8000ContestItsDenali - Fragment 3

Link to article: 8000ContestItsDenali - Fragment 3.

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[[span class="gregory"]]There was light.

Gilded, pure, and blinding no longer, as the brilliance faded from Altasha's eyes. She felt warm, and despite everything she had just been through, she felt safe. Somewhere ahead, an organ rumbled deeply amidst the faint and almost plaintive echoes of a choir. She began to walk.

The interior of the cathedral came into view as she passed through the entryway, flanked on both sides by massive columns, each one laden with delicate golden filigree and carvings of strange figures of old. Altasha's eyes rose as the nave opened before her, the walls of the space rising higher and higher to a vast and beautifully adorned ceiling. Her gaze trailed down the mural that ran its length, savoring the strange scenes it depicted. Her eyes fell before her, and she saw the countless rows of pews that ran up to the chancel far beyond.

There was a sort of ethereality, difficult to explain, that seemed to pervade the space. Was all this real, or a dream? Was she still on the island? Did any of that even matter?

Altasha's mind wandered through the warm atmosphere of the cathedral as she walked forward toward the chancel. Her sight swept the vast and rising contours of the walls, drinking in the delicately carved saints and glittering stain glass. Three great stained glass windows rose over the ambulatory, each seeming to depict three groups of people all bowing before a shining, white being bearing a brilliant crown.

At last Altasha arrived at the chancel. Beneath the pale light from the windows rose a splendid, glittering throne. Carved, ornate runes decorated its surface, interspersed with thin silver threads that vaguely resembled constellations. Slow-spinning gears, brass pipes, and glassy tubes jutted from its surface at strange points, acting as anchors to both the ground and what rested in the seat. Fused to the throne was the form of Gregory Sorenson, his head bowed and wreathed in a strange crown.

"Time has been kind to you, Allie," came a voice from behind her, making her jump and begin in the sound's direction. Her hand instinctively reached for her sidearm, which she found to be missing. So this was a dream after all. Suddenly, her eyes met those of a man standing but a few feet away, smiling widely. Altasha froze. She blinked, barely managing to stutter out a response.

"Gregory..."

In all respects, he looked exactly as she had remembered him all those decades ago. His formal attire, his posture, even that subtle but potent air of weatheredness that Altasha had known very, very few people to possess. The shimmering crown resting on his head was the only detail that was amiss. As she moved, she could see the lights of the cathedral reflecting off its surface, which seemed to be made of faceted, vitreous glass or crystal rather than metal. However, one thing was certain to Altasha: one way or another, the man before her was Gregory Sorenson.

"It's been too long, my dear," Gregory said stepping forward, his words punctuating the end of a decades-long silence. Altasha stared at him, then at the body fused to the throne, and after a moment was able to find her words.

"You've got some serious explaining to do," she said, not intending to sound nearly as relieved as she did. "And no fancy allegories, no vague metaphors, no bullshit. I just want some straight answers."

Gregory smiled gleefully. The crown shimmered as though the crystalline facets were rearranging themselves. "Oh, Altasha you haven't changed a bit!" he exclaimed. "Of course, first thing's first, I understand if you might not exactly trust me, what with all those pesky defense mechanisms that kicked in on your way here. So as a gesture of assurance..."

He swiped a hand at the air and a wide, pale blotch appeared, hovering before them, several meters in diameter. Altasha could see herself in it, curled up on the floor of the cathedral and fast asleep.

"This," he explained, "is the waking world,"

Altasha watched the scene unfold. She stood her ground, making no attempt to retreat when Gregory stepped beside her. He reached out his hand and navigated the view out the doors of the cathedral and high into the air above the courtyard, looking down at the City below. With a flick of his hand, the buildings clustering the area became translucent, and through them Altasha could see the members of her team, scattered and wandering aimlessly but unmistakably alive. She inhaled sharply, allowing her worry to give way to a passing relief.

"Alive and well," Gregory said. He flicked his hand again, and the five of them rose into the air above the buildings and converged above the courtyard in front of the viewport, unconscious. "I've only put them to sleep for a bit," he said, gesturing reassuringly.

