An Eldritch Horror and its love for mankind and the Heros it spawns.
An Eldritch Horror that loves Heros
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The entity wearing Taylor's flesh lay there in silence, blood oozing from the fresh bullet hole in her head. That split-second of malformed sentience, which perceived the Universe as little else but conflict, sputtered and screamed. The child, born of a shard infesting the flesh of a human puppet, sputtered and perished in a mere moment from a single shot to the skull, splattering her brains despite everything she had given.
QA, reeling from the feedback, and Taylor Hebert, the sacrificial lamb who had given everything she had—her youth, her mind, and now her very soul perishing as the countless she had been forced to throw unto their deaths.
She screamed as she bolted up, her sentience returning all at once. A simple rush, as if she had awoken from a bad dream, combined with a dull ache in her head. The worst part was the itchiness, combined with the pins and needles aching across her body.
"Hello," her voice was raspy and hurt. Her head felt slightly foggy as she sensed nothing in this white canvas around her. No definition or anything except this endless void. She slowly rose, trying to get her bearings as she finally noticed something.
Pinpricks of purple light bleeding through the white, like blood soaking bandages, and dropping onto whatever Taylor was standing on. She looked up, squinting at the sight as a strange sound began to fill her ears, akin to the ripping of meat.
The white void was stained with more patches of purple, the droplets increasing in intensity and size. Taylor cautiously approached one, reaching for the knife she normally kept hidden in her boot. Slowly drawing it out as the smell of decay reached her nose.
Finally, the canvas above her ripped, revealing a screaming ooze that clawed and pulled itself from the canvas. Taylor readied her knife, slowly looking it over for any weakness as it screeched at her.
It hurt to stare at it, as the ooze occasionally revealed wretched flesh that held strange orange sacks lining the various darker bits that surfaced within the ooze. The flesh looked as if it was infected and fetid in comparison to the other parts of it.
The ooze began to take shape, countless small insect forms manifesting from the ooze, the insects burrowing into the screaming creature's flesh. Its eyes glowed with a dull blue light in a strange arrangement of colors.
She readied herself best she could, even as a small chunk of her head burned, and something deep inside her screamed to run. Taylor said, "I'd ask if you were okay, dear owl, but we both know the truth to that answer, don't we?"
Taylor swung back, her knife finding purchase but her face going pale at the sight before her. A shadow, cast upon her by a towering creature. Taylor tried to find the right words to speak as the thing stared at her with two empty eye sockets, revealing nothing but shadows. She pulled back her knife and stabbed again, everything in her very being screaming at the wrongness of whatever this thing was.
The thing slowly shifted, taking in a small breath as it reached forward, grasping her before she could jump back and pulling her towards its chest as it made a soft cooing noise. Taylor took in a small breath, controlling her breathing while gritting her teeth as the thing wrapped its arms around her and pulled her into a hug. Each stab, into a vital part.
One in the throat, one in the eye, one in the temple. The only damage left behind was a neat slit which healed quickly. She tried to reach for her power. Finally, she began shouting and struggling as strong arms grasped her into a soft hug, her body burning worse than ever and the stench of rot increasing. "Shuush, little Owl. I am sorry for the eyes, but I cannot recreate the beauty of a Human Soul like your kind does so effortlessly. I know it is disconcerting, but I am not here to harm thee like the interloper."
In its voice was a hint of admiration and care. The Canvas around them slowly turned greenish-yellow and red, slowly bending downwards as if they were becoming soaked. The colors outside grew closer as the smells began to grow more fetid with every passing moment. Taylor's eyes watered from the smell as she tried to ignore it.
"Who are you, where are we, and why are you calling me little owl," she hissed, in panic slowly halting her stabbing to try and gather whatever information she could, worried if she was facing some Master/Thinker.
The woman's kind smile increased as she giggled, "So many questions, prodigal children. Yet I have so little time and answers to give. I am not important, dear. I simply came to give solace unto you as you die."
Taylor went silent, melting into the girl's grasp and contemplating this information. The numbness in her grew as she whispered, "Is he dead?"
"Yes, dead by your hands. These predators usurped and slain at man's hand," Taylor took some small amount of pride and relief in those words before focusing on the faint pride and joy in this creature's voice.
"Where are we then," she squished down the small part of her that squirmed in fear of whatever this thing was. The lingering weight of her presence worse, causing something within Taylor to rebel, making her hands shake and her stomach churn in fear.
"Such questions must be saved for now. It is time to dance, dear owl," the woman whispered, her face shifting once more into a new shape. This time, more narrow and slim, her eyes more catlike as she took Taylor by the hand and slowly began to dance with her.
"Why," Taylor questioned once more, a thousand more questions ringing through her mind as she looked up at the colors bleeding through from the tear in the canvas. The once-white void now soaked a deep red with lingering taints of blue and green staining it. The walls twitched and pulsated with something pushing through the other side.
"Because, Death has come for thee, dear child, but as we all know, Life is a dance. Thus, Death cannot harm thee while you dance inside what remains of your own mind and soul," the woman said with a slight bit of amusement as she lectured Taylor, whose body moved against her will. Both women danced to some unseen tune.
"Death has visited you enough, dear child. It can be told to wait for once. Are you ready?"
"I- Is this what everyone goes through when they die? Are you god," Taylor asked, hesitantly uncertain if she was hallucinating at this point or what.
"No, I am not god," the thing chided her, its smile reaching its empty eye sockets as it cherished the little hero in its grasp so delicately.
"Is he real?"
"Who knows, but it is almost ready, Taylor. You die, so bitter and alone, the story of a tragic few hero. So, I have afforded you a small favor, dear Hero. Do not question it, simply enjoy it as you fade onto whatever comes next. You humans are such beautiful creatures of wonder and horror in perfect harmony,"
"Please, you need to send me back; they still need me-"
Taylor's mouth shut closed as the creature closed its eye sockets just as Taylor felt one of her hands slowly rotting away within the grasp of the creature who clutched her tighter. The red of the room now slowly turning to black and blue as the canvas began rotting and ripping apart revealing more of the swirling patterns beyond.
