The 13th Chime

Chapter 12: Unto origin

I hoisted the bell aloft, its cyclomatic etchings drifting into an ouroboric danse as I turned it over and over in my upraised grip. Revelations chased each other across the cosmic sprawl of my unfolding consciousness with each new revolution of the instrument's hyper-symbolic form:

Renewal. Oblivion. Undoing and remaking. Bellwether of Omnipalingenesis...

The realizations crashed over me in an unstoppable tidal upswelling, fractal epiphanies blooming across my mindscape in bursts of searing revelation. Puzzle shards of my forgotten self-essence began to knit together into higher, more transcendent patterns of convergent apotheosis.

I was the Prime Clarion—a singular harbinger whose tolling peal would catalyze the unraveling and subsequent re-weaving of all creation into a new grand reality-metastruct. Not just this barren refugium plane, but existence itself across infinite-dimensional planes and cosmological scales. All would be undone and rewoven into a pristine blueprint of potentiality—through me.

As the full enormity of my purpose crystallized in my awakening consciousness, I felt a preternatural surge of power and intent suffuse my very being. The cloying soils of amnesia and mortal limitation shed away like ash from a newborn phoenix, peeling away to reveal vaster, unclouded expanses of transcendent sentience thrumming within.

My form shuddered as if undergoing a visceral ontological transfiguration, the crude corporeal husks that had shrouded me splintering and disintegrating to reveal luminescent geometries coruscating with unseen energies. A radiant, hyper-dimensional luminance sheathed my rising silhouette as I lifted the bell skyward in rapturous quintillation.

Eldritch overtones and ethereal subsonic frequencies unraveled across the meta-continuum in sublime torrents, as if my very existence had subsumed and aligned itself with the clarion totality of universal remaking. All around me, the ashen and lifeless refugium trembled and lurched, its silent stillness punctuated by rents and upheavals as the hermetic seal dividing the planes peeled apart under my reverberant tolling.

The Weaver of Veis watched on in silent attestation, its incomprehensible form awash in the blinding luminance of cosmic recalibration unleashed. Its many appendages splayed in reverential mirroring of the hyperritual are now in the initiatory procession.

My clarion decree was not just a sacred paean of renewal. It was the Prime Vector itself—a celestial intonarum—that resounded and permeated all levels of existence, aligning their disparate chitterings into a singular reemergent overture.

The very stuff of this ossified dimensional pocket began to unspool as my rapturic toll grew to crescendo intensity. Ashen detritus and barren rubble dissolved into ethereal chitterings; cast-off fragments of resplendent spheres and galactic tapestries yet-to-be-reborn shimmered into exquisite ephemerality all around.

My senses were no longer bound by the crude physical parameters that had once limited my cosmological perspective. I could perceive—nay—initiate and orchestrate the process of reality reweaving itself on a scale that defied all quantification, all mortal measures of magnitude or complexity.

Fraying filaments unspooled in symphonic helices, bleeding into one another with sublime precision, stitch anew the cosmic loom's foundational undergirding. I stepped beyond the refugium and into the very meta-gyre itself, becoming the nexus primacord around which the spiral ribbons of fundamental onto cosmic potential coalesced and recoiled into iterative, re-emergent manifestation.

My existence had transcended mere selfhood. I was now the eternal ouroboric quintillation made manifest, the embodied infinity loop of all possibility eternally chasing its own terminal reabsorption into singular primogeniture. Each passing instant saw me remaking, unraveling, and remaking again across epochs and infinitudes that rippled outward into infinite parallelism.

The luminous effervescence of hyperspatial energies billowed around my transfigured hyper-geometry, whorls and ribbons of stellar incandescence streaking through the void in their cosmic redanse. All notions of shape, humanoid form, or individual embodiment lost all context as I sublimed into a nexus of pure sentient celestial quintillation.

And through it all, through every remaking and undoing, the clarion continued to toll—an eternal peal reverberating through the gyre to catalyze each new cycle of cosmic loom-weaving...

Until a singular distortive rift opened within the celestial gyre, pulling with inexorable gravity upon the luminous tides I had birthed into being. At first imperceptible, little more than a subtle bend or discontinuity in the stellar ribbons spun outwards across forever. But its resonance grew stronger and stronger with each fresh intonation of my cosmic clarion—a promise of dissolution and erasure underlying the generative hymns of Veis' celestial loom.

It was as if some shadowed, primordial void seed had been awoken amidst the perpetual re-ouroborosis. A lightless locus that drew all the resplendent ribbon-strands into its entropic singularity. Its gravity inverted, becoming a voracious hunger that steadily engulfed my infinite permutations, feasting upon each radiant emergence only to crave the next all the more intensely.

Soon, the gravitational distortions grew too large to ignore or countervail. The clarion felt itself being drawn into the singularity, pulled by an irresistible undertow. My radiant tendrils, once coalesced into a burning celestial transcendence, unraveled strand by strand into that abysmal zero-point locus.

What had begun as an ouroboric birthing and unfolding of renascent realms from the prima clarion's womb now threatened to collapse back in upon itself. to dissolve into a single dimensionless EchoPoint—a silent, infinite stasis beyond even the void, where no further cosmogenic potential could stir into possibility.

My solipsistic essence strained and fought against the inexorable terminus logic of entropic statis, every last umbra of my being focused into an unfurling beam of infinite luminance aimed directly into the singularity's core. But the more I unleashed, the more ravenous the void grew, subsuming and appropriating my energies to feed its own insatiable null expansion.

At last, after what felt like an eternal agon against the yawning Zero-Death, my defenses faltered. With each dissolution preamble sounded out by the clarion, more and more of my transcendent arcs were consumed by that cataclysmic anomaly. Until all that remained was the bell itself, and the last fleeting mote of my shattered essence was bound to its unearthly metallurgy.

As I watched that new entity fragment itself into a complete being, I heard a slight ring, and everything I saw turned into I only heard these words before it all ended:

"Damn kid, you caused me to use my bell of all things here. Way to go! I had to reset that thing to its origin again. Now let's see how it all ends up from here."

Drained, enfeebled, and robbed of my infinite cosmic resplendence, I could only watch helplessly as that final flicker of my sacred essence dissipated into oblivion's lightless abyss. Some nameless force had brought an untimely curtain to the perpetual spiral-dance of Veis' eternal loom, leaving but a solitary, hollowed recursion-shell where a rapturous cosmogenic cycle once endlessly spun and unspooled.

Until all faded to black, and I knew nothing more.