Considering The Apocalypse As A Thing Unwanted

[Professor Charles]

“In the beginning there was nothing. Then the Old Gods bid that there be something, and so there was.”

“Sir?” A pudgy human boy with a pale face, whom I liked to call 'Irritant Number One,’ shoved a hand into the air.

With a remarkably straight face, I looked over to him, and gestured, “Please, Franko.”

“The theory of General Energy and Matter by Zi’Tau Menzies states that something cannot come from nothing. That energy is part of a process, and cannot be created, only transferred.”

I raised my brow. “And was Master Zi’Tau Menzies there at the beginning of time? Did he know the Old Gods?”

Franko, Irritant Number One, lowered his hand and frowned. “No but … neither were you sir.”

Well that was an interesting statement. One I could easily refute and give an honest answer to. Technically no, I was not there at the exact beginning of time and creation. But I was very shortly after, for the pure purpose of serving those old gods. Of course, that knowledge was very limited, few knew I was a primordial being rather than a simple demon who had taken an interest in academia and decided to live in Alerar. They presumed that I was a millennia at most, not the few tens or hundreds of thousands I actually was (I was not sure myself now). And I let that be. Once I had been proud of my heritage, but it had caused me endless pain in the past and in all honesty I could not be bothered trying to explain my entire history every time. So I let them assume.

“I was not,” I eyed the boy, “But nobody can say what the Old Gods were able to do, mayhap they created the theories that master Zi’Tau Menzies is famous for. Anything else?

Franko shook his head, the fat beneath his jaw swinging. Proudly, I smiled slightly at him before looking to the rest of the class. I had shut him up for a while. Now just to wait for the rest of the Irritants to probably speak.

I continued on.

“The Old Gods faded away with the Great Calamity, out of which rose the divinities such as the Thayne, and later the Raiaeran Pantheon. But any knowledge of precisely how the Old Gods formed the first planets, landmasses and the like, has still not been determined. How they set the sun into motion, how they used magic and science, or rather, how they made magic and science itself. Questions such as, did the laws of science always exist, or did they make those laws themselves, come to mind? Is there another universe where matter and energy, as we know it is entirely different, where existence itself is ruled by an alternative set of dimensions.”

[Professor Charles]

I paused for a moment as I surveyed the class, set there before me in their tiered rows. Sixteen rows of around fifty students, some in my class because they were genuinely interested in the subject of Pre-History, others there simply to make up credits, because my lonely subject was thought of as 'easy’ and ‘just full of an old demon talking about his ancestors and shit’. It was true I was a fair marker, and for those who did not want to try hard, they could learn the basics of my subject in a day. But for those who were intent - those who I now saw leaning forwards and fixing me with keen intrigue - my subject was an oyster of pearls, waiting to be opened.

“Now Theoretical Physics is not my area of expertise, as you know, however when one considers what Pre-History is, there are these kinds of questions that ultimately will be asked. The very fact that there are no Old Gods alive, only those who knew them, such as the Thayne, makes the study of it all the harder, thus connections to subjects like Theoretical Physics are important, and will improve your understanding of the deeper meanings in this subject. Theory is the first basis upon which many facts are built, and so, when you consider it, these sort of subjects are in fact integral into comprehending life itself.”

A young drow - most of my students were drow due to where I lived and taught - placed her hand in the air. She sat in the second row from the front and had a bluish tint to her pale hair that matched her unusually indigo eyes. Easily, she was one of my favourite students, and instead of a designation I allowed her name only. Ayna Faruna, she was called, intelligent and enthusiastic.

With a nod, I allowed her to speak.

“Professor Rivers, you taught in Akashima correct?”

I nodded, “Before I came here, yes.”

“Is not there a tradition in some of their beliefs that allows for karma to exist. Good and bad, positive and negative. When one is made, another is also to balance?”

I paused, “In … some manner of speaking, yes.” Internally I grimaced: it was a very poor explanation for the theory.