Then she saw it. The sky above slowly began to crack as something impossible slithered and shifted between the cracks. The size, utterly meaningless to her due to the sheer scale of whatever bled through the cracks as the stranger whispered, "Your friends, some will live and prosper. Others perish. This world is a dark one that you have saved, which shall one day recover because of thy price. But, you have ventured it from the start. Despite a coward father, despite thy traitors, despite thy abuses and horrors. . .You did what you could and for that, I have seen and of all I have seen I am so proud of you, little Owl."
Taylor couldn't talk as her head began to pound in pain. Her other hand slowly started to slouch off as the Stranger sighed, "I am grasping onto the embers of you. Preventing the cold from snuffing you out, while I prepare this grand sight as a reward to you without harming what is left. Do not speak. Please."
The two danced as the world around them ripped and tore. Blood pooled and rotten chunks of meat fell at random, revealing the swirling outside. With every second that passed, Taylor could feel parts of her rotting piece by piece. Finally, after this eternity of dancing, the sky broke.
"Be Content, Weaver/Khepri/Skitter/Taylor, for you are a Hero who slew a fallen god and who helped focus something wonderful," the voice said each name at once, and Taylor felt something inside her stir at those names. Finally, the sky cracked open, and all the pain vanished alongside the horror.
All of it was replaced by sheer awe and beauty as she stared up above. The patterns, broken like fragments of glass and revealing pulsing nodes of light amidst a pitch-black canvas. The lights bled hundreds of colors she had never seen before into the void and pulsated. Something lurked between the lights, its massive form curled around them protectively, outlines of its body dwarfing each light she gazed upon.
Its body, a strange winding mix of colliding lines colored by shades of gray or black which were barely illuminated by distant Nebula or rouge stars casting light upon the smallest scale or eye that dotted its ever-winding body.
"This is the fruit of thy Labor, dear child. Dear Owl, for in your suffering, the imagination of man and its kindness was evoked from your sacrifice and life. For, in your death, thousands of worlds were spawned. Countless bundles of existence teeming with ideas, and conceptual scopes unseen in the last," the woman's voice became a whisper as Taylor began to let out a small wheeze.
The strong hero slowly fading as the dance came to a stop and the Stranger began to kneel and cradle Taylor's dying body. Taylor's eyes, watery from the various images now dancing in the lights. Even as the shifting serpent moved amongst them, hidden by the simple lack of anything within the void between these lights.
An image of her and brain holding hands. Both battered and bruised as they stood together, making Taylor's heart ache in ways she had long gotten over.
Another, of her father being brave and doing what a father should do, burned into her mind as he shouted at Blackwell, awakening memories she had long put into the back of her head for the sake of survival.
Finally, one where she was taken to another world where her mother remained, alongside her father and her arm had been replaced by something robotic. Her name carried more weight than any Endbringer's and outstripped even the legacy of the Slaughterhouse Nine as she lived out her life split from all she once knew.
None of these worlds were hers.
Then the images began to dance, and zoom out batches of them being shown at a time. Some worlds, where she held impossible relations or powers and others where she got another chance at life after Khepri, "They. . .I did this?"
"Yes. Your world will turmoil as it always had through strange dances of Titan's and Bringers of the end but at the end of the day, they will survive and go on from you alone. You were the Fulcrum that inspired so many and saved even more for without your single world- None of this would have ever been manifested, dear owl. Even more impressive considering there are still parts of your story yet unfinished," For a split moment the stranger pauses as she glances down staring at the slowly rotting form of Taylor as the canvas around them slowly becomes petrified.
Pieces of her skull slowly emerge from her flesh as a soft content smile comes across Taylor's lips as the Stranger face shifts. The flesh turning more ceramic then before and something, squirming in the depths of her eye socket.
Tears begin dripping down her cheeks. A sad smile across her face as she pets Taylor and whispers, "You, make me so proud, Dear Owl. You may never know me, but I will always know you. For even now, as you prepare to go unto what even I know not of- You're happy. You're happy to finally be the Hero you dreamed of when you were a child. Not jealous or spiteful."
The voice was full of pride as the canvas around them rotted piece by piece giving way to shifting colors of green, blue, and orange making strange shapes as the light of countless Universes painted their features. The canvas and strange colors fading away ever so gently as the stranger stares in silence.
In the corner of what remained of the room, two shadows lurked. Staring and watching, in silence. Judging, and yet impartial to all that was ongoing as the Stranger takes in a small breath and closes her eyes. The two figures vanished, as the Stranger was left kneeling with but a corpse, the sorrow clear in her eyes, as her form slowly began to crack and melt.
AN: Next Chapter; Superman
QA, reeling from the feedback, and Taylor Hebert, the sacrificial lamb who had given everything she had—her youth, her mind, and now her very soul perishing as the countless she had been forced to throw unto their deaths.
She screamed as she bolted up, her sentience returning all at once. A simple rush, as if she had awoken from a bad dream, combined with a dull ache in her head. The worst part was the itchiness, combined with the pins and needles aching across her body.
"Hello," her voice was raspy and hurt. Her head felt slightly foggy as she sensed nothing in this white canvas around her. No definition or anything except this endless void. She slowly rose, trying to get her bearings as she finally noticed something.
Pinpricks of purple light bleeding through the white, like blood soaking bandages, and dropping onto whatever Taylor was standing on. She looked up, squinting at the sight as a strange sound began to fill her ears, akin to the ripping of meat.
The white void was stained with more patches of purple, the droplets increasing in intensity and size. Taylor cautiously approached one, reaching for the knife she normally kept hidden in her boot. Slowly drawing it out as the smell of decay reached her nose.
Finally, the canvas above her ripped, revealing a screaming ooze that clawed and pulled itself from the canvas. Taylor readied her knife, slowly looking it over for any weakness as it screeched at her.
It hurt to stare at it, as the ooze occasionally revealed wretched flesh that held strange orange sacks lining the various darker bits that surfaced within the ooze. The flesh looked as if it was infected and fetid in comparison to the other parts of it.
The ooze began to take shape, countless small insect forms manifesting from the ooze, the insects burrowing into the screaming creature's flesh. Its eyes glowed with a dull blue light in a strange arrangement of colors.
She readied herself best she could, even as a small chunk of her head burned, and something deep inside her screamed to run. Taylor said, "I'd ask if you were okay, dear owl, but we both know the truth to that answer, don't we?"
