Dawn of Creation

"Fuck." I had thought of some higher beings like the primordials existing in this…universe.

How ever, higher beings? Does she mean Celestials? Outer Gods? Spectre? Anti-Moniter? The First Firmament? The Endless? The Archangels? The Presence or The One Above All?

'Dammit, I should've asked that voice when I died, which universe I was going to. I had assumed Percy Jackson, but…..I FUCKING ASSUMED!!!!

Ok, no time to reflect and regret…

'When it comes to Dc and Marvel, the stories of the Greek gods are all real, soooooo. Most likely those were my universes.

I guess DxD but I never watched that series, so the only way I could recognize it would be the MC.

Maybe the God of War universe? Unlikely. Helios is in Tartaros, there is no blade of Olympus and no claws of Hades.'

Internally, I was fried, I could think of nothing. I momentarily blinded me to the situation I found myself in.

I was in possession of my own pocket universe. In here, my power had unknown heights. With a simple passing thought, the realm changed to my design. And so, I thought of a god similar to me, yet so much more powerful.

'Tzeentch.' He immediately came to my mind when I thought of my power mixed with the dimension I found myself in possession of. I spread my hand out, al though I didn't need to, it felt as if I was all powerful when I did it.

Long had I entertained the idea of creating my own being, separate from mortal or immortal means. I thought on what it might be, maybe a huge monster?

'Perhaps another day.'

A guardian to protect my casket?

'Later.'

Daemons?

'Maybe.'

Then it came to me. A being comprised of the wisps of divinity and the constraints of fate bending magic. I called it 'The Weave.' The Weave would be the way in which magic presented itself to beings for their use, as it flowed throughout the world, touching every corner of existence. By the time humans were back to being populated everywhere, the Weave would introduce a species of human that would be called, Homo Magi of Magus.

A sub-race of naturally magic-wielding humans. They would make up a huge chunk of my personal army, along with the daemons I might create.

A slight flick and the terrain changed to my will. A maze, ever high and ever wide with impossible twists, turns and its endless corridors that only the strongest could navigate. For the walls not only reflected light, but also hope, despair, dreams, madness, wonder, and terror.

——

The root to the center would be always changing, and no physical harm would await those who chose the wrong divergence in the path. But, to be trapped in the labyrinth is to be trapped in a place of infinite possibilities. A kaleidoscope of fates completely antithetical to a sane mind.

Within the twisting passages the air would be thick with a murky soup of broken dreams and glittered with the light of fractal shards of shattered personalities.

Yet….if the correct path is taken, or the mind of the traveler was too insane for my creations to tale effect. Then they would find themselves in the center. The sight where every tangled filament extends; The Impossible Fortress.

Being beyond comprehension, the individual who finds their self here, will perceive it differently than others.

A scintillating bastion that reflects the aspirations of those who behold it. No matter what the person observes it as, it will always be in a state of constant insanity. The structure, always in flux. Impossible objects intertwined with echoes of infinity. It is perfectly symmetrical, yet horribly unbalanced.

Spires and towers reflect themselves into being, bursting from the heart of fortress, only to be reabsorbed moments later.

If there is a pattern to the shifting fortress, it is known to Aemond only.

The interior of the fortress is every bit as incomprehensible; its passages, halls and chambers continually transform themselves and blend together. Different rooms follow different laws with the very nature of gravity, time and mass changing or disappearing with every step.

Other chambers are even stranger. Existing in inexpressible states of sorrow, dignity, truth of introspection. Here…Aemond sits. His fingers plucking at the constraints of reality, contemplating infinity while he stares into the oblivion.

A mass of every expanding magic unbundled itself behind him, spreading its newly born tentacled into the Mortal Realm, waiting for humans to blossom more before, blessing some with its gifts.

"Now….who is controlling my experience." Aemond mouthed under his breath. Unable to control his anger fully, thinking about the power, schemes, and information they had over him. "I thought I would be free from constraints, but here I am…..a puppet!"

