Immortals and Empires

Chapter 20: Interval Point

In the aftermath, they're looking for survivors and find a surprise in the Palace instead.

Dream has fallen; Dream is dying.

Nightmare has a heated exchange with Tahitian.

TRIGGER WARNING:

Suicidal ideation

If you wish to avoid the above, skip the part beneath the last cut.

- - - - -

The rebirth of a multiverse was a curious process. To be reset was to be reversed— and had the multiverse not been the result of a single universe, once upon a time?

Then, upon the reset, the multiverse once more became just a single universe. With time, the world would begin diverting again, and with them universes born anew. The universe would be reborn into a multiverse: the reset would be complete, at last.

But those within the multiverse too had to be reborn, despite their universes not existing yet.

So this world, still just a universe, housed them instead. Those of the previous Alternate Universes became those of this universe.

The world was already beginning to divide into many, the corners becoming fleeting and crackingly unstable.

The multiverse was waiting to be reborn, and it was patient. But so was he.

He was a curious case. Once, he had been but a bitter human. Selfish, perhaps, for he attempted to steal what was not his, but still a human. Perhaps he had loved, perhaps he had cared, perhaps he was once more than hate.

Perhaps before he had been a spirit, he had been a human. Not a good one, but not a bad one necessarily. Just selfish, just human.

Yet he was but a malicious spirit now, one that hated the world so much he'd gladly kill himself to plunge it into agony. Sadistic, malicious, spiteful— why was he so cruel now?

- - - - -

Swap pulled the makeshift sling over his arm gingerly. Beneath it, the cloth he'd wrapped around the shoulder wound as a dressing was thankfully not soaked in blood, so he wouldn't need to replace it yet.

Without thinking, he brushed his ribs with his other arm and winced. Definitely bruised.

The sapphire strings had long gone slack and been dragged off the battleground.

Battleground. How had this place become a battleground? How had it been laced with explosives?

His ribs hurt with every step he took. It was difficult for him to think. It was like his head had been filled with smoke and syrup.

The deal he'd made meant so little.

Three lives exchanged for a brief bout of falsely hopeful peace.

How had so many troops come for them, all at once?

Teleportation magic was a strong possibility, but of so many?

He knew it was wrong, but a part of him hated Dream for leaving them— but it was too late for hate anyway.

"I checked that area already," Someone muttered.

Swap swallowed. "No one?"

Their answer was short and simple. "A few, got them out. None alive."

He nodded. "Got it."

They'd find a survivor a few blocks away. That was good. Good enough?

The smoke in the sky had yet to clear, but the sky was tearing the smallest of holes in it. It was enough light to see with.