Indeed. A deal, which has been fulfilled, Spirit. I held up my end of it: I provided you with a new host. You in turn freed my wife. A bargain struck. A bargain completed. However…"
Hyperion pulled the Spirit of Vengeance closer, the air itself becoming heavy as the entire Ark began to shudder under the impossible weight of its master's rage.
"… you kidnapped my wife. You endangered MY CHILDREN! No… There is no deal you can broker, no bargain in all of reality you can offer, that can pay for such a transgression. No. For that… I want your suffering."
The glow around Hyperion's arm increased to unbearable levels as the very air around the two figures began to warp and twist, shimmering due to the unnatural heat and pressure. Meanwhile the air was rent by the piercing screech of the Spirit as some of the Light seemed to seep and burrow itself into its form. Despite having the appearance of a flaming demonic skeleton, the Spirit seemed to be… burnt somehow.
All of the chaos and power and pressure continued to increase and build, until it all imploded into a singular point held tightly in Hyperion's fist… and the world went quiet.
"What did you do?" Bucky had ended up asking in an awed voice, his very being suddenly freed from a weight he hadn't even realized had been pressing down on him.
"Wait, the hell are you guys doing here?" the god asked in surprise as he turned to face them.
"You… teleported us here?" Carol answered, receiving a slow blink from the omnipotent (but clearly not omniscient) being.
"Ah, dragged you guys with me, huh? My bad. To answer your question-…"
The world turned into a kaleidoscope of colours as reality took a step to the left and back and suddenly they were standing at the entrance to Olympos once again.
"… -I thought I would return the favour, let the Spirit feel what he has done to countless others. A parasite of sorts, made of pure Light, implanted into the very essence of his being. Then I kicked his ass back to the one place he never wanted to go back to: Hell itself. With that parasite inside of him, all of Hell will always be able to find him, never giving him rest. Of course, in a couple of thousand years he'll have had time enough to work out how to still possess another being despite the parasite and he'll fuse with Blonsky, who will be King of Hell at that point and they'll come back to this world to fight me. Blonsky literally just for the Hell of it and the Spirit to get revenge."
"… when is he-?" Bucky asked, only to be interrupted by the grinning god.
"Between 6000 to 9000 years, give or take. Depends on when Blonsky manages to take the Throne in Hell."
"So then why not stop him from getting there? Destroy him right now?" Carol asked incredulously.
"First! Because I want the Spirit to suffer. I could of course have trapped him in a Time-prison and then tortured him for an Infinite amount of time before collapsing the spatial singularity and destroying him on the spot, but I'll do that after I rip him from future Blonsky's undead corpse. And B, the reason I'll let those two even merge in the first place is cause by then I'll be very bored and it sounds like fun. Hell-Abomination Ghost Rider? Our battle will be LEGENDARY!"
Seeing the immense figure stand tall in front of them, fist raised triumphantly to the small sun he had placed in the sky himself, made both soldiers realize that perhaps some grievances are better left unsaid.
And so when that same god had turned to them and offered them a vacation in the closest thing you could get to paradise in the realm of the living, they looked at each other, shrugged and accepted.
"It's a lot to get used to." Bucky eventually said, roused from his reminiscing as he raised the coconut to his mouth with his restored arm.
Taking a deep sip from the cooled liquid (root-beer? Mixed with… honey? Why?), the aged soldier placed his other arm around the slim shoulders of the blonde at his side.
"Though I'm warming up to the idea of retirement, especially in a place like this. And especially with someone like you." he said with a small smile, which deepened when Carol leaned in for a kiss which almost sent the two of them tumbling into the apple-cider fountain.
Yeah, retirement in paradise. He may not be deserving of it, but he was determined to try and enjoy it to the fullest nonetheless. Hyperion himself had extended the invitation and it would be rude to deny a literal omnipotent being after all.
An immense panther made of flowing back smoke with twin purple suns for eyes looked out at a flowing landscape of luscious steppes and far-off horizons. The Green Veld, the afterlife for the people of Wakanda who had passed her judgement. Not that Bast often had reason to judge them, the Wakandans having been an isolated people for millennia now, who had lived in strict accordance with the beliefs of their ancestors even as a city of the future sprung up around them. Almost every Wakandan, bar some disturbed individuals, passed onto this realm of the peaceful dead where they were reunited with lost kin of centuries past, all under her watchful gaze.
