ZION || He Who Is Balance || Legendary Try-Out

[_Alex_]

xx
ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴛᴏᴘɪᴄ

ᴢɪᴏɴ
ᴍᴀʟᴇ

[_Alex_]

the first thing that he becomes aware of is the fact he has no body. that he is nothing more than a group of thoughts floating on the wind. one in all traditional senses of the word should not and does not exist; and yet exist he does, because the universe is a strange thing and his will is always done. and so he exists, floating on the wind, reflecting on his existence, wondering when the movement nothing became something was.

he exists like that, without a body or senses or purposes, for what could be lifetimes or could be nothing at all, for time does not yet exist. it is a surprise then, when all of a sudden, a burst of what can only be color dances in front of him and what can only be sound crashes down upon him in a wave. suddenly he can see. suddenly he can hear. suddenly he can observe the world all around him.

it doesn’t take him long to start placing sounds to sights. to distinguish from what sounds are words and what sounds are not. to start to learn.

he learns that the place he seems to exist in is a city. a city that’s home to dozens of buildings: homes and stores and baths and palaces. that although the city is sprawling and huge, the residents are few in number. that most of the buildings have been left abandoned as their occupants disappear. where they dissapear to he knows not; although he hears rumors of a war brewing on the horizon. rumors of nearby cities being reduced to nothing more than rubble and blood. but the city’s inhabitants hold no fear for their safety, for their city, and so he holds none themselves. who is he to disagree with the faith they hold for their ruler, for their city’s namesake.

it is a surprise then, when red suddenly spread across the sky like blood and a roar louder than that of a thousand dragons shook the air. he watched, helpless, as everyone in the city froze, muscles locked in fear. and then the first scream pierced the air, heavy with fear and pain. then all hell broke loose.

warriors dressed in blood red and violent purple tumbled over the city’s walls. they were relentless in their destruction; tearing down buildings with unnatural strength, slicing down children with swords, ripping open elders throats with claws and teeth alike. their destruction was an unending wave, for every invader killed, five more would take their place. this was not an act of war, a battle fought fair and true, no, this was a massacre.

then, just as suddenly as they had appeared, the warriors ceased their violence. as if they were one in both body and mind, they turned their eyes skyward, as if searching for something that was missing among the blood red sky. as if trapped in the same trance as the warriors, he too looked towards the sky, searching for something that did not belong.

and that’s when he saw it. a long bodied god who danced on the wind and forced it under his command. even from such a great distance, he could see the blood that dripped from the god’s teeth and claws. there was no doubt in his mind that this was the leader of the warriors. that this was the god whose name was spoken only in hushed whispers.

then, as if he had bent the very fabric of the universe himself, the god was landing on the top of a ruined building, looking over their soldiers. for all that the god was proud and magnificent, they were terrifying, striking a feeling of what could only be fear into his thoughts. and then, as if the god could sense his very presence, the god turned his head and looked directly towards the small point in the city where his thoughts were gathered.

the world went black.

when he regains his sight, his hearing, his thoughts, again, he sees the city around him empty. utterly abandoned in it’s destruction and left by the god and their warriors for the crows to take over. it’s in that moment that he feels sadness for the first time, a mournfulness for the lives that were so brutally lost. it’s an odd feeling. one that leaves his thoughts heavy and slow and unsettled. if only there was a way, he thinks, for the outcome of the fight to be reversed, for all those lives lost to be brought back. but he knows that is not possible. that the universe would not allow such an imbalance to occur (how he knows this is something that he does not think about).

he’s brought out of his thoughts by the sound of rocks tumbling down, down, down, from a considerable height. his first thought is to dismiss it as nothing more than the rubble settling, gravity finally taking its toll on the shattered walls and stones. but then, then it happens again, and again, and again. the sound almost rhythmic in nature and frequency, familiar in a way he knows but can’t place.