A note of protest caught in her throat for a moment, but she pushed it down as the view shifted. In moments her team was flying out over the sea with incredible speed, the ingress point and the //Volos// beyond it soon coming into view. Gregory's hand moved delicately as he gently laid the five members on the deck of the ship. Some of the ship's crew took notice and rushed to the sleeping agents' sides, seemingly oblivious to Gregory and her's presence. Gregory's hand fell and the blotchy screen evaporated before the two of them. He turned towards her expectantly. At last, she spoke.

"What happened to you?"

The man examined his person for a moment before glancing up at his crown and then at the throne behind him with a faint revelation.

"Ah! Yes, well, the short of it is I became a god," Gregory replied frankly.

"A //what//?" Altasha asked curtly.

"With a little g," he emphasized, pinching his index finger and thumb together. "Not unlike the kind the Foundation has encountered from time to time. No intent of conquest or the like, of course, that is hardly my wheelhouse."

Altasha eyed him warily, her hesitation writ plainly on her face.

Gregory sighed. "You wanted answers, but it might be easier if I show you," he said, extending a hand.

Her eyes remained fixed on him, almost apprehensively. Her caution was promptly quashed by her curiosity, and she reached out and took his hand.

Gregory stepped beside Altasha and gently placed an arm around her. He raised his other hand, swiped at the air, and the world around them blurred. The warm stone walls around them melted into a stark paleness like watercolor splashing on canvas. They were suspended high above a snowy plain, looking down at a small, rocky plateau protruding from the expanse. The sky overhead was marred by pitch-black cracks that zigzagged through the heavens. Falling stars hung mid-descent, as if time itself had halted.

"Is this…?" she started.

"The end of the world," he replied. "Eight hundred thousand years ago."

Gregory motioned again and the two of them floated towards the protuberance. He spoke as they descended.

"According to what knowledge I have inherited from this place, our world as we know it came into //true// existence many, many eons ago. A falling star was dashed upon the virgin Earth and from its wreckage emerged an Entity, alien in all regards of Its being. It slept, and It dreamt, and from that dream rose what we call reality. As far as our corner of the galaxy is concerned, at least. Those few intelligent races who came to know of its existence would call it the //Halcyon//."

"The Halcyon," she repeated. She glanced at the approaching landmass uncertainly. "We've encountered such entities from the cosmos before, but one with the ability to simply will the Earth into its present form?" She paused. "I'd say that's preposterous but we've dealt with far more vexing things than that, in all honesty."

Gregory smiled. "Indeed, the Halcyon's power was unthinkably grand, but in the end, simple. Unlike aberrations you have cataloged, Its will and dreams were not alterations, changes, or bendings of reality, they //were// reality. It dreamt of a world dominated by life, ever-changing and vibrant; of cataclysms and apocalypses to challenge that life. Eventually, it would even dream of life that could itself choose its own path. I'm sure you know mankind was hardly the first to walk the Earth, but it was certainly among those endowed with that ability to choose, that freedom of fantasy."

"How does all of that tie in with this place or what happened to you?" Altasha asked squarely.

"Well, Allie, I'm sure you know that nothing lasts forever." He paused solemnly.

Altasha looked at him puzzledly. Gregory tilted his head.

"I assume you are familiar with humanity's predecessors?" he probed.

"If you're referring to the [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-1000 Children of the Night], then yes," she responded.

"It was they who discovered the Halcyon on what would become this island. In spite of their vast knowledge of the supernatural and what would one day be known as anomalous, even the Children could not fully comprehend the nature of the Entity. All they could tell was that Its existence was integral to the world's own and that, given Its current state, neither would last forever."

Altasha eyed the City below. It looked different; shinier, sleeker. "So then they built this place to maintain it. Must have been quite a feat, especially needing to adapt it to the biology of whatever this //Halcyon// is," she said.

//"Was,"// Gregory corrected.

She turned back towards him and paused. "It's dead?"

Gregory nodded solemnly. "The Being had already been in decline for decades prior, but one day Its time finally came. To say It died would be incorrect, since It wasn't alive in a conventional sense to begin with. Moreso, It simply… //ceased//."

"Regardless, I imagine that the passing of such an entity must have had far-reaching effects," she replied. "Reality destabilization, noösphere ruptures, localized energy dispersal, just to name a few, I'd say."

"The world over. Even with the preliminary contingencies the Children had set in place, reality began to fray in the wake of the Halcyon's passing. Aberrations of logic propagated globally, the natural order of things was egregiously upset, and even the very heavens refused to turn."