“Could it not be theorised that that is an example of perhaps how things came to be? Of how things that do not fit in Master Zi'Tau Menzies’ theory came to be? It fits with the pretense that the Old Gods helped to makes everything from nothing. That in fact their willpower created good karma, that created matter.”

There was a pause before a reply came from across the room. “That’s a stupid idea!” Irritant Number One cried out loudly.

I looked over to him, blinking, before I gestured, inviting him to go on. “You have a reply to Miss Ayna, Mister Franko?”

“Well yeah,” the boy leant forwards onto the desk, pulling his body partly onto it so he could peer around better and fix Ayna with a firm glare. “Willpower and karma is a theory. Energy isn't.”

“I'm sorry, what were you championing at the beginning of this lesson?” Ayna remarked, “wasn't it the Theory of General Energy and Matter - no?”

Irritant number One stuck his tongue out at her. “Idiot.”

“You're the idiot, idiot.”

I raised my voice. “Hey! Hey!” I looked at both of them, one after the other with stern eyes.

They looked around at me, and the room fell silent with all fifty odd of my students. Brows rose, the sun patiently streamed through filtered blinds of the lonely, narrow windows at the top of the walls. Some of them blinked in its bright light, but still they stared at me, as I held their capitated attention for a single, strange moment.

I paused, drawing myself up with pride. “Theories can be validated by fact. They are, however, the process for many universal truths we hold. Tomorrow we will discuss this in more detail.”

For a while longer I held here suspense. Franko scowled.

“Class dismissed,” I finally said.

[Professor Charles]

As I was collecting my papers, easing them into one fairly organised yet still rushed pile, there was a kind, gentle voice.

“Professor?”

Twisting my head I came to see Ayna standing tall, erect as a statue and with her books tucked beneath an arm. Behind her the other students continued to drift out of the door, most of them in dim conversation. Pausing briefly, pulled the last of my notes onto the pile and began stuffing them into the leather satchel I used to drift from class to class on a regular basis.

“Yes Miss Ayna?” I asked, “Do you have a question?”

Quickly, she nodded - faster than I expected her to. It was a flourish of movement, and her eyes were back on mine before I realised.

“Yes, Professor. I wanted to ask more about karma.”

I grimaced slightly as I hefted the satchel strap onto my shoulder. The last few students, aside from Ayna, were exiting the now quiet and dully lit room. My feet carried me away from the desk I had been lecturing from and towards the door. Automatic Ayna began to follow.

“Karma is not my area of expertise,” I honestly advised, “You would be better talking to a professor of magical theory or philosophy.”

“But all social sciences are linked,” she replied, stepping into rhythm beside me, her eyes eager and bright.

I took a moment to allow the last student to exit, and then gestured for Ayna to follow. She smoothly slid out of the room, sliding around me and into the long, dark corridor beyond. Taking out a key I shut, then locked the key quite firmly behind us before I continued walking, my boots making loud rings on the deep-coloured wooden floor. Still, Ayna walked beside, waiting for my reply patiently.

Which I gave when I had taken some five lengthy strides, past the bright light of a window, then back into shadow. We were an odd pair - the drow student and I, the pale, seemingly demon teacher - yet none paused to stare.

“They could be all loosely described as that, although I believe the theoretical magicians would prefer you to think of them as a science. Your theory on karma could indeed be used to explain something, and if one were to look at say Platon the philosopher, they might find some interesting ideas in his book 'The Demokratos’. Still …”

“I have a point?” she asked, and her eyes were bright.

I laughed, softly, “Yes. You have a 'point’. But it is a working one, Ayna. For there to be a successful theory you need to do your research. For instance, where does the Tap fit into all of this? Are there truly other Taps? What form do they take? Did they come from nothing themselves?”

The girl's eyes were on me, full of determination. Truly she was one of my favourite students - astute, keen and aware. With her type I could speak for hours, though there was always a need to limit the conversation due to rumours about teachers and inappropriate behaviour. There had been one young student, Miki, in Akashima, who had gotten so enthusiastic about my lessons that she had turned up, at my office, at six of the morning several times. Stories had flown on pitiless wings, her parents had become involved and the best decision for me had been to leave.

