be fine,” Dema reassured a while later as they sat in front of an olive tree. Theora had simply left the building and put herself down on a bench, and not moved much since.
“Yeah. Can’t you just [Obliterate] it?” Bell asked.
Isobel shook her head. “That thing’s massive. The ambient damage would crack our planetary system. Plus, even if mom destroys it, the inertia — all of the debris would still be heading our way. And you can’t [Obliterate] the same target twice. She might not be able to do anything about the fallout.”
Bell frowned. “Then what are they even doing? Considerations? Solution? This sounds like doomsday. We should wrap up. Call it a day. Have some fun, maybe.”
She didn’t sound like she would be having fun any time soon.
Bringing her arms to her chest, Isobel hugged herself, and looked at the ground.
“Iso?” Dema went. “What is it?”
“There is one thing I could think of,” she said in response, quietly. “Something they might be considering.”
Dema tilted her head, brows raised. “What do you mean? What are they gonna do?”
“The creature wants me,” Theora murmured. “If the assumptions are right, it wishes to eat me. Not this planet. So, perhaps they are considering shooting me off into space, and having me flare again, so that the creature changes course.”
“Oh,” Dema let out. “No way! Don’t leave me for that gobbler thingy!”
“It would be a logistical nightmare,” Isobel said. “Mom can’t fly. And the thing is so large… She’d need to go very far. She’d need to be able to navigate in the Grand Voids somehow. It wouldn’t be easy.”
“Yeah, right,” Dema went. “Way better to stay home. Although it would be kinda hot to have a girlfriend in space.”
“Is nobody worried about Theora being eaten by a giant creature?”
All eyes went to Bell.
“Ack, fine!” Bell blurted, her strobing tendrils dying down. “Of course not. I forgot you all are indestructible behemoths. It still makes me anxious.”
Isobel shrugged with her shoulders and all her little belly leglets. “All things considered, mom being eaten should be fine. The worst that could happen is giving that poor little giant sea anemone an upset stomach.”
“What?” Dema frowned. “It’s ananan…” She blinked as she bit her tongue. “An enemy?”
“An anemone,” Bell supplied. “And I’m pretty sure None was just making a joke. We don’t know what it is.”
Isobel nodded. “What worries me more is actually getting her up there. And, even if we do get her up — how do we get her back?” She looked at Theora. “Like. What if you strand there? Could take hundreds of years until we find a way to rescue you. And considering this is about… Well. The fate of the planet. I’m thinking these people might be more concerned with getting rid of you than fetching you back afterwards.”
Theora nodded. “As they should be. If there is a way to get me up but not down, I’m still going.”
Three thousand nine hundred years ago, Theora had destroyed her training grounds in a massive disaster. That had attracted the creature. She’d doomed this planet long ago. And now, she was going to clean up her mess.
She rubbed her wet eyes. It all came crashing down. Treeka, Dema, and now, the world was ending. A bitter part of Theora thought that if she were to become stranded in space, she could at least sleep.
She’d have to write farewell letters.
The Grove was a central town space filled with olive trees, and contained a bevelled building, with one lower edge carved out and supported by pillars that led towards the entrance. Inside was an empty, dome-shaped hall, and once Theora and her companions had found their way in, all entrances and windows were shut, leaving it in complete darkness, until a lamplike magitek device lit the walls with countless stars.
Then, one of the scholars knocked their staff on the floor to make it glow, illuminating the room in dim light.
“Glad you were able to make it,” the person said. They had an androgynous appearance; a shaved head and very loose, simple linen clothing. “I’m Un of Heofen. It is a pleasure to meet you, despite the circumstances.”
Heofen. That person too was from Theora’s hometown, then. She nodded in response, and looked around. Among the people who had gathered here, some had a sizable presence, although they didn’t necessarily seem like combatants. Yesterday, Wels and Halla had mentioned [Diviners], so that was Theora’s best guess.
“What are the circumstances?” Bell asked.
“Right. Let’s get right to it.” They folded their hands. “Approximately 243 days ago, a catastrophe class aura eruption was emitted from the Grand Observatory of Fiction. As is customary, following the event, [Diviners] have set out to renew their Legendary-Rank projections. After finding some irregularities, astronomers were consulted, and a council was formed. We have verified our findings with great care and under meticulous scrutiny before deciding to reach out. If you allow, we would like to present our findings and consult you for possible measures we could take.”
“Oh no!” Isobel let out, clickety-clacking. “Is a meteor coming our way?”
This question had the effect of a whip lashing out across the room. Some people flinched, some looked at the ground.
Un of Heofen cleared their throat, and took a calming breath. “The universe is considered to be largely empty,” they began, their voice purposefully steeled against breaking. “[Diviners] and astronomers are not aware of many lifeforms that do not live on Himaeya, and the brief period of space exploration by the Protans of the Feverwoods has not resulted in many findings of life away from our home planet, either.”
