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[ragnarok97071]

((Going to post this here, may as well, I know it's a necropost but I really want to get it out there.))

Illumina had decided what to do the moment she knew that this... this had come to pass.

Terror and fire had come, and had begun a holocaust that would cover the world and eliminate all the wonder and the small beauties she had found in it.

This... this angel of accursed order, this vile force, had decided to kill all it could not subjugate, and she was resigned that she would not flee. She would not let it go.

She was not a god, not one of those high beings at the pinnacle of power and opulence.

She was... She was, in some ways, still human. Still a small girl in a big place, frightened of the fire that threatened to consume her and all she loved.

She descended into the sewers. Disgusting, but she could choose not to smell and... and it would hide them, for a moment, while she did what she wanted to do.

"My... family. You don't think of me as that... and you are right in thinking that I am a monster, a terrifying creature that inexplicably has not consumed you. But I see my family. I have chosen... something. It is possible that even this option will fail, that even this option will be naught but a last dying gasp of a doomed soul. But that is not my hope. I hope... I hope that this world, as terrifying as it is, will turn on, and that the things that want it dead will not have their way. Perhaps I will see it, but part of me doubts this. If I do... I may not be Illumina when that time comes."

"I loved you all. I wished you to know that. You will be given a choice. I will not force you to stand and fight, but I... I cannot lie when I say that I hope you will."

She began her working, reaching down into the shining core of her power, into her body, into the souls she'd consumed and cannibalized for power, and then she began the process of slowly, methodically, smashing them all into pieces.

She created something. Small, about the size of a good-sized cockroach, and incredibly simple, only designed to do what it had to do before it died, and to be so simple that, like other small creatures, it would be a very difficult thing to kill. Perhaps one could manage with the terrifying weapons of the Angels, but she hoped that even they would not be insurmountable.

These small creatures were designed to find humans, animals, any source of life they could find, even the inquisitors themselves if they could reach them, and to, using a purely biological method so as to dodge any tricky situations regarding supernatural power, it passed on a message. Memories, of the life of a girl, lost and alone. The things she sees, the wonderful, the terrible, the beautiful things. The place she had found, and the place that would be torn away from her.

I am Illumina. I am, perhaps, what may have become a god.

I pass on a message to you, to every part of this earth I can reach. A message that has terrified me.

Memories of that which the Angels had killed, their methods, their terror.

It is a force of Order. Of Law. One that would see naught but their own sterile stagnation upon this world.

I do not pretend that I do not hate them. I also do not pretend that I don't understand them, in a way. That which they hunt can be terrifying, but it is also, in its way, wonderful.

There are beauties in this world that would wither and die under the grey, choking hand of this invading army, and there is nothing I can do to stop them. Not by myself, even with all the power I was given.

I need you. The humans, the animals, the creatures of this world. they invade your home, your world, in a crusade you did not ask for. They assault your homes and your minds, steal your very being to fuel their war.

If any of my fellows are hearing this, and I hope that you are...

I am sorry that I never had the chance to meet any of you in person. Perhaps I will, some day. But for now, I will die.

The creatures that I have used to spread this are created not only from my power and my flesh but from all that I am. They carry with them a piece of that which granted me these powers in the first place, and it will pass that tiny shard on to whomever will willingly bond with it, whomever will willingly stand for this world against those who would take everything away from it.

It will attempt to learn of the forces arrayed against us, and if by some miracle it is able to reach one of its drones and awaken it, if only for a moment, it will attempt to release them, or, if possible, to consume it, as I have with other powers before. Perhaps it will fail, but hopefully the rest will learn something.

All these pieces are still one, and the Power they represent will also become one with the soul, the nature of the being which possesses it. Each of you will be bound together, growing in strength along with the others like you.

Humanity has become their sword, and in order to repel them, a weapon of like power must be made. I sacrifice all that I am to become the flame which may yet forge it.

To all mankind, to the world itself...

To the Young Gods...

Even to my Father, and that which he as allied himself with...

I ask you, if there is any scrap of you that still cares for this world, any part of you that wishes to see this world safe... Let go of petty squabbling and scheming. Even if just this once... Just this single time and never again... please.

Please, I beg you.

Help.