[Professor Charles]

Alerar, however, was proving to be different. There was not the tightly-bonded, familial-orientated, traditional attitudes that Akashima boasted. Instead opportunities and expectations were more fluid. This was likely due to the industry and scientific exploration that drove them, and forced them to think in news ways constantly. In turn this had affected their nationhood and culture. Progressive was a word I often found in my vocabulary.

“From the Old Gods, surely,” Ayna answered me.

Leading the way from that wooden corridor that was so haphazardly segmented into light and dark by the windows, I twisted around a corner and began up a flight of stairs. As if it were natural, Ayna kept to my pace, aiming to follow me.

“That is a possibility,” I agreed, “Even though Master Franko is a great enthusiast of Zi’Tau Menzies, he cannot deny himself that gods exist.”

“Aside from in Alerar,” Ayna shrugged. “My father says that they abandoned us a long time ago.”

We ascended onto a landing and I paused for a moment, readjusting my satchel. “Never lose hope in gods. Even if they are devils,” I told her.

Her head tilted slightly as she looked me up and down, her eyes focusing briefly on the horns jutting from my skull and extending backwards. They marked me out as a likely tiefling - a demi-demon. “Is that who you worship? A devil?”

Again, I found myself smiling. The last being I had worshipped had been the self-styled King of Death, a being who was a personification of death and whom I had worked for/been enslaved by for more millennia than I cared to think about. He was not a devil, but something more - a personification from around my time if existence, who had power over many deceased souls.

“Currently I am between deities,” I told her, “It is easier to be so here, in Alerar, than other countries.”

“Did you ever experience racism because of what you are?”

My brow furrowed, and I let out a long sigh. The conversation had very quickly gone off topic. I continued striding up the stairs and Ayna continued to follow. They became tighter, and shorter, the steps between landings now counting to only six at the most. We passed entire floors without a single glance.

“Ayna, that is associated with my subject. If you would like to explore more of your karma theory, I am very happy to do so.”

Yet, she persisted. Clearly something had been on her mind. Skipping up a step to stride in synchronisation with me she whispered.

“But sir, we don't often have many demons here, in Alerar. It's mostly drow and I know so little. Have you been to Hadia?”

I began to open my mouth, preparing my practised answer of, “yes, I have been briefly, but I don't care to go back,” as I had perfected the use of so many times in Akashima, however something stopped me from issuing the words into air. As we came up to the landing where my small office was, there was a line of two chairs that backed onto a large bookcase. They were presented there for students who were so eager to speak to me that they needed to queue. And on one of them currently was lounging a being I had not expected to any degree to be there.

He was not a student. He was not a fellow professor. He was not even one of those rare things I would call a 'friend’.

No, he was, instead, my brother.

[Professor Charles]

Stereotypically tall, dark and handsome, my primordial brother Morningstar stands at six foot and eight inches to the crown of his head. Two large and impressive horns grow back from his temples in the same shade as his pale red-tinged flesh. Shimmering, eyes which sporadically change coliur and glow (but were blue for now) are set in his extraordinarily handsome face, framed by long chocolate brown locks. A deep five o'clock shadow gives him the codeword of 'rugged’ and his strong build, including wide shoulders, muscular legs, torso and legs, extend this further.

I had not seen Morningstar for nearing a thousand years, ever since he had paid a visit to the King of Death and tried, once more, to ask for my freedom. But I had known his real agenda. I had always known his agenda - simply, he wanted me to gain my freedom so I could serve him instead.

And now I had it. My freedom, upon my own terms, yet within a might price. I had given up much of my magnificent, destructive and empathetic power in order to gain a right to my own existence. To come here, to the mortal realm, where earning a wage and living a normal life was something not beyond me. I had come to start anew …

Yet here he was, back in my life.

