The Great Shattering

Trance of the Queen

The familiar looking helix within the abyss spirals relentlessly as the Primordia walks around it at a tender pace. Having gone through the many universes represented by the gold purple colored orbs that make up the seemingly infinite helix. She had searched through innumerable universes, many of which were tedious to search through. For example, one of the universes was just 12 globe like worlds that from her opinion was a gross waste of resources given to them by the world they were within. Nonetheless, they were exterminated without a trace after the devastatingly long search as many immortals and mortals tried to work together to defeat her. There was another universe that had the same general make up as the beings within it thought that they were in a multiverse but in reality were simply in a universe that was shaped as a multiverse. It was in the shape of a silver river that from their perspective would be a sea of sorts with many bubble worlds and a deeper world. The Primordia couldn't tell if one of the 2 worlds were stronger than the other as to her, they were nothing but pebbles to be kicked into a river and be engulfed by the waves. The conclusion was the same as universes prior as they were accidentally obliterated by her while the strongest beings in their verse fought her. It made her question why the hyperversal gods did not tell the lower gods of her existence. Not that it mattered to her in the end. Eventually, she grew tired of searching the universes one by one as it was horribly inefficient; so she decided to directly inject a fragment of a fragment of her power into the universes she touched. If the being she was looking for was within that universe, it would only crack much like what happened with the multiverse the helix is nested in. The Primordia continued to walk around the helix tapping and recreating the universes. Over and over again, the orbs popped against her slender finger and again and again she recreated them with those very same fingers. Her dress swayed as she walked with her every step and set a perfect temp as the clacking sound could be heard despite the absence of sound. The beautiful helix seemed to pale in comparison to the steady walk of the enchanting woman that moved around it. Slowly she continued, as she disregarded the thought of counting the amount of worlds she had destroyed as they were deemed not worthy of her thought. As the Primordial voyage continued like the ever stable metronome; her patients grew thin overtime. If the realm that the Helix had the concept of time, then her trek would be the equivalent of 5 thousand years and even the Primordia is not without temper. Normally her anger is not something that would be so easy to actuate; however, her patients are being grinded down due to her wanting to find the being she was looking for. Her strength warranted her complete indifference to all things but that being had shattered her glass walls. Those glass walls that were seemingly impenetrable were obliterated without a trace by that anomaly and yet, she was still apathetic to all of creation. The glass walls were not from her apathy but from her emotions. The emotions of a being that had everything at her fingertips is not necessary nor is it beneficial to the world. The paradoxical nature of her vehemence kept the world in order. But once the world's order was stable, was the paradox still needed? It was never questioned as only herself knew of the paradox. She cared not for it, nor did she want to care for it. Until that creature came. The beast threatened all things; that threatened her. Again, she cared not. Not for others or herself. Because of those walls, she was alone. Truly alone. But once again her apathy overcame all of that. But, that creature would allow it. That creature, fighting seemingly because he wanted to fight against her mercilessly. Again and again he fought, and yet neither were hurt. Neither felt any pain during the bouts that gave birth to the broken abyss the lake was born out of. But he kept fighting. Over and over again he kept fighting. She was unable to understand why. The first time she couldn't understand something. The first crack appeared. The first crack is always the hardest to make, and yet it is the one with the least meaning. Many may notice the first crack of the glass, but very few care for it outside of the first few moments. Those countless fights turned into conversation as they fought with heightened elegance. No longer were they fighting barbarity, but with meaning in every movement. Over and over again they tempered their technique to the littlest degree. Their flaws were apparent with every tear in space as they had unanimously agreed to keep the destruction at a minimum. They continued to battle, no longer due to their conflicting orders but to communicate in what they agreed was at its purest form. Their battles became streamlined as their power as they modulated it to extremes. Constantly pressing onto each other to perfection. The Primordia began to enjoy the art of battle as the second rift formed. The anomaly also began to change as it would no longer wrangle with her from the moment of their meeting. But simply look at her and fly away. It hurt. It hurt. But there was no wound, and no scar. The pain that she felt confused her to no end. The pain that stemmed from her very soul, her core, and the deepest parts within the glass wall. The pain hit from the inside, and another crack formed. Despite being revered as perfect, perfection isn't achievable; It is merely a title granted by others who are also imperfect. Yet, that in itself is perfect. The perfect within the sea of imperfection is not perfect, but imperfection in a sea of imperfection is perfect. Another paradox was formed when she became imperfect, and yet gained perfection. She gained something that was lost but in the eyes of the world, it did not increase her perfection because the perfect cannot become more perfect. The pain. The insubordinate pain that would not follow the will of the queen continued to grind against the glass walls, chipping it ever so slightly as the first appearance of impatience formed within her. The grind only ever stopped when in the presence of the anomaly, and she would be the one to initialize the battle. The desperate battle to cease the pain within her was long. It was a battle that tore the world to shreds as the anomaly was on the defensive, taking in all of the feeling pent up inside her as the glass walls quivered against it. The anomaly took it all, it took beating after beating as the Primordia grew ever more restless. Worst of all, she was incapable of showing those feelings outside of battle. The war dawn world that was created during that fight gave proof of her impatiens but her face showed none of it. Berating him over and over again, the anomaly went further back as it was not expecting such a frenzy, and yet, he took it all without fighting back; No, he wanted it. The conversations in the past were terribly lacking, but this was pure unadulterated roar of emotions he didn't know he was looking for. As he too did not know of emotions, all he knew was that the being in front of him was important, and that's all he needed. This was the longest fight by far, spreading fear into the outerverse as it shook and shattered against the one sided onslaught. The seemingly infinite power that the Primordia exuded was shown in its majesty as even the smallest of shockwaves would shred even the first sequence gods if