[Unitopia, Western Continent]
"You worry rightfully so. A behemoth stirs in its sleep; what does that promise but calamity?"
Mayor Shade shook his head softly, refuting.
"The awakening of a behemoth is not calamity. The apocalypse, such things are too large, too grand for small people."
He sat in his office, overlooking the Town of Endings through his large window. It was night now, though the light from the stars was obscured by a thick layer of clouds. He was alone, ostensibly, murmuring to himself lost in thought.
"We forget sometimes, that this world is filled with small people. Myths are just that, at the end of the day. Stories. And apocalypse is far too heavy a word for the small people of this world. To the little girl who stands in the ruins of her home, clutching a fragment of her past, what use is a hero? Her apocalypse has already happened."
He took a deep sip from his tea, studying the way the leaves stirred in their depths.
"The awakening of a behemoth is not calamity, no. That which slithers and slides in its slow, lumbering shadow, preying on those caught in its pull, that is true calamity. I may not be able to defeat the behemoth."
The way the candlelight reflected off his silver, old-fashioned armour changed as if the core of that flame hid something far greater and more ancient. His voice grew deeper, heavy with an unknown emotion. Not quite regret, but perhaps something close. Perhaps the Mayor himself did not know exactly what held him in his grasp.
"But the carrion-hunters that follow shall taste the wrath of my flame."
Taking another sip of his tea, noticing that it was empty, the suit of armour sighed.
"To save the small people, No-Body. That is all that I have ever wished for."
The room fell into silence, heavy with the remembrances of beings far more ancient than they wished to let on. Those who had witnessed the rise and fall of the ages too many times to count, having grown weary, content to leave the world in the hands of those who came after.
Those who, after all this time, felt a smouldering instinct re-ignite deep inside their souls. After all, they too had been small people once. And so they sat there lost in thought, looking over their small town absent-mindedly as a black feather floated past the window, carried by unseen currents.
***
In another room in that magical tower, a cricket lay awake into the long hours of the night. Eyes closed, but his mind was a blur of colliding thoughts, forming and reforming in a storm of raw intensity. Countless layers calculating variables that would make even the Prime AIs cry tears of blood as their core circuits caught fire and burned.
At its core, compressed akin to the centre of a blazing pulsar, where thought itself was pressurised so much it sublimated into something else entirely, a separate dimension, his Mind-Zero spun away.
Time. Time is the only deciding factor. Nothing else matters. Everything hinges on this singular pivot. We must conclude before subject 1-001 achieves true awakening.
Alone, such a matter would be inevitable. But too many factors coincide. I see a crimson eye on the horizon, a pitiful slug that encroaching on an empty throne and more....
Fractal...
And yet, of all things, Blindspot dares to encroach upon me? The Dread Zirithrax? They think they can pull wool over my eyes?
I alone have confronted Fate and ripped myself free from the Loom of Destiny! I have met the Twister of Time and broken free from his ravenous vortex! Such a flimsy net of causality will not be able to catch me!
A thousand, a million, a billion, a trillion, INFINITY COULD NOT HOLD ME! I SEE THE TRACES OF YOUR FOOTSTEPS! I CAN HEAR YOUR FEARFUL BREATH!
The only sign of the cricket's internal debate from the outside was the barest twitch of his antenna. And, in the corners of his room where only the mould grows, a Crow's Feather fell unnoticed accompanied by a silent giggle at the pitiful insect's plight.
Twitch.
A mere mortal.
Twitch.
What could he even do?
Twitch. Twitch.
He's just a lil cricket after all.
Ziriothrax cracked open an eye, looking around suspiciously, but his gaze glossed over that hidden corner, sliding off as if it were ice. He was about to close his eyes once more when he jolted, standing up he spun around, eyes wide open. But that which was hidden remained unseen.
For now, at least.
A malevolent grin warped Ziriothrax's insect features. After all, it would be boring if it was too easy. Returning to his apparent slumber, he continued to calculate the unending complexities of the univer-
-Oh wait, never mind. He got bored and fell asleep. Heh, dumb little cricket.
***
Jeffbob lay curled up in the centre of his room. Through Candlewax's hospitality magicks, the layout was perfect for his rather abnormal shape and size. Not a conventional bed, but rather a cloud of stuffing for him to rest upon. It felt warm and comforting, itching familiarly at the back of his mind, but his recent intellectual exploits had burned out his synapses and it would take some time for them to recover.
Still, he had recovered both a spark, and a clue, so the day had been the most fruitful he had ever had. Or, well, that he could remember. He had an inkling of his purpose now, no longer drifting aimlessly in the fog of oblivion.
That solitary axiom dominated his dreaming mind. A single, blurred, green object, obscured by a glitching veil. That which he must find at any cost.
■■■■■■■.
At that moment, far from the strange world of Unitopia, a leaf wrapped in vines rattled inside Captain Resquilatron's drawer. A worried Circleface stared at it through the walls, though he was sulking at being tied up so decided not to say anything, forever changing the fate of not just this galaxy, but the entire super-cluster to which it belonged as well as, through several freak accidents that traced back to this moment, two blades of grass named Stave and Dave.
And so it was that, observing the pieces come together, a Crow's Feather fell from the rafters of Jeffbob's room. His nose twitched, his horns sparking as he stirred in his sleep, but he did not wake from his deep slumber. Watching his sleeping form, a silent giggle faded away into the darkness, holding unknown promise.