It was only in recent years that she had to directly interact with the souls of people who arrived here, something usually only reserved when a new Golden Tribe member took up the mantle of the Black Panther from his forebear. The catalyst had been, surprisingly, someone not merely outside of the Golden Tribe or even Wakanda itself, but outside of this reality entirely. An intruder, wily, ruthless, and filled with a dark sense of purpose. Yet also in possession of a remarkable will to live, born from a deep fear to die. From what she had gleaned from his unprotected mind, these were qualities that he would need if he were to face what was to come, for her Wakandans' sake.
Michael McCole's failure could mean the decimation of her people. So, she had tested him. Challenged him. And, once he had proven himself worthy, bound her to him. A divine obligation, forcing him to obey whatever order she gave him.
Order. Singular.
The flustered blustering the mortal had done when she had laid out the terms of their "agreement" had merely annoyed her at the time as she shut his protesting down with a dismissive wave of her massive paw. After the One Day War against the Chitauri invaders had been won, it had infuriated her to realize she had been tricked by him instead, using her own arrogance and the exact wording of their deal against her.
One order. No more.
Oh, she had tried to circumvent it of course. She was a god after all. Mortals recognized limits she put in place, not the other way around. A god did not have limits. Did not have restrictions.
Yet by that time the little mortal was not so little anymore, his physical and magical prowess slowly but surely increasing as they begun to match the impossible weight of his outer-dimensional soul. From where he sat safely and secure within his sanctum across the ocean, Bast could not touch him.
The Green Veld shook with the power of her rage that day.
From then on, looking on from behind the veil between the lands of the living and the realm of the dead, she watched him as best she could. Waited. Tracking her pray for that single moment of weakness which she could then exploit. Use it to show him the folly of angering those who stood above and beyond him. There was one day in which she might've been able to sink her claws into his soul, when he set foot within Wakanda's borders once more.
But then, suddenly and without warning, she had another soul to judge. Erik Killmonger had been a somewhat complicated case, enough so even that it had distracted her long enough for Hyperion to move back to his inner sanctum once again.
Killmonger had the blood. He had the claim. And he had the vision, the strength to lead the Wakandan people, forcing them out of their isolation and installing them as the undisputed superpower on the African continent and a major player on the world stage.
But… he hadn't observed the proper rituals. Hadn't offer the proper respect to Wakanda's culture. To its history. To her.
The Golden Leopard?
It was nothing short of blasphemy. In the end, he was still just the son of a traitor and she dealt with him as she would with any traitor: banishment from the safety and bliss of the Green Veld, for eternity.
Surprisingly, it was the uncle of the boy who had pleaded his case with her and who even had dared to raise his voice against her when she had carried out her infallible judgement. Bast didn't think the man would care overly much for the fate of the soul of the man who had sent him to the afterlife in the first place, but T'Chaka had always been a compassionate King.
Perhaps overly so, an attitude that he was now trying to convey to his son T'Challa, who was trying his best to navigate his way through the unfamiliar and volatile situation Wakanda now found itself in and often relied on the wisdom and spirit of his father.
Bast had closely monitored these conversations between the two proper Black Panthers, as it was here, on the divide between life and death, that the course of her people would be forged. For all his failings, Killmonger had undeniably brought her chosen more respect and power than they had ever held by absorbing the nations around them under their benevolent rule. Bast wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of relinquishing all of that land, that prestige again, merely because of T'Challa's guilt over his cousin's methods in gaining them in the first place.
So, she had paid close attention to the advice and wisdom that T'Chaka imparted on his questioning son, so much so she had almost forgotten about Hyperion.
Almost. A god does not forget, after all. Nor do they forgive.
So when an unfamiliar energy signature suddenly bloomed from within the nebulous borders of the near-infinite Green Veld, Bast didn't even need to see the figure in order to realize her old foe/annoyance/shame had returned once again.
With a flex of her power, she swelled to her full-size as she turned around with literal cat-like grace-
"Hello Bast."