it’s not until, across the very edge of his vision, darts a blur of red and brown, comes the realization that the sound of rocks tumbling down had not been the rubble settling, but rather footsteps. relief races across his thoughts, it seems at least one soul made it out of the massacre alive. instinctively, he attempts to shift his thoughts, to shift his presence in the world until he can see the survivor, but he can’t.

for the first time since he gained the ability to see, he’s unable to shift his thought, unable to view the world around him from any direction. fear races across his mind, growing stronger as he realizes that not only is he unable to view the world as he could before, but that he can feel things in a way that was impossible before.

he can feel weight pressing down on him, sharp bricks and even sharper rocks. he can feel the heat of the nearby fire, unpleasant but not harmful. he can feel the faint breeze that’s on the wind dancing over him. he can smell the smoke and blood in the air with such intensity that he can taste it. and that thought, the thought of being able to taste, is what finally allows him to have his great epiphany, his great realization.

somehow, someway, he no longer is just a collection of thoughts on the wind. no, it seems as though the universe has decided to give him a body.

before he can properly dwell on the thought, properly learn how to distinguish one limb from the other, to shift and move and familiarize himself with his new existence, something bounces off of his hide, quick and fast and leaving behind a stinging sensation that he somehow knows can only be pain.

and like all creatures, both sentient and not, he reacts to pain instinctively. before he knows what’s happening, before he’s even created the thought of such movement, some of his limbs are curling out from under him and others are reaching out and more still throwing themselves to the side as his body launches itself out and away from the source of the pain. it’s a weird sensation, moving, one that both feels and does not, he thinks once his body has settled itself on the top of what could only once have been a building, jaw dropped open and teeth bared and tail lashing out behind him and wings raised high and threatening and eyes searching for the source of the pain.

at first he sees nothing, nothing but smouldering ruins and destruction, but then he spots one thing whose pattern does not belong. diagonal stripes and cross hatches across a backdrop of irregular shapes. it doesn’t take long then, for his eyes to process the shape and work it out into what it’s supposed to be: a viscet. one with tangled red curls in their mane and a satchel of leather slung across their shoulder. one whose expression can only be described as a mix of fear and awe.

“you’re real” the striped viscet says, voice smooth and full of a reverence that seems out of place, “we had heard the universe’s whispers of course, but part of me had believed that they could not have been true.”

it takes him a moment to find his voice, to figure out how to project his thoughts out in a way that they can be heard by others. “i don’t… i know nothing of what you speak of.” his voice is halting and rough, teeth catching on his tongue and drawing out syllables that shouldn’t have been extended.

the red one croons, a soothing sound that makes him feel at ease even when he knows it shouldn’t. “of course you don’t. the universe warned us of this and still i spoke too freely. for that i apologize.” they pause in their speech then, looking around at their surroundings before carefully picking their way through the rubble towards him, each paw being placed specifically to avoid injury.

“the universe spoke to you?” his speech is heavy with confusion. in a corner of his thoughts, the part that speaks silently to him, he wants to lash out, knows he should feel anger or fear or something other than just confusion. but he can’t. something about the small viscet in front of makes him feel at ease, now that he’s recovered from the shock of their arrival. but still, one question remains. “who are you?” he manages to ask, “who are you that the universe speaks to you?”

a brief flash of confusion dances across the other’s face before it settles into a look of understanding. “my name is ruth, and i am a prophet of the universe. ” she says soothingly. “i am not blessed enough that the universe speaks to me however. the universe speaks through me, using my voice as his own.”

all at once, a wave of understanding flows over and through him, even though he should, by all rights and knowledge, know nothing of what she speaks. but he does. he understands it with the same certainty that a bird knows it can fly. he knows then that it is the universe speaking to him. calming his fears and providing him with the knowledge he needs to follow ruth.

