Marvin wasn't sure what made him decide to take a stroll through the ruins of Grede. Maybe it was the fact that just a few days ago, he had a lovely wife and a cute baby boy. Maybe it was because, a few days ago, life seemed to have no end. He had felt eternal, living in bliss and forgetting everything negative.
Why should he indulge in pessimism when life had offered all he ever wanted? A well-paying job, a gorgeous wife who loved him, whose love had helped him fight through the hard times, and a cute baby boy, a fruit borne of their love for each other. Wasn't this what the average person desired? He didn't desire anything more. This was enough for him… so, why?
He had never felt like his wishes were impossible to grant. He had only desired the most mundane of things, and he didn't care that he didn't want more. He was fulfilled, and that was all that mattered.
Was wanting a loving partner, a stable life, and children too much to ask for? Didn't everyone ask for the same thing? What about him had to be special?
Marvin didn't know when he had fallen to his knees before what was left of his old home; just rubble, ashes, and bloodstains everywhere. They didn't belong to this family; they hadn't even died in their own home…
His eyes grew blurrier by the second. Something wet fell onto his hands that were placed on the ground. He was crying–a silent weep in this desolate expanse that had once housed the joyous people of Grede, who went about their lives thinking only of the hardship of today and the simple beauty of their everyday existence.
Life had been simple. The prospect of death still existed in the minds of everyone, but no one ever thought it would be their turn; the optimism that shielded the heart from needless worry.
Marvin had never thought that the day which started so normally would devolve into this nightmare.
Images of that day flashed through his mind. Tears fell even harder; his cries grew louder. Even faint mumblings could now be heard coming from him.
"My love… my child… what am I even meant to do anymore?... Why?..." And then, he went silent.
"WHY DIDN'T I JUST DIE ALONGSIDE THEM THAT DAY?! WHAT USE WAS THERE IN KEEPING ME ALIVE?! WHAT AM I EVEN MEANT TO DO WITH MY LIFE ANYMORE?!"
An anguished bellow resounded through the ruins, echoing his pain and confusion, born out of the incomprehensible madness that had already begun to consume the entire world. Marvin was all that was left of what had been encroached.
Out there, all over Grede, many people were like him. They had all lost those they loved. Be it a father, a mother, a lover, a daughter, a son; everyone had lost someone special to them. Marvin was just one among the few who had survived the carnage that took place in Grede a few days ago.
A few days was such a little time. Everything still felt like it had taken place yesterday. The pain, the memories, the terror, the hopelessness… he still felt them at this very moment.
It felt like it was just moments ago when he saw that golden beam of light hit the earth, the joyful screams of people believing that their "gods" had finally come to their rescue ringing loud and chaotic.
"Why should I continue believing in some deity that sat back and watched all these innocent lives die needlessly? Maybe you might not care about me or her, but what wrong has my baby boy done? He was merely six months old! What could he have done to deserve this?!"
Marvin couldn't stop himself any longer. The anguish, the soul-wrenching pain… It was just too much to bear. He had never felt this way before, not even when his parents died in that car crash. At least he wasn't there to witness that happen. But…
He had literally seen an entire building implode on his toddler. A fragment had fallen from the sky and smashed his wife to a bloody pulp… that sight, that horrifying experience, would have broken the average person, and Marvin was indeed broken. As such, the only thing he could do to alleviate the chaotic anguish he felt was to continuously punch the fragments of concrete all around him.
He couldn't register the pain that shot through his fists. His force increased, striking the ground with greater intensity. But he still felt nothing. How could he register physical pain when the pain within far surpassed that of the body by all measures? In fact, the physical pain seemed to barely alleviate the intensity of the agony that wrenched his soul.
He didn't know when he stopped. The pain was still there, so why stop?
Marvin looked down at his fists and saw only a bloody mess. His flesh had torn under the shredding force of the jagged rubble; his bones were fractured and broken by the sheer impact of the punches he had thrown. He couldn't even move his fingers, and even worse, some were hanging by mere strands of flesh.
Marvin was a broken man. A man in anguish. He sought an end to this unbearable torment that had found him.
"Why? Why couldn't it have just been me? Why did it have to be them?" he muttered under his breath, his voice breaking as he spoke. Tears still fell, blurring his sight.
"Because it was fated." A carefree male voice answered. The response had come from behind him… but from above?
Marvin didn't seem stunned by the sudden appearance of another individual. Or maybe, he just didn't care.
"Do you know anything about Fate, Mr. Marvin?" The voice continued without pause. "No one can claim to know Fate in its entirety. Its workings lie hidden within the folds of mysteries. You can have a vague idea, but its true weavings? You are unworthy. Yet even with the little we know, we understand that Fate is simply unacceptable. Or to you, it's simply unacceptable."
Marvin finally found the noise of this intruder annoying and said in the most friendly tone he could muster, "You might be unaware, stranger, but I'm currently grieving my loss here. You can leave your lecture for another time."
There was silence after Marvin spoke, one that convinced him the noisy intruder had left. For several minutes, Marvin knelt there, in pain, enduring the feeling of his soul wrenching. Memories of a time defiled by a nightmare flickered through his mind uncontrollably, rending his heart.
Each memory was like a fragment of glass. The glass had once been his entire world, but a nightmare shattered it into countless pieces–each representing a memory. Every time one flickered through his mind, that fragment stabbed his heart deeply and mercilessly.
"Fate is indeed a terrible thing. A thief dressing itself as a magnanimous giver. But it doesn't give… it takes away what already is. No one asks for its direction, yet it continues to give it; it knows it's leading you astray but doesn't care. It cares not about what you want nor what you don't want. Why should it? We are all insignificant when you finally have a vague idea of what Fate is, dear brother." The voice returned again.