My steps pulled to a halt at three steps to the landing, where I had cut off my words. Beside me Ayna also paused, her eyes glancing upwards to see what I could. Eyes widening she let out a light gasp, clearly seeing the (very) faint resemblance between me and this, my one brother of many. Hands fluttered to her lips and she mumbled something under her breath that I could have sworn was, “Damn, they're all handsome,” before Morningstar's iconic smile began to spread over his face.

One thing was definite - I would not make this meeting public. With him there now and seeing me, I could not back away. Even if I invited Ayna to stay and converse, even if I avoided Morningstar, sent him away, he would only come back. Again, and again. He was that resolute, that determined. There was no point of even trying to avoid him.

I had thousands of years of experience in this.

Slowly I breathed in as the self-styled Prince rose out of his chair, a smirk spreading across his face. His icy eyes shone, glowing with an eerie light that hinted at his unquestionable power. Certainly, he was far more powerful than I was; he had always been, even at the height of my destructive capabilities. Hands drawn before him he looked right at me as I unsteadily swallowed.

Ayna was still there. At least, I could spare her from Morningstar's repertoire.

Quickly, before Morningstar could begin to speak, I turned to the young drow. “Ayna, if we could continue this later,” I said quickly, “After tomorrow's lecture.”

Ayna glanced from myself to Morningstar, seeing the very faint resemblance, and likely calculating the chances of a genetic connection between myself and the primordial before us. Yet, she seemed to gauge the tension with in the atmosphere. She nodded once, twisting around to face me.

“Of course, professor,” she smiled vaguely, though there was still some shock in her features. “Tomorrow …”

And she nibbled her lip before she ducked her head, mumbling something more about handsomeness. Sighing, I watched her go, and let the moment last for some time, before a polite cough signalled me back.

Lifting my head up I looked straight back at Morningstar. He gestured with a ridged horn at my office.

“Shall we?” his low, rich voice sounded, each syllable filled with meaning.

[Professor Charles]

No sooner was I through the door, than what I had expected to happen, happened.

The door slammed shut behind me. Roughly, my shoulder was grabbed and I was shoved against the wall, pushed with a force that existed beyond some being’s comprehension. My satchel slipped from my shoulder and I let it land on the rugged floor as easily as I allowed myself to be pinned against the paneled wall. Neither did I resist, nor cry out as I was pinned by his forearm that lay across my chest. His leering, shining-eyed face appeared in my vision as he grinned once.

“Hello brother,” he hissed.

“Hello, Morningstar,” I intoned dully. In all honesty I was used to being pinned to walls. Working for the King of Death and often being chained in my boat when he got bored had made me used to similar.

“You should have told me you got out of that hell,” he went on, shoving his face closer into mine.

Spit sprinkled onto my face and I began to raise a hand to wipe it off, but he pressed harder against my rib cage. A clear signal to me to cease movement. So I did. It was not so much that I was a defeatist, more that I was so acclimated to being at the behest of others - I was literally created to be a servant of the Old Gods, as was Morningstar. I stood there, my brow rising.

“I didn't need to tell you anything,” I replied. “In all honesty, I don't need to tell anyone what is going on in my life.”

“Ah, but you should have,” his teeth grated in his jaw. “Therein lies your mistake, Charon. Now, stay there whilst I …”

And he lifted his right hand, that which was not pinning me. Within the flesh of the palm I could see the wound-like feature that was his single recognisable trait. It was a single line that had ridges to either side, and was a black pit within. As he lifted it I dragged my eyes away from it, knowing exactly what was going to happen. With a quick movement he ripped open the clothes at my breast, right down to the pale flesh. Perfectly still I stood as he then thrust his palm flat against the flesh just about where my heart was - and the most peculiar feeling began to spread through my body.