Only to halt on the spot, not even the clouds of her form continuing to swirl, her entire body seemingly frozen in time as she stared in shock at her nemesis. This… this was no mere mortal. No extra-dimensional soul trapped within a man's body. The figure staring back at her… it was both unrecognizable and yet unmistakeable.
"Planewalker."
Hyperion, immensely tall and gleaming with an internal brilliant light, grinned at her with a face that seemed almost sculpted from marble and metal.
"You don't seem particularly pleased at my presence." The god mocked and Bast's eyes shone with anger.
"Why are you here? This is the Green Veld, the sanctuary of the souls of my people! You are not welcome here! LEAVE!"
At that final word, she exploded with will and power, metaphysically pushing against the other god's presence in her realm. Her might was great enough the entirety of the Wakandan afterlife shook at the attack.
She merely succeeded in ruffling Hyperion's pristine shirt as he weathered her onslaught, the god's smile widening as he glanced her way.
"Well, to answer your question: I'm looking for some free real estate."
The response was so… inane it halted Bast in her movement as she just stared at the figure standing in front of her.
"You see, even before my apotheosis, there was a cult dedicated to me back on Earth. Nothing major, just a couple of thousand people worldwide and I pretty much just preached Dude-ism to them, so they should be fine. But now… well, I'm not going to become God-Emperor of Earth, or the universe for that matter (at least not yet) but they did make me think. Now that I'm a God, shouldn't I have an afterlife in place for my followers as well?" Hyperion explained as he leisurely began walking towards her.
Bast stared at him with an incredulous expression on her 'face', not in the least because she was pretty sure she just heard him say parentheses out loud. An afterlife of his own? But that's-
"I can create one of course. Or rather, I can repurpose one I already have access to. But I'd rather not put thousands upon thousands of generations of souls in the Soulworld. Might with mess with the flow of reincarnation and the balance between Life and Death, yaknow? So, instead, I came up with the perfect solution!"
By now, Hyperion was within leaping distance of her as he took his hands out of the pockets of his slacks, spreading his arms wide in a generous gesture as his grin widened in a beaming smile.
"I'll take yours instead!"
"NEVER!"
Bast quite literally billowed forwards, the violent light of her eyes bursting into blooming purple suns as the clouds of her body expanded into violent hurricanes, her claws spread wide and each one sharp enough to rend a soul into nothingness. The very fabric of their reality groaned under the weight of her unleashed fury as she descended upon Hyperion like a swarm of locusts upon a field.
The New Titan's smile turned dangerous. A hazy glow, almost in the shape of unreadable geometric shapes and patterns springing into being from and around his flesh, starting from his legs, imperceptible to mortal eyes.
And then Hyperion moved.
His right hand blurred forwards, a fist clad in a crackling purple haze of power cutting straight through the outer layers of Bast's very being, impacting her straight in the centre of the essence of her form. The explosion of power sundered the flowing green hills underneath them and was heard throughout the entirety of the Green Veld. It felt as if all of her just got punched, from every possible (and impossible) angle with more weight than a mountain.
She quite literally exploded, her panther-like form rent apart as she dissipated into an immense shapeless cloud. yet, before she could even be blasted away from Hyperion's megaton punch, his left hand shot out, his Hand of Creation extended in a claw as his curled fingers bit deeply into her 'flesh'. Red lightning burst across her form as she felt through the agony how her previously amorphous form began to shrink and solidify. Her screams rent through the air of the Wakandan afterlife, her mind feverishly burning from the unimaginable pain as her form was being shaped, being manipulated against her will.
"You… unhand me… at… once!" Bast managed to scream out between her cries of agony, but her desperate demand was merely met with a dark, vindictive chuckle.
"What was it you said to me, so very long ago? Ah, yes, I remember now: 'You are in no position to make demands here. I am not one to be bargained with as if I were some common market wench peddling her wares'."
The lightning from his Hand of Creation intensified, stabbing to within the deepest depths of her very being as Hyperion brought the now much smaller god closer to his snarling face, his eyes blazing a molten golden-white.
"'I have decided. And you only have to follow.' Did you think I had forgotten? That I would forgive?"
Billowing smoke made way for black, sleek fur as flesh and blood replaced divine mist. Hyperion was turning her into an actual panther. The realization came to late as a fresh wave of agony, worse and wrong somehow speared her to the very core of her being. Opening her violet eyes, she was shocked to see Hyperion literally biting down on her throat, his teeth sinking through her flesh without resistance. His mouth overflowed with an orange mist and she shuddered in anguish as it spread across her new skin.