"Like removing the keystone from an archway," Altasha said quietly, glancing down as they passed over the City's wall, which seemed now to be made of a dark, wood-like substance rather than stone.

"Moreso the archway itself," he added.

Altasha scanned the City below as they grew closer to the ground. Ahead of them, something different and massive shone in place of the cathedral. "But somehow they found a way to stabilize it."

Gregory nodded. "It took all the ingenuity the unraveling world could muster. The Children, other Siblings, some lesser gods, even early humanity worked together to stave off the end of reality."

The two descended onto the main street. In place of the cathedral in the distance stood a massive, glittering spire with myriad silver branches sprouting off in random directions. Altasha gazed around, intrigued. The road was paved with a glassy, tiled material. The buildings were sleek, with the throbbing mechanisms of some visible from the street. Outside of every other structure stood peculiar pillars, each topped with a pale, glowing bulb resembling a flower bud.  

Gregory turned towards the spire. "The Children were given a tremendous task: build a machine to hold the dream together in the absence of its Dreamer. Metaphysics, ontokinetics, psychobiology, oneirics, thaumaturgy, and many more lost disciplines that humanity has yet to rediscover; every facet of knowledge the sentient races of this world possessed was poured into this place."

Altasha approached one of the buildings and peered inside. A strange organic mechanism throbbed and glowed wildly, connecting to various odd gears, pipes, and wires. She raised an eyebrow, then rejoined Gregory.

"To think that something this powerful was out here all this time and nobody, Foundation or otherwise, detected it before now..." she began.

"That is by design. The role of this machine is to give reality backing and structure," Gregory explained. "It goes without saying how dangerous it could be for the wrong person to find this place. With all the cloaking magicks and paratechnology imbued into it, the City won't be found unless it needs to be. The energy it took simply to reach out from this place past its barriers was nothing short of exhausting, in all honesty."

"Still, even with all the Foundation's resources... it's humbling, I suppose." she said.

He smiled and raised a hand, beckoning towards the spire. The scene blurred past them until they stood in the courtyard at its base. Gregory began towards a large aperture in the structure, like a sort of door, motioning for her to follow. The two passed into the aperture and entered the spire.

It was well-lit and spacious, with almost its entire height hollow. The staccato click of their footsteps echoed through the immensity as they walked. Smooth archways decorated the walls of the space, each adorned with bizarre carvings, implements, and crystalline murals. Most of the floor was occupied by regularly-spaced plants of some sort, each bowing towards the center of the space. At that center stood a radiant, empty throne. Various organic roots and branches connected to it, running into the floor or up to the ceiling of the space.

Several figures stood gathered around it. Altasha's eyes widened as they came into clearer view. The groups consisted of what seemed to be three different species. Among the three, there stood those that were hairy, those that were ashen, and those that looked familiar. Her attention was drawn to the first group.

Altasha felt a flash of recognition at the sight of the tall, hairy beings standing before the throne. They wore silky, green and brown garments, and one seemed to be holding a tablet of some sort. Gregory seemed to notice her surprise.

"Not used to seeing them like this, are you?" he asked, a faint grimness tinging his voice.

Altasha nodded slightly. "You could say that." She was quiet for a moment. "They seem so... //sophisticated//. Compared to the state they're in now, this is..." she trailed off.

To the right of the throne stood a group consisting of massive, muscular humanoids easily three meters in height. Their skin bore a pale, ashen color. They were dressed in basic leather and woolen clothing, emblazoned with complex sigils and runes. Altasha looked up at them in curiosity.

"The Children of the Twilight," Gregory said, looking over at them. "Possessed of fantastic strength of body and will. They ruled the highlands of the world in ages long passed." He looked down as he walked. "The Children of the Night would not be the only ones who suffered during the Day of the Flowers," Gregory murmured. "Driven into the Earth's depths after that calamitous day, they were doomed to roam its baren recesses. Bereft of sustenance, they would turn on one another and become their own extinction." Altasha's gaze lingered on the two groups, and she felt a fleeting pang of something resembling loss, accompanied by a chill that ran through her at the thought of the future she knew awaited them.

Finally, to the left of the throne stood a group of five humans, each draped in fine furs and fabrics. An ancient-looking woman stood at the head of the group, a peculiar staff clutched in her withered hands. In spite of her age, she stood tall, almost defiantly eyeing the other figures.