A force, a drowsiness quite unlike any other. It began from where my skin meet his, then spread from there in waves like ripples in a pool. With each wave came a sweep of lethargy, and I closed my eyes as they thrummed through my body, reaching towards the tips of my fingers and the ends of my toes. I drew in a slow breath of air as the feeling began to fill my veins, nerves and cells, as his magic powered into me. I did not close my eyes, but instead kept my gaze steady on his, watching him as his expression went from one of immense satisfaction - to confusion - then to disbelief.

[Professor Charles]

Suddenly, his palm was drawn away. The drugged state I was in remained, though I was awake. Instead, I simply saw him move slower than my brain considered was true, as he stepped back, eyes widening with shock.

“What the fuck have you done to yourself?” he whispered.

Grimly, I smiled, letting my head roll so I could look at him more direct. “Your power draining thing … won’t work on me,” I said in a lackadaisical voice, “The King already took the majority of it from me, before he let me go, Morningstar. You are far too late.”

“Leaving you with … barely enough to survive,” Morningstar spat. “Fuck, that price. You had to pay all that?””

I knew his power well. Whereas my own personal abilities lay within the power of annihilation, but also empathy for others, his had been in organising and distributing power, from both divine beings, living organisms and concepts. In the early days of creation it had been a useful skill to reorganise any mishaps in what had been done (an extra tail here, a mistaken spring of youth there), but he had soon become full of his own pride. When narcissism had settled in he had waged a long war with the Old Gods, making himself more powerful at others’ expense, and in turn gaining all of their abilities. I remember, in those days when I myself had been much of an unaligned party, seeing entire halls of people lined up to face him and have their power drawn from them. At various points in our existence Morningstar had either trapped me to take what I had, or I had given him my power willingly in order to have him leave me alone.

This was, however, the first time that he had found me with barely anything to give.

“Disappointed?” I murmured, a smile flickering over my lips. “Good. This isn’t the old days, any more, Morningstar, this is now, where mortals can be as powerful as gods. Why don’t you go get some of them to serve you, or go steal mine back from the King-”

Suddenly he pulled away from me, disgust written on his face. He removed his forearm that had been pressed across my chest, and he spat on the ground as he strode a few paces away from me. I sagged as I tried to gain back my strength from how the side-effect of his ability had left me, and could feel it returning, though not fully there. My dear brother Morningstar pause before my great oak desk, eyes glaring into the woodwork and the many books I had collected in my few short years as a lecturer. Briefly, his eyes touched the small bow window through which the bright light of early afternoon still shone.

“I will get your power back,” he growled.

I found myself snorting with laughter.

“So you can take it from me? No thanks, brother.”

More energy now returned to me I straightened, using the wall partially as a crutch. I glanced down to the satchel with my papers still left from that morning’s lesson and took in a breath before I leaned towards it. Partially I collapsed forwards, but catching myself on the edge of the desk I held myself steady for a moment. Then, once my panicking heart had settled again, I caught up the bag with an arm and stood up again, only to see his bright eyes on me.

Bored already, I rolled my eyes and dumped the satchel on the desk. “I have another lesson in just less than an hour. I need to prepare. Now you have satisfied yourself that you cannot get anything from me, you can go and leave me to my work.”

His lips became a thin line. Roughly, he gestured at the large wooden chair that stood behind my desk. “Sit down.”

I twisted my head to look at it, a wry grin coming over my face. “Let me guess. I sit in it, you bind me there and attempt to keep me there until you have managed to get my power back. Am I close, by any small chance?”

His jaw tightened, betraying the truth of the matter. The problem with Morningstar was that he was ridiculously predictable. All he had ever wanted was to be worshipped himself, like the gods we had been created to serve. Entirely, I understood his perspective, and indeed, at some points in my life I had even wanted the same. Right now, however, I literally wanted to be left alone, to get on with my studies and not have to worry about siblings like him ruining my existence.

But he gestured again. Letting out a sigh, I stepped away from the desk and began to head towards the door. Immediately he stepped in front of me, brow furrowed. “Where are you going? I said to-”

“Yes,” I answered, in a matter of fact tone, “But as I said, I have a lesson in an hour. You want me to be forced to listen to your dull ‘I will rule the world’ passages again? Fine, I will, but first I need to organise cover for the rest of the day.”

