Book 18 (Planesfall) - Prologue

I'm back, and ready to start posting. Only one chapter this week, since it's a late start, but it's a long one - Enjoy!

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Deep in the void adjacent the Inkwell Plane, a small ship slipped across planar fragments both old and new. The ship was old – tens of thousands of years, in fact – and its owner, though not as aged as the vessel, looked to have seen better days.

Clever Dusk thought many things as she spied upon the man known as Daoist West Sea. Or the West Sea Guardian. Or his many other titles. Elder Ling was what he went by these days, and that was just fine by her.

Many threads connected Elder Ling to the Inkwell Plane. Most of these connections were to powerhouses, over a hundred all told, most of them with deep enmity with him. Normally, she would be worried about such a thing, but if she were to rank him among the individuals that he had karmic connections to, he would land somewhere in the top 4 or 5.

A few more connections stood out to her. Namely, a white connection to the demon lands, a black connection to the inky sea sect, and a handful of connections to people she knew very well. Oh, and a thick golden thread linking him to Mr. Mao Mao, who was currently snoring on his shoulder.

“It’s going to rain soon, just as you predicted,” remarked Elder Ling. “Well done, clever dusk. Well done.”

“It is not difficult to predict a storm,” said Clever Dusk. “If only the same could be said for our destination.”

Elder Ling chuckled. “If our destination was so easy to predict, our enemy would have already found and killed us.” As for who that enemy was, she had an inkling, but did not dare voice her guess.

Clever Dusk was not the only inkborn on the ship. Graceful Twilight and Drezil were there, as was Shneraz, a member of the Clockwork Clan from the Burning Lake Prefecture.

“I never thought I’d hate the rain,” said Graceful Twilight. Like Clever Dusk, she was seated on the ship’s deck beneath a tree-like parasol. A parasol tree, if you will.

“Rain is considered sacred in my clan,” Drezil said. “Yet these days, our elders and priestesses curse it incessantly.”

Drezil and Graceful Twilight were inseparable and came with a large and very sentient winged qilin statue. They’d been together for the past sixty years, so convincing them to come along had not been difficult. Shneraz of the Clockwork Clan, however, had been a different story.

“I’ve never liked the rain,” said Shneraz. “It gets into your armor and rusts it and carries grit to the most inconvenient places.”

“You can find something to hate about nearly everything, Shneraz.” The speaker was called Dark Moon, the companion that Clever Dusk didn’t like to think about. For unlike them, she was not Inkborn, but true-blooded member of the Inkwell Clan with a rich bloodline.

“Who asked you about anything?” asked Shneraz. “Go back to your silent sulking or whatever it is you do?”

“I don’t sulk or complain, as you very well know,” said Dark Moon. Which was both true and impressive, since she was the only one in their group that was shackled to the deck.

Mr. Mao Mao had very strong opinions about the rain. He cracked his eyes open form atop Elder Ling’s shoulders and hissed at the incoming storm. He then whipped its tail at it and turned around to give it the evil eye.

“What a disgusting habit,” scolded Elder Ling. “A dangerous habit as well. You know full well that the rains are dangerous and have been for some time.”

Clever Dusk wondered what he would think if she revealed that Clear Sky, the man he spoke fondly of, had summoned these very rains that beings across the continent now fear. Elder Ling might be kindly on the outside, the blood red threads connecting him to millions of humans and demons spoke no lies.

The West Sea Butcher, some called him. Others preferred to call him Poet of Death. He had dozens of names, all of them stained by tens if not hundreds of thousands of merciless executions.

It wasn’t long before the storm began in earnest. The rains weren’t all bad – they brought with them life and power and second chances. They also brought with them nightmares and death and devastation; this was especially true out here in the void, where the Inkwell Plane’s rules were more relaxed.

“Everyone, summon your demon armors,” Elder Ling said. He was not a demon himself, but he released a five lawyered law projection infused with a trace of immortal Will that could only be found on those called half-immortals or saints.

Elder Ling’s will and that of the Inkwell Plane clashed against each other. The void shook and trembled as spatial rifts and turbulent eddies emerged from the collision.

“Why did the storm get so terrible so quickly?” Clever Dusk said. “I did not predict this, Elder Ling.”

“Our enemy probably figured out where we’re going,” muttered Elder Ling. “Which is as shame.”

The parasol tree was doing well to shield them from the storm’s sinister rain droplets. Its leaves were tightly glued to branches that stood form against the tempestuous spatial winds that now buffeted the void faring ship.

