1 The Meeting

The swirling darkness surrounds two figures shrouded in darkness. The faint shadows of haggard faces come into view. Peculiar string-like colors are drifting about these figures. One reaches out jaggedly for a red and seemingly chaotic string intermingled with many others. As the wrinkled and gray fingers of the figure touch the red glow, brief bursts of white light flash before my eyes, and revelations of a tyrannical man come into view. The derangement of his mind. The fragrance, it's overpowering.

"The smell of a tragedy. Another angel, fallen from grace. Another devil… created again." An oracular tone exudes from a figure in a purple shawl decorated with strange lustrous runic symbols.

"Macbeth… a tragedy indeed," said another figure with a deep blue aura and a velvet cloak adorned by an abyss of black, the seams bursting with energy. A faint sense of greed hangs over the figure, overpowering yet faint. The figure continued while reaching out for the chaotic glow, "Lachette, if we were to meddle… hehe. The despair that comes with his downfall will surely be delicious."

"Indeed Clotti, keep spinning the thread. I'll take the string through endless hells and tribulations!" exclaimed the figure in the purple shawl. "And you, Antropy… don't you dare cut the thread just yet!" the figure continued.

"Of course! Do you think I'm dumb! We've lived so long yet you think I don't know!? The deliciousness of a soul comes from their experiences. A collection of emotion so delicious and sweet!" I exclaimed. The flavor of a soul came from the experiences they witness. Whether they be lawful or evil, religious or not, consumed by avarice or exuding benevolence. All souls have a plethora of emotions, each with their own particular taste.

"Oh, look... look there they are why don't we go down and mess with them a bit?" said Clotti. "Come Greymalkin!" continued Clotti with a deep ethereal tone as a dark grey fog appears with shining dust particulate floating in the air. Out of the enigmatic grey fog comes a small grey cat with an intimidating and intelligent aura.

"My Master, what have you called me for today!" proclaimed Greymalkin

"Arise Paddock!" said Lachette with a high-pitched yet low voice. A grating sound emanated from a small pond with small red particulate that materialized suddenly with Lachette's call. A ripple appeared on the surface, shortly after a large explosion of water slowly flew up from the pond imploding into a small bullfrog with a scholarly bearing and a small monocle.

"You have called for me again my master, it has been thousands of millennia." Said Paddock slowly.

"Silver emerge!" I said with a voice that seemed to be composed out of all the voices in the universe. A great sound, one that seems chaotic yet melodious. A seam appeared in the fabric of reality causing a large tempest of lightning and fire. A large shadow appears in before of my eyes. It's sharp, it's large, it's powerful. The chaos disperses and all that's left is a wrinkled hand and a small pair of silver scissors.

"Come… come, the tragedy of Macbeth is nearing. The power, the flavor, the desire! I see it, the fate that concocts in my hands… the wheel, perpetually revolving! The time of MACBETH has come!" declared Clotti as she summoned a stream of transparent purple and green energy. It's whirling a maelstrom of emotion and fate… a storm that mortals called time. It has the past, the present, and the future! The fate of all intelligent creatures comes from here. It's the beginning of all!

On a sunny field in Scotland Macbeth and Banquo were walking slowly. They were enjoying the scenery, talking about their achievements in battle with the defeat of the traitor to the nation. A wind swept past their legs, it rattled their swords and chilled their skin. The sun turned black, blocking all light. A terrible hurricane of lightning, fire, and ice appeared in the dark sky. Three figures dressed in a shawl, a cloak, and a mourning dress appear before their eyes. A deep sense of fear appears in their hearts due to overwhelming pressure. Looking into their lifeless eyes caused numerous flashes to appear before their eyes.

"W-who are you?" cried Banquo

"All hail Macbeth, Thane of Glamis!" proclaimed Clotti

"All hail Macbeth, Thane of Cawdor!" exclaimed Lachette

"All hail Macbeth, the one who shall be king!" I declared with lightning and fire in the background as images flash before our eyes, conferring us the fate of the entity, Macbeth.

Macbeth stepped in front of Banquo holding his arm out to push Banquo behind him in an attempt to protect his best friend. Although he was slightly trembling, he held his ground against us. Admirable, truly a kind soul; one that would have never harmed an innocent soul. The future is troubling… a whirlwind of resentment and betrayal.

"Answer me! Who are you all!? Why have you hags appeared before us!? Why do you say such taboo words, even going to the extent of disrespecting my great and benevolent king!?" demanded Macbeth with a deep tone, his face scowling, wrinkles appearing on his forehead. As if warning us of the dangers he would face for his friends.

"We are the past, the present, and the future! The end of all things! The creator, The existence, and The epilogue!" we all exclaimed with the symbols of a Caduceus, a triple spiral, and a flickering candle seemingly about to go out.

"All hail Macbeth!" we all continue.

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