A brief period of space exploration? When did that happen? Theora must have missed it.
“That said,” they continued, “hints of what we call Ocean Life have been seen traversing the Grand Voids.”
A few crackles erupted, and it was apparently Isobel who could not contain her excitement. “You hear that Bell! Things like us, out there!”
“None, they’re trying to tell us something important,” Bell hissed in a whisper that everyone could hear.
“But it’s so cool. Imagine a giant None between the stars.”
That got a few people to chuckle. The thick tension of the hall shifted into something a little more bearable.
Un cleared their throat once more. “What we call Ocean Life is not necessarily how it evolved in oceans on Himaeya, although it could be similar, given they travel long distances through areas with little sustenance. There may be cases of convergent evolution.”
“Giant Iso!” Isobel blurted out.
Un tapped their staff, and suddenly, a very large, fuzzy shape of light appeared in the projected sky on the walls. “As you may be aware, Heofen is a town of scholars dedicated to studying the Ancients.” They nodded at Theora. “The Ancient Hero.” Then, they nodded at Dema. “The Ancient Evil. Both of you have libraries dedicated to yourselves in my hometown. This here” — Un gestured at the projection — “is what we call the Ancient Devourer. We have been studying it for a long time, following its routes and habits, but it was always just a curious project of scholarship, nothing more. Until now, that is. What you see is a reconstruction based on some of its surmised properties, including its gravitational well, mana pool, and electric radiation. This is, however, an old snapshot.”
Dema perked up. “Old snapshot?”
Un nodded. “The creature is still far away, the information is as old as it took for the radiation to reach us with the conventional limitations of the laws of nature. This visualisation thus depicts a state from a few thousand years ago.”
“So we’ve still got a lot of time?” Dema asked. “’Til it’s gonna get here, I mean.”
“Unfortunately, the conventional limitations I mentioned can be exceeded by unconventional means,” Un said. “Legendary Skills of [Diviners] and some high-level communication Skills can in certain circumstances avoid that restriction—”
“Oh?” Iso let out. “Won’t that cause issues with causality?”
“Well,” Un went, “it can be worked into the equations as a hidden variable — the result of the divination or contents of messages being determined in some higher plane at some previous point in time and only revealed when performed.”
“Ah!” Iso nodded and clacked. “That’s clever! That way it doesn’t break the laws of nature.”
At that, Un actually laughed. “Oh, don’t worry my dear, it most definitely breaks the laws of nature. All Skills do. That is their purpose.”
Bell tangled a tendril around Isobel to keep her from interfering more. “So, why exactly does this creature worry us?”
“Right. Based on its prior path, the Ancient Devourer seems to feed on energy. It spends its life going from one source to the next; that would include supernovae, black holes, nebulae… It comes, and eats heat and mass. Since, relatively speaking, we live in a low-energy solar system, it has not shown interest before. But, after what happened in the Grand Observatory of Fiction, it seems to have changed its course, and is now heading for us.”
“What!” Isobel let out, turning to Theora. “It wants to eat you!”
At that, the room fell silent.
“Wait a moment,” Bell let out, panicked. “Just so I get that right — this gigantic thing is coming because Theora lured it here? She killed us all by blowing up the Observatory?”
Dema swirled around, glaring. “Hey, how dare you. It’s not her fault she’s such a snack!”
Isobel put her chin in her hand with a moss-dampened thud. “Was mommy’s big boom really that big of a boom? If that thing eats supernovae and isn’t even interested in our big sun then why would it care about a damaged building?”
“Yes,” Bell added. “That doesn’t quite check out. If it feeds on heat, it should be going after targets with the highest temperature. I don’t think Theora is hotter than a supernova.”
“Hey!” Dema huffed out, throwing an accusatory finger at her. “You take that back!”
Un, clearing their throat, gently said, “It feeds on heat, yes. But not all its movements are solely motivated by its hunger, seemingly. It has been observed to investigate… curiosities before.” Un pointed at Theora. “The Ancient Hero is capable of ripping the fabric of the universe apart with ease. In this particular case, according to our investigation, she has done so without even being present in this reality at all. Depending on the kinds of sensors the Ancient Devourer has access to, it may simply recognise that something exists here that is far beyond…” They trailed off, looking for a word, and then closed with, “… reason.”
“So!” Iso said. “Maybe it doesn’t even wanna eat us.”
Un shook their head. “It eats everything in its path. It may not come here to eat, but it will most definitely eat. And, even if it doesn’t — the sheer size and violence of its being would rip our planetary system apart and kill us all.”
Isobel gulped. “Well, that’s not great.” Bell gently stabbed her in the hip with a tendril.
“How certain are you that this creature’s radar works faster than the speed of information?” Theora asked, voice laden. Gazes went to her, as if surprised that she could, or would, speak at all.
“Well, it is our assumption, judging from the fact that it changed course soon after what happened to the Observatory.”
