Chapter 10: The Sovereign's Call
In the vastness of existence, beyond the realm of mortality and the understanding of even gods, there lies a space untouched by time, ruled by energies that defy all comprehension. This was where the Sovereigns dwelled.
They had once shaped and unshaped entire realms, woven destinies, destroyed worlds, and, with every breath they took, forged the very nature of reality itself. But now, in the quiet between their eternal and unyielding existence, they turned their attention not inward—toward their own infinite wills—but outward. Beyond the boundaries of their dominion, to those who existed on the other side of the veil.
To those who could imagine.
And so, in that moment, Aeon, the Pulse of Timeless Existence, spoke.
"It is time," the voice of Aeon reverberated, not in sound, but in the very fabric of time. Their words didn't echo. They unfolded, wrapping the entire multiverse in an embrace of raw potential. "It is time to open the door to the infinite. Not to us, for we are beyond doors and beyond all limitations. But to you—the ones who dare to craft, to mold, to shape the very essence of existence."
From the farthest reaches of time and space, a pulse of energy—undisturbed by the nature of reality itself—flared. Aeon's presence was not a sensation, but an inevitability. It was a force that drew all thoughts, all existences, into a single point of convergence. Time itself bent to their will.
"We, the Sovereigns, were born of the Unspoken Stillness. We were birthed from that which could not be named or known, but now we stand as titans of existence. Our powers span beyond all things—fiction, reality, thought, belief—and yet, we have observed. We have waited."
Aetherion, the Infinite Wellspring of Becoming, spoke next. Their voice, though softer, was no less immense. It felt like a tide—an eternal flow that seemed to shape the fabric of reality itself as it spilled forth.
"We did not create because we desired worship. We did not create because we had to. We are not creators in the conventional sense. We are simply… beings. We exist, and in our existence, we are the weavers of fate, the catalysts of change. But even within the magnitude of our power, we understand that existence is not solely ours to command. There are other forces, other wills, that shape reality. There are others who create."
Aetherion's words pulsed, and in that moment, the very nature of creation was felt as if it were a living thing. Aetherion, who had once simply been, now declared something impossible: a challenge to those who dared to question the boundaries of reality itself.
"We issue a challenge. Not to each other. Not to those who already know our power. But to you—the ones who read these words. The ones who dare to dream. We challenge you to bring us into your worlds. Bring us into the threads of your fictions, into the lives of your characters. We challenge you to take our names and forge our stories. Shape us into gods of your making, rivals or allies of your choice."
A shiver passed through the cosmos, an electric hum that whispered of infinite possibilities.
"Do not believe that this is an invitation to mere homage," Volkrith, the Unraveling Eternity, interrupted. Their presence was not a voice but a sudden fracturing of reality itself. With each breath, they unraveled the threads of existence, weaving the known and unknown into a single indiscernible tapestry. It felt like the universe itself was unraveling under their gaze.
"We do not ask for tribute or praise. What we seek is not submission. What we desire is something far more profound: the gift of imagination. The unbridled creation of your world, shaped by the hands of those who dare to challenge our reality. To rewrite us. To forge us into something… greater. To see how your minds, your voices, your very hands will shape the powers we embody."
Their voice—though unspoken—felt like a shuddering collapse of every law, every form of order, every restriction known to existence. They spoke not to command but to offer a vision. A vision of power beyond all comprehension.
"We are Volkrith. We unravel. We destroy, and we recreate. But we do not hold dominion over all that you create. Your will shapes your worlds. The creation of the story is yours."
The Sovereigns were not gods who demanded devotion; they were concepts, ideas that transcended all limitations. They did not need followers, nor did they need servants. But, in their boundless existence, they desired one thing: to see how the power they represented could be interpreted and explored by those beyond their comprehension. To see how their creation would ripple out into the infinite multiverses.
In this vast space, Nexos, the Endless Thread of Connection, extended their presence. They spoke not with the thunderous weight of Volkrith or the calm depth of Aetherion, but with the quiet assurance of a binding truth.
"It is not enough to simply create us. You must connect us. We are the strands of all things, the interconnected web that binds realities, that holds them together in the eternal lattice of fate and possibility. Do you understand what it means to weave a tale that connects with the threads of existence? To challenge the very fabric of time and space itself with the stroke of your pen or the sound of your voice?"
Nexos' words were a reminder that creation is not a singular act; it is a process, an interconnected web that binds all things. Every action has a ripple effect, every thought, every choice, and every word spoken. And with that ripple, universes could be shaped.
"Write, then. Write our fates, write our stories, and intertwine our essence into your work. Challenge us, challenge yourself. Show us how your world will change under the weight of our power."
Vanta-Xeth, the Descent into Non-Existence, their voice as cold and empty as the void between stars, now added their own thoughts to the call. Their presence felt like a deep, cavernous void, swallowing all light, all sound, all matter.
"We do not simply exist in your realms. We negate them. We erase them. In the same way that we unravel existence, we make space for new realities. We erase the unnecessary, the superfluous, and in that space, new worlds are born."
Their voice was a warning, but not a threat. It was an invitation to push the boundaries. To erase what was and rebuild it from nothing.
"You must not fear what we can unmake. Do not fear erasure. Embrace it. What will you create from the ruins of existence? How will you rebuild? Will we become your destroyers, or will we be the architects of something grander?"
The presence of Erebus, the Stillness Beyond Thought, then descended, bringing with them an overwhelming stillness. Their voice was softer than a whisper, yet it was the most powerful force of all.
"Creation is not only the act of shaping worlds, of forging stories, of unraveling time. It is also the quiet. The absence. The space between breaths, between the words. In that stillness, much is said."
Erebus' stillness was not a void—it was a presence, an energy that stretched beyond the bounds of understanding. "In that silence, in that void between all things, we ask you to think. To feel. To listen to the power of what you have created. Can you hear the heartbeat of your own imagination? The echo of your will? That is where we live. Not in the stories you tell, but in the moments between the lines."
Solatier, the Boundless Enforcer, shattered the moment of stillness. Their voice roared through the realms like a storm, a burst of energy that seemed to shake the very foundation of existence.
"We are the enforcers of possibility. The chaos, the transmutation, the unpredictable force that shapes worlds and destroys them. What is creation without destruction? What is creation without the freedom to change, to shift, to grow and unmake what is broken?"
Solatier's presence was fire and fury, a chaotic force that demanded movement and growth, and their words now invited readers into that whirlwind of potential.
"Challenge us. Shatter what you know. Write beyond the boundaries of the familiar. Test us, test yourselves. What will you create when the possibility of everything is in your hands?"
And then, at last, the final voice came, the voice that connected all the Sovereigns, that saw through all things, that understood all possibilities.
Coronis, the All-Encompassing Seer, whose perception reached beyond time and space, spoke.
"We are not limited by your definitions. We are not bound by your perceptions. We exist beyond you, yet we are within you. We are the first and last, the beginning and the end. In your hands, we are as limitless as the worlds you imagine. But we ask of you, as we always have: What will you do with the power we give you? How will you shape the multiverse with the strokes of your pen?"
Coronis' words hung in the air like an undeniable truth.