Visit to the Diviner
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It was a time within the domain of this Lesser Phyluminary that many would describe as turbulent. Beings of universes that are very young in the scale of things and of little reputation were developing at a pace to become more powerful, than beings that are their elders by far. This has led many in the higher planes to take measures to ensure their strength and if possible redouble it.

It was aggravating to him that in order to enter, his arms and his sword had to scrape the stone-like material of the Lesser Terrium, such a weapon is not to be treated with such disregard. Whether the slight was intentional or not, he was at a loss, but the whole construct gave the feeling that it disliked him, giving the illusion that he was trying to cram himself into a space too small for him. Moving into the tunnel earnestly, he is assailed by a sound like a roaring river. Echoes, upon echoes, upon echoes fill the cave-like tunnel berating his senses. Moving past the claustrophobia-inducing tunnel, he entered a larger cave-like chamber with no other entrances or exits. The ceiling held the visage of a huge open sky, with billions of alien stars. The sound here was different from in the tunnel, sounding more like the tide than the white noise of a river. The echoes from the tunnel continued booming, most were still indistinguishable, with the sporadic intelligible word. What made this sound like the tide though, is the pushing and pulling effect it gave. The echoes would bable, then, like a response, there would be an answer from the “sky.” This answer would be similarly indistinguishable as words but carried an undeniable air of authority.

The queer creature that inhabited and maintained the plane turned its eyes on him. The thing appeared to him to omit an orange-tinted light, though it is not light, but something that could be described as an aura. Along with the aura, her “skin” had the same starlight pattern as the alien sky above and with a body structure matching that of the inhabitants of his old world. Unsettlingly though, each of the stars appeared to his other senses to be watching him, like billions of eyes staring at his soul. Of course, it would be appropriate if that was true if she truly is the type of creature he sought. Drawing a breath, or rather what he deemed to be an action similar to drawing a breath, to proclaim a statement to her.

Faster on the uptake, she said, and her voice came from the sky, but not with the same authority the answered the murmurs, “Destroyer, I know your request, I will not read your ethos. I will allow you to find neither power nor comfort from me.”

“Diviner,” and he sensed a modicum of relief from her at his loss of any sense of a true name for her, “If you know who I am, then you must know you cannot resist me.”

“Your threats fall short, I am old. I will not help you, even under pain of death for refusing, even if you can come through on your threat.”

“But do you fear for the weak, the innocent? If you know me, you must know my rampages in times of rage.”

“And with your power redoubled, how much more potent would you be when you, inevitably, fall into one of your rages? You will strike down the innocent either way, if I choose to assist you, I simply make myself an accomplice in your crimes.”

“Then what can I offer you? What treaty can I consign myself to to sate you?” And he realized he had an air and, almost, the attitude of pleading. With her abilities, the Diviner no doubt noted it as well.

“I will offer you no bargains. I will not haggle with you. Begone, you have nothing to gain and, with an eye on your ethos, you have no chance of besting me.” Her bolster had been bolstered by his misshapen plea and she was pressing with her advantage.

With an air of desperation, he said, “If you are so confident in your abilities do this: look at my ethos and gauge for yourself whether or not to tell me my name.”1

Jointly because of her bolster and because of her own curiosity, she looked. She peered past his body, what would be described as a humanoid, with four arms and a face typical of a human, he had no hair and he was entirely colorless. She looked into and through his Lesser Terrium (mind), which, ancient and powerful, was hard to navigate. His mind was filled with conflict after conflict, battle after battle, one could be lost in there for eons with a history of conflict, pain, and devastation to baffle any.

Finally, she arrived at his Ethos. All his battles, conflicts, as well as every other sort of experience he has lived carved into It. The Ethos Itself, being the indescribable and infinite. Around It circled a name, but a better descriptor might be a vocation. The name was transcribed on the surface2 of the Ethos and the etchings of his experience diverted from its path long ago. Most vocations could be described as a feeling or a sentiment, but this one was far more specific, giving a full sensual experience as she places her mind on the path it presented.

She was observing3 inside a mid-sized home and time was passing rapidly, with a timelapse-like experience, the first scene was of a four-armed male being carried into the house by a female, Aakew, both were wearing their wedding clothes. Both were of the same species as the Destroyer, the Khrujaa. A movement began in the home forming a daily routine. At four repetitions of the “day/night cycle,” an ethos could be felt from within the female, at forty-three repetitions a noticeable bump formed on the female's midsection, at 373 repetitions a healthy, baby, female Khrujaa entered the house, soon Aakew was pregnant again and at seven hundred and forty-eight cycles they brought home another daughter. Then at 1,111 cycles, their third and final child and their only son were born prematurely, but lived and came home six cycles after. Time began to move far faster and age was easily seen setting in. Time then slowed to a trickle.

We are at the deathbed of the male, we are at 18,4174 cycles into the vision, his three children, all now full-grown, and his wife stand at his bed. He addresses each of them, too quiet to hear from the Diviner's vantage point. He finishes his words, closes his eyes, crosses his arms and dies, peacefully, with a smile. The whole vision then “fades to black.”

The Diviner's orange glow had intensified, looking at her made it appear almost as if her eyes were more open, or more numerous than they had been before. He stood there for almost 13 days with her in the state, then she blinked. She looked stunned for a moment, then she began laughing. The Destroyer looked at her with confusion for a moment, then indignation when realizing the context, then with anger. She wheezed out in between laughs, ‘Destroyer of Worlds,’ ‘conqueror of immortals,’ ‘fear of titans,’ ‘antonym of gods,’ You are a greater failure than any of those that you smote. Pathetic!”

She chortled, “You wish to know your purpose, ‘slayer of gods?’ You were supposed to bear three insignificant, mortal children, with an insignificant, mortal wife, and die at the average expiration date of your mortal, insignificant race! In all your glory, in all your success, you have only reaped failure!”

His anger boiled, and if anyone were to see him, he would appear towering and terrifying, but the Diviner kept laughing. He bellowed, “You lie! You wish to provoke me to my downfall, to doubt!” Then she spoke his name with authority, and he saw.

He moved and his sword in his hand, and with no input from his Ethos, without thinking, he moved, and he killed her. The Diviner was impaled, pinned to the stone floor, barely alive, but still mocking with merriment in her eyes, she spoke with conviction, “Oh Destroyer, do you know what my name is?” And she spoke with authority, and he understood it as ‘Titan Feller, Defender of the Weak.’

With great exertion, she said, “Even in my last moments, I am completing my vocation more fully than you will ever be able to.” She chuckled, and she died, and her last words joined the babel of the cave’s echoes.

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