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 Chapter XVII: 

When I awoke, I saw, dimly, that I was in a landscape that was seemingly barren and deserted. Next to me crouched a colossus that seemed mountainous, a vast and teeming bulk of greenish flesh. The creature gazed at me with its tendrils seeming to form a grim smile, the tremendous bulk not moving in a conventional sense but almost oozing forward. As I began to scramble backwards, the skies suddenly shifted over me. Seeing stars that I hadn't seen in what was in one way almost too short a time and yet felt an eternity, I began to try to invoke the force of a portal when I noticed the oozing bulk of the colossus was looking up to the strange skies, eyes widening. The moment passed and it extended an arm to grasp me, but I then paused and looked up again. 

Hovering in the now-restored skies was a heavily armored figure, half her face enclosed in armor with the eyes and the top of her head exposed. The armor was a dark and strange green, emblazoned with a light-blue and crude yet stylized dragon, one of the heads gnawing at the throat of the other. The figure's cape was the same bright blue hue as the armor. The Azar, my deranged elder sister, the mocking and laughing mad god that howled in guttural and inhuman fashions and was the very framework of the worlds it ruled. 

The being hovered, a small object next to two of the eyes of the monstrous Cthylla,, which had grown still greater. 

Cthylla's mocking voice echoed in what I recognized only in hindsight as recognizable human speech. Realizing this, of course, was not one of my happier moments but there it is: 

So the elder whelp comes to the aid of the younger. You have called yourself a God, the center of all that is or will ever be. My kind mastered existence itself many countless cycles before your universe was but the hint of a glimmer in the minds of the Ultimate Gods beyond the Veil! My kind are the elder race that was. We shall rise when the stars become right, and then yours shall be no more. We are the reasons Earth had the potential to draw such creatures as the eldest of your race to our world, and it is we who shall build these worlds in still greater ways anew. 

The Azar spoke in response: 

So speaks the battlefield relic, the last scion of elder days. Your kind are all dead, dreaming their death in a necropolis within the material framework of this world. Speak not of the glory of those who were once, for they are not now. The Stars for your kind are Wrong, but for us, they are Right! It is not your age now, scion of tens of thousands of lives divided amongst so many pitiful mortal frames in infinite space, but mine! Mine the hands that set the stars in motion, mind the hands that moves the lowliest and the highest. 

You glory in the deeds of a father who left you alone save in the few times when the necropolis is thrown up by the convulsions of the seashore, in a timeframe when the lands had not yet formed and the waters had not yet congealed from a cooling orb of lava and ash. Mine the hand that heals, mine the hand that curses, mine that unleashes the wind and the storm over the wine-dark sea, that unleashes the light of rosy-fingered dawn! 

You are the last sad relic of the Gods who were, I am eldest and fatherless of the Gods yet to be. Mine the hands, mine the will, mine the power! I am the Alpha and the Omega, first and the last, and beside me there is no other! I hung the very stars themselves that move in their courses, I bring to mankind fulfillment of ancient and primordial dreams! Yea, I make their dreams the nightmares that haunt them, that make them scream themselves awake at night! I offer them worlds without war and misery and death, and in fulfillment of their ancient longings receive my due. 

We are the Gods of this Age, for us the Stars are right and shine on us in comfort. So speaks the Azar, the Undying Flame, who gives forth the light and the renewal of the Stars themselves and sets all that is in motion! 


The Azar then unleashed blasts of terrible, hellish light from her eyes that seared into the monster, and it was during that time that I chose to seize the moment and call upon myself not the flayed hide of the archangel but the modified version of the Lightdancer's armor. Modifications made by assertion of willpower, and modifications that proved wise indeed as the searing lances led the monstrous spawn of Cthulhu to unleash an unholy whine before turning six glowing eyes on the Azar. Raising arms that seemed to swell with musculature as other parts of the being contracted, Cthylla's massive gorillaesque arms hurled down as the Azar formed a shielding dome of energy, the monster's arms colliding with the shield with a tremendous flash of light, followed by a colossal shockwave that I withstood mostly by my modified variant of Deborah's armor and anchoring my feet solidly into the ground, hands in front of my face in an attempt to brace the impact. 

The blast was followed by the eerie primordial foghorn with a rumbling undertone, a sound that led to my falling to my knees, clasping my ears to block out its magnitude. As the Azar roared, triumphantly, unleashing the Trombone and flashing the ten rings, bellowing after: 

Ten are the rings of the Azar, and in the Undying Flame shall all that is be consumed! 

Yet beyond the triumphant howl a mountain moved forth, aroused to a great and terrible wrath even as the Azar anchored herself and formed a massive warhammer out of nothing, and a clash of Gods made manifest in flesh and blood began with fear and trembling.....

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