She felt… diminished… lesser, somehow… this was not just an attack on her body, this was an attack on her actual godhood… he was draining the very essence from her form, like a vampire would drain blood from its prey.
Her body continued to shrink, her mind kept growing dimmer and dimmer and the well of power, that godly reserve of energy, rapidly began to fade away as her soul was being drained, her divinity stripped from her.
"N-no… not… n-not like this…"
Her final words came out a desperate sigh, and then all that had made Bast the Panther Godess of Wakanda was no more. Instead, in the centre of Hyperion's immense palm, a black cat opened up stunningly purple eyes as she sat up straight, looking around in curiosity and confusion. A massive gleaming white finger came up to pet her softly across her head and the cat brushed against it with a loud purr, unsure of where it was or why it suddenly existed, but not having the capacity to question it beyond deciding that the warm appendage felt very comforting.
"My kids are gonna love you, little one. Though I'm not sure if Jess is a cat person. Eh, she'll get over it."
With those musings, the kitten suddenly disappeared from Hyperion's hand, finding itself abruptly sitting on a luxurious couch in an immense room. In front of it was a large crib holding three babies that immediately began fussing when they laid brightly coloured eyes on the fluffy cat. On the other end of the couch, with her feet up on the table and with dark hair spilling past her face, a pale-skinned woman looked up in surprise at the sudden commotion, locking eyes with the kitten.
"What the-… oh, hell no! No, stop brushing against me! Michael! Michael, I know you did this! Michael! I HAVE ALLERGIES!"
The cat didn't understand why the woman was yelling, all it knew was that it was very satisfying to curl up in her lap and ignored her indignant screams. Which continued for quite some time, as Hyperion couldn't be reached.
Even for an omnipotent being, forging an afterlife for your people is hard work.
Anya was bouncing on her feet as she stood on the porch of her family's house, tugging on her jacket.
"Dad! Come on! Lord Hyperion is going to speak for the first time in close to five centuries and we're going to miss it!"
Her dad, a tall, broad shouldered man with thick scales going across his scalp and with distinct yellow eyes stepped outside as well, an amused smile on his face showing off slightly pointed canines.
Thousands and thousands of years ago, the man's appearance would've been exceptional amongst humans back on Earth, before Lord Hyperion had ascended to godhood during the well-documented, yet very strange B.A. (Before Ascension) era. Now however, millennia later and on one of the many inhabited moons in the Sol System, Jorni's appearance was rather common, especially as they lived on Hyperion (the moon, not the god), a small satellite of Saturn. Saturn's moons were mostly colonized by the significant Korbinite populace within the Human Empire and many of its inhabitants showcased some of their distinct reptilian features.
With a species as well-versed in genetics as the Korbinites and a species as compatible and adaptable as humanity, crossbreeding was not just inevitable, it had become quite substantial over the course of many millennia.
The people back on Earth resembled the ancient humans more closely, though apparently the people back then weren't nearly as good-looking or strong as the humans of today, who in terms of physicality could only be rivalled by races such as the Asgardians and the Kree.
The baseline human, that is. It wasn't uncommon for humans, especially those in the Human Empire's armed forces, to opt for additional enhancements in either strength or durability. Or among those who went into the clergy and received Lord Hyperion's blessings. Then of course there were also those that went to one of the Empire's many magic schools who learned defensive spells and those who were descendant from an earlier mutant or enhanced.
Anya herself was distantly related to one of Hyperion's own grandchildren no less! Sure, the man had lived and died thousands of years ago, but the genes of a god were stubborn and even Anya held that spark of divinity, her eyes a brilliant white, resembling her mother. Her dad didn't have any such impressive relation, but his own grandfather had always insisted they had been related to the famous Hulk clan.
They certainly were stronger than normal, but Anya hadn't had one of their famed transformations once during the many temper tantrums she threw in her childhood.
Jorni chuckled, the door closing automatically behind them as the smart AI of their home blinked them a cheerful goodbye as they got into their car.
