Remnants of Worlds

There was nothing like the sound of silence, of existence forgotten by the passage of time, or the bother of living. Death was silence, and yet it was peace and fulfillment. But then the silence was broken and whispers sneaked around Ozias like snakes slithering in the darkness, looking for a place to sink their teeth in. Slowly, they grew louder and louder until he could no longer ignore them. Ozias opened his eyes. The voices kept whispering, fading in and out behind the quiet hum of his wards that now sang in urgent alarm. How long had it been since he was awake? Few decades? Few centuries? A millennium? His last memory was of sending his loyal servants to take away the bodies of the others so they would finally be quiet and stop their attempts to leave. They never learned, no matter how many chances he gave them. Why couldn’t they just live peacefully by themselves? Why did they always need the voices of the others worshiping at their feet to fill their ears, preventing them from finding true contentment? Ozias pushed himself into a sitting position. His muscles protested and his strength faltered for a second, but then his body gradually woke up, signaling to every cell that it was time. Time to rise again. He looked around the small stone chamber he had chosen for his rest, eyes stopping on the pale, flickering wards around him. There were no foreign traces on them, which meant nobody had tried to penetrate them—not that he expected those cowards to dare, even if they somehow found new bodies. He had realized long ago that this world was not entirely separated from the land they had left, so, occasionally, through a supernatural event or a powerful ritual, humans would appear. But there was no way for them to return, so even if one of his family took control of their bodies, it would be useless to them. Possessing a human would only diminish their strength since humans could not channel the true power of a god. Not unless they themselves were made a god, but for that to happen, the god inside of them had to die and none of his family would ever give their own immortality for others to ascend. A low growl came from the barrier's other side, and Ozias locked his eyes on the blurry figure waiting for him. He got to his feet, stretching his limbs until they cracked. He could hear his heart beating faster and faster, his blood flowing through his veins again, his brain waking up as memories from the past flashed through it, reminding him of all that he had witnessed, all that he had done, all that he had saved. All that he had to do again. Ozias untangled the threads of his spell without hurry, allowing the protective dome to disintegrate into a rain of golden sparks. The figure on the other end shifted, taking a small step forward, then lying on the floor with its giant head resting on its paws. Its red eyes locked with Ozias’ and his pet whimpered happily, wiggling its tail. Ozias smiled. “Come here.” He beckoned it with his fingers, and the wraith rushed to his side. The creature was taller than him and a few times bigger; its gaze had scared many powerful gods, but that was because they were cowards who feared death. Once you have conquered that fear, this magnificent being looked more adorable than scary. The wraith lowered its head, and Ozias patted it gently. Touching the shadows that made the coat of the creature was still strange, like running your fingers over foam that made your skin crawl. It was not a bad feeling, though. “Good girl,” Ozias said, patting the creature’s neck with his other hand. “What have I missed?” The whispers returned as the wraith projected its memories into Ozias’ mind. Humans appearing. Gods claiming bodies. Rift opening. A sword. Humans and gods leaving through the rift. With every next thought, Ozias’ smile faded more and more. He ran his hand over the wrath’s side where the sword had hurt it, looking at the silver scars. There weren’t many things that could hurt his creatures, just several objects that the other gods had created before he destroyed their original bodies. And there was only one in the form of a sword. The Asi sword. An object imbued with so much potent energy it could easily open a door to this place. But who would want to come here? He had taken with him all the gods when he came to this place. He was sure of that. Thousands of years would have passed since then. No human could remember what happened, let alone know how to use the sword. But that was not the concerning part. The others had left; they had entered the world of the humans, even though they knew what the punishment for that was going to be. “All of them left?” he asked, and the wraith nodded its giant head. “You kept the rift open?” Another nod. “Where are the others?” The whispers rose again, speaking excitedly as he stared into the distance, trying to feel them. His senses spread further and further, bouncing off every tree and stone out there until he felt it. The tear that shone brighter than the sun, louder than any voice, wide open for both sides to touch and die at each other’s hand. All because of their greediness. But it wasn’t them that opened the rift, it couldn’t have been. It had to be the humans. They had grown beyond their place again, reaching for things that were not meant for them. Like naughty children, both humans and gods, they never learned. “I see.” Ozias circled the wrath and headed toward the stairs. He climbed the steps, ignoring the flurry of dust that rose in the air, and pushed the trapdoor, which opened with a screech and fell apart under his touch. Stepping into the simple house he had built for himself so long ago, he looked around. Everything was covered in dust and cobwebs, and the floor was littered with dark holes. Most of the roof had fallen through and two of the walls had crumbled outward. The front door was still standing somehow, but as he turned the handle, it fell apart. All things died, sooner or later, and those who tried to live beyond their time turned twisted, ugly, and vile. Like his family. They spread like the plague of this place and devoured all that was good and beautiful, sucking in its energy and leaving behind nothing. He should have vanquished their souls instead of letting them roam the world they destroyed. Now the balance was broken again, just like before. “Such a pity.” Ozias sighed, stepping through the threshold and walking away from the house. He took the overgrown path that was going to lead him to the edge of the cliff where he had built his house, ducking under the low, thin branches and stepping through the black bushes that looked both dead and alive at the same time. Once he left the trees behind, he stopped, staring at the light in the distance. Flickering in sickening green, stood the portal, tall and wide enough to let at least two wraiths pass side by side. He could see his pets guarding it, hear their voices, sense their excitement at his return. I’m coming, he told them, and their excited howls reverberated far and wide like an endless echo. A portal formed next to him, the runes flickering readily at his command. “Time to restore the balance again,” he whispered, stepping toward the portal. “Once and for all.”