“The rain is getting worse,” said Shneraz. He pulled out a large blade and swung out toward the storm. A destructive keen sounded out from the metal’s edge, scattering gushes of water that threatened to corrupt both them and their ship.

“This isn’t just a storm,” said Clever Dusk. “It contains a malevolent and powerful will.”

“And nightmares,” said Graceful Twilight. “I can feel them.”

“Dark Moon isn’t doing too well,” said Drezil. He placed his hand on her chains and reinforced their seal with golden sand. “Stay strong, Dark Moon. It can’t get you when we’re here.” The trembling Inkwell Clanswoman clutched her head and let out a soft groan.

“Mr. Mao Mao? It’s time,” said Elder Ling. The small cat at his side jumped off the deck and grew manyfold larger, stopping only once he was several thousand times larger than the ship they rode on. His presence was sharp and solid; it clashed with the rains as they tried to infiltrate the ship’s shielding.

Elder Ling hopped onto his shoulders and took out a weapon. Like Clear Sky, his weapon of choice was a talisman brush. It was inky black and covered with a tangle of powerful characters.

A flurry of talismans shot out from his robes, filling the air with warm emotions that counteracted the cold hatred in the rain. It dispersed the black fog accompanying the storm and exposed the nightmares hidden within.

“Protect your minds!” Clever Dusk shouted. She cast a web of five-colored threads to connect her mind to that of her companions. “Dark Moon can’t defend herself. We’ll have to do it for her.”

Drezil and Graceful Twilight began pouring light and golden runes into the parasol tree, creating a barrier that repelled their nightmares. As for their living statue, it flew atop Dark Moon and cast a shield of rainbow brilliance that reinforced the Clever Dusk’s web with golden runes and flame and sand.

“Begone, foul creatures!” shouted Elder Ling. “I am the West Sea Guardian. Draw closer if you dare!” A five-layered law tapestry unfurled around him, revealing five faint images of a man and his cat. They started as toddler and kitten and progressed gradually into old age.

The minor nightmares scattered before these images and vanished into the storm. Only the strongest thirteen nightmares remained, each one more powerful than the individuals in their group, excluding Mr. Mao Mao and Elder Ling.

“Surrender,” croaked the leader of the nightmares.

“Leave this place,” countered Elder Ling. “I forbid your presence.”

“Hand them over, and I will leave,” pressed the nightmare. “Resist and be destroyed.”

All thirteen nightmares opened their gaping mouths, releasing a gush of inky darkness and malevolence. Tentacles sprang out from their irregular bodies, piercing through Elder Ling’s barriers and breaking through the parasol tree and the qilin’s defences as though they were paper.

“Be sealed, foul creature!” Elder Ling shouted. Hundreds of talismans shot out from his sleeves and struck the nightmares. They collapsed upon themselves as their power was locked away, becoming snack-sized orbs that shot into Mr. Mao Mao’s open mouth.

The elder wasn’t the only one fighting. Mr. Mao Mao was tasked with the toughest of jobs – holding back the storm itself. The void around him was a flurry of claws and ink. His armor shattered, and his body bled, but he did not back down. He did not retreat.

“Only you remain,” said Elder Ling to the last remaining nightmare. “Begone!” Dozens more talismans infused with positive shot out towards the creature, whom, to everyone’s surprise, swallowed them to grow several times larger.

“It’s not a nightmare, it’s a dream!” shouted Clever Dusk. But too late. The creature used the power within the talismans to break the last of the parasol tree’s branches and breach the shield of thread protecting them. Dark Moon was unable to defend herself as it shot into her body and took control over.

For a moment, all was silent. But when she opened her eyes, the rains came alive. A massive Inkwell Turtle projection appeared above her as her bloodline began to awaken. The turtles eyes were closed, and its shell was covered in white markings, but even in its sealed state, it commanded local spacetime in a way no other demon could.

“She comes,” said Dark Moon, rising to her feet. “She comes. The mother. Our progenitor. How dare you rebel, vassal of the Inkwell Clan? How dare you take what isn’t yours?”

The rains lost control with Dark Moon’s awakening. They broke past Mr. Mao Mao’s defences and rushed straight into Dark Moon, reinforcing her bloodline and cultivation. Half the white chains binding her to the ship’s deck shattered, as did half the white markings binding her royal manifestation.

