While a Monarch began to teach in one corner of Observable Existence, in The Lands of The Dead, sothing entirely different was unfolding.
The region was expansive beyond asure, stretching across dinsions that normal entities couldn’t perceive.
Order and Death intertwined in perfect harmony here.
Obsidian structures rose alongside white marble monunts, creating a checkerboard pattern that extended infinitely.
The air itself pulsed with the authority of finality and structure combined.
At the very center of this domain, a massive obsidian-white throne could be seen.
Currently, it sat fractured.
Cracks ran through its surface like spiderwebs, and pieces had fallen away to reveal the emptiness beneath.
Sprawled on it while wailing and crying was none other than THE Dead Order.
Well, she really couldn’t be given a capital THE anymore.
Just The Dead Order now.
If anyone were to see her current state of being, they would be filled with a sense of sadness.
There was a truth about existence that few wanted to acknowledge.
Whenever a ti ca that entities who used to be majestic and grand and glorious fell from their high pedestals, the loss of majesty wasn’t always sothing to make fun of or revel in.
More often than not, it was actually a sad affair.
For if such a majestic entity could lose all their majesty and imnsity, what did that an for the rest of existence?
What did that an for those who were weaker, less established, more vulnerable?
In Existence, nothing was guaranteed.
Even if you thought you had the backing of Existence itself, even if you’d made pacts with THE Creature, even if you’d given everything you were to a greater cause...
Nothing was guaranteed.
The Dead Order thought that she had the backing of Existence itself.
So everything should and would flow as it was supposed to.
Her current state was pitiful.
Her hair, once immaculately arranged in perfect white braids adorned with obsidian ornants, now hung disheveled and tangled around her face.
Her robes, which used to shimr with the authority of Death and Order combined, were torn and stained.
Her eyes, which once held the cold certainty of inevitable endings structured perfectly, now seed hollow and cracked at the edges.
She raised her head with ssy hair falling across her face and voiced out with a sense of pain that cut through the silence.
"Ever since I was first collapsed, I was not the sa. Even if we call what we have Primordial Civilizations, the mont that we are collapsed, even if we recover and co back... we’re never the sa. It’s as if we lost sothing critical just by being collapsed. I gave you my weight. I gave you my love. To Existence itself... and yet I was still collapsed."
Her voice beca more strained, more desperate.
"You made promises to . You brought back. You had always kept your promises. But why is it that you did not keep your promises this ti around?! Why did you not collapse Osmont as you said you would?! Why did you allow him to stand before with such tyranny and take everything from ?! I was loyal! I was faithful! I gave EVERYTHING!"
The words beca more chaotic and emotional as she spoke, her body trembling.
She was veering off towards psychological breakdown.
The signs were clear in every aspect of her being.
Her hands shook uncontrollably as they gripped the armrests of her fractured throne.
Her breathing beca rapid and irregular, each inhale a gasping sob.
Tears stread down her face, but they weren’t normal tears.
They were fragnts of her Weavings themselves, pieces of her existence literally crying out.
She looked up towards the expanse of white and obsidian all around her.
And she roared out.
"WHY, O CREATURE?! WHY?! I gave you My Everything. My Everything! So why did you not collapse Osmont?!"
Her eyes and face began cracking as she spoke.
Literal fissures appeared across her skin, glowing with unstable light.
Her Way and Civilization truly having been drawn out and siphoned off far too much.
And in her current Weavings of Existence, it looked like everything was crumbling.
If she did not stop this frenzied state, everything about her may just crumble completely once more.
She would collapse again.
And this ti, there might be no coming back.
"WHY?!" she roared one last ti.
And as the word left her mouth, brilliant multicolored light descended from above.
It wrapped around her disheveled head gently, almost tenderly.
Her eyes dimd as the light touched her, the frenzy fading into sudden calm.
Right after, her body slumped forward.
But before she could fall from the throne entirely, the multicolored light caught her.
Her figure was straightened up as she began to float above her throne.
Logos blood all around her, manifesting in The First Tongue.
They ford into radiant sentences smoothly that created a cocoon around her body.
The cocoon shined brilliantly with restorative power, beginning to nd the cracks in her existence.