“i am supposed to follow you.” he states then. and ruth smiles, nodding her head. “for now at least. the universe wishes for me to take you to a place of knowledge and learning that is unlike any other that has or will or does exist.”

he smiles back and shifts atop the pile of rubble that he had made his perch, scanning the ground below carefully. when he’s found what he is looking for, a piece of ground that is both large enough for him and free of danger, he moves, tail stretching out behind him and paws pushing off the rubble and wings unfurling up and out. when he lands on the ground next to ruth, he does so with grace and ease. “you lead and i will follow.”

“of course,” comes her reply, her feet already moving as she begins to pick her way across the rubble once more, traveling, this time, towards the southernmost edge of the city. “i have but one question for you if you do not mind. the universe has told us of many things concerning your arrival, and yet, there is one thing we have not been told. your name.”

for several moments, he’s silent as they walk, his steps stumbling and uneven compared to hers’, and he thinks. searches the depths of his mind for the name that defines him. the name that he never stopped to consider he had. and just as he’s about to answer her, tell her that he has no name, no identity, a wave of knowledge washes over him. and just like that, he knows. “zion.” he says, voice sure. “my name is zion.”

word count
2090 words

[_Alex_]

the journey that ruth leads him on is one that is far longer than anything he could have imagined. when he had first known that she was to lead him to someplace, he thought it would be a short journey. one that would have lasted only a day or two, or maybe three. instead, instead they have been traveling for close to forty days and they still have yet to reach their destination. it’s this massive undertaking of a journey that helps him realize just how large the world he now exists in is. and yet, he knows that if he were to fly, if he were to push off the ground and spread his wings and leave the ground and all its inhabitants far behind, it would only take him a small fraction of the time to traverse the same area.

the strangest part of the journey however, is the extreme lack of interaction with other souls. except for the few animals they deliberately seek out for a meal while hunting, they cross not one other creature. when he asks ruth about it however, she only smiles, a secret hidden in her eye. he knows then, with a sense of certainty that he has learned not to question, that it is the universe hiding them from sight. that, for some reason that will likely never be known to them, the universe wishes to keep him hidden from the world.

or at least, that is what he thinks. it’s not until, while hunting for food, ruth stumbles across a scout dressed in blue armour and comes running back to him that he realizes that he was wrong. that the universe only wanted to keep him hidden from the world. for a moment he’s angered, feeling a wave of betrayal and distrust, but then the trees rustle and ruth’s panicked expression races across his face and he agrees that they have to move and they have to move now. it’s in a haste that they stomp out their fire and gather up the two rabbits that he managed to catch and then they’re moving. rushing out of their camp and into the forest and towards the mountain that looms in the distance.

they start the climb up the mountain that night, only narrowingly missing stepping off the edge of a cliff too many times to count. and that worries him. he knows deep down in his blood that he would be fine if he were to wander off a cliffside, that his wings would catch him in time for him to glide to safety. but ruth, ruth lacks wings or even magic, and he knows that he is not nearly strong enough or fast enough to catch her if she falls. and so, for the first time, he stands his ground and bares his teeth and fights with ruth to get her to stop for the night.

in the morning, when the sun is only just barely illuminating the base of the mountain and the sky is painted gold and pink, they are stirred out of sleep by a slow rhythmic beat. at first, he can’t place why it sounds so familiar, why it stirs up something deep within his blood that’s dying to be let free. and then, as a shadow races across the mountain side, he is able to place the sound. it’s the sound of wings beating against the sky, so so similar to his own but only different, two wings instead of four. and the owner of the wings, the one flying across the sky, is almost terrifying to look at. black and blue and grey with markings that tease at the bones beneath his skin and tall antlers curling up and out of the top of his skull.

he’s immediately taken back to the events of the city’s destruction, to the red and purple god who wore destruction as a cape and death as his crown. and suddenly, suddenly he knows that the one flying away from them, towards a row of blue and black and grey tents, is a god too. one just as powerful as the other and itching for war. just like before, he can see his vision going black on the edges, but this time, this time he feels as if all the strength has left his body. before his vision can go completely black however, before he can tip over into unconsciousness, ruth is at his side, shaking him and pulling him out of his stupor.