not for the anomaly taking the brunt of the damage. Eventually, it had ended and the anomaly looked with shock at the Primordia who was much different then when the battle, no the pandemonium had started. She was neither tired nor weak, easily prescribed by her ever growing aura and stature but one thing was different. Her once aloof violets were now glossed over by the first tears in existence. The tears that engulfed the world, whether literal or not did not matter. Her tears had fallen into the abyss and reshaped it as the single droplet let out boundless energy multiplying itself infinitely as it constantly purified itself and the void around it. The first tears were then no longer tears, but the first lake. The limni Aperion was formed from those tears; immortalizing them with insurmountable purity. The anomaly watched with its crimson void eyes at the tears on the Primordias face not knowing how to respond, how would one respond? It was the first time in existence that tears were shown; in fact, it was most likely created in existence because the Primordia was incapable of showing her emotions and so she created a way to do so instinctually. But despite that, despite being an anomaly he could feel it. His soul was crushed under the weight of those tears and for the first time, he was afraid. Afraid of what? He did not know, nor was he able to know at the time. But tears weren't the only thing that would come into existence at that fight. Another concept would be created, not by the Primordia but by the anomaly. The purely inevitable of all things in creation. Death. The Primordia opened her eyes after the memory that she held so dear. The battles that gave her to be excited about; something to want above all things. That anomaly that shouldn't have existed shattered the walls that kept her trapped in herself but then left without a trace. The glass had shattered when he disappeared, as it would never be reconstructed. The longing for the anomaly is paradoxical. The anomaly that shouldn't have existed, that should have been removed from existence disappeared. That should have been a good thing and it was for most. But, she didn't feel like that.She didn't know how to feel about it. Not anymore. The childlike level of emotional intelligence shackled her again. Despite her omniscience she unconsciously chose not to know it. She wanted to feel it. Immortalize it within the depths of her soul. She craved it. Whatever it was. Now fully awake from her stupor, she continued to march around the helix. Her impatience had now tuned into boredom as she snapped her fingers duplicating herself hundreds of times. The doppelgangers, while similar to the original, were wildly different as they did not have the same aura as the one above all. The Primordia's beauty could not be recreated no matter how hard the world would try not that it mattered to the queen. With a wave of her hand, the copies teleported to the different layers of the helix as some of them went into the search and some did the same as the primordia only to fail. They all searched for a while before the Primordia snapped her fingers again, removing them from existence and gaining their memories. HUndreds of thousands of worlds were brought into her memories. So many of them were devoid of life while at the same time, many of them were full of it. Her impatience grew. Her boredom would soon be replaced by an emotion that she had only ever shown once before. Frustration. Her aura became denser, not enough to be noticed directly but the sheer magnitude of energy within that aura made the world rumble in fear. The copies were not made from the Primordia's own power but created by the world from her command. She is queen, and the queen's command is absolute. But how could the world truly comprehend its creator whe the creator can't comprehend herself? No, she can but chooses not to. The ability to choose is what differentiates the world from the creature. The world works and follows without the ability to choose not to. But at the same time, it obeys from their own sentience. Another paradox. Yet the world moves on. However, the anomaly has come back, Hopefully. Hopefully? Another emotion unknown to the empress. Yet another, that brings both joy and fear. Fear? The primordia is afraid? Of what? Of who? Once again, another feeling had come to her. Desperation had returned, not with full force but with slight temperament. The complexity of the soul for outstriped the complexity of the mind, and yet the mind titles what comes from the soul. It gives what comes from the soul's physical manifestation. Does that not make it more complex? No, as the mind can be measured, while the soul cannot. The infinite plane that is complexity, is nothing more than a well. A well in which only those who are willing to fall can search through. Whether you come out is of your own discipline and whether you gain from the fall depends on your weakness. Then, is simplicity the null of complexity. No, everything in this world is complex, but intelligence is the key that unlocks that complexity. Yet, intelligence is the biggest limiting factor to the comprehension of what is complex. Even knowing all things is not enough to know the complexity of all things. However, at what point does the completion still have value? To what point should something be broken down? Does it help to know the truth of the world? Does it give you a benefit or value? That is not for the Primordia to say as her truth may not be the same as your truth. But her truth is fact. Because she makes it fact, and as such there is nothing to debate nor to dig up. For the fact will not change no matter how complex the fact is. The thoughts of existence continued as she searched. To her, it was indecent rambling of uselessness. She created the world by accident. As such, the complex is also an accident. That is how she saw her creations. Accidents that she cares not for. But, the anomaly is not from her hand, the anomaly was not created much like herself. He was there at the time of conception. Older than time yet younger. An anomaly from beginning to end. A being that could not be comprehended even by omniscience. He was someone that she could not know all of, different from the other creatures that she did not care to know about. Whether they were the gods or the mortals mattered not to her. She did not need or want to know about them. But the anomaly, the lust for something she could not comprehend. She wanted to know him. Her god complex is of the purest as she is above that of god. The species of god, no the concept of god was but an animal to her, pawns to be used for her benefit. Not in an ill thought way nor a narcissistic way. But the way the pieces of a chess board moved, with neither kindness or anger. Just indifference. The gods obliged; knowing full well of their use for the world, and they followed happily as they knew that finding purpose within a world that did not have a purpose is futile. But, what is the purpose of the Primordia? What was her purpose? Nothing. She had no purpose. No, she had one. But she also does not. She is the purpose. The purpose for existence. The purpose even those that do not know her. Complex. Volatile. Confusing. Yet, even that cannot be true. How is she the purpose If creation is an accident? Because despite it being an accident. It was not a mistake. Contradictions persist but they do nothing in reality. Then she stopped as she woke up from her trance and looked towards the shattering orb. For the first time. She was nervous.