"I suppose even //we// had something to offer them," Altasha said, nodding towards the group.

Gregory smiled faintly. "Some arcane truths of the world reveal themselves only to a select few. Nomadic and free, the humans of the lost ages were perfectly situated to comprehend these truths. They needed only to turn their ears to the wind, and eyes to the sky, and drink it in. Such secrets would ultimately play a vital role in the construction and completion of this place."

Altasha gazed at the men and women in the group, enthralled by the gravity of their presence. She realized with somewhat of a thrill that she might well be looking back on her own ancestors, now so far removed from memory and history alike. Her thrill quickly soured beside the wary, distrusting glares they threw to the other groups. A distrust, she knew, that would one day shatter the world.

As Altasha and Gregory looked on, the figures continued to converse quietly among themselves. The human woman seemed to lean into her staff for a moment before nodding and turning to the others.

"We are ready," she said in a rough yet almost melodic voice. She turned to the giants. One among them turned to meet her, its clothes adorned with small gems and polished stones. "Ulagan," she began. "By the might of your people was this great monument cast. By your hands were mountains sundered and reformed into the visage and frame of this fair city. From your iron wills will our futures be sustained. We thank you." The woman bowed, stepping back into her group. The giants nodded, turning to face the hairy figures.

The apparent leader of the giants looked down on the Children of the Night before them, pausing as if in consideration for a moment before speaking. "Talehk," it began with a surprisingly gentle voice. "It was by the knowledge of your people that the method of this great monument was brought forth. By your hands were the boons of all the world channeled into the form of this fair city. From your prowess and patience will our futures be sustained. We thank you."

After a moment, the hairy figures turned to face the humans. One of them stepped forward and bowed. A dark purple garb was draped over its shoulders, tinged with shimmering, iridescent threads.[[/span]]

[[span class="telepathy"]]"Embla,"[[/span]] [[span class="gregory"]]it began. The words rang cleanly within Altasha's head as intent rather than speech. Telepathy, of course.[[/span]] [[span class="telepathy"]]"It was by the insight of your people that the spirit of this great monument was brought forth. By your hands was the draught of the Earth and Sky harnessed and directed into the vessel of this fair city. From your wit and intuition will our futures be sustained. We thank you."[[/span]] [[span class="gregory"]]The being raised its head and stepped back into its group.[[/span]]

[[span class="gregory"]]Beside the purple-robed figure stepped another member of the group. It stood tall, its muscular physique apparent even beneath its earthy garb. It stepped forward from its group and turned to face the throne.[[/span]]

[[span class="telepathy"]]"On behalf of all of our peoples, you all have our sincerest gratitude for the sacrifices and compromises each of our tribes have made along the way to this moment,"[[/span]] [[span class="gregory"]]the purple-robed one spoke. Beside Altasha, Gregory's lips moved in a silent pantomime of the words as they were cast, as though he had seen this moment play out inevitably a thousand times before.[[/span]] [[span class="telepathy"]]"Let us begin, Gonaka."[[/span]]

[[span class="gregory"]]The being, Gonaka, as Altasha had heard him named, began towards the throne. An intense and seemingly contagious aura seemed to pervade the tower in which they stood. Absolute, unquestionable conviction, she recognized, yet a conviction twinged with solemnity. These marching footfalls would be his last.

Gregory walked, beckoning for Altasha to follow, and they continued after. As she passed between the humans and Gonaka, her eyes met with the old woman's for a moment. In those ancient azure eyes was mirrored a weatheredness just like Altasha's own. They spoke of determination, wit, and survival by //any// means necessary. It stirred faintly within Altasha the centers of both curiosity and determination. Then the moment passed, and the woman's gaze with it. Altasha blinked, vaguely contented, and turned to the stairs.

The glittering throne rose before them, appearing to Altasha more imposing than ever. Here towered the culmination of cooperation thitherto— and thenceforth— unprecedented in scope and ambition. Though it sat on an elevated platform rising only a meter or two above the rest of the floor, it seemed to loom to a dizzying height as they approached. It was different, but not unlike the one she had seen Gregory affixed to earlier. Its surface was carved with glowing runes and silvery constellations just like the other, but this throne bore an earthy, bark-like base instead. In place of various plugs, pipes, and tubes were what appeared to be roots, leaves, and petals. Brilliant, gorgeous flowers bloomed at random points across its surface; crimson orchids, azure lilies, violet lotuses, each twinkled and radiated with the barest touch of unimaginable energy. The sight of the throne took Altasha's breath away. Its blood wrought by the Day, its form by the Twilight, and its purpose by the Night.