Taylor swung back, her knife finding purchase but her face going pale at the sight before her. A shadow, cast upon her by a towering creature. Taylor tried to find the right words to speak as the thing stared at her with two empty eye sockets, revealing nothing but shadows. She pulled back her knife and stabbed again, everything in her very being screaming at the wrongness of whatever this thing was.
The thing slowly shifted, taking in a small breath as it reached forward, grasping her before she could jump back and pulling her towards its chest as it made a soft cooing noise. Taylor took in a small breath, controlling her breathing while gritting her teeth as the thing wrapped its arms around her and pulled her into a hug. Each stab, into a vital part.
One in the throat, one in the eye, one in the temple. The only damage left behind was a neat slit which healed quickly. She tried to reach for her power. Finally, she began shouting and struggling as strong arms grasped her into a soft hug, her body burning worse than ever and the stench of rot increasing. "Shuush, little Owl. I am sorry for the eyes, but I cannot recreate the beauty of a Human Soul like your kind does so effortlessly. I know it is disconcerting, but I am not here to harm thee like the interloper."
In its voice was a hint of admiration and care. The Canvas around them slowly turned greenish-yellow and red, slowly bending downwards as if they were becoming soaked. The colors outside grew closer as the smells began to grow more fetid with every passing moment. Taylor's eyes watered from the smell as she tried to ignore it.
"Who are you, where are we, and why are you calling me little owl," she hissed, in panic slowly halting her stabbing to try and gather whatever information she could, worried if she was facing some Master/Thinker.
The woman's kind smile increased as she giggled, "So many questions, prodigal children. Yet I have so little time and answers to give. I am not important, dear. I simply came to give solace unto you as you die."
Taylor went silent, melting into the girl's grasp and contemplating this information. The numbness in her grew as she whispered, "Is he dead?"
"Yes, dead by your hands. These predators usurped and slain at man's hand," Taylor took some small amount of pride and relief in those words before focusing on the faint pride and joy in this creature's voice.
"Where are we then," she squished down the small part of her that squirmed in fear of whatever this thing was. The lingering weight of her presence worse, causing something within Taylor to rebel, making her hands shake and her stomach churn in fear.
"Such questions must be saved for now. It is time to dance, dear owl," the woman whispered, her face shifting once more into a new shape. This time, more narrow and slim, her eyes more catlike as she took Taylor by the hand and slowly began to dance with her.
"Why," Taylor questioned once more, a thousand more questions ringing through her mind as she looked up at the colors bleeding through from the tear in the canvas. The once-white void now soaked a deep red with lingering taints of blue and green staining it. The walls twitched and pulsated with something pushing through the other side.
"Because, Death has come for thee, dear child, but as we all know, Life is a dance. Thus, Death cannot harm thee while you dance inside what remains of your own mind and soul," the woman said with a slight bit of amusement as she lectured Taylor, whose body moved against her will. Both women danced to some unseen tune.
"Death has visited you enough, dear child. It can be told to wait for once. Are you ready?"
"I- Is this what everyone goes through when they die? Are you god," Taylor asked, hesitantly uncertain if she was hallucinating at this point or what.
"No, I am not god," the thing chided her, its smile reaching its empty eye sockets as it cherished the little hero in its grasp so delicately.
"Is he real?"
"Who knows, but it is almost ready, Taylor. You die, so bitter and alone, the story of a tragic few hero. So, I have afforded you a small favor, dear Hero. Do not question it, simply enjoy it as you fade onto whatever comes next. You humans are such beautiful creatures of wonder and horror in perfect harmony,"
"Please, you need to send me back; they still need me-"
Taylor's mouth shut closed as the creature closed its eye sockets just as Taylor felt one of her hands slowly rotting away within the grasp of the creature who clutched her tighter. The red of the room now slowly turning to black and blue as the canvas began rotting and ripping apart revealing more of the swirling patterns beyond.
Then she saw it. The sky above slowly began to crack as something impossible slithered and shifted between the cracks. The size, utterly meaningless to her due to the sheer scale of whatever bled through the cracks as the stranger whispered, "Your friends, some will live and prosper. Others perish. This world is a dark one that you have saved, which shall one day recover because of thy price. But, you have ventured it from the start. Despite a coward father, despite thy traitors, despite thy abuses and horrors. . .You did what you could and for that, I have seen and of all I have seen I am so proud of you, little Owl."
Taylor couldn't talk as her head began to pound in pain. Her other hand slowly started to slouch off as the Stranger sighed, "I am grasping onto the embers of you. Preventing the cold from snuffing you out, while I prepare this grand sight as a reward to you without harming what is left. Do not speak. Please."
The two danced as the world around them ripped and tore. Blood pooled and rotten chunks of meat fell at random, revealing the swirling outside. With every second that passed, Taylor could feel parts of her rotting piece by piece. Finally, after this eternity of dancing, the sky broke.
"Be Content, Weaver/Khepri/Skitter/Taylor, for you are a Hero who slew a fallen god and who helped focus something wonderful," the voice said each name at once, and Taylor felt something inside her stir at those names. Finally, the sky cracked open, and all the pain vanished alongside the horror.
All of it was replaced by sheer awe and beauty as she stared up above. The patterns, broken like fragments of glass and revealing pulsing nodes of light amidst a pitch-black canvas. The lights bled hundreds of colors she had never seen before into the void and pulsated. Something lurked between the lights, its massive form curled around them protectively, outlines of its body dwarfing each light she gazed upon.
Its body, a strange winding mix of colliding lines colored by shades of gray or black which were barely illuminated by distant Nebula or rouge stars casting light upon the smallest scale or eye that dotted its ever-winding body.
"This is the fruit of thy Labor, dear child. Dear Owl, for in your suffering, the imagination of man and its kindness was evoked from your sacrifice and life. For, in your death, thousands of worlds were spawned. Countless bundles of existence teeming with ideas, and conceptual scopes unseen in the last," the woman's voice became a whisper as Taylor began to let out a small wheeze.
The strong hero slowly fading as the dance came to a stop and the Stranger began to kneel and cradle Taylor's dying body. Taylor's eyes, watery from the various images now dancing in the lights. Even as the shifting serpent moved amongst them, hidden by the simple lack of anything within the void between these lights.
An image of her and brain holding hands. Both battered and bruised as they stood together, making Taylor's heart ache in ways she had long gotten over.
Another, of her father being brave and doing what a father should do, burned into her mind as he shouted at Blackwell, awakening memories she had long put into the back of her head for the sake of survival.