"We're not going to miss it Anya. Your mom reserved some spots for us and the rest of the family. Got a pretty good view of the Lord himself." The tall man reassured the teenager as the vehicle took off.
It was a short trip to the nearest Transport Platform. Being so small, there was only one on Hyperion (the moon, not the god), a large circular plate of bejewelled gold and marker, covered in indecipherable geometric patterns. In the centre of the platform stood an immense ring made of bands of more gold and crystals, tall enough three Jorni's standing on each other shoulders or at each other's side could pass through without issue.
While certainly impressive and pretty, Anya wasn't sure just what the innumerable pictograms, lines and equations all meant. Like all Transport Platforms throughout the Empire, these had been planted by Hyperion himself, as he built up the realm of Man with his own two Hands, before their Lord went into a deep, centuries long slumber. Still, it wasn't as if their Lord kept any secrets from them (the few times among the Order of Light that someone had called for more secrecy in the matters of the divine were well documented. The punishment that was meted out for such heresy even more so) and the meaning of these lines was available to the public.
It was just so monstrously complicated, nobody outside of the esteemed Samuel Sterns Academy for SCIENCE! (the exclamation mark was mandatory) actually bothered to try and comprehend them. And all of the Big Heads, as the students and staff of the Academy for SCIENCE! were commonly known as, had had enhancements and blessings specifically targeted towards intelligence.
Anya had seen a Big Head once, when he had visited Hyperion (the moon, not the god) for… some reason or other. From the impression she got from the man, he hadn't quite seemed to know himself. The further a Big Head got in their incomprehensible curriculum, the more scatter-brained and distracted they seemed to become, to the point that most of the populace in the Empire (and outside of it) just sort of… tended to them like one would with a doddering grandparent.
Careful, but firm so that they didn't put their elbow in their soup and a toothbrush up their ear.
Hovering over the large circular platform, a frown settled on Jorni's scaled brow as he glanced at the immaculate park surrounding it.
"Hm. No parking. Figures. Honey, we're jumping it."
"Ok, dad!"
"Wait! What do I always say, watch-"
"watch your landing, got it Dad! I'm not five anymore!"
And with that, the teenager threw open her passenger door, scooted off her chair, and jumped out, rapidly hurtling towards the ground twenty meters below. Despite the distance, she landed softly and easily, sinking through her knees and then springing back. Just as she was thought during P.E., since her coach for some reason despised superhero landings.
"Sure it looks cool, but do you have any idea just how bad that shit is for your legs? Trust me, in two hundred years your knees will thank me!" he always used to say.
Anya just chalked it up to him being an Asgardian.
A heavy thud behind her signified that her dad had landed as well, though the drop was so small his knees barely even bent from the impact. Instead, Jorni turned to face her with a deep frown, and Anya scuffed the spotless gold underneath her feet with the tip of her shoe.
"What? I checked, nobody around, see?" she said in a small voice, causing her father to shake his head as he turned towards the massive ring in the centre of the Transportation Platform, extending a large hand towards her.
Normally she would protest to being held by the hand like that, but now the teenager quickly joined her father's side. Teleportation was entirely safe and a small but decently sized portion of the populace had it as a superpower. Many more were capable of magical teleportation as well, though for many those really only worked across short distances, intercontinental at most. Travelling to Olympos, the seat of Lord Hyperion would require something more powerful and precise.
Of course they could've taken their own starship, or even booked a flight on one of the massive transports that regularly made runs through this system and through the galaxy, but this method was just faster.
And just ever so slightly uncomfortable, which is why Aya stayed close to her dad's side as they moved closer to the Gate. It was already activated and humming, a shimmering white field of energy rippling within the large turning rings. The population of Hyperion (the moon, not the god) wasn't very large and as such there was barely a line as people walked in from the adjacent parking lots or simply jumped from the skies as they had done.
Anya looked on in slight jealousy as she saw Brok and his family fly in, landing close to the Gate and immediately moving through (flying through a Gate was strictly prohibited. Not because it was dangerous but because it tended to scare the crap out of those waiting on the other side). Even though superpowers were relatively common amongst Humanity, in addition to their immense strength, durability and longevity, actual genuine flight was still considered rare. Brok's family held a minor celebrity status on their moonlet since their flight was actually the one that Lord Hyperion had used himself when he was still mortal, the ability taken from his wife, Lady Theia, from which Brok and his family were direct descendants.