If you'll accept me... if you'll let me try, to save us all from this... Then from now on... I am thou.

Over the course of a few seconds, she'd simply... fall apart, into hundreds, thousands, perhaps millions or billions of these tiny insects. They would spread as fast as they are able.

They do not subvert the will of those who they commune with, but only do that which they were designed to. They offer. if the mind is willing, they give freely, granting them access to the Spark of Illumina, shared with all others who join with it, growing greater with each convert. This was her hope, that eventually, their force would be enough to stand against that which had come. To the other young gods, it would offer the same choice, though for them perhaps it would be too much. overall they would still gain power, but that power, while massive, would be shared over many, not concentrated in themselves alone. if many chose to take up the offer, they would become immensely powerful, however. They were also designed to adapt the body to attempt to make it immune to that Jules had released, that which would consume all life.

If, by some miracle, the gambit worked, perhaps the shards would be able to reform their original body... someday.

This was not her goal.

That was, for this moment, only to allow this world to continue, even if it is only in some dim, far-off future.

[Digital Hellhound]

Sometimes, great decisions are made in a matter of seconds.

'Fuck 'em,' Jack said. A terrible, terrible certainty she would not survive this thrummed within her mind and made her almost giddy. Fear could have overpowered her, but why fear? Certainty left no space for weakness. The fire - her fire - had burned out that last remnant of the little girl who'd nearly gotten herself killed wasting Daddy's money. Only the goddess remained.

Jacqueline Coupe smiled at all those gathered, but most of all, she smiled for Magnus. The big man stood as indomitable as always, seemingly untroubled by the madness overtaking the world. He, too, had been on his way to the gutter when their paths had crossed. His loyalty was not that of the paycheck, though he enjoyed those just as well - he owed his life to her, even if neither had ever said it out loud. She allowed her love to be felt clearly over their bond.

'Gentlemen,' she said, 'Needless to say, I intend to go down fighting. I'm not too discriminating; I'll take on the Stranger, the Angel, whoever of these little shits gets in my way. We are the gods of the new age, darlings. The rest of them belong nowhere except the ashes of the past.'

She summoned up a curling length of fire around her arm, allowing it to illuminate her gleaming eyes. That was the look that had convinced Bill Capello to hand over his casino. It was the look that had put the fear in Mr. Dillard and sent her vengeance burning through the entire city underworld. It was the look, Jack thought, that allowed for no argument and accepted no equal.

'Perhaps this was once a city of despair. The girl I was came here in despair, though she'd never have admitted it. But look around you now! I've made the Omega greater than it ever was, and I've barely gotten started. I aim to build an empire. I aim to have this city,' she said. Her hands balled into fists, still crackling with living flame. 'And they think - they dare think - they can take that from me? Everything I've built? Everything I intend to build? I've barely lit the fire, but they'd plunge us back into the cold and dark?'

'This is not a city of despair. We've all proved that, many times over. It is a city of power. A city where a weak fool of a girl can rise to be a goddess. A city where one who fell in disgrace may return to have his vengeance and change the lives of those he touches. A city, my dear wizard, where a refugee from a past age may find his greatness anew. A city where science and industry are not shackled by the demands of petty mortalities. Our city.'

She looked at each of her guests in turn. 'So flee if you like. Submit to the parasites that threaten our world. Give in to despair,' she said. 'But Jacqueline Coupe will fight, whatever happens. If I must rule in a city of ashes, I will, but I won't abandon all that we have. I hope you choose the same.'

She took a breath. Power suffused every cell of her body. 'Now get the fuck out of my office.'

***

Jack had never been much of a believer in fighting fair. If she faced these usurpers in a clash of pure power, they'd no doubt destroy her. No, hers would be the hidden war, the way of the guerilla, the death of relentless attrition. She would go to ground, attack and run, using her powers to preserve and save as much of her subjects as she could. Her army would grow - the Omega would be its nexus, its hub, but she'd bring the Russians to her side just as well, grant those who'd serve her the power to combat the gods themselves.

More and more power flowed into her. It burned, but this fire she would feed gladly. Tendrils of her influence stretched forth, anchoring the Omega into her very being, linking its survival with hers. Until the day she died, it would stand, impervious and out of reach to all who opposed her, of this world but not of it. All those in her service would find refuge there. Always, a visible monument of defiance, of hope - of power.

