TALES:A COLLECTION

In the beginning there was none but the void, a raw representation of creation and destruction. From this pure chaos, emerged entities of all shapes and forms; gods. Each was different from their kin, some stronger than others. The age of forging had begun, as these entities took to every corner of the void, birthing life. After the great seeding, each kin saw fit to divide and rule. Loah, the very first, took hold a large portion of the light and all things that basked in it. Whiro the second, tasted darkness and settled for nothing less.

Soon after the division was complete, each deity retreated to their respective domains, promising no crossing of worldly borders, each with their own creation, to do as they saw fit.

Eons stretched, civilisations rose and fell under the watchful eyes of their many creators. The cycle of life and death in the cosmos was repetitive, this displeased a number of deities who saw creation as merely a means of sustenance. The division of power changed much, time had also changed things as well. Mankind, the very last of all creation becoming a source of conflict as gods fought for their prayers. Loah, man's creator knows what is to come, it can not be stopped and as he watches all from the clouded heavens, he starts to prepare.

Midst the dark regions of the abyss, Whiro swallows a planet whole as he curses the light, his dark hunger growing ever still. These lost worlds won't satisfy him for much long, he tells himself. He sees the world beyond his, the potential for greater sustenance and the thought of having those souls excites him. "My brethren die, the end of our kin is nigh, great change comes....you see it don't you?" Whiro's voice beacons, piercing through the thick dark as it travels far towards the heavens. Loah listens, his gaze now fixed towards the abyss, towards his brother. Both know what comes next.

Visions of the future come to pass, even gods can not defy fate. Mankind turned away from their gods as the years progressed. The end had come, just as the visions foretold and the gods were unprepared. One by one they fell, uncountable numbers lessened, beings once deemed immortal, the very forgers of our reality were dying.

Whiro watches from the dark, greed-filled eyes fixed toward Earth.

"I feel your strength fading brother. I shall come for you and your creation, soon all shall return to the void and only i will remain." Whiro's voice beacons once again, this time much loud as his laughter shakes the heavens. Loah knows what must be done, the survival of both gods and man depends on it.

It is here, the day his visions foreshadowed. Dark clouds loam over heavens city, Whiro has come and with him an army of fallen gods.

"Brother! Brother! How long has it been since our last meeting? rasped Whiro, a smile formed on his pale face.

"Step no further if you do no wish to anger your kin" said Loah. "we are not enemies"

Behind him, the remaining gods stood, refusing their second eldest passage. Whiro pauses for a moment and laughs, this battle was his to be won.

"What do hope to achieve my brethren? Why refuse fate, why protect these creatures who clearly do not know their place? Look at you lot, you used to be feared, worshipped. It can be so again, turn from this fool and bask in glorious darkness with me."

There was no response, he knew their minds were made and held no regrets for what came next. Whiro turned to his army, giving the order to kill all in sight. Screams from all angles filled the air as both sides rushed each other. The heavens demurred, as showers of blood rained down on Earth and somehow people knew, the gods were at war. The carnage went on for days, each side suffering tremendous losses. At the top of the mountain that reached the stars, the two brothers stood. Loah was just about spent as Whiro held him near, eager to take his brother's life.

"Why do you still fight brother? you knew from the beginning, you knew this was the fate of our kind.....i dare ask you in these dying hours, why did you not prevent this?" asked Whiro, a stream of tears running down his pale ghostly face.

"Ours was a destiny of greatness, the apex of all things sentient, but like all living things.....we too are subject to change. gods too must die brother, it simply can't be altered.

Whiro looks at his brother, confused. He does not understand.

"Then what was the point to all this then.....tell me!" Whiro demands, shifting his blade deep into Loah's flesh.

"We are planters Whiro, bringing life into this dark space and seeing that life become something greater than even ourselves.....that is why gods exist."

Whiro gazes upon his brother for the final time as the life leaves him, he looks upon the battlefield, he looks upon the dead and cries bitterly. He had won, but this victory is bitter sweet. Whiro looks down on his deceased brother's face once more as he crumbles to ash and asks. "Why am i here then? if gods are suppose to die then why am i still here?

The last god Whiro lays next to his brother's ashes and sobs, the darkness eats away the remaining corpses, until all that's left is him. The dark god is alone, he is the last one.