Mr. Mao Mao shrank down and hopped beneath Elder Ling, who flew down to meet the half-awakened demon. “You are nothing but a memory,” said Elder Ling. “Begone, hateful remnant! Begone, traitor to your blood and kin!”

“Traitor?” said the dream through Dark Moon’s lips. “A Sealer from our vassal clans dares call us traitor?” She raised her painted hand, and the void around them began to shrink. Pieces of the planar membrane broke off and tumbled towards them.

“I invoke my rights as the West Sea Guardian,” said Elder Ling. A sixth law projection appeared to support his current five. It wrestled away part of Dark Moon’s control and stabilized the local spacetime. “Clever Dusk!”

“On it!” said Clever Dusk. “Drezil, bind her! Graceful Twilight, soul fire!” She threw out a ball of yarn glistening with starlight and rainwater. It wrapped around Dark Moon’s arms and legs.

The paralysis lasted would only last for two seconds – just long enough for thousands of plates made of sacred sand to fall into place. “How long can you hold her?” Clever Dusk asked Drezil.

“A few seconds at best,” said Drezil. “This Nightmare, this Dream, it’s something else.”

Inkborn were much more powerful than normal demons. Middle fusion realm demons like them could run rampant in most places. But before an Inkwell Clansman on the Inkwell Plane was a supreme eneity that they could not match. “Where are those flames, Graceful Twilight?” asked Clever Dusk.

“Coming!” said Graceful Twilight. A pilar of multicolored soul fire rose up from the ground inside Drezil’s prison. Unlike Elder Ling’s poems, these flames were filled with negative emotions like sadness and despair.

The dream, or the nightmare of positivity if one wanted to think of it in that sense, had no way to fight against sadness. It froze in place, giving Drezil’s bindings a chance to integrate with what remained of Dark Moon’s shackles.

“Shneraz!” Clever Dusk shouted.

The Clockwork Clansman had not been wasting his time. His gear-covered armor and his composite blade hummed with a battle hymn that resonated with stone and fire, water and string. Song and blade crashed down upon the dream’s hastily assembled curtain of rainwater.

Despite outnumbering her, they were no match for the possessed Dark Moon. A blast of rainwater sent them flying backward, then proceeded to bind them with ribbons of black ink.

“I had thought you would see things my way, given your blessings,” said the dream through Darkmoon. “But it matters not. Whether it’s through surrender ore conversion, you will kneel, in the end.”

The four demons groaned a force awakened in their blood and began taking control of their bodies. The only thing stopping them from capitulating was a seal Elder Ling had painted on them prior to their departure.

“This world is our own,” said Clever Dusk between labored breaths. “Our ink is not yours. Tangle!” A crown appeared on her forehead as she summoned strings of starlight to bind her possessed companion.

“You are but a fragment of one who was banished,” said Drezil, drawing out a complex circle of overlapping sigils with a single hand. “Your progenitor would never have approved of your actions. Bind!”

“You’re angry, I understand,” said Graceful Twilight. “It’s not easy to die and start over. But that’s no excuse for what you’ve done. Burn!”

“My ancestor sang at your funeral,” said Shneraz. “You’re dead. Accept it. Disperse!”

“Mr. Mao Mao!” shouted Elder Ling. The adamantine hellcat growled as he slashed down with a single clawed hand and cut open a doorway into Dark Moon’s spiritual sea. A demonic will oozed out of Mr. Mao Mao and joined with Elder Ling’s will of protection to purge the spiritual entity lodged within.

The dream, fearing for its existence, fled Dark Moon’s body. It was quick and intangible, and therefore easily broke through Clever Dusk and Drezil’s encirclement.

“Stop her!” Clever Dusk shouted to Shneraz and Graceful Twilight.

“Die!”

“Burn!”

Both Shneraz and Graceful Twilight unleashed their full strength against the retreating dream, but to no avail.

“I will return!” said the dream, “And you will regret ever crossing me. The mother comes! The mother wakes!” It tore a rift in space and was about to flee through it when Elder Ling appeared to block the way.

“Your mother,” Elder Ling said in a soft voice, “is dead.” Fifteen glowing talismans shot out from his sleeves and released a technique that had not been seen on the Inkwell Plane in countless years.

“Wrath of Deep Ocean. Prayer of the Thoughtful Desert. Thousand-Thread Road, Song of the Flawless Smith. Five Lives Funeral Pire!”