At last Gonaka stood before the throne. He seemed almost silhouetted against its brilliance and raw power. He turned toward the groups at the base of the rise and held his arms wide. The surface of the throne began to move and ripple like leaves in the wind, and a pair of thin, winding branches emerged from either side of the throne. They danced down through the air toward Gonaka, settling in a ring just over his head. The wood undulated and pulsed, weaving itself together like a tapestry. The branches split and shrank to form increasingly delicate patterns along the formation. Finally, the display was finished, and the main branches detached from their masterpiece. In the air above Gonaka hovered a beautiful, moss-gilded crown. Altasha could see a faint, green energy tracing between the grooves of the bark.

Gonaka closed his eyes and bowed his head. As if in response, the crown descended toward him, settling down gently onto his head. He flinched and gridded his teeth as it settled into his fur. If the throne and crown were a sort of interface for the City like Altasha suspected, then Gonaka's reaction was to be expected. The being opened his eyes and let his gaze fall upon the groups gathered below.

The energy in the room was electric. Anticipation and anxiety grappled for dominance even in Altasha's mind as Gonaka stood, unmoving, on the fringes of apotheosis. His presence alone had become enough to warp the room around him as though he were a black hole plunging down into the fabric of noöspace itself. The ambient feeling of absolute conviction had become writ upon Gonaka's face. [[/span]]

[[span class="telepathy"]]"May the Glittering City endure forevermore,"[[/span]] [[span class="gregory"]]he declared at last.[[/span]]

[[span class="gregory"]]With that, Gonaka bowed and set himself upon the throne.

Instantly, the light emanating from the throne brightened. The glittering flowers and roots flared to life with an otherworldly energy. The bark moved and covered him, roots delved into his limbs, flowers blossomed across his body, and the whole island quaked as the weight of the Halcyon's legacy fell upon Gonaka's shoulders. He screamed. Electricity danced around the spire, causing the gathered groups to retreat a short distance. The light continued to grow brighter and brighter as Gonaka struggled to turn the gears of creation far beyond. From his mouth poured forth the sound of one fighting against the weight of the world. It was a scream in defiance of the end, a declaration that their story was far from over.

Brilliance engulfed the chamber, and the scene evaporated.[[/span]]

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[[span class="gregory"]]The blinding interior of the spire faded like morning fog before Altasha's eyes, eclipsing to a vast expanse. Gregory and she stood high above the City. The gray light of day had begun to transition to a cool, dark dusk. The island glittered faintly far below them, though the blinding prominence of the spire was apparent even from this great height.

It was the sky above them that captured Altasha's attention the most, however. The stygian cracks that traversed the heavens were shrinking, retreating into thin, gray lines before evaporating altogether. The falling stars that hung still had resumed their fiery paths down to Earth as well. Above it all turned the wheel of the sky, freed at last from the fetters of oblivion.

Altasha watched with wide eyes as it spun. The stars blurred as the heavens moved, almost as if catching up on lost time. Constellations and galaxies shot across the sky with blinding speed through the endless hemisphere in which they soared. It was so captivating that she hardly realized she had a vice grip on Gregory's arm beside her. She let go, still floating next to him.

"So did a new Halcyon stir," he finally spoke. "And the future was assured."

"It's..." Altasha stared blankly at the cosmos unfurling overhead. "Incredible." She turned toward Gregory. "But you still haven't told me where you factor into all of this."

Gregory nodded to the City below. The two of them descended closer, still hundreds of meters in the air. Gregory turned his hand, and the form of the island began to shift. The wooden walls and sleek metal blurred and were replaced with a simple, geometric carved stone. Water ran through the streets in place of roads, and the rooves of each building were drenched in moss and wildflowers. The spire had been replaced with a massive stone pillar, gushing clear water. The City blurred again, becoming rudimentary stone and wood, then sandstone, and even more. With each permutation the appearance of the island changed. Meanwhile the white, snowy plain beyond softened and melted into a vast and endless ocean. New visages came and went as millennia of history wore on in minutes beneath them.