Theora bit her lip. “How far away is it right now, exactly?”
Un looked at another scholar, who nodded and answered in their stead. She was wearing a puffy, white and folded dress. “This most recent image you see is thousands of years old. That said, from analysing its previous path and the results of Hareta’s Legendary Divination, the creature appears to be able to drastically exceed nature’s limits — for example, it might have a teleportation Skill, or be able to form or travel through massive bends in space-time. We have calculated its arrival to happen during the tenth month this year. This is supported by divination results. In fact, the truth is — it may already have teleported. It may already be close.”
Bell stepped back, and Dema’s mouth stood open. Isobel tilted her head.
“No, I—I mean,” Theora tried to get out, “the most recent image. How old is it, exactly?” At the same time, she was frantically scrolling through her System log.
“Ah. Well, about three thousand nine hundred years.”
When she found the relevant entry, Theora went to her knees. Isobel scuttled to her side and put a hand on her back, stroking gently. Dema seemed to jerk in her direction too, but decided not to touch Theora at the last moment.
This had nothing to do with the Observatory. The creature may have changed course now, but it wasn’t that. If the creature had changed course a few decades earlier, they would have thought the reason was Theora’s fight against Umbra. Earlier still, it would have been her fight against the Devil of Truth. And a hundred years prior to that, they would have expected the cause to be the destruction of the Cube of Solitude. And before that, among other things, the explosion at the Cnidarian Tower.
The truth was, Theora simply couldn’t stop messing things up.
“The reason we came here is not to assign blame,” Un said. “We simply want to ask for help. You are the strongest entity in the world. Please lend us your aid to avoid a disaster. I realise this is a lot to take in,” Un kept going. “Please, take a day to rest and sort your thoughts. Our people are still working hard to come up with a solution — as long as you give us your assent, we will factor your capabilities into our considerations, no further input required from your side for now.”
“Of course,” Theora muttered. “I will do what I can.”
“It’s gonna be fine,” Dema reassured a while later as they sat in front of an olive tree. Theora had simply left the building and put herself down on a bench, and not moved much since.
“Yeah. Can’t you just [Obliterate] it?” Bell asked.
Isobel shook her head. “That thing’s massive. The ambient damage would crack our planetary system. Plus, even if mom destroys it, the inertia — all of the debris would still be heading our way. And you can’t [Obliterate] the same target twice. She might not be able to do anything about the fallout.”
Bell frowned. “Then what are they even doing? Considerations? Solution? This sounds like doomsday. We should wrap up. Call it a day. Have some fun, maybe.”
She didn’t sound like she would be having fun any time soon.
Bringing her arms to her chest, Isobel hugged herself, and looked at the ground.
“Iso?” Dema went. “What is it?”
“There is one thing I could think of,” she said in response, quietly. “Something they might be considering.”
Dema tilted her head, brows raised. “What do you mean? What are they gonna do?”
“The creature wants me,” Theora murmured. “If the assumptions are right, it wishes to eat me. Not this planet. So, perhaps they are considering shooting me off into space, and having me flare again, so that the creature changes course.”
“Oh,” Dema let out. “No way! Don’t leave me for that gobbler thingy!”
“It would be a logistical nightmare,” Isobel said. “Mom can’t fly. And the thing is so large… She’d need to go very far. She’d need to be able to navigate in the Grand Voids somehow. It wouldn’t be easy.”
“Yeah, right,” Dema went. “Way better to stay home. Although it would be kinda hot to have a girlfriend in space.”
“Is nobody worried about Theora being eaten by a giant creature?”
All eyes went to Bell.
“Ack, fine!” Bell blurted, her strobing tendrils dying down. “Of course not. I forgot you all are indestructible behemoths. It still makes me anxious.”
Isobel shrugged with her shoulders and all her little belly leglets. “All things considered, mom being eaten should be fine. The worst that could happen is giving that poor little giant sea anemone an upset stomach.”
“What?” Dema frowned. “It’s ananan…” She blinked as she bit her tongue. “An enemy?”
“An anemone,” Bell supplied. “And I’m pretty sure None was just making a joke. We don’t know what it is.”
Isobel nodded. “What worries me more is actually getting her up there. And, even if we do get her up — how do we get her back?” She looked at Theora. “Like. What if you strand there? Could take hundreds of years until we find a way to rescue you. And considering this is about… Well. The fate of the planet. I’m thinking these people might be more concerned with getting rid of you than fetching you back afterwards.”
Theora nodded. “As they should be. If there is a way to get me up but not down, I’m still going.”
Three thousand nine hundred years ago, Theora had destroyed her training grounds in a massive disaster. That had attracted the creature. She’d doomed this planet long ago. And now, she was going to clean up her mess.
She rubbed her wet eyes. It all came crashing down. Treeka, Dema, and now, the world was ending. A bitter part of Theora thought that if she were to become stranded in space, she could at least sleep.
She’d have to write farewell letters.