Reality struggled against her will, but in vain. Her power surged outwards in a vast, purifying flame, taking strength from sources she'd never even sensed before now. One of her siblings, offering herself for use? That was a gift Jack would take gladly.

She stepped out to the balcony, watching the city suffer. This would be a long war. So be it. In the air, she could smell the first hint of the fire that would consume all who stood against her.

---

Jacqueline Coupe makes the Omega her Bastion for as long as she survives: a realm barred to Angels, Strangers and Juleses alike, unmoored from the world, reached only by those the Goddess of Fire takes under her protection and those gods who choose to fight with her. It ceases to be a physical place - it can be reached from and reach to anywhere in the world.

From here, Jack will wage a war, attacking and purging all her foes one by one, never ceasing to strike and retreat, to hide and ambush, making the world free of the enemy even if it leaves her nothing but the queen of ashes. Whatever tricks victory demands, whatever line needs to be crossed, she'll do it. For victory and for power.

[Mardent23]

Is there space open?

[Fniff]

CHAPTER 10: ALL THINGS
Fire.
He hated it.
He hated the extremes, boiling hot and freezing cold.
He hated what killed all life, salted the earth, denied possibilities.
Fire left nothing but facts.
Jules hated fire.

He drifted from place to place, time to time. But even now the Angel stretched back in time and throughout space. No corner was safe from it. The world was now in its grasp, and it had clenched its fist.
He was lost.
He was alone.
He wondered where his children were.

Jules found a place, safe from the flames.
A park bench, under an old oak tree.
He sat and watch the mile-high inferno eating up whole skyscrapers.
The Stranger was beside him.
Of course it was.
It had to end like it began.
So pathetic, he thought. Even reality bows to patterns.

“You're enjoying this, aren't you?” Jules said.

The Stranger tilted its head.

Jules stood up. “I know what you are,” he said. “You never got your story, did you?”

The Stranger crossed its arms.

“I thought you an ally, but you're just a vulture,” he said. “You come on in when the Angel's done his work, and you just... (he coughed – how mortal) pick up the pieces. You have nothing, you are nothing, so you just... You just...  At least I made something new. At least I tried to make it happen. At least I strived.”

The Stranger looked around at the burning trees, the ink-black sky, the cindered grass.
“For this?” she said.

Jules stared.
Then sat down, his head hung down, green eyes filling with tears.
He looked at his hands, lined with imperfections. He could feel his heart beat, the rasping in his breath. He no longer felt lighter than the air around him: he felt heavy, like he was filled with water. Thoughts came unbidden into his head.
My children, I'm so sorry.
What have I done?
What was the point?
I'm a fool.

The Stranger awkwardly patted Jules on the back.
Jules looked at it.

“Give me a way out,” he said.

The Stranger shook its head.

“I want to see my children again,” Jules said.

“Not my job,” the Stranger said.

“Please,” Jules said. “You were human, too. What's behind the mask, Stranger? Do you know?”

The Stranger sighed.
Beyond the park bench, a door opened.
The fires crept closer.
Jules nodded, then stood. He offered a hand, and the Stranger shook it.

“Personal favor,” she said. “Nothing more.”

Jules smiled. He looked around at the city, wreathed in fire. “I'll miss this,” he said.
The Stranger nodded.

Jules stepped through.
The Stranger shut the door behind him.

It was a tight passageway filled with stars, twinkling in the far distance. He stepped forward across a mile, then he was there on the other side.

There they were! Merlin, Matthew, Lloyd, Robert. It was Merlin's shop. The lights were low, stains on the floor that weren't there last time. They lay on their knees, hands behind their heads. Why did red run down Lloyd's face? Why was their eyes so wide?

That's when the cattleprod got stuck into Jules's back.
He fell, screaming and twisting onto the ground.
The pain settled from a roar to a low drone. His hands twitched and refused his orders to move.

“This what a Level-10 looks like?” said Agent Mark.

