Oa – The Guardians of the Universe
Deep within the heart of the universe, in the shining expanse of Oa, the immortal Guardians of the Universe convened within their grand citadel.
Their forms, small and robed in the colors of eternity, betrayed the immense power they held. They were the oldest known sentient beings, existing since time immemorial, created to bring order to a chaotic cosmos.
They were not individuals in the way mortals understood. They did not feel fear. They did not allow surprise. And yet, in this moment, they all sensed it.
A distortion. A force outside the known laws of reality.
At the center of their chamber, the vast Main Battery pulsed with emerald radiance, a beacon of willpower across the stars. Yet, in this moment, the green light flickered—not from any failure of their technology, but from something else. Something new.
"A shift in the cosmic balance has been detected," intoned Ganthet, his voice echoing in the chamber.
The Guardians turned their luminous eyes toward the central projection of the cosmos. A distortion unlike any other appeared, spiraling through the fabric of space.
"It is not a standard anomaly," Sayd observed. "It is alive. Conscious. A force bound to existence itself."
The Guardians, beings of supreme intellect and restraint, rarely acted upon impulse. But this… this was different.
They had seen the rise and fall of empires, the birth of celestial gods, and the wars of light against darkness. But never had they encountered something that bent the laws of reality without intention.
"This entity is neither natural nor artificial," Ganthet concluded. "It has become."
The room fell silent. The Green Lantern Corps was their first line of defense against cosmic disturbances, yet there were forces beyond the reach of even the strongest Lanterns.
"Summon the Lanterns closest to the source," Ganthet ordered. "The Corps must remain vigilant."
(A/N: Other than Ganthet, I'm not sure if the names I used are real, so don't bother reading them twice.)
…
Apokolips
On the scorched wasteland of Apokolips, beneath a sky of eternal fire, Darkseid sat upon his obsidian throne.
He was not as he once was. His body was still regenerating from the wounds inflicted upon him during his failed invasion of Earth and bore cracks like fractured stone.
His own arrogance had cost him dearly. The forces of the Old Gods, Amazon warriors, mortal defenders, and the meddlesome Lanterns had defied him.
He should have crushed them beneath his heel. Instead, he had been repelled.
And now, something else had stirred the cosmos. Something that should not be.
Darkseid's red eyes pulsed as he gazed into the endless void beyond Apokolips.
He felt it. Not simply a presence, but an intrusion—like a ripple disrupting the surface of still water.
A voice broke the silence.
"My lord," rasped Desaad who was stood at the base of the throne, his withered form bowed in eternal servitude. "The disturbance… it is unlike anything recorded."
Darkseid's gaze did not shift. "It is neither New God nor Old. It is beyond."
For a being as old as time itself, such uncertainty was intolerable.
His fingers clenched the armrests of his throne, and the very foundation of the palace trembled under his grip. A fragment of his broken armor cracked further.
"Shall I dispatch agents to—"
Darkseid raised a hand. "No. Not yet." His tone was absolute.
He closed his eyes, extending his awareness across the vastness of space. He reached, he searched, his will stretching beyond the veil of what should be possible. And there it was. A force bound to the very essence of reality.
His lip curled slightly. Not in amusement, nor anger—this was something rare.
"I have known many forces in this universe," Darkseid intoned. "I have consumed them, bent them, broken them." His crimson gaze burned fiercely. "Yet this one is different."
Desaad hesitated. "A threat, my lord?"
Darkseid finally turned to his servant. "Not yet. But if it chooses to stand in my way…"
A faint smirk formed, cruel and deliberate.
"…it will learn the price of defiance."
…
High Above Time – The Watchers of the Multiverse
Beyond the reach of mortal comprehension, past the boundaries of individual realities, the Monitor Sphere stood—a bastion of absolute observation.
They were not gods. They were not mortals. They were law, given form and will.
Born before the first universe took breath, before even the first divergence of reality, the Monitors were the architects of balance.
They did not interfere unless necessity demanded it. And now, necessity had arrived.
A tremor passed through the Omniversal Grid—a disturbance not of destruction, nor of creation, but of change.
One such Monitor stood before an immense construct of pure information. Infinite screens of reality flickered before him, each a window into a different cosmos, a different possibility.
But now, all of them twitched—as if something had rewritten itself into their very foundation.
His voice carried through the chamber. "A single soul has altered the currents of causality."
From the endless corridors, another Monitor approached. He was younger in his essence—though by mortal understanding, he was still beyond ancient.
"Can it be undone?" the younger Monitor inquired.
The elder did not turn. His gaze remained fixed on the shifting screens, on the subtle warping of cosmic patterns, the way timelines adjusted to accommodate the new constant.
"No." His voice was final. "It is woven now into the very fabric. This being has become a Fixed Point."
