— The Throne of Black Gold —
I sat upon my throne, and the Void was silent.
Billions of worlds flickered before me, each a fragment of some fleeting story — empires rising, lovers breaking, gods dying and being born again. The light of their suns painted my face in colors older than time, though none of it reached my eyes. I had seen all of this before. I had made all of this before.
The throne beneath me hummed with faint warmth, veins of molten gold running through its black surface like liquid constellations. Above it, transparent screens of light floated — thousands, maybe millions — each showing a different universe, a different version of the same meaningless struggle. Mortals fighting, mortals praying, mortals pretending their pain meant something.
I dragged my finger through the air and one of the screens shifted, revealing a world much like the others — Earthlike, small, loud, covered in cities that believed themselves eternal. I almost passed it by. Then something stilled me.
In the dim light of a single home — cracked walls, dust-filled air — a man struck two children across the face. They didn't scream. They didn't cry.
They simply looked up at him, their silence louder than the violence itself.
A girl and a boy. Twins.
The mother stood in the corner, shaking, whispering apologies to ghosts that couldn't hear her. The man cursed her name, cursed the children, cursed the sky.
The world outside kept spinning, indifferent.
But those two…
Their eyes didn't beg.
They watched.
And for the first time in what might have been centuries, I leaned forward.
— Observation —
The screens obeyed my curiosity. I magnified their world, let sound bleed into my void. The man's breath was heavy with alcohol. His belt dripped with their blood. The mother murmured prayers to a god who had long since stopped answering.
The twins stayed close, their backs against the wall.
The boy's hand gripped his sister's wrist like a promise.
The girl's gaze didn't move — her irises like cracked glass reflecting everything and nothing.
I felt it. That strange pulse I'd long forgotten. Not pity. Not anger.
Something closer to interest.
"You do not scream," I whispered into the silence of my realm."How curious."
I expanded the timeline, letting the years play out faster. I watched them grow.
The father's cruelty deepened, the mother's silence hardened.
The boy learned to take the blows for both of them; the girl learned to clean blood from the floor without flinching.
When their mother died, neither of them cried. They only stood side by side, looking at the small, cracked ceiling as if memorizing it.
When they were seventeen, the boy killed their father with a kitchen knife.
The girl hid the body.
Then they ran.
That was when I stopped the screen.
I didn't feel moral satisfaction. There was no justice in it.
Only a rhythm I understood — creation feeding on destruction.
And I wondered…
"If I gave them power to dominate this world, what would they do?""Would they remake it?""Or would they become what they hated?"
The Void around me stirred, golden light threading through the air like veins awakening under skin. The throne pulsed beneath my hands, almost eager.
— The Arrival —
Time in their world froze with a thought.
Raindrops hung in the air like crystal tears. The twins, standing on a bridge in the middle of a storm, looked suddenly alone in a painting of stillness. Lightning arced across the clouds but made no sound. The air shimmered.
And then I stepped through.
The void bent around me — galaxies curling into mist, shadows folding into light. My bare feet touched the wet pavement, though it no longer felt like rain. I was smaller than them in form, perhaps twelve, perhaps ageless. My hair floated slightly, strands of blue, violet, and gold reflecting the storm above us.
The boy turned first, knife still in hand.
The girl followed, quiet and unblinking.
Neither spoke.
"Do you want to never be hurt again?"My voice broke the silence like a ripple across still water.
Aren's jaw tightened. "Who are you?"
I smiled faintly.
"Names are for things that need to be remembered. I do not."
Lyra stared at me, head tilting. "Are we dead?"
"No. But you could be, if you wish it. I find that possibility amusing."
I stepped closer. The storm resumed only around us — faint rain threading through my translucent form.
"You killed him," I said. "You freed yourselves. And yet…"I gestured to the emptiness around them. "You are still small."
Aren's eyes narrowed. "You talk like you're—"
"—A god?" I interrupted softly. "No. I am less. I am what gods fear becoming."
Lyra's expression didn't change. "What do you want from us?"
"Entertainment."I smiled wider. "And an answer to a question."
— The Offer —
I spread my hands and reality peeled open like glass cracking under heat.
Behind me, the Void appeared — an ocean of starlight and shadow, endless and cold. Floating within it were countless shapes: worlds, memories, dreams.
The twins stumbled back, shielding their eyes.
"You may choose," I said. "One wish to share between you. Anything.""Or…"The world darkened further, the air bending around my words."…I can make you something more."
Aren frowned. "What does that mean?"
"You will not be human again.""You will belong to me."
Lyra's lips parted — not in fear, but thought. "And what happens if we say yes?"
"Then I will perform a ritual. I will give you crowns made of my shadow and my light. You will rule this world until it breaks, and I will watch what kind of monsters you become."
The boy looked at his sister. Her gaze met his; no words needed.
She nodded once.
Aren turned back to me. "Do it."
— The Ritual —
The Void listened.
The air around us thickened, colors bleeding out until the world became monochrome. My throne appeared behind me, its black-gold surface pulsing like a living heart.
I reached out my hand and both twins rose into the air, their bodies suspended in threads of darkness and gold.
"This is the Rite of Hollow Crowns."
The words resonated like thunder in a cathedral.
"Your names are Aren and Lyra. I take them now and give them back in my tongue."
Their eyes rolled white. Shadows poured from their mouths, then gold from their veins. The threads of light pierced their chests, wrapping around their hearts like divine machinery winding itself for the first time.
I stepped closer, touching each of their foreheads with a single finger.
Their bodies convulsed — not in pain, but in awakening.
"Rise, children of ruin. Rise, heirs of my boredom."
The storm vanished. The bridge cracked. The earth trembled.
The corpse of their father, still buried beneath their old home miles away, turned to ash.
In the space between breaths, two new gods were born.
Their eyes opened — no longer human. Each iris now carried twin rings of shifting color, like mine. Their veins glowed faintly, black and gold intertwined.
Aren fell to one knee, gripping his chest, his voice trembling.
"What… what are we?"
"My first experiment."
Lyra's gaze flicked to me — no fear left, only quiet wonder.
"What do you want us to do?"
"Rule.""Love or destroy. Build or burn. I don't care.""Just… show me something I have not seen before."
— The Command —
I sat once more on my throne of black gold. The void rippled outward, reflecting a thousand versions of their world, each now connected to mine by invisible threads.
Behind me, two smaller thrones rose from the darkness — identical, smaller mirrors of mine.
The twins stood below, still trembling from the transformation.
"Do not thank me," I said softly. "I didn't save you. I simply made you interesting."
Aren clenched his new glowing hand.
Lyra looked at him, then at me. "And when we're done?"
"When you've shown me something worth remembering," I said, leaning back with a small smile, "I'll decide what happens next."
I waved my hand, and they were gone — cast back into their world, now pulsing with power they couldn't yet comprehend.
For a moment, I was alone again.
The throne hummed beneath me, faint and alive.
I stared into the countless screens — each one flickering with their new reign beginning: cities falling, skies darkening, mortals whispering their names in fear.
And for the first time in eons, I felt something stir beneath my calm — a small, quiet spark.
"So this is what anticipation feels like."
I rested my head on my hand, watching their world ignite.
"Show me, Aren. Show me, Lyra. Show me what the broken make of power."
The throne glowed brighter. The Void hummed.
And somewhere, in a distant world of rain and ruin, two children of pain began to write their own apocalypse.