And then imnse silence spread out in the surroundings.
The wailing stopped.
The breakdown ceased.
All that remained was the sight of a once-glorious entity being held together by forces beyond her control.
A fall from grace was never sothing grand or sothing to make fun of.
More often than not, it was unfathomably sad to see such wasted potential and possibilities.
What could The Dead Order have beco if she’d chosen a different path?
What heights could she have reached if she hadn’t given everything to THE Creature’s designs?
Now she was just another casualty in the conflicts of supre beings.
Another piece broken on a board she’d never truly understood.
---
Within THE Loom, in a region far removed from The Dead Order’s domain, a sea stretched endlessly.
But this was no ordinary sea.
It was surrounded by imnsely concentrated elents that were filled with different variations of The First Tongue.
Flas that spoke in Fire Phones.
Waters that flowed in liquid sentences.
Air that whispered complex Logos.
Earth that solidified into grammatical structures.
Inside such a place, there was a humanoid figure blazing with multicolored radiance.
The figure couldn’t be clearly observed, as if reality itself refused to fully render his form.
But radiant gold flas burned on his forehead, marking him unmistakably.
This was THE Living Elental.
His expression was currently that of annoyance.
He had an unexpected visitor in his domain that he looked towards right now.
His gaze made it clear that he wanted to be alone and did not want her here.
Yet this being, THE Living Emotive, acted completely oblivious.
She even said with casual irreverence.
"You can fucking look at annoyed all you want, and I will still do whatever the fuck I want, big guy. Just shut up and listen as I ca here to vent. What was I saying? Ah yes, Five Seconds to Midnight. The showdown between THE Living Paradox and THE Creature gets ever closer, and do you know how I feel as it’s coming? I actually feel expectant and euphoric to fully see THE Creature again. I find myself asking, what exactly will he do? Would he co find those like and you and collapse us first, or leave us alone and write us off as too weak for him? Haha!"
Her words were manic and filled with chaotic emotions as she continued.
"You know, many are getting it wrong thinking that sohow, after the eruption of THE Loom, the battle will be decided right then and there. It will actually just be the start. Because as much as this is a battle between Paradox and Existence, it is also a battle between THE Primordial Chaos, THE Secretive Eon, and those other fuckers we don’t even know about yet. So... what about those like you and ?"
As she said this, she floated towards THE Living Elental.
Shockingly, she ca to put the back of her head on his shoulder.
She looked at his eyes from re inches away, her expression unreadable.
"Those like you and I... do we not have a place in all this? Will we account for anything in Existence? Do you... want to account for anything at all? Or will you be this feeble man always in the shadow of THE Creature? The shadow of THE Living Paradox? You’re all grand monunts of Existence, you’re all so... big. And yet you, Elental... seem so tiny. So feeble compared to them. Hell, you have so much backing in the Phones of The First Tongue, and yet... you are down here. Don’t you want to change this?"
The words were heavy and manipulative, designed to cut at insecurities.
THE Living Elental’s response ca calm and imposing.
"I know my size, Emotive. I know exactly how big I am and where I stand in the hierarchy of Existence. Your manipulations won’t work on because I’m not deluded about my position. I chose to remain here in THE Loom. I chose...what I chose rather than playing gas with THE Creature and THE Living Paradox. Do not mistake my choices for weakness."
HUUM!
He paused before continuing with even more imposing authority.
"And you need to get the fuck off of . Now."
THE Living Emotive smiled and moved her head away.
She floated in front of THE Living Elental, her expression shifting to sothing almost predatory.
"I could help you and help myself. For those like you and to not just be nothing. To matter even before The Oldest Paradox of Existence. Do you want to know how? You could have everything THE Living Paradox and THE Creature held. You could even... have . In the deepest parts of your existence, you’ve always wanted to have , didn’t you? I could always sense your emotions..."
Silence descended.
THE Living Elental looked at Emotive calmly.
His multicolored radiance pulsed once before he spoke.
"What the hell have you done? What are you planning now?"
At these words, THE Living Emotive simply smiled devilishly.
Her eyes glinted with sches within sches.
And she said absolutely nothing.
The silence that followed was more terrifying than any answer could have been!
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