Before her mood could sour at the sight of the arrogant boy (he pulled her ponytail in gym class! Even after she punched him through a wall!) the warm grip of her father's hand tightened somewhat and Anya took a deep breath as it was their turn to cross through the Gate.
Their surroundings turned a blinding, infinite white as an electric tingle flowed over her hair and skin as if someone poured out a bucket of lightning over her… and then it was done.
"A breath and a step away!" had been the slogan when Hyperion had begun installing the first Transportation Platforms throughout his Empire, and travelling using one really did live up to the advert.
Blinking her eyes a couple of times, Anya adjusted to the unusual light of Olympos. Automatically, her eyes were drawn to the miniature sun hanging merrily above the actual city on the back end of Lord Hyperion's massive Ark, as it had done for millennia now.
According to legend, Lord Hyperion's firstborn son, Lord Helios had occasionally used it as his ride. Well, according to legend and the pictures that apparently the Lord of Light himself had taken. As the tale went, during an attack of a significant Kree-led splinter fleet on one of the Empire's more remote colonies, Lord Helios had suddenly teleported into the system, literally riding the sun straight towards (and through) the attacking fleet. His father, their God-Emperor had been off to the side, floating above the planet… holding a camcorder in hand as he cheered his son on.
As mighty and luminous and powerful and all that their Lord Hyperion was… he was also very, very strange.
Turning her back on the miniature sun, Anya glanced towards the god in question. On the famed Square of the Dead, where the inhabitants of the Empire could come to approach the massive Torii-gates and speak with those that had been allowed into Lord Hyperion's Afterlife stood a gargantuan throne, dwarfing even the massive gate.
Calling it a throne was almost a misnomer, as mountain seemed a more accurate description of the towering mass of gleaming gold.
Well, there were two of them actually, one placed on each side of the square, meaning that all who approached the Torii-gates had to pass between them first, but the one on the left had not been occupied in millennia now. The foot of the throne almost seemed to be on fire due to the sheer multitude of candles and offerings that were places at its base, tokens of respect from Humanity for their now long departed Lady of Light. The seat of Hyperion's wife, which many now called the Throne of Melancholy.
For several centuries now it had been a custom to light a candle at the foot of the empty throne, a show of condolences for their Lord and an offering to your own loved one who you wished to contact. After having mourned and honoured the dead, you would move towards the Torii-gate, where the Veil hang suspended in between them until at least your feet were covered with the soft mists spilling forth from between the colossal pillars.
There you could freely converse with the deceased you wished to contact, provided that they wanted to speak to you of course, though the dead were very chatty from Anya's experience. For instance, a couple of yeas ago they had come here with the whole family in order to check in on Jorni's recently deceased grandfather, the same one who kept bragging about his supposed Hulk blood ties. The man had kept complaining for almost three hours that none of the deceased members of the Hulk clan seemed to want to talk to him and that his accommodations were too basic and his surroundings too small.
Even though from what Anya understood from her lessons in school, the Afterlife essentially resembled an infinitely large luxury resort with endless rooms which shifted and accommodated to their occupant's every whim and where the people felt no discomfort of any kind and were free to pursue whatever leisure they wished.
Instead of a mystery, as it was in most cultures in the universe, in the Empire of Humanity the Afterlife was a very well documented realm.
They even knew the architectural style of most buildings there, courtesy of Lord Hyperion having shown humanity once when the Realm was first finished as well as the casual conversations many had with deceased loved ones.
Within the Empire of Humanity, death was less of an end and more a very long retirement very far away from which you would eventually never return, your soul having re-entered the unknowable cycle of Balance and Rebirth (one of the very few fields of knowledge that Lord Hyperion had declared taboo to investigate, stating that particular knowledge wasn't meant for god or mortal alike).
After you had you chat with the deceased which you had contacted, you would walk back to the thrones, passing by the one on the right this time, where you would stand ram-rod straight for several moments while you bent your head back to the sky and your arms raised in a gesture of praise.