Finally, one where she was taken to another world where her mother remained, alongside her father and her arm had been replaced by something robotic. Her name carried more weight than any Endbringer's and outstripped even the legacy of the Slaughterhouse Nine as she lived out her life split from all she once knew.
None of these worlds were hers.
Then the images began to dance, and zoom out batches of them being shown at a time. Some worlds, where she held impossible relations or powers and others where she got another chance at life after Khepri, "They. . .I did this?"
"Yes. Your world will turmoil as it always had through strange dances of Titan's and Bringers of the end but at the end of the day, they will survive and go on from you alone. You were the Fulcrum that inspired so many and saved even more for without your single world- None of this would have ever been manifested, dear owl. Even more impressive considering there are still parts of your story yet unfinished," For a split moment the stranger pauses as she glances down staring at the slowly rotting form of Taylor as the canvas around them slowly becomes petrified.
Pieces of her skull slowly emerge from her flesh as a soft content smile comes across Taylor's lips as the Stranger face shifts. The flesh turning more ceramic then before and something, squirming in the depths of her eye socket.
Tears begin dripping down her cheeks. A sad smile across her face as she pets Taylor and whispers, "You, make me so proud, Dear Owl. You may never know me, but I will always know you. For even now, as you prepare to go unto what even I know not of- You're happy. You're happy to finally be the Hero you dreamed of when you were a child. Not jealous or spiteful."
The voice was full of pride as the canvas around them rotted piece by piece giving way to shifting colors of green, blue, and orange making strange shapes as the light of countless Universes painted their features. The canvas and strange colors fading away ever so gently as the stranger stares in silence.
In the corner of what remained of the room, two shadows lurked. Staring and watching, in silence. Judging, and yet impartial to all that was ongoing as the Stranger takes in a small breath and closes her eyes. The two figures vanished, as the Stranger was left kneeling with but a corpse, the sorrow clear in her eyes, as her form slowly began to crack and melt.
AN: Next Chapter; Superman
Superman feels the green light of Lex's latest weapon wash over him. Closing his eyes and bracing, his senses pick up on a sudden change. Where he heard the heartbeats of millions, the smells of freshly cooked brownies, or the countless sounds and noises of Metropolis all vanish, his heart drops.
He opens his eyes and pauses at the sight before him. An endless world of white stretches beyond even his sight. Solid walls of white above and below him. He dashes off, covering immense distance in a split moment, trying to find an end to it all.
His body is a blur as he ignites his Heat vision, which impacts against the floor, leaving little mark. He frowns at that as he keeps flying, trying to differentiate the landscape. He comes to a sudden halt when he begins hearing a knocking sound from the white ceiling above him. Slowly floating upwards, he hears the knock again. His super hearing strains to hear it above the faint sound of a beautiful song that had begun to bleed above the knocking.
"Hello," He asks as the sounds begin to die down. The knocking remains in a steady rhythm that echoes through the world of white he found himself in. Slowly floating up, he begins pushing his hands against the white wall, trying to find any sort of budge or weakness.
His eyes closed, he feels overwhelmed trying to pick apart the sounds. Too many, even for him to comprehend, all but the single sound they all blended into. Finally, the knocking stops and a soft voice whispers, "May I come in?"
Superman pulls away and raises an eyebrow, "Of course, but who are you?"
"A fan," The voice whispers as a splotch of unnamed color begins to taint the white wall. Dripping down onto the ground and slowly forming a ceramic woman adorned in a black dress. Her hands and thumbs off ever so slightly with a few extra digits. Her form, shifting piece by piece till she was complete.
The woman stood slightly taller than Superman, and her face utterly perfect. Inhuman in its perfection and the lack of eyes. Superman smiles at her, unfazed at the sight, as he hums, "Fifth-dimensional Imp?"
She lets loose a gentle laugh at that, beaming down at Superman with pride in her eye as she whispers, "No. No such falsehoods or gimmicks. I am simply a Fan."
"Do you have a name at least? I take it you already know mine," The song begins to quiet down as the world around them begins to smell of fresh air. The walls slowly starting to bleed blue.
Superman carefully observes the sky, watching how it shifted and the world around them began to change, "Indeed, Clark. But I have names, and none of them fitting. Some call me the remains, others the watcher, but you may call me the Stranger."
"Well, Stranger, where are we?"
"There is no name for it, but consider it yourself. Or at least, a part of yourself,"
"So, this is my mind then?"
"I suppose that is an accurate way to describe it. It is more so, than just thy mind, but that works. I had to use this chance to meet something like you," The woman stares in silence.
Superman paused slightly at the sight of something twisting and churning like water within the socket of her eyes as he speaks, "Kryptonians are rare, Stranger, but I need to get back to Metropolis. They need me."
At those words, her eyes turn sorrowful as she whispers, "Let us Dance."
Superman raises an eyebrow as he ponders that, "Why?"
"Because Death cannot stand when life dances before him," Superman takes a moment to digest those words before a soft smile comes across his face.
"Indeed. He doesn't," The Stranger laughs softly as Superman moves forward and takes her hand. The pair slowly dancing through the air.
"I take it I died and you're Death," Superman says rather acceptingly.
"No, I am not Cessation. Nor his Brothers Entropy, Murder, or Life,"
"Will they be okay?"
"Always the selfless one, Hero. They will. Besides, even Death could not claim you now. For you are Vindication of why I love mankind. Perhaps, on that world where Fate has taken you away temporarily, you will die for the first time, but your name will never be forgotten," The sky begins to change.
The sight of his son full-grown and flying through the skies to meet horrors headfirst, others inspired by the Red S upon their chest standing at his side.
"For you see, Superman, for Mankind had long created you in their minds. In their very subconscious, for they knew you've always existed. For you are the Good Man himself. Something which has existed as long as man drawn breath," The pair dance, and Superman stares in pride at the sight above him.
Clearly proud of his son and humanity who stood amongst a clean and pristine city, "I suppose you're right. I do regret that there are so many who won't ever realize how beautiful their world and mankind is. But, that's the nature of humanity. Sometimes they take for granted the good and only see the bad."
