“Please. No.” Moricla whispered. She stared at eye-level with the thing off in the distance, a mass of ribbons and thin strange metal that strangled every hopeful thought from her mind. The very planet seemed to groan in fear of the monstrosity in the sky.

“Something’s terribly wrong.” Thraiv agreed, stepping forwards to place her hand on the glass that surrounded the low-orbit station. Debris pinged off the god-hardened material, spinning off into the distance in silence. “That… that thing never shows itself. Okie told me again and again that it’s chosen wasn't a monster, but what does that mean in the face of The End?”

Moricla couldn’t come up with an answer. The other gods were gone as usual, off in their temples or theocratic strongholds playing at being… well… gods. But compared to the being standing so far from the two gods, they were truly playing. The End was above everything. The End could only be delayed, never prevented. Moricla clutched her chest as her breath caught, memories spraying everywhere as she searched for any sort of reason The End could be here for her. She went back as far as she dared, to the very first day of her ascent, but she couldn’t find anything. There was no reason for The End to–

The End was with them.

It hadn’t moved. Yet it was there, calmly standing between Moricla and Thraiv.

“Hello, Staura and Celaura.” It gently spoke. It’s words carried the weight of dying stars.

Thraiv fell to her knees, arms wrapped around her stomach as she softly cried. Moricla fought every screaming impulse that told her to run, to get as far away as possible, because she knew they were pointless. The End had called her Celaura. It knew. The apocalypse she had escaped was finally ending.

“I have recently adopted a poor soul who bears the weight of billions of sudden deaths. One who just now finalized their memories into my archives.” The End said, stepping away from Thraiv without so much a glance at the broken god. “Moricla, god of innocence. You left the Celaura to die. Yet Mortician did not hate you. I will give you a chance to explain everything I have just learned. You will not lie to me.”

Moricla swallowed hard. “I didn’t leave my people to die. I was… trying to help them. As much as I could, with what little power I had back then. But Sotr and Rien suddenly collided, and killed everyone, and… it… it was…”

Moricla couldn’t get the words out. The shame and despair from so many eons ago stopped her words, of so many nights spent crawling with splintered fingers to try and find anyone else who had survived. Of the countless nights spent wishing that she could join everyone else in death, and the blissful release of what she thought was exactly that. Then… she woke up a god.

“It was your fault, is what I’m assuming you cannot admit?” The End finished for Moricla. It was so unnervingly calm in speaking that it rounded back to being terrifying. “I wish to speak to the one who will not hesitate. Not Moricla of the innocent, but the woman who did what needed to be done to those who needed to… End.”

A shiver ran down Moricla’s back when The End spoke its own name. As if it was calling to some part of her, a part of her that she hid away from everyone. The silent god was an utter secret. A secret that only one woman knew; a woman who claimed to be Moricla’s daughter, but was truly born from silence.

“The silent god did what was… necessary.” Moricla said reluctantly. The words felt like poison after not speaking them for so long. “The others were monsters. The worst of the Celaura, who managed to survive because of the pain they caused. Nobody was going to punish them. So I became nobody.”

Silence. The End waited patiently for Moricla to continue, but when she spoke once more, there was a different force behind her voice. An ancient hatred that never cooled, pointed in the form of a sword at every single being who dared to harm those who could not speak for themselves. At those who spoiled the innocent. Moricla completely expected one of those blades to point itself at The End, but her instincts told her that it was something different altogether. A byproduct, not a cause.

“You are not death.” The silent god spoke softly, letting her hands fall to her sides as her hatred pointed elsewhere. Too many swords. Too much responsibility. Too much sudden silence. “What are you?”

The End smiled sadly, even though it had no face to do so. “I am what comes after the silence.”

The silent god nodded in understanding. “I killed nine Celaura gods. I will not speak their names ever again, no matter how you torture me, because they don’t deserve to be remembered. The other three who ascended with me are still alive, and I will not tell you who they are because they deserve to live. If you have any other questions, you can ask them.”

“Not so silent for a silent god, are you?” The End chuckled. “I have three questions. First: did any of the Celaura know what was going to happen to your people?”

