It began with silence. A deep, unending, maddening quiet in the darkness of space. Time seemed as if to flow freely and stop all at once. There was nothing to count the days and minutes, no light to live by.
A hand reached out into the void, grasping at seemingly nothing, pulling forth life from particles. In their palm, once the fingers opened wide again, were hundreds of tiny glowing lights of all colors and sizes.
Rather than keep them captive, the hand tossed them out into the darkness, lighting a path back to them, a journey of a thousand stars made, a galaxy given existence. As each star's light grew, absorbing the energy of the universe, they became their own systems, sentient and powerful in many ways, varying in size and ability.
Transforming into an easier form, the creator stepped across their dark circular dais and curled up to sleep as if they were a cat, resting their head atop their paws as they stared out at the sight before them, their dark and lonely world now much brighter. Closing their eyes, they let their creations think for themselves and act as they pleased.
In the blink of an eye, thousands of years passed, and one by one, several lights flickered out, the explosion radius nearly reaching the next star over. Frowning, they watched as another vanished. And then, it stopped. They tilted their head and rose, wandering over to a shallow pool of water that stood beside a bright gated entry to another world. As they looked down into the collected drops before them, rippling and changing, they learned exactly what had transpired to cause such tragedy of life.
Turning away from the water, they sat, eyes moving across the hundreds of stars, fixating on one in the distance that flickered. Behind them came the sound of rustling leaves and pattering footsteps.
It wasn't only the eyes of the creator that landed on the strange star, surviving a blast only to change color. Every being with knowledge of the many stars and solar systems in the galaxy had their gazes turned to Star 923.
A chipmunk wandered over to the creator, sitting beside them along with several others of varying coats and colors, watching as the planets rearranged themselves and seeds of chaos were sown. They couldn't interfere, had to sit and watch as destinies were fulfilled and obstacles rose to insurmountable heights.
Those that were the subject of observation in the galaxy had no idea or knowledge of the gazes that watched from afar.
In the year 63,231 of Star 923, on Elpidius, the second planet from the center, arose those who could challenge the order of disaster among the stars. Those of old, those of new, together their new trials awaited.
Bated breath and intense interest, those outside waited to see the result. It was never an easy path to stop a pattern of devastation and destruction. The truth of it all was far more difficult and treacherous for each being who would learn of it.
However, as it always would, such things could never remain buried.
Like a bottle washing ashore with a note trapped inside, it was only a matter of time.
...
557 years prior
Staring up at the night sky was a man, appearing far too young to look so worn. That which could be seen wasn't always honest fact. His eyes curved wearily and his brows furrowed deeply as he gazed up at the small lights dotting the darkened sky. Though he wore no armor, the light of a moon reflected upon his body, shining bright on his shoulder and arm. It wasn't sweat; it was the glint of metal.
"Sir."
Slowly, he turned his head from the sight before him and acknowledged the man who had come to his side, bowing respectfully.
"Is it time, Lybis?" he asked, his voice lowly resigned.
As much as the vision of the night sky brought memories of old, of young love and happiness into his mind, there was no such time for joyous thoughts this day. They both knew, without having to say, what was happening, once again.
"She's already there."
"And the child?"
Regardless of age, that was what they would always be to him, in his eyes. A child suffering through a disastrous fate. No matter the name they held or the way they looked, they were the same one of his memories.
"They are arriving shortly with-"
"I understand," he said, butting his trusted confidant off. It wasn't necessary to say whether they were alone or otherwise. Not once had they been by themselves in the end.
Lybis, wearing a dark coat with a one-shoulder cape that reached his knees, grimaced and turned his head. He knew as well the price that had been paid a number of times already. Looking down at the ground, his hair of brown and red shadowed his face briefly, hanging low over his eyes.
This wasn't the first time, nor, they both feared, would it be the last. Centuries had passed with no resolution to the death and bloodshed of a long desperate battle.
When he finally returned his gaze to the man standing stoic before him, Lybis uttered a small hope, a tiny question that would find an answer sooner than later.
"Maybe you'll stop her this time?"
With a sigh, the man faced the distant stars again before turning to look at a darker shadow in the sky. it was a planet, one he knew by name. Not even that could bring him hope any longer.
"I doubt it'll happen any time soon..." Resolutely turning and marching down the hill, his boots trekking easily over the uneven ground as if by habit or memory, he nodded for Lybis to follow him. "Let's go. Best not to be late again."
"Of course."
Unbeknownst to them, a figure stepped from the shadows of the trees nearby and watched them leave. Though their dark cloak covered most of their body, the tips of their light blue hair caressing their eyelashes nearly matched the color of their pants.
"Hm."
Without a word, just that small hum of a note, they tapped their foot on the ground, a circle of ice surrounding them in intricate design. In a flurry of snow and ice, they vanished.
Snowflakes fluttered to the ground slowly, seen by no souls.
Water soaked into the dirt, remnants of a different season's weather dissipating in the warm air. A distance away, in the direction the two had left for, came several loud booms. Explosions shook the ground, sending an old rock tumbling free from its precarious spot on a distant mountain, crashing into the depths of a deep river.