“A dying one,” said Agent Tracy. She stabbed the Green-Eyed Man with the cattleprod again, just to make sure, then let Agent Mark jab him with the syringe. There wasn't much of a chance that the Green-Eyed Man had even a fraction of his former power, but Tracy preferred certainty. “They get like this when they reproduce. They crawl off somewhere to die. Like birds.”

“What's the use for him?” said Agent Mark.

“An autopsy should get some good organs. Then it's a one-way trip to the incinerator,” said Tracy. “You like your Level-10s medium-rare?”

Mark laughed.

Tracy told six troopers to prep the prisoners for transportation; they were destined for homebase, for interrogation and solicitation and (if things went badly) dissection.
The kid said something, so Mark hit him in the jaw. He could see the old guy getting angry, so he socked him one too. Tracy told him to knock it off: upper echelons don't like it when you damage the goods.

“Are you kidding me?” Mark said. He pointed at Merlin. “This asshole's security system fried two squads of our guys!”

“So?” said Tracy. “Did you know their names?”

Mark glared. Tracy touched him on the shoulder, smiling. “Sweetie, if you wanna let off some anger, go ahead,” she said. “But don't put my job on the line for it. Let's go.”

They walked along the corridor. The windows showed this was noplace and everyplace; the view was like a photograph of motion blur, constantly changing, no reference point. A lot of it seemed to be on fire.

“So, that it?” said Mark. “What happens now?”

“Well, we got what we needed,” said Tracy. “One half-dead Level-10, handful of Level-9s. Now we just let the mess down on the planet play out. The Angel will tidy up any remaining Level-9s and burn what's left of the plague, then he'll saunter on back to wherever he calls home, then we go in and pick up the pieces.”

“How long until then?” said Mark.

“Century, maybe two,” said Tracy. “This is the boring part of the job.”

“What about Agent Delores?” said Mark.

Tracy smiled. “Who?”

Mark nodded. “You're sly, you know that?”

“Welcome to Hades 13,” Tracy said. “We're all sly.”

They arrived at their desks, sat down, started doing the inevitable paperwork. Not as big a pile as Roman Phoenix (what a clusterfuck that was), but it needed tackling. Mark went over to the filing cabinets to look for Red Kirmiz's file (they were missing him, Vasquez, and Jacqueline Coupe). Then something caught his eyes: “OPERATION PAPERCLIP”. He opened it, scanned it, looked at Tracy who looked at him, pencil in her bun.

“We've done ops here before?” he said.

“Yeah,” she said. “This is a volatile world, Agent Mark. Usually they don't get as far as they did here, Angel swoops in somewhere around the stone age. Don't know why, but the Level-9s were slow to arrive this time.”

“Think that'll happen every time?” said Mark, settling back at his desk.

“Doubt it,” she said, then turned back to her papers. She sighed. “Fucking Merlin. I'm really glad we caught him, he could have hopped right out of this dimension. Lord knows we don't need another Level-10 in the making.”

“You think, uh,” Mark lowerdd his voice to a whisper. “You think one of the others might have slipped the net?”

Tracy snorted. “Jesus, no. Listen, Level-9s are close-minded little shitheads. They don't think big-picture. They just think about themselves. Besides, where the hell would they know to look? Unless  they turned into a Level-10 when we weren't looking, I think we're--”
The fire alarm went off, a few seconds too late to warn them about the massive ball of fire exploding out from the cafeteria.
Their death was short,
but intensely painful.

Jules looked up, squinting through the florescent glare. He was strapped to a gurney, pushed along by soldiers, when an explosion shook the walls. The soldiers dropped the gurney, pointed their rifles, and advanced forward. Jules tried commanding them to tell him what was happening, but all that came out was a ragged croak.
He heard gunfire, then screaming.
A smile spread across his face.
His children had come through.
Now I know where you hide.
No.
No, he would not allow it.

He tried sitting up, but the straps dug into his chest. He forgot what it was like, this pitiful allowance of three dimensions. He struggled, but it only seemed to make it worse. The straps were bite-proof, and even if he could free one hand the locks looked so complex. To think that once, he could unlock them with a look.

Jules heard shoes clacking against the tiled floor, the pace of a man with a purpose. Red walked by him, sparing him only a glance.

“Red, Red!” Jules choked. “Come back, I need help.”