"Kindred souls are we in such thoughts. They try. Do not worry of death, Good Man. For every mind you have touched has imagined and created a thousand worlds on the undying concept in men's heart which you represent. Which in turn, each world they have created in such memories or thoughts has imagined another countless scope of worlds. For you are the good man, the freedom, and desire for right."
"Death wishes it can claim you but it cannot in any way that matters. You will not die, but you will die," The way she said it makes Superman burst out laughing as the world around them begins to slowly rot away.
The strong walls overhead crumbled and revealed vast swirling rainbows of blues and reds which were intercepted by a thousand different black vines which curled around each source of light. The vines and song of countless voices radiating from each thread.
Superman stares, his eyes picking apart the sights with awe as something begins to stand on the edge of his vision. A faint shadow, radiating jealousy and greed, hissing at the pair as they danced.
"Do not pay that child any mind," The Stranger whispers as their lovely dance goes on. Time itself shifting and spasming, causing the lights to swirl in new patterns and dizzying colors.
Yet despite it all, it has no grasp upon Superman. The man unchanged by the beauty and horrors of the sight before him or the passing time. Refusing to crumble as the Stranger whispers, "You're taking this well."
"There comes a season for all things. Especially those in my line of work. I just hope Lois knows I'm sorry," The Stranger pats his back gently as the shadow grows closer.
The Stranger turns her gaze towards it, her eyes narrow. Silently staring at it and turning Superman's back towards it before the man of steel just sighs, "I suppose I've escaped death too many times. He must be impatient."
"Do not worry for the child. He is young and impatient. A greedy, cruel thing allied with the concepts of- What," The Eldritch horror pauses splitting from Superman and turning her gaze to the side.
A faint look of surprise coming across her features as another voice fills the crumbling room, "Ready to come join us?"
Superman turns and smiles as he sees another pair of Supermen standing there. One whose costume was quite simple, and reminiscent of the 70s and another with grayed roots.
The Stranger begins laughing as the shadow zooms towards them. Screaming in rage to gain attention from them as Superman asks the two older ones, "Where are we going?"
"Wherever a good man or woman's needed," The oldest one says with a soft grin as the newest one comes and joins them.
"Sounds good," He says as the world of white fully vanishes. Now gone, to a single rock as Superman turns around and gives the stranger a smile amidst the colors of creation.
"Thanks for the talk," He says turning around as a door appears before him. Both Supermen vanishing through that door.
"You know, it is quite lovely to see the fruits of Mankind blossom into such things. Now go, for you are a child of freedom. Something not meant to play into the rules of stagnant things," The shadow hisses and screams at the Stranger as the final Superman leaves.
The room vanishes leaving just the Stranger and the Shadow. The Shadow pulsating and pushing out. Various lights being smothered and the blue/red canvas tainted with a foul gray and black cancer.
The Stranger just sighs and whispers, "So desperate to be seen as wise and all-encompassing. Why must you be so intent on the end of everything, and jealous at the start of something new?"
The Shadow does not speak, its malice bleeding off it as it slowly sulks away. The eyeless thing staring at it, as overhead the Thrones and vibes begin to wrap around the cancer and squeeze at it.
The Cancer, helpless as the thrones constricted it. Preventing it from snuffing out yet another light as the door fades away leaving just the Stranger, once the Shadow vanished.
He opens his eyes and pauses at the sight before him. An endless world of white stretches beyond even his sight. Solid walls of white above and below him. He dashes off, covering immense distance in a split moment, trying to find an end to it all.
His body is a blur as he ignites his Heat vision, which impacts against the floor, leaving little mark. He frowns at that as he keeps flying, trying to differentiate the landscape. He comes to a sudden halt when he begins hearing a knocking sound from the white ceiling above him. Slowly floating upwards, he hears the knock again. His super hearing strains to hear it above the faint sound of a beautiful song that had begun to bleed above the knocking.
"Hello," He asks as the sounds begin to die down. The knocking remains in a steady rhythm that echoes through the world of white he found himself in. Slowly floating up, he begins pushing his hands against the white wall, trying to find any sort of budge or weakness.
His eyes closed, he feels overwhelmed trying to pick apart the sounds. Too many, even for him to comprehend, all but the single sound they all blended into. Finally, the knocking stops and a soft voice whispers, "May I come in?"
Superman pulls away and raises an eyebrow, "Of course, but who are you?"
"A fan," The voice whispers as a splotch of unnamed color begins to taint the white wall. Dripping down onto the ground and slowly forming a ceramic woman adorned in a black dress. Her hands and thumbs off ever so slightly with a few extra digits. Her form, shifting piece by piece till she was complete.
The woman stood slightly taller than Superman, and her face utterly perfect. Inhuman in its perfection and the lack of eyes. Superman smiles at her, unfazed at the sight, as he hums, "Fifth-dimensional Imp?"
She lets loose a gentle laugh at that, beaming down at Superman with pride in her eye as she whispers, "No. No such falsehoods or gimmicks. I am simply a Fan."
"Do you have a name at least? I take it you already know mine," The song begins to quiet down as the world around them begins to smell of fresh air. The walls slowly starting to bleed blue.
Superman carefully observes the sky, watching how it shifted and the world around them began to change, "Indeed, Clark. But I have names, and none of them fitting. Some call me the remains, others the watcher, but you may call me the Stranger."
"Well, Stranger, where are we?"
"There is no name for it, but consider it yourself. Or at least, a part of yourself,"
"So, this is my mind then?"
"I suppose that is an accurate way to describe it. It is more so, than just thy mind, but that works. I had to use this chance to meet something like you," The woman stares in silence.
Superman paused slightly at the sight of something twisting and churning like water within the socket of her eyes as he speaks, "Kryptonians are rare, Stranger, but I need to get back to Metropolis. They need me."
At those words, her eyes turn sorrowful as she whispers, "Let us Dance."
Superman raises an eyebrow as he ponders that, "Why?"
"Because Death cannot stand when life dances before him," Superman takes a moment to digest those words before a soft smile comes across his face.
"Indeed. He doesn't," The Stranger laughs softly as Superman moves forward and takes her hand. The pair slowly dancing through the air.
"I take it I died and you're Death," Superman says rather acceptingly.
"No, I am not Cessation. Nor his Brothers Entropy, Murder, or Life,"
"Will they be okay?"
"Always the selfless one, Hero. They will. Besides, even Death could not claim you now. For you are Vindication of why I love mankind. Perhaps, on that world where Fate has taken you away temporarily, you will die for the first time, but your name will never be forgotten," The sky begins to change.