“Raging Waves of the Inky Sea. Searing Sands of the Sacred Desert. Hidden Might of the Verdant Crossroads. Dissonant Sound of the Sacred Symphony. Dazzling Light of the Weeping Flame!”

“Inkwell Story Shield. Runebound Faith Shield. Star-Eye Thought Shield. Clockwork Sound Shield. Iridescent Light Shield!”

The fifteen talismans combined to form a single unified technique. “Five-Point Lock, Invulnerable Prison!”

The dream was a creature of will and energy and couldn’t easily be obstructed. But this prison was an all-encompassing technique of the Five Point Monarchs. Escaping it was impossible.

“The mother rises! The mother wakes!” screamed the nightmare as the prison shrank down to the size of an acorn.

“What a troublesome creature,” muttered Elder Ling as he tucked the acorn into his robes.

The storm had ended, and they could now see the stars and shattered remnants of the starry road that had once joined the four continents together. They could also see the four continents floating out a small distance from the Central Inkwell Sea.

“Are we heading to the Wild Lands, Elder Ling?” asked Clever Dusk.

“Indeed we are,” said Elder Ling, hopping back down onto the deck. He touched a finger to Dark Moon’s forehead. “Darkmoon, can you hear me? Are you alright?”

The demon’s skin was now pasty white, and the tattoos covering one side of her body suffocatingly dark. “I… I think the seal is fading. I can’t suppress it, West Sea Guardian. My bloodline will soon break free.”

“Of course the seal is fading,” muttered Elder Ling. “Stupid will of the world. Stupid causality.” He took out a talisman brush and began touching up the white characters on her inkwell tattoos. “That should buy us a bit of time. What do you think, Mr. Mao Mao?”

The cat peered at Dark Moon with eyes that saw too much and meowed out a commentary. “Yes, you’re right,” said Elder Ling. “The nightmare left a seed behind. It must have thought we wouldn’t inspect her in detail.”

“Can you extract the seed?” asked Clever Dusk.

Elder Ling shook his head. “I’m afraid we can’t.”

“Then I predict hours at best before she loses herself awareness,” said Clever Dusk.

“Furballs,” cursed Elder Ling. “I knew I should have bought the concoction that crook Elder Zhong offered me. It must be nice, to sit in his shoes, aware of everything and doing nothing unless and exorbitant price is paid. I guess we have no choice but to pick up the pace. Perhaps he will have an answer to our immediate problem.”

It was then that a sigh swept through space. “You should have known better than to come to my domain,” said a voice in the void. “The will of the world lurks at our borders, which is why it immediately noticed your arrival. You’re old, not senile, so do use some common sense.”

Elder Ling looked to the source of the voice – the Demon Lands, growing in the distance. “And how exactly was I supposed to seek your aid if not in person? You have a penchant for killing messengers, and messages sent by mail are hardly safe.”

A few seconds passed before an item shot out from the demon lands. It was a white paper scroll, covered in row upon row of glassy and luminant characters.

These characters peeled off the white scroll and floated out to Dark Moon’s Inkwell Clan markings. They pasted themselves onto the existing white runes and reinforced them, thereby supressing the growth of the seed the dream had planted.

“This will only keep her temporarily,” said voice once the characters were set. “Come to my residence, and I will have my descendent reinforce it. ”

Clever Dusk let out a sigh of relief as the will pulled back from the void and retreated into the demon lands. “What a frightening demon.”

“Indeed he is,” said Elder Ling.

“Who was that?” Shneraz asked Elder Ling as he adjusted the course of his ship.

“An enemy,” said Elder Ling. “A friend.”

“That’s not a very helpful answer,” said Shneraz.

“Well, it’s the only answer you’re getting,” said Elder Ling. He put his hand to his brow and squinted. There are ships incoming. Dozens of them.”

“I see them too,” confirmed Graceful Twilight. “Their ships bear white sails. Their crewmen are all pale of skin and white of hair – wait, that means they’re from the Paper Tiger Clan! Those are enemy ships!”

Elder Ling chuckled., “Friend and enemy are such loose terms.”

“Do you mean that the advancing fleet of Paper Tiger clansmen are not our enemies?” asked Dark Moon. “That the weapons they’re currently arming won’t tear us apart?”

“I’m more curious as to the identity of the speaker,” said Drezil. “His runework, though simple, was near-perfect. He would make for a powerful adversary.”