Red sighed, then walked back. He stared down at Jules; he thought of Roman emperors, that look of authority. “Where is Johnny?” Red said.

“If we're unlucky, he'll be here any second,” said Jules. “Listen, you have to get these straps off me--”

Red turned around.

“WAIT! Just wait!” said Jules. Judging by the footsteps stopping, Red had obliged him. “I can help! You're powerful, you can feel it... But it's not enough, he'll squash all of you once he arrives. I can give you the rest of the power, just free me from my bonds and I'll hand it over. Then you'll defeat him. I promise.”

Red didn't move. Jules regretted every betrayal, every lie, every action that compromised his reputation with his children. He couldn't breath for the fear, the fear he had not felt since he was mortal, the fear washed away by the maddening power. The fear you got when you didn't know everything, and when your time on this Earth was so, so short.

Red sighed and removed the straps. Jules sat up, asked Red to lead him to the others, then staggered behind him through the labyrinthe halls.

The last of the Hades 13 troopers were backed against a wall in the archives. They used filing cabinets as barricades, fired off salvos at the invading gods. But they would be no escape. A horde of insects the size of cockroaches crawled up, too small to shoot, and consumed the front line.  Brass robots, some man-sized, some bigger, advanced forward and crushed the second line. A man in a trenchcoat cut down the last stand with a tommy gun, and a small woman with terrible eyes lit the world on fire. Those who ran through the corridors were fried by beautiful, deadly spells cast by an old man and a young boy. Those who made it to the hangar to fly away found their aircraft sabotaged, all-too-late; a strange crystal attached under the wing drained the energy from the planes and eventually from the passengers themselves.

In less than ten minutes, an army had been obliterated.
Jules smiled with a father's pride.
The wall ripped open. Behind it, Jules thought he could see neon light shining through a hotel window.
The Angel stepped through, clad in a long dark robe, beaked mask, flamethrower.
“Johnny,” said Red and Jules. Red rushed forward. Jules reached out for him, caught only the tails of his coat.
Another Angel stepped though.
Another.
Many Angels.
Too many to count.

Fools.
Nothing escapes me.

The demigods tried. You could give them that. They pushed against the wave of inquisitors, beating them back by inches... But the inquisitors would not stop. Jules got caught in the melee, dragged down between the robots. He crawled on the ground, screamed when a metal heel crushed his hand. Where was he going? He couldn't see, through the mess of bodies and blood and stomping legs.

A revolver cocked.
Jules looked up.

”You gotta learn to take a hint,” Jacqueline said.
Then she fired.
The bullet touched the tip of his nose.
He saw a house.
He saw a family.
He saw... himself.
The bullet exited through the back of his skull, heading through most of the important parts of the brain on the way.

He looked at the demigods.
He thought, “Be anything you want, just don't be like me.”
His heart stuttered, then stopped.
Then... it shone.
What?
The Inquisitors halted, staring at the demigods, something like fear in their eyes.
No, not demigods.
Gods.
No.
A horde of inquisitors could destroy a village of demigods with nary a casualty.
Against a god, they would suffer casualties, but they would succeed.
Against half as many as stood there that day, they would only win at their cost of their lives.
No. I win. I always win.
But against six?
You will burn! Everything will burn! I am the
One moment, the room was filled with inquisitors.
Next, it was filled with bodies.

Johnny gasped.
Red ran over, crouched by his body, pulled off the mask. A thick river of blood ran down from Johnny's nose, clotting in his beard. His eyes were bloodshot, turning the green red.

“Got me good,” Johnny said.

“No,” Red said. He took off his coat, folded it up, and slipped it under Johnny's head. “Johnny, you're going to be okay, just hold on.” Red forced reality to bend to his will, to his imagination, to his desperate hope that Johnny would survive, he would live, he would not suffer the same stupid fate as so many before him.
But that day, Red learnt the first rule of being a God:
Whatever you do, you can't take it back.

“Red,” Johnny laughed. “Don't worry about it.”

”It wasn't meant to end like this,” Red said, eyes filled with tears.

“I don't know,” Johnny said. “It turned out okay...”

Red sniffed. “I suppose it did.”