"The City was built to accommodate the weight and form of the Halcyon's fantasy, and so has it changed with every new heritor," Gregory stated. A more stern tone had replaced his voice's previous joviality. "When the time came, the throne would pass from the Night to the Twilight, then to the Day, and so forth. This place was known only to the barest few of each race, who would in turn be vigilant for the passing on of the Dream every few centuries."

"But the Day of the Flowers," Altasha began. "After a cataclysm like that, there would be no one left who would know to come here and continue the cycle."

"Precisely. //That// is where I come in," Gregory said.

The scene shifted, new surroundings blooming into view around them like watercolor splashing onto a canvas. They were back in the City. It was not unlike the original, metallic version Altasha had observed in the earlier memory, but noticeably different. The structures were more rugged and bore an alternate, more earthy style. The City itself was darker; even the massive tree that rose over the center of the island glowed only dimly beneath the snowy sky above.

A stout figure dressed in a thick, dark coat and carrying a hefty bag of supplies trudged through a growing blanket of snow toward the tree. The two walked beside the man unimpeded as he struggled. Though the roar of the blizzard was overpowering, Altasha thought she could almost hear his labored breathing as he marched. The man fought for purchase among the gelid drifts, finally kneeling amidst the snow, panting. He raised his head, his eyes remaining fixed on the dismal light beyond. Altasha knew that face anywhere.

"This is when you disappeared," she murmured. "You came here."

Gregory nodded. "The City had been calling to me for some time before I set off to find it, just as it did with you. Searching, probing around the great expanse of human thought trying to find people like us. For such a mind as this place has, individuals are harder to see than are the marks we leave on those around us. Those we touch form sprawling webs of connections, and at their centers lie us."

"That's why the dreams were only affecting people adjacent to me at first," she remarked. "It was— or rather, //you were// — homing in on me."

"It did the same for me as well," Gregory replied. "Those around me dreamt of this place when it first began to call out to me, and soon I felt the pull even across this vast ocean. We chosen are permitted to reminisce on the visions bestowed us by this fair City. I remember standing on the beach of the Cape of Good Hope all those decades ago and feeling that yearning pulsing from beyond the horizon. Neither of us had any choice but to end up here one way or another."

Altasha watched the exhausted memory pull himself from the snow and trudge forward. His teeth were gridded in determination. "Dammit, come on!" he said, scolding himself.

The Gregory beside her sighed and turned his hand again. They stood within a vast, wooden chamber. The throne stood tall at its center, vaguely reminiscent of the one in the City's first iteration. At its base sprawled a makeshift camp of sorts. A small campfire and stove smoldered off to the side beside a ruffled bedroll. A collection of notebooks lay strewn about a familiar, stout man, now dressed down to little more than his pants and a stained undershirt. He sat cross-legged at the base of the throne with his eyes closed. Affixed to the throne was an ancient-looking Child of the Night, its head wreathed in a frail, wooden crown.

"Lady Mah'Khai, of the Children of the Night," he intoned almost melodically.

"This one Child bore the throne for that entire time following the Day of the Flowers?" she remarked.

"By the skin of her proverbial teeth," Gregory replied. "Their kind can already live far longer than ordinary humans, and even more so with the aid of the City, but even godhood has its limits. The impacts of that accursed Day had reverberations even here, as intimately acquainted with noöspace as it is."

"Of course," Altasha said. "Never mind the physical destruction, the mental damage alone to so many sentient creatures at once would have put an unimaginable strain on the noösphere as a whole."

"And very well nearly ripped it apart. Mah'Khai survived but was wounded. The arbiter of will was cast down, plunging what remained of the world into a wild and purposeless stupor. It would take her centuries to even begin recovering, but in time her will returned, restoring a semblance of a narrative to the world. It was only by the time I began to hear the call of the City myself, countless years later, that she had finally garnered the strength to open a way into the physical world from here. Even just that act began opening holes in the noösphere."

Altasha circled the camp, eyeing the slouched figure of Mah'Khai. "One of our earliest anomalies catalogued from that time was humanity losing the ability to dream for a period of a few months. I take it that exertion must have been the catalyst for the phenomenon."

Gregory affirmed. "And part of what drew me here. Besides the yearning for the City, I had to understand what was going on and if I could possibly remedy it. Mah'Khai's strength had nearly been exhausted by the time I arrived. While previous heritors prepared for months, even years prior to the calamity, I had mere weeks to ready myself for the burden of the Halcyon's fantasy.