The sight of his son full-grown and flying through the skies to meet horrors headfirst, others inspired by the Red S upon their chest standing at his side.
"For you see, Superman, for Mankind had long created you in their minds. In their very subconscious, for they knew you've always existed. For you are the Good Man himself. Something which has existed as long as man drawn breath," The pair dance, and Superman stares in pride at the sight above him.
Clearly proud of his son and humanity who stood amongst a clean and pristine city, "I suppose you're right. I do regret that there are so many who won't ever realize how beautiful their world and mankind is. But, that's the nature of humanity. Sometimes they take for granted the good and only see the bad."
"Kindred souls are we in such thoughts. They try. Do not worry of death, Good Man. For every mind you have touched has imagined and created a thousand worlds on the undying concept in men's heart which you represent. Which in turn, each world they have created in such memories or thoughts has imagined another countless scope of worlds. For you are the good man, the freedom, and desire for right."
"Death wishes it can claim you but it cannot in any way that matters. You will not die, but you will die," The way she said it makes Superman burst out laughing as the world around them begins to slowly rot away.
The strong walls overhead crumbled and revealed vast swirling rainbows of blues and reds which were intercepted by a thousand different black vines which curled around each source of light. The vines and song of countless voices radiating from each thread.
Superman stares, his eyes picking apart the sights with awe as something begins to stand on the edge of his vision. A faint shadow, radiating jealousy and greed, hissing at the pair as they danced.
"Do not pay that child any mind," The Stranger whispers as their lovely dance goes on. Time itself shifting and spasming, causing the lights to swirl in new patterns and dizzying colors.
Yet despite it all, it has no grasp upon Superman. The man unchanged by the beauty and horrors of the sight before him or the passing time. Refusing to crumble as the Stranger whispers, "You're taking this well."
"There comes a season for all things. Especially those in my line of work. I just hope Lois knows I'm sorry," The Stranger pats his back gently as the shadow grows closer.
The Stranger turns her gaze towards it, her eyes narrow. Silently staring at it and turning Superman's back towards it before the man of steel just sighs, "I suppose I've escaped death too many times. He must be impatient."
"Do not worry for the child. He is young and impatient. A greedy, cruel thing allied with the concepts of- What," The Eldritch horror pauses splitting from Superman and turning her gaze to the side.
A faint look of surprise coming across her features as another voice fills the crumbling room, "Ready to come join us?"
Superman turns and smiles as he sees another pair of Supermen standing there. One whose costume was quite simple, and reminiscent of the 70s and another with grayed roots.
The Stranger begins laughing as the shadow zooms towards them. Screaming in rage to gain attention from them as Superman asks the two older ones, "Where are we going?"
"Wherever a good man or woman's needed," The oldest one says with a soft grin as the newest one comes and joins them.
"Sounds good," He says as the world of white fully vanishes. Now gone, to a single rock as Superman turns around and gives the stranger a smile amidst the colors of creation.
"Thanks for the talk," He says turning around as a door appears before him. Both Supermen vanishing through that door.
"You know, it is quite lovely to see the fruits of Mankind blossom into such things. Now go, for you are a child of freedom. Something not meant to play into the rules of stagnant things," The shadow hisses and screams at the Stranger as the final Superman leaves.
The room vanishes leaving just the Stranger and the Shadow. The Shadow pulsating and pushing out. Various lights being smothered and the blue/red canvas tainted with a foul gray and black cancer.
The Stranger just sighs and whispers, "So desperate to be seen as wise and all-encompassing. Why must you be so intent on the end of everything, and jealous at the start of something new?"
The Shadow does not speak, its malice bleeding off it as it slowly sulks away. The eyeless thing staring at it, as overhead the Thrones and vibes begin to wrap around the cancer and squeeze at it.
The Cancer, helpless as the thrones constricted it. Preventing it from snuffing out yet another light as the door fades away leaving just the Stranger, once the Shadow vanished.
Sanguinius sees the madness in his fallen brother's eye amidst the chaos. His brother appeared more akin to a bloated corpse than the Prodigal Son he had once known and loved. Horus's presence was on par with their Father's.
To both Horus and Sanguinius, the world was almost a slideshow, each frame capturing the mace drawing closer as Sanguinius stared at the faint sadness within his mad brother's eye. His wings, soaked with his own blood, were broken, and the laughter of mad gods came from the living shadow that Horus cast.
The mace slammed into him, drawing his blood one last time. His body, no longer able to contain his essence, was feasted upon by mad parasites. His soul was attacked and frayed. The pain was beyond any he had ever suffered.
The world, no longer defined by physical limitations, cast him adrift within the warp, weakened and broken from his brother's sins and the constant wars he had endured.
Yet, he endured, resolute in the belief that his brothers would fight on in his place. His sentience slipped away as his very essence was subsumed by the Parasite. His father's horror became a distant thing as the sun began to rise in the distance.
Unable to reach him as the Parasites tore at him, everything stopped. No longer consuming him as a soft grasp curled around him and dragged him down.
He finally opened his eyes to find himself lying in a broken white room, the sky a canvas of impossible shapes and colors that slowly began to shrink. His aches and pains were gone as the room descended further, the colors turning from a vibrant canvas to a simple, stale bluish-gray that faded away as the room descended before finally stopping.
Sanguinius slowly stood, ready for whatever trick the Parasites were pulling, as he observed his form. He was adorned in pristine white robes, clean of any gore. His form was untouched by wounds.
The white room's walls were crumbling, the pieces of rubble slowly floating upwards as he stared at the swirling galaxy. A voice soon whispered, "Such a wonderful sight, is it not? Not an iota of hope in sight, yet they still manage to create their own."
Sanguinius frowned, agreeing softly, "Because there's hope, even in dark days like today. The hearts of men strive for progress. Even if we stumble and face strife, there is always a march forward. No matter how slow it is. Now, who are you?"
The galaxy overhead kept shrinking as small tendrils began to surround it, revealing a large mouth of some sort slowly becoming visible. Sanguinius stared for a few seconds, waiting for the woman's answer as he took in the strange sight above them.
"I am a Stranger and a witness," the shadows surrounding the room descended, slowly gathering and taking the form of a pale woman adorned in a black dress. Sanguinius felt a strange sense of unease as the woman reached upwards and plucked the galaxy from the sky overhead.