“who was that?” he asks, breathless, once he’s able to find his words again. for the first time since they’ve met, for the first time since they, dare he say it, became friends, ruth looks away, biting her tongue and unwilling to answer. “who was that ruth. i need to know.”

finally she sighs, looking away from him and towards the cliff. “i can’t answer that zion.” she acts as though just speaking those words pain her. before he can ask her again, really and truly press her for an answer, she turns away, quickly gathering up her few belongings and stuffing them into her satchel. “tomorrow. tomorrow we’ll arrive at the elders’ cabin and you can ask all your questions then. they have answers for you that i cannot give.”

he growls then, the sound low and threatening and rumbling out from the depths of his chest. “what is it about my question that is so hard to answer? i can see it written across your face that you know the answer. ” his movements are quick and sharp and dangerous and filled with anger as he rises to his feet and snaps his teeth. “so do not lie to me ruth and tell me you do not have answers to my questions when you clearly do.”

she snaps then, turning around and baring her teeth and letting out a hiss of her own, a hiss that would terrify nearly any other living soul. “do not lecture me about truths you know nothing about!” she roars, anger burning bright in her eyes. “not once did i say that i do not know the answers to your questions! i know them, i know nearly all of them. but they are not my truths to tell. do you not think i would tell you if i could? but that is not the way of the universe and no matter my feelings i can do nothing but follow the universe’s plan for us. so we are going to pack up our stuff and we are going to make our way across this mountain and then you will have all your questions answered then.”

for a moment, he chases an apology across his mind, sewing it together word by word. before he can let it fall across his tongue however, his pride rears its head and races hard and fast across his mind. and so, with no regret, he swallows his apology and simply loosens his stance, pulling his wings back close to his body and letting the aggression bleed out of his stance. he’s still angry of course, bitter and frustrated, but he knows this is not a fight he can win. one mortal cannot fight the universe on his will. and so he just hands ruth the last of her supplies from her bag and begins his way down the path, certain she will follow him.

neither of them notice the looming dark storm clouds that appeared suddenly on the horizon until they burst open and attempt to bury them in rain.

(just miles away, the winged god looks up at the sky in confusion. just moments ago, the sky was clear and gorgeous, untainted by clouds. now though giant rolling clouds of thunder and rain hang heavy, lightning dancing in between them. not one of his followers has the ability to manipulate storms of that caliber he knows. with his magic, he attempts to will it away. but it stays, stubborn and unrelenting. and then the worry sets in. if it was not his followers nor himself who started the storm, who was it? what being is out there that is powerful enough to start a storm stronger than a god’s magic?)

word count
1408

[_Alex_]

it’s a surprise, in a way, that when he and ruth finally reach the end of their journey, they are met not with a palace or mansion or another source of grandeur, but rather with a small cabin on the edge of the woods. it’s old he can tell, the logs that make up its structure green with moss and smooth with age. at once, an overwhelming sense of disappointment races through him, this is what he had traveled so far for? an old weathered cabin.

and then ruth is bounding in front of him, racing to the door with an expression that can only be glee on her face. he follows, steps slow and dragging, disappointment still in his blood, and by the time he reaches the porch, the door is swinging open, revealing an older viscet of blue and green and brown, with delicately framed glasses balanced on their face. “nethys!” ruth cries, voice full of glee, and pulls the other into a hug.

“ruth my dear,” nethys crooned, voice sweet with age, “i was beginning to wonder when you would be back.”

