Chapter 343: Siphon

A cold glow illuminated the enclave, devoid of any apparent source. There were no walls, only numerous levels of the law compacted together to form a circular prison. At its center hovered a massive ball of shifting black and gold, the size of an average man. Numerous tendrils of stolen authority snaked their way towards the orb, pumping it with slow, steady rhythms of power.

Suspended at the center of the chamber, bound with chains of conceptual metal, were the old Progenitors. The keepers of the seats of power of the sealed universe, their bodies drained of their former glory, their eyes hollow with the endless trickle of their authority down the narrow channel of metal towards the prize at the center of the ring.

Damaris. Lilith. Elara. Kaelthos. Fenrir. Inari. Nyxara. Michael. Void. And the names of others long dead who had once sat at the helm of the sealed universe before their slow and steady execution by the new generation of gods.

Their bodies bore the evidence of their slow fading, the chains binding them holding more of their authority than the leash of metal that slowly, inexorably, drained them. Even now, long after their deaths and executions, they lived not due to the mercy of the new gods but due to the sheer force of their own power, the endless trickle of their very being stopped by the force of the conceptual metal.

Lilith’s eyes were open, her golden irises dulled by the endless toll that binding her here had taken. Damaris hung from the chain next to her, his jaw set in a permanent scowl, his own personal power still battling the leash that had claimed it. Elara’s lips moved ever so slightly, ancient words of divination lost to the void. Kaelthos’s scales had gone cold. The others were much the same, their bodies bound in the slow chains, their authority, their power, their very essence leeched and constricted, unable to move.

The core at the center of the room was growing heavier with every passing hour.

The edge of the enclave rippled, and a single figure walked through the opening, the very air around them refracting in layers of white and pale gold. Their features shifted between a precise set of geometric angles and a looser, almost human appearance, their presence carrying an authority unlike any other in the sealed universe. The chains and barriers alike failed to react, recognizing the newcomer as a being of power that had every right to enter this place.

The figure paused before the core, measuring the slow pulses of power that traveled through the veins of stolen might. "Mother was right to bring me here," they said, eyes narrowing at the sight of the dark mass. "Even the most insignificant of threads spun by my sister’s hands can bear fruit, though it seems these fruits grew far beyond the reach of the Loom. One of these harvests would have already been enough to end this prison, and the hybrid’s power would have more than sufficed to rebuild it. Fortunately, the rest seem to be an excellent addition to the potential salvage."

They raised a hand, pressing lightly against the surface of the core, feeling the ebb and flow of the power within, the dense concentration of the stolen authorities. "Father’s return will require much, and the Loom is not in the best position to provide for him. He will need a foundation, something to hold him up as the power of this prison flows back to him. After all, Mother knew this day would come before her passing, and she prepared for it. These fine folks and their petty authorities, their power and their potential, will be the perfect foundation for his rebirth. The moment this sphere reaches the necessary level, the Loom shall be rebuilt."

The newcomer circled the sphere, taking in the sight of the bound Progenitors with an absent expression. "Your garden was well hidden, Mother. Well kept. Even if it did not yield the harvest you anticipated, the fact that one of these seeds grew to such size and power is proof of your skill. Aeloria’s garden, indeed, and her final trick before her death sealed her fate. It seems, however, that this harvest is also a fitting payment for her trespasses. If this universe has proven to be able to produce power that would threaten the Loom, then the power within it can just as easily be used to preserve it. Father himself is the only one who can stabilize the Loom, and I will see him returned to this universe."

Damaris’s eyes snapped to the newcomer as soon as they turned to face him, his golden gaze burning with the remnants of his power. Lilith’s fingers twitched at her sides, and neither could speak, their voices bound as their authority was bound in the chains, but the newcomer inclined their head in acknowledgment. "You were the strongest your little reality had to offer, and that strength has been put to good use. This useless display of power, your wasted potential, is now serving the greater good. You may stop fighting it now if you so desire. This ship has already passed the point of no return."

They withdrew their hand from the core, the steady pulse of the stolen authorities continuing without them. "The threshold has not been reached yet, but it will be soon enough. The newborn gods that inherit your seats will either find stability or fail, and it will be entirely up to them to determine the future of their little realms. They will serve their purpose if they continue their slow trickle towards the core. It will be insignificant, a light shower compared to the storm that will greet them when Father comes for the first time."

The newcomer turned away from the ring of bound Progenitors, their presence vanishing from within the enclave as a single tear opened at the distant edge. "Father will walk among mortals once more, and the Loom shall be preserved. Everything else is a suitable sacrifice."

And with that, they vanished into the darkness, the tear snapping shut behind them. The enclave returned to its usual state, the cold light that had illuminated it since the beginning of the session never dimming.

The core steadily grew, its black mass thickening, the chains never breaking.

The old Progenitors hung in the darkness, their slow trickle of authority never stopping, feeding the orb that would grant them the chance to see the rebirth of the one they had all called Father, the one who had never truly existed outside of their minds.

Outside the enclave the sealed universe continued to rotate, unaware of the events that had transpired within the ring of conceptual metal.