Johnny said nothing. Red said his name, shook him slightly. His eyes were lifeless. Red closed them, then looked down. Jacqueline reached out a hand to pat him on the shoulder, but Red recoiled from it.

“Mr. Kirmiz?” Quinn said. Red looked up.

In the hotel room, on the other side of the transdimensional gateway, Quinn lay handcuffed to the bed. Her eyes were wide, but not in disbelief: she had seen too much before to be surprised. No, this look was alien to her.
It was relief.

“Holy shit, am I glad to see you,” she said. Then she looked behind him, at the others. “... Who are you guys?”

Red stared.
Jacqueline patted him on the shoulder, smiled at the girl, then looked behind her at Lloyd, Merlin, Robert, and Illumina.
”Oh, just the dawn of a new age, nothing special.”


The sun rose over New Athens.
Maybe it rose over ruins, if you like a fresh start.
The Inquisitors are good at that, making fresh starts.
But if you want, you can keep the city just like it was.
Keep the alleyways and the drug dens and the docks.
It doesn't matter.
Really, the city never mattered.
You mattered.

The End

Spoiler: Final Notes (click to show/hide)

I've been running this game for four years. When I started, I was fifteen years old. Now I'm an adult of 18. In a few ways, my life's changed a lot. In a lot of ways, it hasn't changed at all.
This is the best ending I could manage. I knew from a fucking year of procrastinating (JESUS H. CHRIST WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME) that if I didn't do it as fast as possible, I never would. I didn't get everyone the ending I deserved, and some characters were terribly neglected. Also, I probably made a few errors. Oh well, it's hardly breaking from tradition.
Don't take this as a final ending. Write your own epilogues, even if it's just in your head – but please, if you can, share them with us.
You were all a joy, and I cannot thank you enough for the pleasure you gave me from participating in this roleplay.

Catch you on the flipside,
Fniff.

Is there space open?

Afraid not.

[Mardent23]

( A little teaser for the Rekindled campaign.)
 The Angel was  gone. His bone-Masked Inquisitors were nowhere to be seen. Quite simply, the world was free once more. This was precisely what worried  hem. The world had proven the gods  can be killed.And  with the Angel gone, there would be another  who sought to fill the vacuum. The new divine of this world would look to each other, or their followers, for protection. But it would not be enough. Without the Angel, the laws, angered and heartbroken, will lash out on the world, letting its angered throes create new abominations. Hades 13, or its successors, will redouble their efforts. Inevitably, the newly risen will turn on another. Quite simply, everyone will need more. And so, miles away from New Athens, a message  is given. Slowly, then quickly, the  message  was passed along, to the mortals, to the gods, to those beyond such labels.
The Brokers are back. And they have something for everyone.

[Xantalos]

An old man and a young one stood in front of a dilapidated shack. Dawn was breaking over the city, and it brought with it a new age.

"So what now?" Asked the boy.

The old man shrugged. "Truth be told, I'm not sure. Things came to a head quite quickly back there, but now that that business is resolved..."

"It's a new day," finished the boy.

Merlin turned to him and grinned. "That it is, Matthew. That it is."

As the two of them opened a door and stepped into their abode once more,  there was a feeling shared between the two of them. Not hope, for the dark in their lives was banished, even if temporarily. Not determination, for now was the time that their will would make the world anew. It was something between excitement and anticipation, for what was to come.


As magic grew back into the world, the shop was seen quite a bit more. It popped up around the world, oftentimes in multiple places at once, and it was manned by an animate shadow that had the vaguest resemblance of an irish accent. Its appearance changed quite a bit depending on where it was, from an opulent showcase hall full of gleaming artifacts to a cramped voodoo shack deep in the bayou. What never changed about it was that it always seemed to have something handy for whoever happened to wander in there.


Merlin and Matthew did not stay the only two wizards in the world for long; soon people began to grow sensitive to magic again, able to manipulate it to varying degrees. But remembering how in ages past that wizards isolating themselves in towers and hideaways had led to the downfall of the world, they determined that they wouldn't allow that to happen again. So they did something about it.