Some higher-ups in the Church of the Glorious Sun and Not-at-all Pretentious Names (a title ordained by Lord Hyperion himself) had debated whether or not it had been a joke on their Lord's part, considering the god was known for his odd sense of humour (the name of the church devoted for him yet another example). Whatever the case, it had been a custom for so long that Anya hadn't even questioned the mass of people standing at the throne's foundation holding the strange pose in front of their God-Emperor for several seconds before leaving Olympos again.
Lord Hyperion himself didn't acknowledge the praises, though he rarely acknowledged anything these days, sitting in his gargantuan throne and staring at the empty seat across the square from him as he had done for centuries now, remaining utterly unmoving.
It was why the sudden announcement he had made several days ago so surprising. Well, that and the fact that he had made that announcement to everyone within the Empire, speaking to them mentally. Anya's mother had been startled so badly she had shot a laser through their kitchen wall.
As expected, since then humans and aliens alike had been flowing into Olympos near-continually. Considering this was the seat of power of the being who held possession of the Six Infinity Stones for millennia now, Space itself made it so everyone was accommodated comfortably, something that should be impossible as the crowd began to near a trillion souls waiting in anticipation.
Briefly Anya wondered how they were ever going to find their spots or their mom when there was a shout from above. Looking up, Anya saw her mom, those distinct pure white eyes so much like her own, on a mandala made of magical energy hovering above them, waving enthusiastically.
"Hop on up!" she shouted down and Anya felt the strong arms of her father wrap securely around her as he sunk through his knees.
He grunted and the world shifted as the wind whistled through Anya's hair before they came to a surprisingly gentle stop as Jorni alighted on the magical platform.
"Hey sweetie." He said casually, leaning in and kissing his wife quickly on the lips.
Darna ruffled her daughters hair before turning around and gesturing ahead, sending the magical platform flying forwards. They sailed easily above the immense crowd that had assembled on the Square of the Dead, people filling it up to the edges, even standing underneath the Torii-gate itself, the Veil disabled for now. There was very little fear of falling off the massive platform and into the abyss of space itself, even as it was filled beyond capacity. Part of this was because the square always grew in order to accommodate the people on it (which is why you never had to wait in line to speak to your deceased loved ones), but also because this was Olympos. The home of Lord Hyperion himself.
If you somehow managed to fall of the Square of the Dead, he'd just pluck you out of the void of space and teleport you back onto Olympos again. Everyone, even Anya, saw this as an absolute truth, such was the trust in their god.
Landing amongst Darna's fellow Sorcerers close to Lord Hyperion's throne, Anya craned her neck as she looked up at the immense god while her parents socialized with the other gathered magic practitioners. As always, the god's face was utterly unmoving, his eyes fixed on the empty throne across from him.
Anya thought he looked sad.
By then her parents had gone the obligatory rounds and now it was her turn to shake hands and nod her head as the same questions spilled meaninglessly over her (how are you doing in school? Are there any specific superpowers or schools of magic you have your eyes on? Are you more interested in fighting aliens or demons? Do you have a crush on anyone?). This went on for what felt like hours, until suddenly the air changed.
Without being told, everyone present fell silent as they all turned to look up at their silent god.
He blinked.
Not a momentous occasion by itself, but considering this was the first time he had even moved for the first time in 638 years (yes, they had kept count) everyone breathed in awed silence as they observed their stirring god.
Slowly, the brilliant suns that were Lord Hyperion's eyes moved away from the empty throne across from him, instead roaming across the immense crowd assembled before him. Despite their numbers numbering in the many billions, Anya still had the feeling the god saw each and every individual, studying their faces and likely seeing far beyond merely the physically present.
Eventually, he leaned forwards in his chair, the movement slow and ponderous as he leaned his elbows on his knees, bowing his head and folding his hands together.
"Nobody… nobody here… out of all these people, none that I recognize."
His voice was soft, spoken in a whisper, yet thundered across the entire Square and Anya felt the deep sadness that permeated every word.
"I have seen it all. Done it all. But now… I have none to share it with anymore. My friends… my family… Sam… Jessica… even Thor passed away millennia ago… all of these people… yet I am alone."
Anya felt something trickle down her face and was surprised to find she was crying. Looking to her parents she saw that they were silently weeping as well, the entire crowd resonating with the solitary god.
