That Which Was

Two hundred years ago, a great hero arose. Anders McTavish, The Savior, started his own personal crusade to end the suffering and war that came to Spectrum. He waged war against The Ender itself. Crusade after Crusade marched across the realms, putting blade and flame to any who bore the Ender’s Mark.

Millions marched beneath his swirling banner, and millions of Soulless perished beneath the Savior’s Hammer.
After a century and a half of a bloody siege, McTavish ended up on the steps of the Onyx Palace. Though his power was great, The Savior was no match for The Ender itself. McTavish was banished to the bowels of The Arc, the wellspring of all life.

For fifty years, The Ender stalked the land, uncontested. After decades of being under attack and being thwarted, The Ender unleashed his vast power upon Spectrum. The world was torn asunder by The Ender’s might. Hopelessness washed over the masses, and the other Gods seemed powerless to stop The Ender’s reign of terror.

Then, one night, when the moon sat heavy and dark in the night sky, a bearded star split the sky. A dream touched all of those that could bring hope back to the world: the children. Hundreds of thousands of children dreamt they could free The Savior and banish The Ender once and for all. Their path was laid clear by a silver furred fox with two tails. The next morning, all of the ever hopeful departed on the Dreamer’s Crusade.

The world itself seemed to help the Dreamers. Weather cooperated, enemy’s movements were thwarted at most turns, and fortune graced the children. Five years and thousands of miles later The Dreamers had reached The Arc. Tens of thousands had died along the way due to a variety of reasons. The world may have supported The Dreamers, but nature had a course to run. Two years into the Crusade, the fortune faltered. Famine, disease and man made obstacles occurred. Countless families lost their children to McTavish’s call.

As the children entered The Arc, The Ender’s minions surrounded them. Creatures of nightmare and shadow ripped into the defenseless masses, staining the Arc in innocent blood and dimming the Light of Creation.

The Crusade crumbled beneath the fangs and claws of the Onyx Horde. Only a fraction made it to the Edge of Onyx. Bloodied, frightened and helpless, the tattered remains of the Crusade wanted nothing more than to go home. A minute portion of the oldest of the Dreamers rallied the huddled masses, jostling them forward into Onyx, for there was nowhere else to go.

The children, against all odds, found themself in the all but abandoned Onyx Keep. A skeleton crew walked the halls. The children and their leaders, dubbed the Lucky Lords, stumbled through the deserted fortress. They freed McTavish and found The Ender, sated and lethargic from the blood and destruction of the Dreamer’s Crusade.

The children fell upon the slumbering God, tearing into him with teeth and nails, slashing with bits of The Arc pried from the Rainbow of Creation itself. The Savior struck The Ender, an exhausted and avenging angel, The Ender was quasi mortal while on his home plane, and found himself bloodied and beaten. The Savior, in a savage rush, created a prison from the Ever, the font of energy from where The Arc sprang. The Ender and The Savior were sucked into a vortex devoid of light and color.

The ending was startlingly anti-climatic. The Lucky Lords returned the remaining children to their homes, strangers to their family and unable to cope. The Dreamers had stared into the Eye of Creation and seen Glory.

On a fundamental level, the Dreamers came home changed. Walking through The Arc, the energies of creation altered the Dreamers, taking one last bit of their imagination and forever imprinting their adventures onto them.
Over time, the Dreamers started to forget their brush with Divinity. Families reconnected. Life started to return to normal. Of the hundreds of thousands of children who marched to the edge of creation, only a fraction survived physically intact. Those who survived the emotional trauma of imprisoning The Ender were blessed with a long and happy life.

The Lucky Lords became just that. Luck favored the brave children that lead the masses into the Onyx, and every endeavor came out in their favor. Adventure and excitement created their path through the world, and legends of the Lords fill the history books.

Six months ago, the dreams started again. Visions of McTavish, bloodied and broken at the foot of The Ender. Waves of pain wash through the vision. The Ender stands triumphant. A blackened blade is poised, ready to strike. McTavish’s voice echoes through the minds of the Dreamers.
“The Ender cannot escape! If the prison breaks, all of Spectrum will suffer! He must be stopped!”

That Which Was

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