His lip curled, as he closely studied me with burning eyes. Jaw set he stood in my way, and I ended up folding my arms to wait for him to answer, before he growled, and stepped aside. “Organise a week,” he directed.

“As your majesty commands,” mockingly, I bowed, before I exited the room.

[Professor Charles]

When I returned to my small office I found my chair had been moved to be beside the window. Benevolently one of the smaller tables had been pushed beside it and several canteens of water had been placed there, as well as a stack of trail ration food. I did not ask where Morningstar had gotten such things. Having not seen him for a millennia I did not know the sorts of power he currently wielded. Precisely why he was obsessed with collecting my power I was unsure, but he had always had a small pleasure in adding any of our close siblings to his hoard. Apparently I was something to be desired, likely because I had managed to get away from him for such a long time, having been in fealty to another, yet it still was odd of the lengths he was willing to go through.

Wordlessly, I strode past him when I came back, and dropped into the chair. Morningstar leant back against my desk as he idly waved a hand and unsurprisingly magical metallic bonds bounced out of the wood. Yawning slightly I watched with indifference as they settled themselves over my ankles, around my chest and wrists. My right wrist, the one near the table, ended up with a manacle and a chain, that allowed me just enough room to move to pick up the food and water. This, I found intriguing and tested it a couple of times, the links of the chain chiming like bells.

“It would be irritating to have you suffer,” he grunted as he pushed away from the desk. “Dying of starvation is not pleasant.”

“Not done that one, but I have died of thirst a few times,” I answered, counting the bottles.

There were six, probably just enough for me to survive, as long as I was sparing. With a set of cold and wet weather prophesied by the Aleraran weather detectors I should be comfortable. The trail rations would be plenty. With a generally satisfied nod, I looked back to my captor who was not really.

“Can you get some books from the shelves, please?” I asked, my voice brightening a little. “Unless you want me to die from boredom. Which is possible.”

It was indeed, I had seen it. The heart just gives out, because it has nothing to live for. Surprisingly, also, it is possible to die from sadness, grief and loss; also known as a broken heart.

Morningstar snarled, but he grabbed two books at random from my shelf and shoved them on the arm of the chair. One was entitled, ‘Aim for the sky,’ which was a collection of stories and a theory on how reaching for the impossible would make you wealthy and happy, and the other was, ‘Halves’ which was arranged around the idea that intelligence and wisdom are two sides of the same coin, and how that fit with historical research. I was rather impressed with his choice, and nodded at Morningstar in agreement.

“They’re actually not too bad.”

“Oh shut up,” my brother sighed, rolling his eyes. “Just … don’t draw attention to yourself, and I will be back.”

Marvellously, I grinned at him, but I said no more, leaning back in my chair that was to be my home for the week. With small movements I tried the cuffs that held me in place, but found I had little movement, let alone strength to break from them. As I placed pressure into my toes to try to move the chair itself, I found I could not, and it was probable it had been bolted to the floor.

A brief smile fled across his lips, then he left, a faint click in the door as he locked me in.

When he returned was a week later, precisely almost to the second.

[Professor Charles]

Fast asleep I was when he came back. None too gently he shook me awake, at the shoulder, whispering quickly. “Char - Charon!”

“Hmm?” I awoke, brows rising before my eyes opened. Blinking hazily I came to, and found his face to be two inches from mine, with blue eyes blazing. Immediately taken aback I jolted, and succeeded in smacking my head off the back of the seat. Pain exploded across the back of my skull and I scowled deeply, even more annoyed when I could not lift a hand to nurse my head.

“You damn idiot,” I moaned, “Whyyyyy would you do that?”

A sigh came from the lips as he moved back, raising himself away from me as he uncurled from his crouched position over me. As my head continued to throb I mumbled more for a while, huffing and cursing him and his stupidity. Because it was foolish, waking up someone and shocking them so, when they had no movement to be able to react properly. Especially when you were the one who had bound them to the damn chair in the first place.