“i apologize for that[b]” comes ruth’s reply as she lets the elder go, “[b]but the journey was longer than expected.” she turns her head then, turning to look back at zion. with a small jerk of her head, she calls him forward. he goes, reluctantly, still feeling as if the journey had been for nothing, that the old woman before him couldn’t possibly have all the answers he seeks.

as soon as he steps onto the porch, nethys shifts, turning her head toward him as if she’s just now realizing his presence. he realizes then, that the glasses are not just a fashion choice, that she’s nearly blind. before he can introduce himself, properly like he’s seen others do, she’s smiling at him and leaning up and pulling him into an embrace. “it’s really you,” she says quietly into his ear, “i had seen you coming, and yet, i had dared to doubt the universe.”

she pulls back then, smiling still, “come inside zion, my mate, prometheus, and have nearly all the answers you seek.” for a moment, fear races across his mind. he had never told her his name, and neither had ruth he knows, not once had they had contact with anyone but each other. and then, a wave of knowledge that he’s become familiar washes over him. he’s safe he knows now, comforted by the sudden knowledge that it had been the universe who had given nethys all her knowledge.

when he enters the cabin, ducking his head to avoid hitting it in the low door frame, the first thing he acknowledges is the space before him. it’s massive and unending, a hallway stretching as far as he can see. he stops and stares, eyes wide with disbelief, just for a second, before ruth is grabbing his elbow and dragging him into the third door on the left. inside the door is what can only be described as a library, with hundreds upon thousands of books resting on too many bookcases to count.

with no forewarning, a medium sized viscet steps out from behind a bookcase, his coat a dull green and bright purple galaxy. “ruth! you’ve returned. but nethys my dear, you should have warned me we were going to have guests, i would have started a meal.” he says, voice raspy with age. “i hope you will forgive us zion, i know you must be famished after your long journey.”

it takes zion a second to realize that the other, prometheus his mind supplies, is talking to him, “no, no it’s quite alright.” he says quickly, caught off guard. “you can’t be blamed, we ourselves weren’t even aware of when we’d arrived.” it wasn’t a lie. he himself had been itching to make it before sundown, whereas ruth had been content to wait until after nightfall to arrive.

prometheus merly hums in response, as if he knows something that the other do not, yet is willing to entertain their illusions. “ruth sweetheart, would you be kind enough to start a stew for us? i have all the ingredients laid out already.” zion can feel ruth’s hesitance in the brief silence. prometheus however, seems unbothered. “it’s simply time for us to explain some things to zion and i know not how the universe will react to your presence here.”

“of course.” ruth answers, seemingly appeased with the explanation. “come find me in the kitchen when you’re done.” the air in the room is silent and still as ruth makes her exit, disappearing through the door that seems to have shifted from its original location.

“ruth tells me you have the answers to all of my questions.” zion states, voice rough. “and yet, i haven’t told even her all of the questions that plague my mind.”

nethys nods, as if she understands his dilemma. and for half a moment, in the space between that motion and the time she starts speaking, zion takes her nod as a slight and anger boils up in his veins. “we have a strange relationship with the universe. i can assure you, if there is even a semblance of an answer for your question in the universe, we will find it for you.”

word count:
969

[_Alex_]

this is the story of the universe's prophecy, told and passed down from mother to son since the words were first spoken.

the prophecy speaks first of creation. of a god so large and powerful that not even reality would dare oppose him. this is the god who first creates. who first brings others into existence and gives them life. he can shape the world and it's inhabitants. pulling trees out of rocks and weaving viscets out of water. he can pull entire cities into existence with a wave of his paw and heal with no more than a single thought. it is he who creates this world's population.

and yet for all his power and might, it would be wrong to call him good. he's wise and powerful and kind and caring, but good he is not. for no good can ever truly be good. they hold pride in their veins and greed in their bones. and creation is no different. his grandest city, a massive sprawling palace of gold and diamond, is proof enough of this, named after himself in a fit of narcissim. but it is his people, his creations, who he forces to revere him as all powerful that leads to his greatest enemy.

for there is no better cause for destruction than creation.

he who is destruction is born from the egg shells of creation's wealth. where his predecessor turns sand into cities, he turns cities into ash. it is destruction who first learns how to harness the power of fire. to learn how too much blood spilt leads to death. how everything creation gave birth to is mortal and weak and pitiful.