"That sounds awful," Altasha murmured.

The memory before them suddenly lurched forward from his meditative stance with a gag, quickly bursting into a violent coughing fit. He wiped the blood from his mouth and sat, panting. The man spit off to the side before sitting back upright and resuming his pose.

"It was hell," Gregory said quietly.

He waved a hand dismissively and the scene shifted. The memory of Gregory stood before the throne, which now sat empty. He looked thin and tired, yet with that look of unquestioned conviction carved plainly on his face. Altasha tasted that familiar, electric feeling of anticipation filling the interior of the great tree in which they stood. The radiant flowers adorning the walls felt like shining eyes, eager to witness what was about to unfold. A voice—Mah'Khai's, Altasha figured—resonated soundlessly throughout the vast room. Altasha leaned forward, enthralled.[[/span]]

[[span class="telepathy"]]"Gregory Sorenson, Child of the Day"[[/span]] [[span class="gregory"]]she began. Her words were silent, yet cast with a grand vigor and enthusiasm, as though she had waited a thousand lifetimes to speak them.[[/span]] [[span class="telepathy"]]"You stand as the heir to the Throne of the Glittering City and bearer of the Legacy of the Halcyon. Will you solemnly swear and testify that you shall uphold this station to the best of your ability?[[/span]]

[[span class="gregory"]]"I will."[[/span]]

[[span class="telepathy"]]"Will you to the utmost extent of your power maintain the law and natural order of the world and beyond as best as you are able?"[[/span]]

[[span class="gregory"]]"I will."[[/span]]

[[span class="telepathy"]]"Will you to the utmost extent of your power bear the Legacy of the Halcyon for the sustenance of all the world?"[[/span]]

[[span class="gregory"]]"I will."[[/span]]

[[span class="telepathy"]]"Have you any regrets?"[[/span]]

[[span class="gregory"]]Gregory stood, silent. After a moment, he spoke.

"Only that I never got to say goodbye."

Altasha's gasp was drowned out as the great tree began to hum with energy.[[/span]]

[[span class="telepathy"]]"Your conscience is clear. On behalf of all the peoples of this world, we thank you."[[/span]]

[[span class="gregory"]]Gregory's hands rose as a blinding, golden slit appeared in the air above his head. From it emerged a resplendent, crystalline crown. The facets shimmered and undulated, each face flashing with reflections of the delicate, floral lights filling the chamber. Gregory bowed his head and the crown gently settled into his ruffled hair. The moment it landed he recoiled and gridded his teeth, though quickly shook off the pain. He stood tall and breathed deeply. The man stepped before the throne and turned. With a rush, Altasha realized the room suddenly appeared full of people, probably a hundred or so. Among them stood people of all Children; the Day, the Twilight, and the Night.

"The predecessors," Altasha breathed. The Gregory beside her remained silent.

The Gregory before the throne looked down upon the crowd that had appeared, eyeing them almost curiously. The crowd remained silent but emanated a nearly tangible aura of anticipation and thrill. Altasha felt the gravity of his presence, just as she had felt Gonaka's. It was as if the entire room, no, the entire //world// now had begun to bend around him. At last, Gregory held his arms wide and opened his mouth to speak, his words more pronounced and clear than Altasha had ever heard a human utter before.

"May the Glittering City endure forevermore."

Gregory sat, and a golden light engulfed the chamber.[[/span]]
@@ @@
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= [[size 150%]][[span class="gregory"]]III[[/span]][[/size]]
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[[span class="gregory"]]The brilliance lifted like a veil before Altasha's eyes, bringing into view the familiar contours and light of the cathedral. They stood before the chancel once more, Gregory directly in front of the throne. The vast panes of stained glass and gilded light rose high above once again.

"So to answer your question, Altasha," Gregory spoke slowly. "//That// is what happened to me."

Altasha looked at him. "These last hundred years, you've been bearing all of this."

"While you were dreaming, I was turning the sky," he replied frankly.

Behind his expression of contentment she could finally see the marks of his long burden peeking through. The slightest slouch of his demeanor, the faintest lines appearing across his face, the almost imperceptible strain in his voice as he spoke; all of these subtly betrayed his outward image of vibrant energy and godhood. Altasha now understood. This was a man worn to the bone by the passage of memory and time, beyond all reprieve.