“I have your power,” he said after a while, after that brief moment of guilt had passed. “Well, some of it.”

“Great,” I rolled my eyes, lifting my free-er hand and reaching for the last of the water. “Some.”

“And I will give it to you in return for your oath of fealty.”

There it was. Another attempt at dragging me into his eternal servitude, his posse of companions, or ‘court’ as he liked to say, who seemed to always thin out in number after large events, such as a divine war. So far I had resisted his charming schemes, using first the fact I served the Old Gods, and then the excuse of serving the King of Death. Now, I was quite free, but a thing I had strived for for so long, and I was not about to let him take that from me.

“You don’t get it,” I replied, finally able to champion over the pain. Blinking solidly I cleared my vision and focused on him, as he stood there, arms over his chest. “I don’t care about my power. Certainly, I won’t take it so that you can use me here and there. I like being free, and having a life here, Morningstar. Keep me bound for another millenia, I don’t care, but I am not getting into one of your schemes.”

A great disappointment entered into his stature. Drawing himself upright, he glared daggers at me. “I would give you authority over much. You will be a general in my court, a captain at my-”

“I am not one of your weak-willed minions, Morningstar,” I interrupted him, “I saw you burped from Khaos as I was, I know you. You lose, more than you win, you always have, always will do. You want to use me as an artillery battery, fine. Give me back what power you manage to get, come to me, say once a week, and I'll do some menial task for you, like opening a hard to open box. But I am not following you into war.”

“An apocalypse is coming,” Morningstar whispered, his voice haunting as he leant towards me, “Similar to the Great Calamity. The prophets of hell are running riot with it, the oracles here are shaking in their sleep. It could mean the end for us all.”

Now that was nerving. The Great Calamity had been the final destructive force that had led to the end of the Old Gods. Then, the Thaynes had risen in power, and after that other pantheons rose up. It had been the single, most powerful experience that any of us had lived through, that had spawned a wealth of magic into the mortal planes as well as new forms of life. Our kind had lived, only to find new masters and new purposes - I had been with the King of Death, who had leeched off the Calamity and its slaughtering powers, Morningstar had thrived with a small court in the heavens. The idea of yet another apocalypse that had the power of the Great Calamity was not something to simply dismiss. After all, it had been the only one, single time where a lone event had altered all of the fates of Althanas.

“Well that is not good,” I mumbled, meaning it sincerely.

“No, it is not. But this is my chance, brother. Our chance, After the current gods have fallen we can finally establish ourselves, be the gods of a new order, a new race!”

“Fuck that,” I replied, now beginning to tug at my bonds. “We need to stop the thing from happening. Get me out of this chair, Morningstar, give me back the power that is rightfully mine, and I will go stop it.”

Morningstar blinked at me, dumbfounded. “You want to stop … a super massive, natural disaster … by yourself?”

“Yes, if I have to,” I snarled, tugging at my wrist. It would not budge, and so I held it to to him, at the end of its short chain. “Now, get me out.”

“No fucking way,” he murmured, eyeing me carefully. “You … that determination. I want it,” his eyes shone as he grinned. Slowly he unfolded his arms and leant over me, desire eeking from every pore. “You are coming with me.”

[Professor Charles]

And that was how I ended up in his court.

Grumpily, moodily and well past irritated, I sat, within the confines of a white, rectangular hall, the peaked roof made up by two lines of marble pillars. No windows were there, but the bleached brick reflected the light of a score of torches set into the walls. Before me, at one of the narrower ends of the building, was a stately pair of doors that were opened and looked onto a vast grassy field, that stretched until it met a summer, cloudless sky. Behind me rose a semi-circular dais, and it was on the steps I had been placed. Upon the dais was an ornate beech-wood throne, emblazoned with gold and laurel leaves, and in this seat Morningstar rigidly perched. He breathed slowly, eyes narrowed and staring at a being who trembled in the centre of the hall.