“Have you all not figured it out?” asked Clever Dusk. “Who else would send a scroll of white paper to aid us? Who else has the power to interfere with the will of the Inkwell Clan?”

Drezil paled. “Do you mean… Is he really… but he wants us dead!”

“Correction: he wanted you dead,” said Elder Ling. “The events over the past six decades have forced his hand. He must help us, or his people are doomed.”

***

Fate was a complex topic that few ever understood. It involved a lot of karma, interweaving plot lines, and tended to change when anyone tried to observe it. Few called themselves masters of fate, and no one ever seemed to be able to master their own. Yama was therefore quite skeptical about his next appointment, but ultimately decided against crossing it out from his busy schedule.

Lily the Time Empress arrived inside his office. She didn’t walk in as she usually did, as the door was closed, but overlapped two instances of time – one where she was within the office, in the past, and one where she was outside the office, in the present.

“The Three Fates have arrived, Lord Yama,” said Lily. “I was never a fan. Please don’t take them too seriously.”

“Is it because they infringe upon your area of expertise?” asked Yama.

“It’s because they think seeing fate is the same as controlling it,” Lily said. “I understand why they would think that way. I was once the same. In fact, I interned with them back in the day.”

“And?” asked Yama. “Did you learn any tricks that I can use against them?”

“I believe they foretold this meeting and therefore avoided giving me anything valuable,” said Lily. “Are you ready?”

“Born ready,” said Yama, cracking his aged fingers.

“The time is now,” said Lily. She pressed on her watch and pulled together three instances in time. The past, present, and future overlapped in Yama’s office and would continue to do so until the end of their meeting.

“Greetings, Lord of the Underworld,” said three voices as one. The speakers were none other than the Three Fates, who existed in the past, the present, and the future.

Their appearance caused the web of fate to shiver. It did not shift, as nothing had been revealed, but prepared itself for the inevitable revelation.

There was one more reason why the web of fate shivered, and that was Yama himself. As the Lord of the Underworld, he had the power to grasp the knowledge the fates would give him, and as an Outsider, he also had the rare freedom to act upon that information.

The Three Fates were known by many names across many cultures. But in all cases, their role was fixed. They oversaw the realm’s lives and time as it affected them. They spotted snags in the thread of fate caused by individual threads, and should they determine that these threads were existential threads, they snipped them.

The Primordial known as Past chronicled events that had already happened. She could see previous iterations in the web of fate and mark changes caused by individuals. Conversely, the Primordial known as Future could only see the web as it would be, thereby spotting problematic threads before any untoward deeds were committed.

It was Present who acted. She did not see the past or the future and was blind to all but the current instant. The scissors of fate rested in her powerful hands. Only with approval from Past and Future would she act, severing the present from the past and the future to prevent the web from unravelling.

Yama had mixed feelings about the group. It was they who had suggested that he shatter memory, no matter the cost. There were many ramifications form this incident that had yet to be resolved. The Jade Emperor still hated him to the core, and so did his twin brother, the Cure Sovereign.

“You doubt our capabilities and are wary of acting on our advice,” said Present. Like her sisters, she was beautiful. It was a middle-aged beauty that reflect the yearnings of the one she was meeting. “You aren’t wrong. We are dangerous beings. Ours words have power, just as your actions have consequences.”

“It is the past that haunts him,” said Past. “He regrets shattering Memory. He regrets slaying the Lady Luo and taking her hair for himself.”

“I regret nothing,” said Yama to the Fates. “I’m merely curious as to why you did not act yourselves.”

“We tried!” said the three simultaneously.

“We tried three times and failed in all three-time frames,” said Past.

“Isn’t it obvious why you failed,” said Lily.

“It is not,” said Present.

“We can see others clearly, but never can we see ourselves,” said Future.

“Enough,” said Yama. “I obviously know that they couldn’t destroy memory due to their conflicting domains. I’m just bitter about the entire experience.”

“He is a merciful but brutal lord,” said Present.

“He wasn’t always so cold and heartless,” said Past. “It was death that changed him.”

“Alas, he will outlive all of us,” said future.

“You curse us!” said Present.

“Were already dead in her mind,” said Past.

“Enough!” said Yama. He massaged his temple to ease his mounting headache. That’s the problem with dealing with the Fates, Yama sent to Lily. All this cryptic rambling. It’s confusing.

I think they’ve being surprisingly straightforward,replied Lily. Which is odd, considering Future just predicted their demise.