"Every character from that story has found their end. A happily ever after. But what comes after that? After the end?" Lord Hyperion mused, unclasping his hands and leaning back into his massive throne, head titled up towards the far-off stars overhead.
Slowly, he raised his Hand of Creation and Hand of Destruction, the Hands which had built their worlds and destroyed their enemies, turning them over as he studied them with a far-off look on his sculpted face.
Then, he clenched them, and where there was first an aura of melancholy, now there was a sense of determination. Of purpose. The god sat up straighter in his chair, looking forwards, past the chair of his wife and into the void of space. Slowly, a grin spread across his face.
"After the end… let there be a new beginning." he stated with strength, before his gaze turned downwards once again, looking out over the assembled crowd yet seeing and acknowledging every individual within that mass of people.
For a singular moment, Anya knew that he was looking at her and she was surprised at the warmth in the god's expression, the pride in his eyes. It felt like her dad embracing her after she had showcased her first display of superstrength. It felt like her mom cheering her on when she had shot off her first laser.
"I will be leaving you now. I know that will be difficult for many of you. You may feel sad, or angry, or even fearful, now that I won't be there to protect you. Guide you. But…"
And with this, the god rose, standing impossibly tall as he towered over his awed subjects.
"… you are all so much stronger than you think you know. You will do fine. You will flourish."
He held out his arm, a spear of Light appearing within it in a flash. Streaks of energy, green and blue from his legs, red and purple from his hands, yellow from his head and orange from his throat, flowed in great arcs into the immense weapon. Once the last vestiges of energy had been absorbed into the spear, it solidified, turning from the bright Light Side energy into a glass/metal/rock-like texture that seemed to be filled with its own internal galaxies.
Curling his arm, Lord Hyperion threw the spear, sending it careening out into the void. It had disappeared from sight faster than Anya could even hope to follow.
"If there should ever be a crisis that threatens you. All of you. Then seek out that spear and claim the power inside. Lead your people through its darkest hours and into a new Golden Age, as I did when I was but a man."
Then, to Anya's surprise, the god dusted his hands, his posture relaxed and casual.
"Well, I think that takes care of the most pressing issues. Remember: it's alright if you're an asshole, just don't be 100% a dick."
Anya blinked at the words of wisdom before her attention was grabbed by the immense light that began to glow from within Lord Hyperion himself. He steadily began rising into the air and away, until he resembled a distant sun more than a humanoid being.
There was a sensation of pressure building up, a metallic tingle dancing across her teeth and Anya blinked rapidly at the building light surrounding her god. A steady drumming sound shook her very bones as… something unimaginably powerful was happening in front of the spear like Ark.
As the titanic sensations reached an impossible crescendo, the world, no, reality itself seemed to pause for a moment. The universe held its breath. From within that sphere of light and power, Anya once more felt the gaze of a god upon her and despite being unable to see him, the teenaged girl knew that the lonely Titan was now smiling.
"Goodbye everyone. I'm going on an adventure!"
A shockwave rang out, washing over the Square of the Dead and making the assembled crowd stumble from the sheer force of it. The backlash would've thrown Anya to the ground if her dad hadn't gripped her shoulder to steady her.
Standing up straight, Anya looked out beyond the edge of Olympos, but she didn't see anything.
Lord Hyperion… was gone…
"W-what… what do we do now?" she asked her parents and the people around her were looking at each other in shock and uttering the same question.
Her parents glanced at each other, at a loss for words. It was her mother who sunk to her knees, slim hands taking a firm hold of Anya's shoulders, her smile small but genuine, her eyes still brimming with tears.
"We do what we always do: we follow Lord Hyperion's words."
Darna hugged her daughter close to her, her voice wavering but still brimming with conviction.
"We shall thrive."
In another world entirely, there was a hole. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort…
AN: I was all mushy in the previous chapter, so here I'll just say thanks once again. As shown here, Michael will now travel to different universes, beginning with LotR. These new adventures will be a series of drabble fics, called A Few Steps Left Of Centre (also an awesome band, go check em out). No promises on when those will get uploaded/updated though, I haven't really been into writing for quite some time now. This epilogue was partly to see if I could get back into the swing of things now that I'm (pretty much) finished with my Master's. Hope you enjoyed it and thanks again for reading, I hope I got every last loose end tied up now.