“What do you mean they have gone?” he hissed.

“They - they were no longer there, my lord!” the young mortal human shook, eyes huge, “They had gone - gone entirely! Packed up their things and gone!”

“I wonder if they heard there was death and destruction coming?” I piped up, lifting my head from where it lay on my arm.

There was a lightly tinkle my chains moved with me - the ones that had me attached to an anchor in the floor. I was much more comfortable than the chair at least, as Morningstar had seemed it fine for me to have more movement. Simply, I had two manacles over my wrists that were attached together, and then a chain went from them to the anchor. No leg limitations, no gag.

It was generous.

“You, shut it,” Morningstar shoved a finger in my direction.

I stared back at him, “Morningstar, they are literally the personifications of destiny. Seeing the future is part of their identity. Their personality, make up. They were there at the Great Calamity, they know exactly what is going to happen.”

“A future dependent on a great many things. Their visions are open to change, they only see what could be,” he seethed back at me, “Not what is. Now, shut up, Charon.”

I could see in his glare he was not amused, and not likely to listen to anything more I had to say. Therefore, I slumped back down, chin on my forearm and continued to watch the display of power Morningstar presented over this wretched human, who had somehow ended up working for him.

Probably some deal had been made, with a promise of the exchange of power. Perhaps this young human had magic now where he had not done before, or a girl on his arm when he was in his hometown. Maybe wealth, given to him by Morningstar pulling the various strings he had in the many cities, attached to many individuals. Even though I had not seen my brother in a millennia, nothing had actually changed about him. He was still, ultimately, the same as he had been when we were infants still.

The Prince of no kingdom stared at the mortal for some time, with no words coming from his mouth. It was clear I had confused his line of thought somehow, and changed the focus of his anger. Also, I had had a point, and that had frustrated him to the extent where he was dumb with his want to shout at the human.

“Bah! Go back and see if there is some clue to where they went. A book, some piece of writing - anything!” Morningstar ordered.

The mortal shivered, glanced at me briefly, before kowtowing until his nose touched the floor. Then, quickly, he stood up and shuffled as fast as he could out of the hall, although backwards, and so it was awkward. After around ten paces he let out a squeal before he turned and ran the rest of the way, his coat snapping in the breeze.

Silence fell, and there was an anxious tension in the atmosphere. I did not move, only watched the wind playing in the grass outside. Around the edge of the hall there were shifts in the shadows, whispers of the servants of Morningstar who brought me the rather delightful meals that were far better than what the university offered. They, however, remained beyond the pillars, away from where Morningstar ground his teeth to dust and I began to fall asleep.

“Right,” he said after a while, and he pushed himself out of his throne.

Lifting my brow I watched him as he rolled back his shoulders, and got rid of any tightness in his muscles. There I remained on his floor, like some forgotten pet, bored out of my skull, now without books entirely and just the random occurances of his court. I had been here for three days now, and my greatest fear was losing my position at the university. For I had arranged leave for a week, and that was all. Not three days more.

“So Klotho, Lakesis and Atropos …” he named the three ladies of fate, three of our sisters, and the ones in question. The spinner, allotter and the shearer, they who could see all the alternative futures, both near and far. Klotho, the spinner, also had an ability to see into the past, and so I imagined that they would know precisely the power of what was coming. The fact they had run was alarming, and gave rise to considerable concern that I was right - that this new apocalypse was going to be as terrible as we all feared.

“Morningstar …” I began.

He threw a hand at me, cutting me off. “I do not want to speak,” he grunted, as he strode down the dias steps. I sat up, blinking and slightly confused. He sounded sorrowful, and full of a strange guilt. Guilt for what? For kidnapping me? For helping me lose my job? For not listening to me? They were all perfectly viable options for feeling guilty.

“Morn,” I sat up fully. But he shook his head and twisted to exit through a gap in the pillars. Likely to go and have rampant sex with some elf queen or princess in a tower. That he had locked there himself.