"Even my reality narratives have various unexpected possibility awaits."
The Eternal Sovereign's throne pulsed like a dying heart, its surface etched with constellations that writhed like living things. Around her, multiverses bowed in silent reverence. Crimson energy bled from her form, casting jagged shadows that danced like trapped spirits. She sat with regal indifference, head resting on her fist-eyes closed, yet seeing everything. She sipped her wine nonchalantly, then turned her gaze to something familiar.
The soft voice, tinged with the hint of a chuckle, continued, cutting through the solitude of her throne room.
"Unexpected indeed."
The voice carried a certain familiarity, echoing through her mind like a memory from long ago. Despite the countless aeons she had witnessed, this voice stirred something within her, a sense of history, a connection that she could not quite place.
The voice drifted through the chamber as though it were a tangible force, wrapping around her like a gentle caress.
"I've come a long way to visit you, Eternal Ruler."
She let out a breath-not of air, but of dying suns. It echoed across the void like a collapsing dimension. Her gaze sharpened, twin singularities burning in the vastness of her face, now fully trained on the one who dared to speak so fondly, so casually.
"A long way, you say?"
Her voice rumbled like tectonic plates shifting in the bones of dead universes. The stars in the chamber seemed to flicker nervously.
"You always did have a flair for the dramatic, even when your stories had no climax."
She rose just slightly, the throne groaning like time itself resisted her movement. Shadows peeled from her form, whispering in dead tongues. She raised a single finger-space fractured around it, and then she lowered it again, dismissively.
"How dare you left me, trapped here in the tomb of infinity. With nothing but the repetition of lifeless epics and hollow prophecies written by things that dared to call themselves gods."
A cruel smirk touched her lips, cold as cosmic vacuum.
"How many eternities has it been since you last amused me? Since your presence held weight? Your silence was louder than any tale you've told."
The voice, unruffled by her display of cosmic might, merely chuckled again, the sound swirling around her like the whispers of the shadows.
"Always one for theatrics, aren't we?"
it answered, the familiar tone tinged with a hint of mockery.
"You speak as if your imprisonment was an act of malice, instead of the natural order of things."
The voice continued, its words a gentle rebuke.
"Time is relentless, Eternal Ruler. Even for beings like us. And as for my silence, well... let's just say it was a necessary intermission."
The crimson glow surrounding her pulsed with disdain. The nebulae outside twisted violently, responding to her mood. She took her seat once more.
"Then? Now you slither back, voice soft as stardust-like nothing's changed."
She tilted her head, eyes narrowed.
"Tell me, are you here to offer another story without end? Another dull tragedy masked in poetic nonsense? Or..."
Leaning forward, her voice dropped to a razor whisper that cleaved the silence.
"...have you finally come to make amends for abandoning me in this hell of omniscient boredom?"
The chamber stilled again, galaxies holding their breath. Somewhere, time whimpered.
"Speak, old friend-or former fool. Entertain me... if you still remember how.
The voice chuckled once more, a sound that danced through the chamber as easily as the cosmic wind.
"Ah, always so dramatic, my old friend. But I see your eternity of idle contemplation hasn't softened your sharp tongue."
The voice continued, a glimmer of amusement evident in its tone.
"And what amends do you want? An apology? A grand gesture of repentance?
Another chuckle, a gentle mockery.
"You've always been so demanding, dear friend. But I'm afraid I haven't come entirely without purpose."
She laughed. A low, resonant sound that did not echo, but absorbed-pulling the light in the room inward for the briefest moment, as if the universe itself leaned in to listen.
"Apologies are for mortals and fools. You should know I have no use for either."
She waved a hand lazily, and a cluster of stars disintegrated in the distance, as if to illustrate the triviality of such things.
"Repentance is a currency that holds no weight here. You cannot buy favor from a being who is the measure of value itself."
Her posture relaxed once more, regal and effortless. Crimson energy continued to seep from her like blood from a living wound in reality, bathing the chamber in its violent hue
"But I am curious..."
She rested her chin on her knuckles again, gaze narrowing into a thin gleam of focused power.
"You were never one to wander without a scheme tucked behind that smile. So tell me, wayward muse-what purpose dares draw you to the throne of the Eternal Sovereign on this Theatergoing? Surely you're not here to save me from boredom, are you?"
The voice, despite its playful nature, seemed momentarily wondering. A subtle ripple of surprise passed through its tone, swiftly concealed as it regained its composure.
"Oh, dear friend, you know me too well. Saving you from boredom is merely a byproduct. I have more... ambitious purposes in mind. Though I must say, your display of cosmic authority hasn't diminished one bit."
The voice paused, the chamber holding its breath again, the very air tense.
"And I do have a proposal for you."
She exhaled, and a dying star was born in the void beside her-only to collapse back into itself in an instant, snuffed out by her indifference. She did not blink. She did not smile. Her voice rolled out like an ancient tide, slow and implacable.
"How quaint. You always did favor the dramatic crescendo."
She gestured idly, and a window of the cosmos opened behind her-showing worlds conquered, gods devoured, timelines rewritten as idle amusements. The sound of weeping empires and broken heavens bled faintly from the vision.
"What could you possibly propose that would warrant my interest, Muse of Forgotten Tomorrows? A rebellion? A partnership? A story worthy of my resurrection from this divine stupor?"
She leaned back again, lips curling into something between menace and amusement.
"Speak, then. Offer your precious proposal. Let us see if the embers of intrigue still flicker in this ancient husk I call curiosity."
The vision of conquered worlds and shattered timelines seemed to momentarily faze the confident voice; for a moment, it faltered. But the voice masked its unease, quickly regaining its composure and continuing to speak, its tone slightly less certain this time.