destruction gathers his power by laying waste to all that creation brought into existence. he flattens cities and slaughters towns and digs ravines deep deep down into the earth. but it would be wrong to say he is evil. for just as no god is truly good, no god can ever be truly evil. he's dark and twisted and manipulative yes, but he can also be kind. he can raise his minions up to heights never seen before and treat them with such delicate care.

for all their similarities however, creation and destruction can only help but see themselves as enemies.

can only help but imagine a world where they rule supreme.

and yet, the war begins only when destruction attacks creation's city. when his minions cloaked in red pour over the walls and leave only death in their wake. not one being is left alive, not one spark of creation's paradise still standing. and so creation has no choice but to retaliate in full. to raise hundreds and thousands of army's out of dust and dirt and blood. soldiers that cannot die.

for eons the war wages on. neither side gaining the upper hand, always falling just a battle shy of victory. thousands upon thousands of souls being created and destroyed in an endless cycle. it's only when, in a last fit of desperation, that creation and destruction themselves meet on the battle field that everything changes.

from the sky comes a third god, one streaked in gold and orange and with eyes that blaze life flames. he is balance. brought into existence by the universe and the one destined to change the tide. he alone holds the power to shift the balance. to decide who will emerge victorious from the unending war: creation or destruction.

word count
575

[_Alex_]

it is, with great reluctance, that he leaves the elder's company after an uncertain amount of time. it feels as though he's only spent a few precious nights sleeping under their roof, but he knows in reality it has been far longer than that. ruth had explained it once, on only his second night there, that time flowed differently in the cabin. that the universe himself had so often chosen to bend reality in that one section of land, if only to keep his prophet and elder's alive.

he hadn't wanted to leave. but he had felt it time to. he knew now that he had a job to do. that the universe had chosen his destiny for him far before he was brought into existence. and he hated it just a little bit. hated that he was had been thrown into a situation that he had no clue how to solve.

with no sense of direction, no clue where the battle is, he decides to simply give in to his instincts. to do what he'd been longing to do since that first afternoon he had spread his wings for the first time, flying on top of a ruined building; he took to the sky. spreading both sets of his wings out wide and breathing deeply and climbing higher and higher up in the sky, until the ground below him was nothing more than a blur of green and brown.

for week after week, he flew; landing only to eat a small meal or rest for a few meager hours. it was on one afternoon, when he was floating through the sky with eyes closed and senses spread wide, that he felt the power. a wave of magic so strong and powerful that he could feel its vibrations in his teeth, even from miles away. without thinking, without opening his eyes, he dropped one wing and changed course, heading straight towards the absolute mess of raw magic.

it wasn't until he felt a sharp burning pain in his second right wing that he opened his eyes, whining out in pain and nearly throwing himself out of the sky. it was only when he managed to twist midair and glance back at his wing and caught sight of the arrow imbedded deep inside his muscle that he realized just what he'd gotten himself into. he had, with no realization, flown straight into a war zone.

below him, thousands of soldiers were scattered across a field, each one dressed in armor of red or blue. even from so far above he could spot the blood dripping off the claws and fangs and fur of nearly every solider. and what made it even worse were the bodies trampled underneath the feet of those who were still fighting. for the first time in his existence, he could fear a dull sense of horror washing over him.

he had thought the massacre of the city had been bad. but if this was the forefront of the war, the war that had been going on for as long as he had existed, it was so much worse than he had thought. he had to put a stop to this, he thought with a sense of growing dread.

but, before he could swoop down and entangle himself in the bloodshed, he felt not one, but two sets of eyes upon him. he spun around, twisting his head back and forth, and it took all he had to stay in the air. for, on either side of the field, stood a god who was watching him with a sense of curiosity and bloodlust on his face.