Merlin and his apprentice aren't seen much in the city themselves anymore, but their plethora of students are. Taught extensively in a school located somewhere outside of any normal plane of existence, they work to advance the knowledge of magery and keep innocent bystanders from being screwed over. They're consistently accompanied by strange purplish cats that seem to amplify magic in their vicinity; it's a common indicator of some latent magical talent to have cats attracted to you nowadays, so the delight of some and disgust of others.


There are many more doors in Merlin's house now, that lead to many different strange and wonderful places. Many open to convenient places around the world, in neighborhoods where mages gather for reasons they don't quite know until they see what's on the other side. There are those that lead to the re-established Sidhe courts, reborn along with a great deal of other creatures of magic from the samples the Jewel-Eyed Man gifted to the wizard god long ago. Some lead to other worlds entirely, alternate timelines and divergent universes, for the study of proper wizardry is not something to be confined to just one realm of reality. A few lead to the places Hades 13 agents go when they inevitably try to force entry into Merlin's residence. He's grown quite disapproving of the organization as a whole, which is to be expected - he is British after all, no matter how ancient.


Much changes when you become a god, and yet much stays the same. Merlin could now do so much more than he ever could before - reality yields before his will like gossamer, and the magic that is his passion and lifeblood sings in his grasp as it never has before. His influence, subtle or not, stretches across worlds, and he has made his demense into a sanctuary so impregnable that entering without permission is akin to nonexistence. Time works differently there, and it is home to wizards of all ages, their studies both empowered by and empowering the god of magic. He is a terrifying foe to those who threaten his charges, and yet...

He still ambles around his house in cargo shorts and fish-shaped slippers. He still spends time looking after children who have lost their protectors, whether they know it or not. He still tells stories of Arthur and the Round Table, and in more recent times he's made a few forays over to Britain - not that distance means much to him anymore - to 'see an old friend'.

His surveillance system stretches over a considerable portion of the known worlds and comprises everything from simple insects to runed eyes that can selectively disengage their interaction with any form of electromagnetism.


Matthew stayed under Merlin's care for a while longer. It was a while before Merlin's alteration of his memories was forgiven, and the topic of many late-night discussions. It was eventually discarded under the weight of mutual acceptance. He became a great wizard in his own right in due time, and did quite a bit to cement his own legend across the many worlds that now know the word wizard. But that's a tale for another time, and perhaps another place.


This was the story of many things. Gods, monsters, a flame rekindled from naught but ashes.

Some might say it's the story of the six individuals who carried the new age in their souls and brought it into fruition.

Others might retort that it was those lesser than the gods who still stood by their side stood at the centerpoint. Without mortals to humanize them, what would the gods be?

Ultimately, it doesn't matter what the story focuses on. What mattered were the choices made therein, and the telling of them.

And now it draws to a close.

fin

[ragnarok97071]

the cascading magic rolling over the swarm at the death of Jules had caused great change. Illumina herself had reappeared, the majority of the swarm melting back together. She looked... older, closer to maturity now, more like a young woman than a child.

her eyes were also different than they had been, their manic need fading into a quiet, mostly sated thing, finally recieving all it had wanted since its birth.

She doesn't speak to the others, even after everything had faded, after the angels lay dead and nothing was left but the beginning.

Instead, she had turned to the ones who had stood amidst the swarm, their emerald eyes burning like hers as they directed it, and embraced them, holding them silently close for a time before finally releasing them, turning to face the new gods.

--

Illumina was not a well-known goddess, for the most part.

She had little interest in causing huge, worldshaking events, though a few, quieter things are hinted to be the result of her curiosity and mirth.

Cat-eyed children, blessed with power over nature, of the plants and animals of the wild, creating them or simply directing them as they see fit are sometimes born, or simply found wandering the land, or even founding courts and homes of their own.

The occasional portion of the Swarm is still seen, seeking out those who had been rejected, the least and the lost, those society deemed to strange or too broken to live among those who arrogantly deem themselves normal, granting them a connection to their Goddess, and leading them to their home.

She had become a patron of artists of all sorts, often found painting herself, her art still abstract and unknowable, but less... dark, somehow, mellowed by those around her.

Occasionally, she would visit the others, mostly without warning or reason, simply... finding them, though some were easier than others.

All in all... She was happy.

That was all she could really ask.