Chapter Text
Prologue
The universe ends and begins again.
Holes in time erupt, people whose souls have already left for the great beyond. They are retrieved, but at great cost. Parts of them are missing. Memories, some small parts of personality. And most importantly, fighting spirit.
The universe patches it over. It is adept at doing that.
Changes begin to ripple outwards.
“With both of them sick, we’ll have to travel to Egypt alone. It will be dangerous, but we’ll do what we must to save them-“
A crunch echoes from the nearby room, and two men turn to see someone sitting up, a nest of vines behind them acting as a support.
“If my son is in danger, then I simply must come with you.”
“But Holy-“
“I told you. That’s not my name. And that’s not the only thing I’m set on. Get packing.”
The universe approaches a fateful point as fate bends, nearly breaking under the strain.
“Irene Kujo… the court of Tallahassee finds you… guilty on all charges.”
And…
A woman walks through a corridor, and feels a chill. She turns to look, and sees a man walking by in priestly garb. He turns to look at her.
He is old enough to be her grandfather, with a big white beard to match. Her first thought is of Santa. She snorts slightly, before continuing on her way.
It passes by it with nary but a bump in tracks, so to speak.
Irene smiles as she walks out of Green Dolphin prison, swearing to never return again. Eldis and Annakiss managed to hijack a car, so she was home free.
A few minutes later, a kid by the side of the road caused a small delay. They got back on track soon enough after that.
A rather large bump, it appeared.
But apart from that diversion, things continued on. Continue being the operative word indeed. Because in the absence of certain figures, new ones popped up. It was a repopulation never before seen, individuals not before bound in fate now finding their place in the world.
There was a cost. There always was. But it was no great issue. Some who died in the when-that-wasn’t splintered, causing their essence to leak into the void. From this essence would have sprung nothing, if not for the metaphorical bump causing the world itself to have to be reconstituted. What do you get when a world is broken? Shards, fragments. Mirror images, one might say.
When bumps on the tracks happen, inevitably some things fall off the beaten path, and lie scattered in the wilds. Who knows what will come of them?
But regardless, that’s not important. What is important is that even the universe dying then living again can’t change some things.
A meteor crashes to earth.
A proud race burns.
A boy is born, and his mother taken.
A mask is worn.
A boy is born, and his father taken.
A battle for humanity ensues.
A volcano erupts.
A man survives.
A rock hurtles into space.
And at the end of it all, nearly eighty years since that fateful day, a hand stops writing and falls limp. A great man dies, and a great vault is unlocked. A book is released the world over.
And as the first page is opened, the story begins again.