Marvin felt a flash of wrath rush through his spine. He just wanted to grieve. Why couldn't this person leave him alone? What was worse was that there was no consolation in the words the person uttered. And what was he on about "Fate"? This stranger was simply being annoying for no rational reason, and Marvin, for all he was, couldn't put up with such constant annoyance.
Ready to unleash his wrath, Marvin turned, his tear-streaked face twisting as his red eyes searched for the noisy intruder. He had many things to say, but "My God!" wasn't one of them.
Some distance away, squatting atop a billboard that had miraculously survived the destruction, was a young man with outstandingly pale skin and hair that fell to his neck. From that perch, the strange man stared down at him.
But something else about the young man was what made Marvin exclaim those words.
The young man wore a black suit, the kind worn by corporate workers, but bizarrely, from behind him, three pairs of large, bird-like wings were spread wide; each pair stretching out twice the length of an average person. They were pure white. An angel.
"What are you?" There was no shock to be heard in Marvin's voice, only slight confusion and annoyance.
"What I am doesn't matter, Marvin. What matters is what you want." The young man stopped squatting and shifted his position, his legs now dangling from the billboard as his wings rested behind him.
"What is it you want, Marvin?" A strange, compelling force tugged at Marvin as he heard that question.
"Are you God?" Marvin shrugged off the strange influence, causing the young man's eyes to narrow.
"Of course not. I'm something vastly different from one. I'm not an angel like those in your stories. What I am… what would be a fitting description?" The young man placed a hand on his chin as if lost in thought. "I'm closer to those who have transcended mundanity, but I'm also not. I am neither of the divine nor of the profane. I am a neutral factor who has decided to have my own agenda."
Marvin gazed at the strange figure with growing skepticism. "Are you a Chosen, then?"
"Haha." The young man chuckled heartily… and suddenly, he went silent.
"Do I look like one of those things to you?"
A pale face with snow-white hair cascading down it filled Marvin's entire view.
Marvin's eyes widened in horror. The sudden appearance of this hauntingly pale face so close to his own would have terrified anyone. There was no explaining how this strange individual had crossed such a distance and appeared right before him.
The young man let out a soft chuckle as he straightened his body. "I'm not a Chosen. I'm a slightly more significant thread in the weavings of Fate. Call me Zakaria, if you will."
"I know you have questions; questions that demand answers. You want to rant about the nature of your fate, but I'm not here for that. I'm a simple individual, Marvin, an individual with little time to indulge your wants. Shall we get down to business?"
Marvin finally had a good look at the young man. His features, everything about him, was simply divine, a living personification of the concept of an angel. Yet it was his eyes, like mirrors that reflected nothing, that truly seized Marvin's mind.
"What do you want from me? I have no business with your kind. I want nothing to do with you. Leave me be. I'm merely a man who has lost everything. Let my anguish torment me; it's already enough. There's no need to add yours. Yours won't make any difference," Marvin muttered, the gloom in his voice as clear as day.
He heard something slice through the air, and then felt a sharp sting on his cheek.
Lightly brushing against his skin was a single feather from the outstretched wing. It threatened to cut deeper as its owner crouched slowly, lowering himself to Marvin's eye level.
"I think I made myself clear, Mr. Marvin. Do not categorize me with those things." Zakaria's tone softened, but the cold beneath it remained. "As for what you think I'm here to offer… it seems you've greatly misunderstood my intentions, dear brother. I'm here to grant you an opportunity. A chance to right all their wrongs."
Zakaria grabbed Marvin by the chin, forcing him to meet his gaze.
"What I offer you is a gift, my dear brother. But it's not a gift that comes with choice. This gift hears your hunger for justice; it can smell your burning desire to make those vermin know what it's like to feel such anguish. This gift I shall give you. I offer you a shard of a Tribunal."
A large, transparent shard, like a piece of ordinary glass, appeared in Zakaria's hand. Whether it had always been there or materialized from nothing, Marvin wasn't sure. But he was certain of the pain that followed as the shard was stabbed into his abdomen.
"What… are… you… doing?" was all Marvin could manage as his vision darkened. His consciousness was fading fast.
"And as you know… nothing is free. This is an equivalent exchange, Mr. Marvin. I shall return to claim my fee."
The fluttering of wings and the great rush of wind that stirred dust into the air were the last sensations he perceived before the lights went out.
There he lay, a single man in the aftermath of madness, bleeding out, with no one in sight to help. Everything that had just taken place felt surreal.
And all around the world, people like Marvin experienced something of this nature; each encounter, unique in its own tragedy.
*****
"They came in different forms. As birds, as men, as angels, as thoughts, as dreams, as whispers. They came in whatever form they desired, but they came nonetheless.
They specifically sought those most vulnerable to their temptations. And just like their forms, their means varied. Some coerced, others tempted, most merely offered, and a few simply did as they pleased without care.
Many remain unaware of what those things truly are, but of course, I wasn't one of those ignorant fools. They were Whispers, emanations of entities typically called Cosmic Horrors. Indeed, those things had already begun to tear through the veil that hides our reality.
The end of times is nigh…
Wait a goddamn second… How many times have I said that now? "The end of times is nigh". Every epoch, it's the same thing over and over again. Those imbecilic Seraphims should try weaving something new for once.
Oh, right. I can't really curse here. My love doesn't like it when I curse."
—Transcendant Reyle, Records Of The "Children"