She slowly lowered her hand, bringing it closer for them to gaze upon, "Even in the thousands of years to come, humanity stands, for better or worse. Your sacrifice has ensured there is hope for a better day. No matter how grim their days may be for now."
"Where are we?" Sanguinius remained wary as he watched the eldritch woman slowly turn to the galaxy above them. Even as the image shifted to a sea of greens, reds, blues, pinks, and golds.
For a split moment, a deep anger appeared upon the woman's face as she stared at the sky overhead glaring at the various colors overhead, "Only in Death does Duty End. Your Duty has ended, and this is the sight I am rewarding you with before Death comes. It is the least I can do for one such as you."
"What trick awaits me?"
"None. For the fledgling conceptuals you call Chaos are powerful, they are young and but words upon the wind. Now come, dear Angel, and dance with me so Death may wait while we watch." There was none of the revulsion he felt when near Chaos, nor did he feel the power inherent to his being.
Sanguinius felt alone and carefully looked over the woman. The Lady softly sighed, "You may die without seeing. Either way, please take my hand."
Sanguinius sighed, giving a soft smile as the canvas around them crumbled into the abyss below. Slowly reaching out and taking the woman's hand, the pair of them began to do an elegant dance. The Woman, surprised at the strength and elegance of the Primarch, asked, "Now, I am curious, what is it you wish to show me?"
"I sense your unease, but listen, son of man," they both went silent, slowly looking up, listening to the thousands of voices coming from above. Sanguinius just smiled at the words.
Neither of them spoke. The words were kept between just these two dancing figures. Yet, nonetheless, Sanguinius relaxed ever so slightly and smiled as he asked, "Truly?"
"Aye, even if your Father is human in the thinnest extents of the word. His only love is for Mankind as a whole," the Woman's eyes dripped with tears as she listened to the whispers that slowly faded away.
The human voices that slowly dwindled down to a single, barely faint child begging, "Save us."
"That is the lone voice he listens to in his quest to protect man. No other. No matter how many it dooms."
Sanguinius stoically bore it with a hint of sadness upon his features as he asked, "I doubt my Father has ever understood what it is to be human, even with his origins. Some days, I doubt I ever will. I have long seen them venerate me as an Angel of my Father's will and seen the necessity of their faith."
"Yet I have never seen you comfortable with it, dear Angel. A sign of what a wonderful man you have become in the face of such horrors. You have long battled your demons and found peace within your life."
Both paused as a faint light began to appear on the edge of their visions. Beyond the room, in the distance, tendrils so massive they dwarfed the galaxy overhead, as if it was a grain of sand before an ocean of withering flesh. A sea of tendrils streching beyond even the Primarch's vision twisted and churned, protectively surrounding the White Room.
In the distance, a faint white light appeared, casting its light upon the shifting sea of tendrils, which swirled, protecting something far deeper from being witnessed by the Primarch. "Is that-"
"No. That is not Death; that is his older brother,"
Sanguinius raised an eyebrow and chuckled slightly for a few seconds. "Many of my brothers would be quite distraught to learn of all this."
"Yet you are not them. You are simply you. Now then, it seems Life has heard my pleas for one as wonderful as you. A shard of you shall remain upon that galaxy, for better or worse. Be well, beautiful one."
"Hmm. As brief as this was, it was a delight, Stranger. I will take some small comfort in you watching," Sanguinius muttered as something was plucked from his chest by the light and slowly lifted back up towards the galaxy.
Sanguinius's body slowly turned to stone in her grasp. The room vanished into nothing but dust as the woman clutched him tighter and began to cry. All alone amidst this nothingness, but beneath them, she whispered to Life, "Protect him, will you?"
There was no response as the light slowly began to fade. In the galaxy overhead, the Sanguinor manifested itself—a small fragment of the Angel himself.
Alone amidst the vast nothingness, the woman's plea to Life echoed unacknowledged, her tears a silent testament to the gravity of her request. The space around them, once filled with the swirling colors and the protective tendrils, now settled into a quiet calm, as if the universe itself held its breath in reverence of the moment.
The light, having taken a part of Sanguinius, left a serene stillness in its wake. The galaxy, once a vibrant canvas of chaos and life, now seemed to watch solemnly over the scene. The Primarch, transformed into stone, his legacy etched into the cosmos itself.
The woman, now alone with the stone figure of Sanguinius, whispered her final farewells, her voice carrying a mixture of sorrow and hope. "May your valor and spirit guide us, even in the darkest of times. Your essence remains with us, eternally woven into the fabric of humanity's destiny."
As the room and the stone figure faded into the nothingness, the last remnants of the woman's presence dissolved, leaving but the statue.
In the Galaxy, overhead- Stars continued to burn bright, planets orbited in their ceaseless dance, and life, in its myriad forms, persisted in its eternal struggle and triumph. In the vast expanse of the cosmos, the story of Sanguinius and his sacrifice became a beacon of hope and resilience, inspiring countless souls across the Imperium.
All to the great love and amusement of the Stranger who stood behind the Veil. Whose form danced with Life, across worlds and whose hate withered the cancer of Death and its omnipresent nature in so many worlds where Humanity dwelled.
To both Horus and Sanguinius, the world was almost a slideshow, each frame capturing the mace drawing closer as Sanguinius stared at the faint sadness within his mad brother's eye. His wings, soaked with his own blood, were broken, and the laughter of mad gods came from the living shadow that Horus cast.
The mace slammed into him, drawing his blood one last time. His body, no longer able to contain his essence, was feasted upon by mad parasites. His soul was attacked and frayed. The pain was beyond any he had ever suffered.
The world, no longer defined by physical limitations, cast him adrift within the warp, weakened and broken from his brother's sins and the constant wars he had endured.
Yet, he endured, resolute in the belief that his brothers would fight on in his place. His sentience slipped away as his very essence was subsumed by the Parasite. His father's horror became a distant thing as the sun began to rise in the distance.
Unable to reach him as the Parasites tore at him, everything stopped. No longer consuming him as a soft grasp curled around him and dragged him down.
He finally opened his eyes to find himself lying in a broken white room, the sky a canvas of impossible shapes and colors that slowly began to shrink. His aches and pains were gone as the room descended further, the colors turning from a vibrant canvas to a simple, stale bluish-gray that faded away as the room descended before finally stopping.