At that, the younger Monitor tensed. Fixed Points were rare—events, individuals, or choices that must exist, cannot be undone, cannot be erased without unraveling the structure of the Multiverse itself.
"Then the Multiverse will react."
The elder's fingers traced a path through the golden lattice of reality, feeling the pulse of the disturbance.
He saw those who had already taken notice.
The Guardians, their perfect order now aware of an uncontrolled force.
The Spectre, the embodiment of divine retribution, his attention drawn to something beyond Heaven's decree.
Darkseid, in his ruined throne, sensing an unknown player in a game only he believed he understood.
"It already has."
The younger Monitor's eyes narrowed as the screens flickered, struggling to maintain their stability.
A new force had emerged. A force that was neither tethered to fate nor bound by the traditional flow of time.
"The last time a Fixed Point emerged…" the younger began, voice trailing into silence.
The elder nodded. "The Crisis began."
That word carried weight. Crisis. A term that, in the vast history of the Multiverse, had only been uttered during the gravest of times. When realities collided, when time collapsed upon itself, when existence stood upon the edge of annihilation.
But this? This was not a Crisis. Not yet.
"This being," the elder Monitor continued, "is an anomaly. An impossibility that now exists as certainty."
The younger Monitor stepped closer, examining the screens with wary precision. Through the swirling cosmic data, a singular image emerged—the focal point of this disturbance.
Aiden.
A mortal. A prince of Atlantis. A soul that should have been insignificant in the grand scheme of things. And yet, he had been marked.
The elder Monitor studied the figure before him.
Aiden's essence was now bound, not merely to magic, not merely to destiny—but to something far greater.
The New Force that had enveloped him was adapting, shifting, rewriting his very nature to fit within the cosmic framework.
A being in constant flux. A soul no longer bound by the static laws of reality.
A Fixed Point unlike any before it.
The younger Monitor exhaled, though he did not need breath. "This must be observed carefully. If left unchecked—"
"We do not act," the elder interjected. "Not yet."
The younger frowned. "But if this anomaly upsets the natural order—"
The elder turned then, his golden eyes gleaming with knowledge far beyond the reach of understanding. "If it does… then it will not be we who act first."
He gestured toward the screens once more. Across the Multiverse, entities were already watching. Some with curiosity. Others with suspicion. A few with unmistakable hunger.
The Multiverse was a delicate web of balance and chaos. Forces would move against Aiden. Forces that did not tolerate unpredictability.
"We must prepare," the elder Monitor said. "For whatever comes next."
And in the silent halls of the Monitor Sphere, high above the concept of time, the Watchers of the Multiverse stood witness to a change that would ripple across eternity.
…
Between Heaven and Earth
In the depths of the ethereal plane, where mortal souls trembled before divine wrath, the Spectre opened his eyes. He was vengeance incarnate, the very embodiment of retribution, carrying out the will of the Presence itself.
And now, something had changed.
Something had dared to touch the fabric of reality in a way that was not meant to be.
He turned his gaze to the mortal plane and saw the source of the disturbance.
Aiden Atlan.
A being now bound to the currents of the new Force itself.
"Anomaly," the Spectre whispered, his voice echoing through realms unseen.
A figure approached him from the mists—Phantom Stranger, the wanderer who often acted as the mediator between cosmic forces.
"The universe stirs," Phantom Stranger said. "A new force awakens."
The Spectre's burning green eyes met the Stranger's calm, knowing gaze. "Will this force be judged?"
The Phantom Stranger only smiled. "That is yet to be determined."
The Spectre turned back toward the mortal realm. The Presence had not yet spoken, which meant there was still time to decide whether this being would be an agent of creation or destruction.
…
Destiny's Garden – The Endless
The Keeper of Fate
Within a garden untouched by time, where all things were written in an eternal tome, Destiny walked his path. He was the first of the Endless, the eldest brother of cosmic embodiments.
And now, as he turned a page of his great book, he found something new.
Unwritten. Unpredicted.
A force that should not have existed… and yet, here it was.
A shadow moved behind him. "Something new, dear brother?"
He did not turn, but he knew her voice. Death, ever watchful, ever patient.
"The book has changed," Destiny murmured. "Something has written itself into existence."
Death tilted her head. "Does it matter?"
Destiny traced his fingers along the words. "Perhaps."
A pause. Then Death smiled.
"Then I suppose we'll see."
She came here to ask about the interesting mortal capable of eluding her but seeing Destiny in this mood, she could already surmise that his attention had also been caught.
She didn't need to inquire any further. As she said—They would see.
…
The Universe held Its Breath
Across creation, across the vast reaches of space and time, something had shifted. The great powers had noticed. Some would act. Some would wait. But none would ignore it.
For the first time in eons, the grand design had been altered.
And the universe was watching.
***
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