《Tale of Family - Book 1 - WIP》Chapter 0: Prologue

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Chapter 0: Prologue

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There they were, hanging in the void of space, far, so far from any of the stars of what would be known, way later, as the milky way. Gods. Tens of them, Supreme ones, hundreds of their smaller cousins, thousands of the tiny ones and, in the centre floated Odyxes, the Last of the Firsts. He felt them around him. “From the Epitome… only Nihil is not here today.” He said in a soft voice. “Because of the battle everlasting he wages against Oblivion. We pay our most profound respect to him, to the Rempart of Nothingness, that keep us safe even today, safe to do our work.” He added with, indeed, profound respect in his voice. My friend, I wish you could be here to work today, I’m sorry. He thought while, around him, voices echoed. “All hail the Rempart of Nothingness!” They were saying, paying homage powerfully.

“We’ve waited long enough, and all that was needed is here. Let us start working.” And just as he was going to create something, another voice echoed. “We’ve waited long enough indeed.” The woman that spoke was not a god. No, she was… something else. She wore a long emerald gown and a dragon was coiling around her, its tail around her left leg and its body around hers, until its head rested on the back of her right hand. “And I heard the call of creation, I heard you were going to build something. So I’m here, answering your vow.” She ended with a nod of her head and a smile on her face.

“Architect! Your presence honours us! Do you want to create another Marvel from our experiment?” Odyxes asked. “Yes, Old One. To fence the Entropy itself, you’ll need every last bit of talent you can, and I’m curious what so many gods could create with my help. Start the Chant, brother, I’ll dance with you until it’s done.” She answered, Odyxes smiling at her, smiling because being called brother by the Architect was a great honour, even for a Supreme God. Smiling, too, because the Architect was always the key, the key for the greatest work ever done. She was there when the Great Labyrinth was created. She was there when the Seven Pillars where made. And she would be there, today, to help create was should be made today.

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Odyxes took the Architect’s hand and, all around them, Gods sang, Gods of wars, of Wisdom, of Fertility and of Luck, but also gods of ponds, of mountains and villages. Big or tiny, they were all together, uniting their force as it only had been done once before, when the Great Labyrinth was create and given to Nihil, as to gave him the best weapon against Oblivion, against the legions of Entropy.

And in this space, baren and forsaken, a bubble appeared. In this bubble, a Sun, strong, resilient, yellow like molten gold. Planets were shaped, made to dance around it, moons, frozen worlds, gas giant and asteroid fields. And finally, the last sphere was shaped, for now just but a ball of molten rocks. But this was not the hard part, no, not with so many gods. The hard part started now. This solar system, held in a bubble, was cut of, from everything. A towering machine was assembled piece by piece and, each time a new gear was put, a God burned, with all its followers, humans, elves, dwarves, hetaxeark, vampire, sauriots, crovulge and other races, many others, their very soul destroyed by this fire, a sin so big in the eyes of all those ascended and, yet, the only way to save the universe. If what they did here didn’t work, they would all die anyway. And so Gods were burning like torches, Odyxes and the Architect dancing on the tune of their voices and their cries.

And suddenly it was done. The machine towering was made, and the new Solar System was protected in its cradle of godly power, protected from the Entropy, carrying with it the weight of innumerable worlds and lives. Odyxes was no more, burned or dissolved in the void, none had seen but the Architect, and she was sporting a bittersweet smile. From the tens of Supreme Gods, only a handful remained, tears on their cheeks but hope in their eyes, disappearing, going back home, the memory of what they had done etched in their mind, their very soul.

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She alone stood guard, the Architect, as never she had done before, looking at this Solar System as if it was her own newborn, seeing the dance of the planet, the move on their surface, made so, so quick by the flow of time the Machine was weaving. Soon, life would appear on one of those rocks, and their souls could hold the key, to salvation, to save this whole universe. Maybe…

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