zion's blood run cold in that moment, the edges of his vision blacking out as the image before him disappeared, replaced with a vision of gold and red and riches. suddenly, he was not flying above a battlefield. instead he was standing in the middle of a long great hall, the air cold and crisp and absolutely humming in power. at one end of the hall, the side to his left, stood a pair of double doors: frosted white glass with a gold scale inlaid in them. at the other end, sat three thrones. each red and gold with a high back and absolutely screaming power. he turned and ran towards them, wings fluttering by his side.

right before he could reach out and touch the one in the center though, everything disappeared.

he was back on the battlefield. but only this time, a strong sense of calmness and clarity had settled over him. the universe had spoken to him. he knew know how this war was going to win.

without looking at the ground below him, he turned around and flew back the way he had come from.

(miles away, the red god looks towards the sky where the winged stranger had disappeared. he had thought, that first time so many eons ago, that the winged stranger was his enemy, creation. but he knew know that was not so. he was intimately familiar with creation now. knew nearly all his spells and tricks (and how he could be so kind and caring and sweet). he had a feeling that the other was a danger though. he could feel the power that rolled off him in waves, raw and untempered like lighting. he only hoped that the double winged stranger wouldn't side with creation.)

word count
902

[_Alex_]

it is several weeks later that he wakes with a start, heart absolutely racing from the aftermath of a wave of magic so strong that not even the plants around him escaped unfazed, their leaves wilting and browning with alarming speed. he knows them, with the sense of absolute certainty that he has begun to attribute to the universe, that today is the day. that just a few mere miles away that two gods are preparing for a battle to the death. he can practically feel the anger and wrath dripping off their teeth and claws like blood will be in mere hours.

there is not a moment to wait.

he moves with a sense of speed that surprises even himself; his claws gauging deep crevices into the rock below him, as he spreads his wings wider than he ever has before and tumbles off the face off a cliff. the air catches him, hard and heavy and absolutely buzzing with electricity. he flies like a maniac, skimming too low against the tree tops and nearly catching one wing on the tip of a mountain. but it is a flight full of risk that pays off, for he bursts through dense clouds of thunder and lighting and wind and rain just in time.

he can see creation on one side, climbing high into the sky, antlers of black bone sharpened to a tip. on the other, destruction circles high in the sky, folding his body like magic as he twists to dive headfirst into battle. and zion himself is just barely fast enough as he launches himself through the air, twisting one wing as he falls in between the two of them, spreading the others wide enough to catch their claws on each wing.

and it hurts, lord it hurts, like fire hot irons ripping him into small pieces. he can see the shock on both creations and destructions face, can see them attempting to reevalutae the situation, but they aren't as fast as he is. he reacts with magic that he didn't truly know he possessed, throwing his thoughts out wide just as lighting splits the sky in two. his magic catches both gods, throwing them down out of the sky and deep into the ground. wings injured and torn, zion can't catch himself, but he can manage to land on his feet, fangs bared and eyes blazing and magic absolutely crackling across his body.

"enough!" he roars, voice deep and backed by a resounding rumble of thunder. "there will be no more war on this plane."

"who are you to command such a thing?" creation roars, flaring his wings and struggling out of the creator he had landed in. zion simply laughs, throwing out his power and pushing against and past creation's own magic. with little thought, he pushes it towards destruction as well, not struggling in the slightest to pin both in place.

"i am zion." he says confidently, voice dripping with power and just the slightest hint of anger. "he who was brought into existence by the universe himself. he who knows secrets whose powers could destroy or build empires. he whose will determines the fate of this reality as we know it...." he pauses then, drawing himself up tall and commanding the storm, his storm, to unleash all it's fury around them in a show of power.

"i am balance. the only one who can stand between creation and destruction to unite the two and survive."

word count
581

[_Alex_]

total word count: 6525
total art count: 4

all writing done by me.
art piece 1 - sketch by bettalong, finished by myself
art piece 2 - bettalong
art piece 3 - bettalong
art piece 4 - bettalong

ruth, nethys, prometheus, jericho (creation),
and joshua (destruction) all belong to myself.