And how does that work, exactly? asked Yama. If one of these three, or all three of them die, does the web unravel? Does times cease to exist?

Hardly, said Lily.

Yama was of this opinion as well. It had once been a popular hypothesis that Primordials were inextricably linked to their aspect, and that their death would destroy that aspect of reality. Yet Time and Memory were dead, and reality continued to exist. Only certain aspects of them were gone, and the universe was better for it.

Yama cleared his throat. “I received your message and confess myself intrigued. Its not every day that the Three Fates make such a grand prediction, and even rarer that they don’t correct the problem themselves.”

“The river that flows eternally will soon return to its source,” said Future.

“It shifts as we speak,” said Present.

“As it did in the beginning,” said Past.

“Yes, yes, you’re telling me that the cycle of reincarnation will collapse,” Yama said. “What I want to know is why. And how.”

“And when,” Lily added.

Three fates exchanged a frustrated look.

“We do not know,” said Present.

“We never did,” said Past.

“Something blinds us to the future,” said Future. “Something outside the wrappings of fate.”

Yama supressed a sigh and raised a cup of tea to his lips. The three witches mirrored his movements exactly, and Lily, the master of petty time manipulation, rolled her eyes and purposefully delayed her sip.

“Then why come at all?” Yama asked the three. “If you cannot tell me how and when, what us is this prediction?”

“This…” said Present.

“I won’t say it,” said Future.

It was Past to volunteered to throw her sisters under the buss. “We foresaw the issue in the past. Back then, the future was uncertain, and we sought your aid to correct a matter.”

Yama frowned. “You’re saying this has to do with Time and Memory?”

“This conflict from the past will begin anew,” said Future.

“They were victims in the past,” said Past.

“We are not sure how this will play out,” said Future. “But one thing is certain. I cannot see past this event. It is like the future ceases to exist.”

“How interesting,” Yama muttered. “Isn’t it said that Present only snips when Past and Present are in agreement?”

“The snipping’s have ceased,” said Present. “They will not continue until this matter is resolved. Only an existential threat to the web of fate can change this.”

“I agreed,” said Past.

“I will agree,” said future.

Yama turned to Lily and noticed she’d turned sheet white. What’s eating you? he asked.

What do you mean what’s eating me? answered Lily. These are the best fortune tellers in the universe, and they’re telling me they can’t see anything past a certain event. There’s only a few scenarios where this might be possible, and the future not existing is one of them!

Yama spat out a mouthful of tea. “Can you repeat that? Out loud, this time?” The Three Fates looked to Lily in unison.

“I was just saying that there’s a chance – a small chance – that the world might not exist after that point in time,” said Lily.  The Three Fates exchanged a look, then burst out laughing.

“You were always silly,” said Past.

“You’re a funny little worrywart,” said Present.

“I don’t know how long it will take for her to understand the subtext, so I’ll spoil it,” said future. “My dear Time Empress, the odds of the future not existing are minute. A much more likely alternative is that we’ll be dead, and therefore can’t see the future.”

Past kicked Future, who dodged despite being blind. “Stop saying that, future. You’ve been wrong before, so you can be wrong again.”

“Superstitious fool,” said Future. “Come get me if you can.” The two chased each other across the room, despite existing in separate timeframes.

As for Present, she rolled her eyes and confided in Yama and Lily. “Now you see why I hesitate to cut any strings.”

“How terrible it must be,” Yama said drily. “But have you nothing to offer this busy reaper beyond a cryptic warning? The entire cycle of reincarnation is under my supervision. I can’t just let everything go during a karmic shift.”

Karmic shifts hadn’t existed back in the day, and it was The Fates that were primarily responsible for their occurrence. The splitting of right and wrong had made a mess of things. It was an event that should never have happened, in Yama’s opinion, and would not have happened had the faits on snipped Unity.

“I’m sorry to cut in, but we only have eighteen minutes left,” said Lily, tapping her watch. “Baphomet’s meeting is next, and you know how temperamental he gets when things run late.”

“I could just split off an incarnation,” Yama muttered. “Wait, never mind. Insulting him would be more trouble than it’s worth.” He leveled a glare at the Three Fates. “You heard the lady. Give me something to act on or get out of Diyu. Your presence here makes many uncomfortable.”

Once again, the three exchanged a look.

“We can perform a prediction,” said Present.

“But the cost will be great,” said Future.

“It’s never been an easy thing to do,” said Past.

