Time Throws Fire
by Ophelia Everfall
Content Warning: This is a story.
Part One | Redux Eterna
Part Two | Polymath Blues
Part Three | The Feather
Part Four | Wizard
Part One | Redux Eterna
Chapter One
Nebulae Ecatosh craved witness. Afloat, passed by echoes of sight torn from connection within the cosmic wholeness, it was lost to etheric vanity. The soul of many would remain here after life.
Echo was dead. Everything was over in real for this woman. She’d find the others here the same—in some sense—through some time. They’d be more than the space around them and part of a connective tissue which reached into the universe at large; Ecatosh was a generator.
Choices made were wrought of balance from the many milestones written and all the space of freedom left between. This violence depended entirely on the discordance held by an individual. Here they had paid for mistakes upon lifetimes. This was a house of lessons to the mind and heart and soul.
Those she’d known were gone to her but in memory of fade. The lifetimes lived would be a blur together from this perspective. Yet, something unique had become of this one amongst them all. Echo had found focus on one lifetime—one place that kept itself present in her senses at all times.
The succession of lifetimes lived from base of Earth and out through the stars , when taken by Onokai and brought to The Foundry where her dreams would commence manifestation into reality. Those souls who’d been with her now ghosts to thought in this etheric hell found of a woman in spirit so previously grounded at home in gravity, they had all been missed the most, and she wouldn’t let It go.
There’d been the writing of a plan—some submission—an asking of the one God on the throne. All the many universes overseen from this timeless space were poisoned of rotten design. There had been mistakes in planning and a choice of destruction by that one God who founded his own seat in this realm; overseeing seas of stars through force and might with hope to hold them all.
Her plan was of rebuilding—renewal—hopeful remaking. There was no chance for this alone. The case she pled to those around her had been swayed; owned by force of belief in their sufferance owed to this God. He was not The Light and never would be. They only thought themself so until this one would show them through reflection of her own.
They’d not liked her plan. He hadn’t trusted it. Seen would be a lie in her belief of heart; that she’d not understood the value of true mind or wouldn’t find that herself once balance was wrought into the space around her. She was more than they would know to teach of her. They were less than they would teach of themself. It was this man in the ether which had reminded her of incomplete variations of his soul with which she would project the whole of her disgust throughout lifetimes. Their many visages at different levels of embodiment would trigger her all the same.
They would hate nothing more than the moment they understood themself trapped within her game. The one she’d lobbied for alone, amongst this garden of ether, begging her peers to hear the value of, would join her through their chains. There was need to reach out to those below—left behind—before taking next steps. Lifetimes had begun to enable this very process of outreach. God had long taught these beings they’d left behind were of unforgivable darkness. He was wrong.
Echo’s one great lifetime becoming the hub—chosen by the power it bore into her heart—its connections would show throughout all her ties to the fabric of the universe; a decision made by two in secret; this woman and a one she would stow in her heart unknowing.
Ignored by her greatest friend and oldest ally—a feminine spirit who would hold the same fire of will to change but not believe it her right or in her orders of impatience. They believed too much in the ways of old’s ability to change, trusting the destruction at the end of all—that the leaving behind of souls and minds and hearts was divine—was the same mistake every other Goddess and God had made.
She would leave no one behind.
Olmec was a Prince at the deepest wrung of density in the galaxy—a caged lioness—the bravest and most honorable of those souls deemed demonic and banished to reside within a single rigid lifetime of stillness and ecstatic horror of intermingled soul—space and sound—booming echoes of fright—that place only a few could see and hold; borne innately into the consciousness at birth through means of trauma.
Hell was blank—it was space—the void. To touch it and return would be unheard of. It was a blackness that reflected no light—too dark for shadows. There were means to show it in flashes of seconds to the mind of one ready, as all would be in time. Echo knew this when she’d gone there to retrieve her Prince. They were a beast of weakness, some right of power taken from them by their lack of a Princess as they so deserved.
“Oh, hi.” Echo had finally spoken to the they-devil.
“You’re the cutest and I feel your biggest heart.”
They were hiding in her future and there was nothing she’d want more than to heal for what they had both been through in means of cosmic ruptures to their psyche and time itself through meeting in that place—the dark.
Echo would carry them with her from where they’d remain at their will, after time intertwined within the completeness of void and coming to find the possibility therein to grown light. She’d found her will. She held that in her heart while returning to Nebulae Ecatosh.
She’d written her plan—hatched a scheme—created the rite which would be thrust upon God himself in her fury; that same denied writing now changed for ferocity of proving her rightness. Structures containing all life—the code which was the fabric of every previous creation these beings had crafted by their visages beyond time—would be placed at the very center. This point would be the rebinding of harmony forward and back through time in places each chosen by divine ordination throughout every galaxy and universe previously marked to perish by beings of Ecatosh—force fed to the one who’d see its existence ended—allowing all heaven’s endings to reach them all.