Sanguinius slowly stood, ready for whatever trick the Parasites were pulling, as he observed his form. He was adorned in pristine white robes, clean of any gore. His form was untouched by wounds.
The white room's walls were crumbling, the pieces of rubble slowly floating upwards as he stared at the swirling galaxy. A voice soon whispered, "Such a wonderful sight, is it not? Not an iota of hope in sight, yet they still manage to create their own."
Sanguinius frowned, agreeing softly, "Because there's hope, even in dark days like today. The hearts of men strive for progress. Even if we stumble and face strife, there is always a march forward. No matter how slow it is. Now, who are you?"
The galaxy overhead kept shrinking as small tendrils began to surround it, revealing a large mouth of some sort slowly becoming visible. Sanguinius stared for a few seconds, waiting for the woman's answer as he took in the strange sight above them.
"I am a Stranger and a witness," the shadows surrounding the room descended, slowly gathering and taking the form of a pale woman adorned in a black dress. Sanguinius felt a strange sense of unease as the woman reached upwards and plucked the galaxy from the sky overhead.
She slowly lowered her hand, bringing it closer for them to gaze upon, "Even in the thousands of years to come, humanity stands, for better or worse. Your sacrifice has ensured there is hope for a better day. No matter how grim their days may be for now."
"Where are we?" Sanguinius remained wary as he watched the eldritch woman slowly turn to the galaxy above them. Even as the image shifted to a sea of greens, reds, blues, pinks, and golds.
For a split moment, a deep anger appeared upon the woman's face as she stared at the sky overhead glaring at the various colors overhead, "Only in Death does Duty End. Your Duty has ended, and this is the sight I am rewarding you with before Death comes. It is the least I can do for one such as you."
"What trick awaits me?"
"None. For the fledgling conceptuals you call Chaos are powerful, they are young and but words upon the wind. Now come, dear Angel, and dance with me so Death may wait while we watch." There was none of the revulsion he felt when near Chaos, nor did he feel the power inherent to his being.
Sanguinius felt alone and carefully looked over the woman. The Lady softly sighed, "You may die without seeing. Either way, please take my hand."
Sanguinius sighed, giving a soft smile as the canvas around them crumbled into the abyss below. Slowly reaching out and taking the woman's hand, the pair of them began to do an elegant dance. The Woman, surprised at the strength and elegance of the Primarch, asked, "Now, I am curious, what is it you wish to show me?"
"I sense your unease, but listen, son of man," they both went silent, slowly looking up, listening to the thousands of voices coming from above. Sanguinius just smiled at the words.
Neither of them spoke. The words were kept between just these two dancing figures. Yet, nonetheless, Sanguinius relaxed ever so slightly and smiled as he asked, "Truly?"
"Aye, even if your Father is human in the thinnest extents of the word. His only love is for Mankind as a whole," the Woman's eyes dripped with tears as she listened to the whispers that slowly faded away.
The human voices that slowly dwindled down to a single, barely faint child begging, "Save us."
"That is the lone voice he listens to in his quest to protect man. No other. No matter how many it dooms."
Sanguinius stoically bore it with a hint of sadness upon his features as he asked, "I doubt my Father has ever understood what it is to be human, even with his origins. Some days, I doubt I ever will. I have long seen them venerate me as an Angel of my Father's will and seen the necessity of their faith."
"Yet I have never seen you comfortable with it, dear Angel. A sign of what a wonderful man you have become in the face of such horrors. You have long battled your demons and found peace within your life."
Both paused as a faint light began to appear on the edge of their visions. Beyond the room, in the distance, tendrils so massive they dwarfed the galaxy overhead, as if it was a grain of sand before an ocean of withering flesh. A sea of tendrils streching beyond even the Primarch's vision twisted and churned, protectively surrounding the White Room.
In the distance, a faint white light appeared, casting its light upon the shifting sea of tendrils, which swirled, protecting something far deeper from being witnessed by the Primarch. "Is that-"
"No. That is not Death; that is his older brother,"
Sanguinius raised an eyebrow and chuckled slightly for a few seconds. "Many of my brothers would be quite distraught to learn of all this."
"Yet you are not them. You are simply you. Now then, it seems Life has heard my pleas for one as wonderful as you. A shard of you shall remain upon that galaxy, for better or worse. Be well, beautiful one."
"Hmm. As brief as this was, it was a delight, Stranger. I will take some small comfort in you watching," Sanguinius muttered as something was plucked from his chest by the light and slowly lifted back up towards the galaxy.
Sanguinius's body slowly turned to stone in her grasp. The room vanished into nothing but dust as the woman clutched him tighter and began to cry. All alone amidst this nothingness, but beneath them, she whispered to Life, "Protect him, will you?"
There was no response as the light slowly began to fade. In the galaxy overhead, the Sanguinor manifested itself—a small fragment of the Angel himself.
Alone amidst the vast nothingness, the woman's plea to Life echoed unacknowledged, her tears a silent testament to the gravity of her request. The space around them, once filled with the swirling colors and the protective tendrils, now settled into a quiet calm, as if the universe itself held its breath in reverence of the moment.
The light, having taken a part of Sanguinius, left a serene stillness in its wake. The galaxy, once a vibrant canvas of chaos and life, now seemed to watch solemnly over the scene. The Primarch, transformed into stone, his legacy etched into the cosmos itself.
The woman, now alone with the stone figure of Sanguinius, whispered her final farewells, her voice carrying a mixture of sorrow and hope. "May your valor and spirit guide us, even in the darkest of times. Your essence remains with us, eternally woven into the fabric of humanity's destiny."
As the room and the stone figure faded into the nothingness, the last remnants of the woman's presence dissolved, leaving but the statue.
In the Galaxy, overhead- Stars continued to burn bright, planets orbited in their ceaseless dance, and life, in its myriad forms, persisted in its eternal struggle and triumph. In the vast expanse of the cosmos, the story of Sanguinius and his sacrifice became a beacon of hope and resilience, inspiring countless souls across the Imperium.
All to the great love and amusement of the Stranger who stood behind the Veil. Whose form danced with Life, across worlds and whose hate withered the cancer of Death and its omnipresent nature in so many worlds where Humanity dwelled.