Sin Tantita Pena

[Randall Verge]

Así, así, así con la misma pena y voy a verte llorar sin tantita pena

It didn't take long to return from the meeting. Even then, I didn't have the energy to feel a particular way about the events. The realms were fluctuating, and the unsteady pulsing of energy throughout the layer would probably have had me nauseous, if I had had a stomach. The prospect of reshaping and reworking the first layer into a secured realm was... I don't know.

This is going to take time.

[Randall Verge]

The state of the realm was typically as he thought it would be. None of the prior Hell kings had done anything to anchor the reality of the 一層目. How was he to guard the integrity of something that was as intangible as his own form? This would change.

There was no order, nor form to the currents of dream magic that riddled through the realm. It was time to work.

"Hear me, 一層目. By oath and honor, I am bound to bring this vast realm to fruition. Hear me, I am Randall Verge, King and son of the 一層目, son of the Shedite, bloodless child of the 人間界. I will this realm to order!" proclaimed the Verge.

As if in response to the proclamation, the plane pulsed, then trembled, as if eager to enact a new dream.

"Let there be fire," he spoke, and the plane erupted.

[Randall Verge]

The ground inhaled. It was disconcerting to say the least. The buildings, and pyramids sagged in toward each other, as if conferring on how to comply. Yet still, the ground started to pull again, inhaling deeper. As the buildings wobbled to regain their balance, the flames went mad, spread, and nothing was left untouched.

You could almost hear the shedites writhing in the fires. They all seemed to take steps toward one another, drawing in heat and sensation they likely hadn't felt in decades, and concentrated it between each other. I, myself, could barely move. The world around me was candent, and every inch of it seemed to reach out, igniting parts of my form that I didn't even know were able to be sensitized.

In the back of my mind, I remembered that I had had a reason for doing this, other than being able to feel my insides full in ways that would have rendered most beings dead and trembling. I had to fortify the realm, solidify it, make it more than an after image. But with my form quivering, and probably having the first orgasm experienced by a shedite outside of a corporal body, I could only think to say, "Oh, fuck."

[Randall Verge]

Have you ever glimpsed creation? Not the simplicity of writing a novel, or painting a masterpiece. Nor the tedium of priceless woodwork. A true origin? The fetters upon which all are bound? The world he had sought to reshape and anchor had burned away in a flare of white. There was no material, or physical.

We come to understand time in it's truest form through our interaction with the physical plane. The disturbed ramblings of old ones who sought to free themselves from their corporeal "prisons" would have these "scholars" believe that time is spherical, or like a basin. That time, unconquerable, would merely resolve itself to being a receptacle for the storage of the meager and mundane. No. When the light died away, and the realm stood revealed, he saw. Time stood before him a torrent, raging, crashing endlessly through the nothing that surrounded him. He knew and he understood. And as if sensing his acceptance, the nothing before his eyes began to spark. Light and energy began to coalesce stealing the sight of his revelation, forcing back the knowledge of time immemorial, and once again, all he knew was fire.

[Randall Verge]

When reforging a piece, it's fairly obvious that one must apply heat, and somewhat, if not completely, melt the original to provide the material for new. The heat was everywhere, and in everything. Immolating the creation of another, melting it down, destruction, that was easy. It is a trait of mortal society to be overly occupied with that destruction, as it is oft as final as death. But an honest artisan, or a true immortal, knows that it's the creation of a piece that defines skill. The honing of those skills through time is what deems a being an artist.

He could move. The flames still raged and the realm bent at every breath, but he could move. Whether he was starting to grow indifferent to the flames, or the realm itself was giving him a break from oblivion, Randall found himself calling out for an end to it all. His very core throbbed as he swayed with the world that wouldn't comply with his cries for mercy. Instead, the realm blasted in return, more fierce, and more infernal, buffeting him away into the sea of conflagration. Curled up, fighting for some semblance of control, Randall gasped out, "Please. Let it rain." Shortly after, Randall awoke to hissing.

He sat on the edge of a room. Everything from the ceiling to the floor was stonework, which seemed impossibly old. However, in a relief above the center of the room sat an orb, both unremarkable, and marred in appearance. It didn't take long for him to understand. His hopes of anchoring the realm to a single object had failed. Dream magic was in essence, the magic of change. To attempt to cull the dynamism of dream magic was to negate the magic itself. Therefore, his anchor was rendered destroyed.

Alas, Randall stood and rose, his form passing easily through the stone walls. Through seven ceilings his form flew until he stood atop a keep. As far as he could see, a steel fortified stone wall stretched. On one side of the wall was a forest as vast as he had ever seen. Evergreens towered over one another, jutting out to seize what sunlight it could. On the other side of the wall he saw a town of sorts. Shedim congregated about small open flames, or upon the floor of the town square, where black tiles pulled in heat from the sun.

Randall turned and fixed his eyes upon the forest. He knew that the Heaven's legions would wait no longer in their conquest. Thus, donning his armor, he spoke aloud, "To those who have plans to end our world and ways of life. I, Randall Verge, King of the ˆê‘w–Ú, welcome you to the bastion, Vigil, the start of your new Hell."