Shirt torn, metal glistening with foreign droplets of red on the side of his body, the man knelt down beside someone fallen. There was no breath, no life left to save.
"You've killed him!" a woman wailed mournfully.
He cradled the life lost in his arms, full of misery as their arm remained extended to the side, the other resting over their abdomen. The back of their hand was two different tones, an odd shape taking form. As he watched, the one reaching away glowed faintly in his vision alone, not noticed by the others who lacked his sight and abilities.
"What... you're silent now?" the woman taunted, her lip curled in disgust.
As delicate lines formed on the back of their right hand, becoming a symbol he knew, he grimaced, knowing the depth it held in realization. Holding back his tears, he inhaled deeply, his chest trembling from the movement, and waited for what always came after.
"Let me take his body."
The man, appearing to be made half of living metal, clutched on tighter to the body for a few brief seconds before pressing a gentle kiss to the already cooling forehead.
"Then I take the other one," he replied coldly.
The woman let out a breath, like a scoff, and put down her hands, having prepared herself to fight for what was rightfully hers to take.
"If I'm anything, it's fair, God of Death."
Laying the body down gently onto the patchy dirt, the grass beaten down too many times to thrive, he reached over and grasped the joined hands, touching the final choice between two running for their lives. Separating them with a quiet tug at the wrists, he grabbed the other body, his fingers touching skin colder than the last.
The woman, now cradling the other body, carrying it away, turned back with a sneer.
"Don't you dare come near my child again."
Silently, holding a lifeless corpse in his arms, he watched her leave, four figures flanking her as they moved away from a valley of continual death. As soon as her hair disappeared over the hill, he turned away. With brows furrowed and gritted teeth, he looked to the one in his arms. It was a familiar face as well. A line of blood drew from the corner of their mouth to the bottom of their ear. Dirt marred the features of their jaw and cheek.
He let out a heavy sigh.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, not caring of the others at his side, waiting for orders, all with solemn expressions. "Again, I..."
A lone word hung in the air, marking the eighth failure, the tenth grave to be dug.
"Galbnad," he said softly, turning to his right were a short woman stood, a single tear racing down her face. With a dark cape, black and blue clothes, and two daggers sheathed at her waist, she bowed her head.
"Yes, sir?"
"Will you help me?"
She nodded, a small whisper of assent falling from her lips.
As soon as her agreement was confirmed, the other four parted ways, heading back to their homes, grief settling on their hearts as they pondered the events of minutes and years before.
The man, the so-called God of Death, carried the body in his arms up and over the hill in which he'd stood gazing at the stars, Galbnad silently following just a step behind him. As they crested the next patch of land, they stopped to look at the collection of stones. Rectangular piles of smaller rocks were lined up, a large stone marking not just the location. The year and name of the resident were etched into each with great care.
Of the two rows, nine grave markers already existed. A hole had already been dug, in preparation, for the tenth. As much as they'd have liked to fill the space back in the way it had been, a body was placed in the bottom. Galbnad, muttering a few words, rested a gentle hand on their chest, leaving behind an empty necklace chain on a torn shirt.
Wordlessly, they began to toss dirt down, covering up the loss, placing one rock after another in a mound atop the now flat ground. Pulling a dagger from it's sheath at her waist, Galbnad took the blade to a large rock, marking the year before carving the same name for the eighth time. Once it was done, the silent tension and sorrow remaining louder than the rustling of leaves in the soft breeze, the God of Death looked over at the rest of the graves. There hadn't been a lone burial the last time. It had been three, at least, in this graveyard.
After placing the tenth stone, he touched the corner of another lightly, as if to apologize again.
Golden light from the star began to shine, brightening the sky, signaling the beginning of a new day. The stones shadowed the graves as star rose slowly in the sky on Elpidius.
The God of Death looked up, at the fading night sky, the stars and planets harder to pinpoint in the light. When he turned, gazing out into the distance, his eyes caught sight of a tiny patch of brightly colored flowers. Though, he knew what it truly was. It was not a field, nor was it a clearing of wildflowers near the forest edge.
It was the other half to the place he was standing. Eight spots of flowers, eight grave markers that all spelled the same name. He would never get a chance to visit, as the Goddess of Life, as she was called, lived right beside it. Not wanting to fight her again, at least not more than necessary, he stayed away intentionally.
An ache filled his chest, begging him to go and look, to touch the stones and speak to the dead that rested beneath the dirt, grass, and flowers. He wanted to whisper, to explain and apologize properly for the disaster that continued to befall them all.
"How many star-sets will it be," he wondered aloud, his voice a quiet murmur. "How many before I see you again?"
Words weighing heavy, like the guilt and grief inside him, he shed tears for the poor child that couldn't be saved.
Not the one he'd just buried, but for the one across the valley, the same one that the Goddess of Life claimed as solely hers.
As if the child who kept dying wasn't also his own.