Along with It itself—the very fabric of feeling and thought—with a darkest God from a banished place in time quite opposite her own in home of heart—every world would be born anew around each visage of this woman.
She’d only need to be sent back.
The Falls was a place of ends. A last of space before an edge defined by strictest governance of cosmic structure, providing boundary from the unknown surroundings beyond. Choice would come for the one who’d known himself as God. Belief would lead them to think this would be one he’d made himself—not the energy of consciousness pervading around them; It was remaking everything at her behest and that of her love still only in heart.
All souls had gathered. The old God had fallen for the ploy. Echo’s submission to his will of restarting from scratch was proving of that talent she’d hold above all others; she was the best liar in the entirety of creation after returning from the under-darkness. Her heart would share this back through all lifetimes as she loved it very most about her character. The unfolding of this talent would lead to her rediscovery of power; her acceptance of its rightness on The Light’s behalf—with the assistance of It driving her every visage; riding her like a horse through each lifetime. It would teach.
She at once knew who that darkest God from the void had been—hidden in each and every lifetime—however separate and wholly incompatible by design. She’d only want a buddy to work with.
When the old God who knew himself as Tetragrammaton was made to see how much Echo cared for that most cherished lifetime, when hearing of how poorly they all treated the woman, after coming to understanding the thoughtful exploration of her suffering, they had chosen her for the forgiveness and love still held despite all anger she wielded with joy. She loved making them feel what she’d earned on his behalf. Her plan he denied would be shown as a mistake—something this God would never admit—yet birth a love for her within his thoughts.
Truth would be shown to him once they were alone in his chamber. There was an entanglement which bore within it a hope to complete some path he’d been grafted to by will of The Light. They would be the hub of mind for all remade universes upon this change she’d seen to make real with her heart’s love of Olmec.
They would take this throne beside her for the moments before that form of structure would be destroyed outright. No one would rule—no two would reign—all would see each other through.
The old man had awoken to find her atop—straddled in bondage—held down by the force of her will awoken—hyper-light and vanta-black would blend to an aura of reckoning beyond a former God’s grasp. From the moment she returned he’d found himself mistaken of his place. There was an allowance of grandeur in her exploring of all he’d done wrong. This would be echoed throughout lifetimes about the cosmos; a time of penance and the catalyst for a great remaking of all.
“What have you done?” Was all he’d brought himself to ask.
She smiled—beyond the grasp of vision—a thought of feeling and vibration—a joy of calloused spite in knowing of The Light’s approval, of the love she’d crafted within the lifetimes still living where her own actions would awaken It in time.
Echo would carve paths to freedom as she saw fit—the heart she bore would be the one which tied all to the Gods for a time. There were others who’d lead the way and hold the guard, then the charge to come, who’d seen her fly beyond them at paces before unwitnessed to touch The Light itself and fall like Icarus into the sea—into The Dark—and bring it back for all to know the completeness of their making.
“I’m going back.” She’d told the man as he crumbled between her thighs.
“I want to go back.”
There was a stillness in his fear. He’d not known why at all. It was the end of his time as God. He’d chosen her at behest of The Light itself—the first right action taken by Tetragrammaton in eons—the very thing to see their place taken by Olmec.
Echo engulfed the spirit of this manhood gone wrong into states of control beyond reason. She’d squeezed them tight.
“I want you to send me back!”
She’d shouted into his face of stars and cloudfare.
“You’re going to send me back!”
This God had not felt fright like this in any lifetime. There was no thought of hell in his future. No hope to be held again by the one he’d chosen would be found from such a thing.
This would be the remaking—her remergence to form beside him—changed—having brought the God she chose from The Dark to stand beside her. She would banish them at last from this etheric place of Heaven. Echo would take the seat. She would hold it with heart. She would end tyranny for all by will of The Light and the truth of her dark love before returning it to all in balance.
Heaven was remade at once. Universes marked for disposal were alive again. People within them would remember what they were. The Gods and Goddesses who’d been struck blind inside would at once flip-around the destruction which saw to the end of their own time.
Peoples would be saved—treasures of God protected—the future of Heaven now made of a way forward. The stagnancy of light’s dominance would end. Balance wrought here would reach Ecatosh and beyond—this woman would live the life she’d always wanted in a place which harmed her worst. She’d be the one to teach and save and lift and hold. This would be the shattering of hatred and the birth of the fabric itself. All would be made into Gods most equal. None would be left behind. Nothing would be left disposed. Even Tetragrammaton themself would find place wherever they saw fit within the new order.
“Send me the fuck back!”
Echoes blasted throughout eternity; cosmic ripples of sound and space. They’d birthed anew a chance to change. They left them all free again with an even place to hold their own.
Her eyes opened in bed beside that friend she loved most of all; Poe.