“Fantastic,” said Yama. “A legitimate prediction instead of useless babbling. What are you waiting for? Hop to it!” He reached through the aether and grabbed a portion of the most precious resource in existence, source energy, and handed it to the three Primordials. “Should your prediction prove useful, more of the same will follow.”

Past, The Chronicler, took out the book that she always kept on her person. Pages flew out, summoning projections of events that had already occurred. Yama saw many things inside these pages, but most of them were blurred because of memory’s demise.

“This is the root of the problem,” said Past, pointing to a page. “We predicted the death of Time as a possibility, but failed to understand how far reaching the consequences of her death would be.” A black and white page appeared, and with the passage of time, the black portion began to exceed the white portion. “Our world has been deteriorating for quite some time due to her death, and no one has been able to fix this weakness in our universe.”

The Fate of the Present was also known as the Custodian, and she took her job very seriously. No one exceeded her in terms of knowledge of the present. Not Immortal Zhong, and not even Bagua Hushao, Guardian of the Eight Directions.

“There!”  said Present, pointing at a portion of the web of fate to Yama. “That string is the key. Follow it. Find it.” It was a clear string, barely visible to the naked eye.

Yama followed the string into the void. His senses halted just outside a transcendent world that was undergoing the familiar process of collapse prior to evolution.

“I sense something familiar…” Yama muttered. “Wait, that’s the brush! The brush of creation!” A powerful will forced him away from the transcendent plane and back into his office.

“I never liked that brush,” muttered Past. “Is it she who’s been blinding us?”

“We cannot remove the brush,” said Present. “It is an entity that exceeds our level of existence.”

“But could we snip out its bearer?” asked Future. “Could we remove this generation’s painter?” They looked to Past, who shrugged uncomfortably.

“It has been done,” said Past. “Though not without major consequences.”

“Seven minutes remain,” said Lily. “If you have something more to show us, do it now. Otherwise, get out of our hair.”

“You ungrateful little-“

“Six minutes,” said Lily.

“I… I will do it,” said the Fate of the Future, the Dreamer.

“Are you sure?” said Present. “The brush is involved. This will be the most difficult of divinations.”

“I must do it,” Future confirmed. “There is no future for us otherwise.”

Her appearance began to change. Her already aged appearance grew brittle and frail, until she was nothing more than a dried-up skeleton. “I can feel the tugging in the web of fate,” said future. “I hear whispers through the dreams of my future self. Listen, and be warned!

“What was stolen shall be regained.

“What was once separate shall be combined.

“A terrible power will rise from the wreckage of reincarnation.

“Will it destroy our world, or save it?”

The web of fate shifted once she finished, and Future’s life force began to shrivel from the backlash. Threads snapped, and realities vanished. Through space and time, Yama saw transcendent planes collapse and collide.

Most surprising to Yama was the source of this change: himself. He, the Lord of the Underworld, would knowingly cleave away these worlds and cast them into oblivion. This had not happened yet, but the time was drawing close.

He saw a woman in his minds eye, bitter and broken, and haunted by her past. Her guardian was nowhere to be found.

He saw a man on the brink of annihilation. The heavens wanted him dead, and it was only thanks to the Brush of Creation that he’d been able to avoid the heavens for so long.

He saw an Outsider wreathed in shadows opening a door at the edge of reality. And from that door sprang oblivion.

Yama blinked as the vision left him. The Three Fates were shaking from temporary weakness and had withered to the point that a stiff breeze could blow them over.

“I believe we have overstayed our welcome,” said Present. “We will retreat for now.”

“Heed our warning, Reaper,” said Future. “Do not hesitate. The future of the realm is at stake.”

“Do not let prior actions hold you back,” said Past. “The past has already happened.”

“If only they knew what they asked of me,” muttered Yama as the Three Fates vanished. “What an ironic meeting this has been.”

“Their future is in trouble,” said Lily. “They’ve always been a selfish trio, so it’s not surprising that they’ve come to you for help.”

“That’s just the thing,” said Yama. “They’re giving blind advise, yet it’s this exact advise that will be their undoing.”

“Wait, you mean…”

“They were originally never supposed to die,” said Yama. “The world was going to end.”

“And now?” asked Lily.

“Now, things are different,” said Yama. “Since I know the future, I can prevent its occurrence. The irony just lies in the method. It was them who caused the future to unravel, after all.”

“Then to save the future…” said Lily.

“I’ll need to kill them,” finished Yama.