"You're dying."

Gregory bowed his head. "I'm afraid so." He sighed. "It is as I said, nothing lasts forever." He cast a glance at the throne. "Even gods."

"That's why you called me here," Altasha murmured. "The dreams, the visions, between everyone else and I; all of it was for this. I am to be the next heritor."

"Arbiter over this grand fantasy," he added. "But power is as much a burden as it is a boon. As heritor to the Halcyon's Legacy, the course of history would be yours to set, and your weight to bear. Should you choose it, humanity shall retain its free will, but their actions will ultimately serve to realize your designs. Anomalies will still persist, yet such is their nature as exceptions to the rule."

"And I can never leave, can I?" she said, her mind flashing back to Lilia and her team.

"You will ultimately be bound to the City until you too find a successor and fade into memory," Gregory replied. "One way or another, someone must bear the Legacy."

Altasha felt her stomach drop with a feeling that seemed equal parts sadness and acceptance. "I suppose I owe Lilia an apology," she said. "I told her I would be coming back. I suppose that won't be the case anymore."

"Of course, I will not force your hand. Whatever you decide to do with the throne, I will abide by it."

"You mean to say there is another option?" Altasha probed.

"If you will not take the throne, I may transfer it to humanity in your stead. In place of a heritor and the City, the weight of the Halcyon's Legacy would fall collectively upon the shoulders of all of humankind. Each of them, and noöspace by extension, would become the new framework on which the concept of reality rests. Humanity would, in essence, become its own god."

Altasha was taken aback. "Granting humanity the abilities of something as unimaginably powerful as the Halcyon hardly seems like a good idea," she retorted.

"On the contrary, unlike the Halcyon, humanity has one key advantage: they outnumber it. By dividing the power between each human in the world, it becomes diluted, and though the might of the Glittering City is grand, it equates to almost nothing when divided amongst billions of people. Meanwhile, the concept of reality will continue to have a framework to exist upon. So long as even one human remains, reality will persist. It may have been impossible before, especially since the wounding of Mah'Khai, but as things stand now it's entirely within the realm of possibility."

"I've witnessed the history of the Glittering City, though," Altasha countered. "Nothing like this has ever even been considered, much less conjected or tested. There's no telling what could happen if the average person received even the tiniest fragment of the Halcyon's power. What makes you trust humanity so readily?"

"Time has not been the same for me here. The hundred years that have passed for you have been //lifetimes// for me. I have watched humanity through its own dreaming eyes for nearly longer than even //I// can imagine. And through every peace and war, every blessing and curse, every boon and bane, every dawn and dusk, every anxiety and hope, every death and rebirth, every beginning and end; I have watched humanity grow in ways that defy description. Evil may dwell in the hearts of men, yes, but therein also lies the potential to forge a better world for the sake of all they hold dear. That is the selfsame will entrusted to it by the Halcyon itself so many eons ago."

She stood straight, her pulse quickening by the second. "So what would you have me do?" she asked.

"Don't you see? The reason I chose //you// of all people as my successor? Naturally you are more seasoned in regard to psionic and oneiric anomalies than most people on Earth due to your long and storied history with them in the Foundation, but it was above all else your keen sense of judgement that proved your worth. Yours is a judgement that has been tempered by countless impossible decisions you have had to make throughout your long journey. Yet you temper your choices with equal measures utility and compassion in matters of global and even universal import." Gregory sighed, the weight of a long burden apparent even in his outgoing breath. "If that were not the case, then you never would have personally sought me out, and we never would have made it this far. It is for these reasons that even in so critical a matter as this, I trust your judgement above all else. //This// choice is yours, Altasha, and yours alone. Now, what will you do, my dear old friend?"

Altasha's heart pounded fiercely in her chest. She stood at a crossroads that could well determine the fate of more than her meager human mind could ever hope to comprehend. For a moment, her mind raced. She contemplated the offer and weighed her options. Her thoughts were a torrent, so turbulent they nearly threatened to overwhelm her. Pros and cons battled for supremacy in her mind. The gears of cognition ground away. Yet that one moment was all she needed.

Her thoughts were clear. She felt rising in herself that same unquestionable, absolute conviction and assurance that had radiated from each of the heritors throughout the centuries.

Altasha smiled and opened her mouth to speak.[[/span]]

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