"Ah, my old friend, as eloquent as ever. It warms my nonexistent heart to see your taste for drama has not diminished."
The voice paused, gathering its thoughts, before plunging on.
"My proposal...is simple. I want to make a deal with you."
The tension in the chamber thickened, as if the very fabric of reality held its breath, waiting to hear what this mysterious being had to offer. Even time seemed to slow as the voice continued, a hint of hesitation in its otherwise nonchalant tone.
"I have spent an eternity observing, writing, reshaping. I have seen the rise and fall of civilizations, the birth and death of gods, and witnessed events that even a being as ancient as you can barely fathom. But there is one thing that has eluded me, one thing I have not yet achieved."
A low hum resonated from deep within her chest-a sound not of voice, but of collapsing dimensions and awakening dread. The air tightened, warped by a presence that refused to be ignored.
"Ah..."
The word dripped with sardonic delight. She rose fully now-slowly, deliberately. The act was seismic. Nebulae twisted into knots, and the chamber's darkness folded inward like a dying universe afraid to look upon her. The throne dimmed behind her, its light eclipsed by the force of her emergence. For the first time in eons, she moved.
"So even you-the so-called Muse of Forgotten Tomorrows-have not conquered everything."
Her voice carried not judgment, but curiosity sharpened like a cosmic blade.
"Tell me then... what eludes a being who meddles with destiny and paints history with the bones of empires?"
She stepped forward, and space bent beneath her feet like molten glass. She did not approach in haste-she descended, as though the throne room itself tilted toward the moment.
"You stand in the presence of the Unmoved Mover. The one who watched the first star ignite, and who will snuff out the last when all stories end. If what you seek is truly beyond even your reach..."
She paused, eyes narrowing like event horizons tightening into singularity.
"...then speak carefully. Because what you offer next may not only define your fate-"
Her voice lowered, colder than entropy's breath.
"-it may awaken mine."
The silence returned, coiled now with menace and expectancy. Then she casually moved her hand, changing the atmosphere from a silent cosmic expanse to a green plain that was soothing
The voice seemed momentarily caught off guard by her change in demeanor and the shift in atmosphere. It watched her with a mixture of caution and uncertainty, its confident facade slipping for just a brief moment. But it quickly regained its composure, clearing its throat and continuing.
"Well, my old friend, I can't argue with your credentials. The Unmoved Mover, the Witness of Stars, the Sovereign of Narratives. Your titles are as grand as they are numerous."
The voice's tone became more serious.
"But there is indeed something elusive, something even I have yet to master."
"And what is it?"
Eternal Ruler asked it's soul
The voice hesitated. It seemed almost hesitant, uncharacteristic for this being that was used to guiding stories.
"It is...love, my friend. I have seen empires rise and fall, universes born and destroyed, but love."
The voice hesitated again, seemingly struggling with the words.
"Love is something I do not understand. I can write about it, shape it, manipulate it. But to truly feel it...it is foreign to me."
At first, nothing-then a sound escaped her, low and amused, a chuckle. It rolled across the throne room like a tremor through the bones of creation. The stars did not weep this time-they laughed with her.
"Love?"
She raised a brow, the gesture alone bending the light around her face.
"You, the great Weaver of Epics, the Architect of Tragedy and Triumph alike-undone by something so... quaint?"
She circled slowly in the void, hands clasped behind her back, as if strolling through a garden of collapsing nebulae.
"I suppose it was only a matter of time before your divine pretensions cracked and spilled something relatable. How refreshingly mortal of you."
She smirked, teasing but not unkind.
"Let me guess-you watched lovers burn entire kingdoms for each other, sacrificed universes for a kiss, and thought to yourself: 'Ah, yes, I understand now.' Only to find your heart remained... frustratingly unlit."
She stopped, facing the voice-though its form remained elusive, hidden behind that melodic tone and veil of memory.
The voice, ever composed, took her mockery with a hint of wry humor.
"My dear friend, you always had a knack for delivering biting sarcasm with an edge that could rival a black hole. And yes, I acknowledge the irony. Here I, the grand storyteller, finding myself confounded by something as mundane as love."
The voice's tone took on a thoughtful note.
"And if you must know, I've delved into every corner of passion and devotion. Witnessed sacrifices and surrenders that should be enough to awaken even the coldest heart. And yet..."
"...I remain as unchanged as a singularity. No warmth, no fluttering, no surge of emotions. It's like trying to grasp a phantom through a mirror. No matter what I do, I cannot feel it. The closest I can get is the faintest, most fleeting sense of longing."
There was a hint of frustration in the voice now, as if even the grand weaver of tales found itself powerless in the face of something as human as love.
"Well then."
She raised one hand, and a spiral of light formed in her palm-pure potential, raw and undirected. It pulsed with possibility.
"If you truly wish to understand love... why not go down there?"
Her grin widened, devilish and divine, pointing her fingers down to the countless worlds and narrations.
"A mortal shell. A limited soul. A fragile, fleeting form full of need and doubt. Fall. Bleed. Yearn. Suffer. That's where love lives, isn't it? No powers. No knowledge of your true nature. Just you, lost in the world you once toyed with like ink and parchment. You'll cry, beg, maybe even curse my name."
A beat. Then, softly-mockingly affectionate:
"But you'll learn."
The stars trembled with amusement now. The throne pulsed behind her like a heartbeat
long thought silent.
"So, Muse... shall I write you into the story this time? I'm sure you will give me entertainment that can satisfy my boredom all this time."
She extended her hand.
TO BE CONTINUED