“Yes. Thirteen of us did. I don’t think I have to elaborate on who we were.” The silent god confirmed. “An orbital anomaly from our old moon Rien escalated over the course of three days. By the time we confirmed what was happening, it was already far too late. The metals in the moon poisoned our planet so heavily that our waters became what they are today, and even after thousands of years of trying, we cannot purify them.”

“Three days. Sebastian’s people didn’t even get a warning.” The End shook its head. The silent god tilted her head in question, but The End waved her away. “The name of my envoy, but he’s not important to you yet. My second question; what happened to the remains of the Celaura?”

The silent god paused for a second, then wordlessly motioned for The End to follow her. She ventured deeper into the station on silent feet, walking through miles and miles of empty opulence in just a scant few minutes. Neither The End nor the silent god stopped to take so much as a single look at the scenery, for it was pointless. The End was not here for anything related to the Staura.

Eventually the silent god came to an abrupt stop before a simple painting. An utterly white canvas save for thirteen splotches of differently coloured paint, nine of which had been crossed out with bright red slashes. The End didn’t need an explanation for what the painting represented. What it needed was an explanation for the inexplicable disgust looking at the painting instilled in it.

The silent god drew her fingers down the canvas in a caress that was almost sensual. “This is all that remains from the Celaura. Four gods, nine dead, and a single painting that was in the empty void with us. The voice that called us to deification spoke through simple splotches of paint, calling us to existence through whatever lies after utter annihilation. When we finally emerged, there simply was nothing remaining of Sotr or Rien. Sotrien existed in their place, in a state of far worse disarray than you see today.”

Ribbons flitted from The End to the canvas. They caressed the painting just as the silent god had, but there was no sensuality in its motions. It was in the reminiscence of old hatred, and of horrible decisions made for the best of all. In that way, The End understood the silent god. Yet there was an unbridgeable gap that was filled with disdain and annoyance.

“Before there was anything, there were two beings.” The End started as it ripped the painting from the wall. The silent god gasped and tried to move, but they simply stopped. Their motion ended. “The End and The Beginning. The Beginning gave life to you in exchange for everything the Celaura had ever been. It traded them for you, who continued to remember the Celaura long, long past their demise.”

The End flourished a skeletal hand, and the painting simply vanished. The pressure on the silent god doubled, then doubled once more, continuing on until she felt as if her very existence was about to be crushed.

“You have forgotten the Celaura.” The End stated. “I have undeniable proof of that. A silent god speaks not of the past, and allows atrocities to continue even though they claim to protect the innocent. We are similar in some fashion, yet you do not accept the weight of responsibility. You slough it off and lounge while others suffer beneath your feet. If I had the freedom you did… oh, if I had that freedom…”

The End did not laugh. Existence shuddered. The silent god pleaded for a quick demise.

“If I had that freedom, your descendants would be less than ash. The monsters of the universe would quake in fear of my hand, knowing that their crimes would be inescapably punished. Something you could do. Something you have done.”

The End leaned down to look the silent god in the face. She shuddered and whimpered pathetically in the presence of true power.

“The Keratilys break innocents on my world. They rape what might as well be children to rid them of your influence. They truly fear you. For nothing.” The End said plainly, reaching down to caress the silent god’s face. “Your very existence stole away the Celaura. Mortician now carries all the memories of your forgotten. And if you will not punish the monstrosities of your people, I will.”

The silent god cried for mercy.

“You have until the man named Sebastian Persephonia finds his way to Sotrien. However, if you manage to find your way to the all-world before he does, I will grant you an audience with all of the Staura embodiments. See what your people have created, and despair at your own silence. That is my final question: do you have the strength to break the silence.”

The End of Moricla’s world disappeared. The weight on the silent god disappeared, leaving her feeling nothing but disgust and helplessness. Helplessness under the thumb of someone so far beyond her. The same helplessness that so many of her own felt under the tyranny of their fellow Staura. And the horrible freedom from the gods that came with the transfer to the all-world.

In a world where gods exist, desperate prayers answered with silence were all too common. The silent god had a choice. She could no longer stay silent.

//RETURNING PERSPECTIVE TO [SEBASTIAN CORMIER PERSEPHONIA].

//INITIATING…