Page 35 of Dark Shadow of Guilt

Dom swallowed his grumble. The Feard didn’t investigate crimes. They tracked Scourges and captured or extincted them.

The OneCreator swiped a hand across his brow.

Then, the impossible happened.

The floor quaked beneath Dom’s boots. He spread his stance, shooting the OC a bewildered look. Ohngel lunged to steady Indigo.

The OneCreator jumped to his feet, his palms pressed to his temples, his eyes barely a squint. When the ground settled, he recovered and shrugged. “An oddity. A rare disturbance in OneWorld.”

But Dom had seen the pained expression and the indications of a headache. As he pivoted to stride out of the throne room, the OC coughed. The black-winged assassin snapped around to see him bending forward to hack over and over again.

“Out, I said.” The OC recovered, swiping the sleeve of his robe across his nose.

Fuck! The boss doesn’t get colds, seasonal hay fever, or headaches. He only suffers from catastrophic mood swings, which don’t lead to coughing or earthquakes.

On the steps outside the OneCreator’s palace, Indigo conjured Oskar, her golden fur-rumped gryphon who nuzzled her neck. He flared his nostrils at Ohngel and Dom, which was all the greeting the assassins would get. The damn beast was a jealous creature.

Indigo stroked Oskar’s scales. “Aw, buddy. You get to be my transport wherever I go in OneWorld.”

The gryphon smiled. At least, he opened his beak and snorted a puff of smoke.

The witch conjured a saddle along with reins. When Oskar crouched, she crawled onto his hind leg, heaving herself onto his back. He flicked out his wings, stroked downward, and took to the air.

Ohngel spread his fiery wings and followed his mate, calling out to Dom that he would continue his search for Praevus. With the sun rising, the black-winged assassin wanted to fly home, strangely anxious to see the human again. Instead, he headed for Stupool and answers.

****

The OneCreator slumpedback into his throne. He had a headache and post-nasal drip.What the fuck?He rested against the chair, his eyes gazing at the ceiling. Then like an old human in a nursing home at the end of his life, he revisited the past. The time before the problems began.

Along with his brother and three sisters, he awoke before the first dawn. Afterward, an explosion followed the march of eons. Fully formed and sentient, the five Siblings drifted amid the galaxy they would call the Milky Way.

An immense spherical gas cloud collapsed and began to rotate. With wreckage coalescing everywhere, the Siblings dodged collisions of matter. In this volatile setting, the OneCreator was the first to recognize his power. With his hands, he clumped together particles, forming larger and larger masses he called planets. Pleased with the outcome, he created four dimensions where he, his brother, and the sisters would eventually dwell, naming them OneWorld—Null, Angor, Vast, and Evermore. He situated the planets and the dimensions in a spiral arm known thereafter as the Orion Spur. Locked in the fiery orb’s gravitational pull, they rotated around the sun.

As the grimmest of the Siblings, his brother Chaos observed the accomplishments with awe but held himself in check, acknowledging his own power was in destruction. Marveling at the incipient galaxy, he had not wished to lay waste to it with an errant thought.

His sisters were elemental. Their gifts brought beauty to his creations and the surrounding skies.

When Melodia sang, her breath swept across lands as a gentle rolling breeze, infusing spirit into quiet places, freshening the air with scents redolent of life. Delighted, Lumia clapped her hands and laughed. Focusing her brilliant mind on her own power, she radiated light, making the sky brighter, painting stars on the canvas. Prima cried upon seeing the beauty of her brother’s miraculous creations and her sisters’ contributions. When she did, the water of her tears fell as rain, giving rise to rivers, lakes, and oceans. Flora covered the terrains.

The exception to their powers was Null, which unexpectedly resisted their efforts, remaining forever a dull, lifeless dimension. The environment was mostly flat and barren. Bushes, if they existed, were small and scraggly. Though some plants flowered, the blooms were not vibrant colors.

The five had such hope. Everything was fresh, uncomplicated, and awe-inspiring. They were enough.

The OneCreator brushed aside his memories to listen to petitions from his Immortals. Finished listening to their sometimes petty, sometimes important concerns, he shuffled off to his private chambers. Alone.

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