"Mark your days whoever you are…I Will Massacre You!" Aemond's loathing filled voice echoed into the cosmos. Any who heard it turned their heads in his direction from their own universe and dimensions.

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͔̠̥̗̬̖̈̌͑͒̒̕Ȳ͎̱͕̼̪̣̼̤̓͜Y̶͓̠̺͕̝͓̌̍̆͗̒̏ͅY͌̔ͫ̄͊̚҉̟̺͕̱̻̦̲͙Ô̪͖̹͔͌̊̋̾ͤͧ͠͡Ő̡̪Ọ͍̍̆̒ͮ͒̀Ỏ̠̲̠̚͟U͊҉̞̥͙̰̱̳͚͝U̐̂͂҉̖̹̜̠̫̩͙̦Ǘ̢̙͚̖̜̝̩̙͚ͯ͛̐͊̄̅U̍͏͎̬̥͚̟Ư̺͉̝̙̙̰̂̉̀ ͕͖͚̠̘̩͍͙͑ͥ̏̌͜C̦̙̼͛͝C̔̉͟҉̫̼̲̻̥͓͉̣Ĉ͏̹̱A̢̨̹̦̲̙̼̭͓ͦ̔ͧ̋͂A͎͔͕̗̥̩͓̳ͬ̇̉̉ͧͥ͝A̛͎̾̇̈́͟Ȁ̦̪̈́N̡̮͙̳ͩͪͮ̅̾̔̄N̴̠̲͔ͣ͗̅͝N̵̷̙̯͈̹͙ͤ̄̐͌͆ͮN̛͔͇̲̗̹͉̤̤̅̈́ͬ͐͆ͮ̔͢N̝̦̬͉ͥͫ̄͊̔̅̒́N̶̸̦̮͓̆ͧ̿̋̉̎N̴͎̲̙̟̱̔͆͐ͩ̿̃̅ͅN̡̝̪ͯ̓̚͜ ̻̘̏͋ͥ̕͟T̞̦͇̘͇͕̬͚ͩ͊̂̍͞T̉̈́҉͍̳̼͢T̛̬͓̀̍ͪ́R͖̯͍̻ͤͭ̃̌̀́̚̚R̨͖̞̖̝̲͎ͯͫͫ͐ͤ̇R̵̺̩̝͔̣ͥ̉ͮ͆̀Ŗ̢͈̘̤̒ͫ͆̚R̛̮ͧͯͤ̕Y̡̦̖̠̺̼̩͉̍̉́̓̈́̃̈̈Y̵̨̰͇̝͚̣͖̯͐ͩͣ͂ͅỸ̨͖͔̗̭͈͈̟Y̟̥͈̼͙̝ͤ̓ͨ̏͐̕͝Y̥͙̝̤̟̠͖̪̾̆ͭͯ͜͝Ý̪̼̩̬͉̰̓̕͜Y̶̭̰̥̘̮͚͍͛̽Y̢͎̦ͩ̌̉̏͊̒Y̢̰̭̟̾̾̑ͣͅY͛̽͗̉ͪ̿͞҉͕Y̷̬͊͋̑̍̽ͯ͐̒Y̥̪͍͍̱̳̥͍ͪ͛͐̇͘͠Y̬͓̲͎̾ͩ̆͐̋ͦ́Y̶̲̰̜͑ͧ̽̉ͤ́̄͢Y̴̨̹͇̰͇͕̓́ͬÝ̴̬̈̀Y̤͔̽̓̆̑͞Ŷ̴̨̮̪͉̟͔̄Y͕̜̹ͯ̓̀͑͛̏͗̚͝Y̸̼͓̅̚Y̙̲̙̟̰̼ͫ̀ͭ̋̋ͮ̓͘ͅY͖͙͇͊̅ͦ̀͂̏͡Ȳ̸̡̗͉̑ͬ̚Y̝͇̥̥͐͊́ͫ̃ͧͫ̂͠!̸̝̻̰͓͓͓̳̎̈́ͨ"̧̱́̽ͮ́͗ͫ͐̐͞

(Thanks Templin Institute!)