Fury coursed through Permeus’ veins as he gently laid Germaine’s body on the cobblestone street. The blood of his most loyal servant, the first of his titans, pooled beneath them, gleaming in the sinister light of the already burning city. Everything happening seemed to come to a halt after Germaine’s death. He was not sure whether that was the fact or that his senses had simply taken leave of him. Regardless of the case, he could feel nothing but the silence.

  Neither the feral titans, the creatures of darkness remained, not even the carcasses of their victims.

  All that filled the streets were him, Germaine and his slayer standing just a few feet away. Permeus had no accurate way of being sure, but he had lost more than he could imagine.

  As far as he could sense, every titan in the city was dead. He could not feel their auras as much as he could not feel Germaine’s, who was resting between his palms.

  Permeus’ hands trembled, not with fear but with a rage he had never experienced in his hundred years of existence. The immortal flame within him pulsed violently, threatening to erupt.

  With deliberate calm that belied the storm within, Permeus rose to his feet, his eyes never leaving the pale figure who hovered a few paces away. The stranger’s lips curved into a smile that held no warmth, only cold amusement.

  “Who are you?” Permeus demanded, his voice dangerously quiet. “What are you?”

  The stranger tilted his head, strawy black hair falling across his face. The red glow in his eyes intensified, casting an eerie light across his gaunt features.

  “I am Operas,” he replied, his voice melodious yet chilling. “Origin of the Chasm.”

  Permeus’ brow furrowed. “There is no Origin of the Chasm.”

  “No?” Operas spread his arms wide, and shadows seemed to gather around him, drawn to his presence like moths to a flame.

  “Then what do you think created the darkness that surrounds your precious little world? The void from which I have watched you and your siblings play at creation?” He said with a sinister grin on his face, “Please do not tell me you believe you did that.”

  He stepped closer, and Permeus tensed, ready for attack. But Operas merely circled him, studying him as one might study an insect under glass.

  “No, you wouldn’t believe that,” he said, answering his own question. “You are the one who believes in an Origin of Origins.”

  “Tell you what, kid,” Operas continued. “I am the Origin of Origins. "

  “Enough of your fa?ade” Permeus screamed in pure anger. “What are you?”

  “I am what and who I say I am,” Operas screamed back.

  “Whether or not you choose to believe it,” he added in a lighter tone

  “I am also your father, which I guess makes me the father of Origins,” Operas said as if just remembering

  “What?” Permeus exhaled, still trying to get his head around things

  “Yes, I am your father,” he affirmed. “I assume your mother has already told you about me or at least told Desia.”

  “She has always had favorites, you know,” Operas added comically

  “You are the darkness?” Permeus realized. “The darkness we were warned about.”

  “Indeed,” he said, affirming his statement

  “The darkness from which all light came and must eventually return. And I am...”he paused, savoring the word, “late.”

  “Late?” Permeus repeated, his hand inching toward his sword.

  Operas nodded solemnly.

  “Well, I was supposed to end your world on the day it was born, as I had ended countless others before it. The natural cycle is creation followed by destruction.” His face darkened. “I swear to you there is nothing greater. "

  Permeus’ face either had no reply or Operas just decided not to care

  “But your mother interfered in my cycle.” He continued. “I am simply here to finish it.”

  “Our mother?” The concept was so foreign that Permeus momentarily forgot his rage and replaced it with confusion.

  “Aurea,” Operas spat the name like a curse. “That apparition that has been visiting your sister Desia,”

  “You know, she and I were once the only beings in creation,” he said as if reminiscing about the memory

  “She is the light that dared challenge the darkness and believe I know how cliché that sounds, but stay with me.” He continued.

  “What do you want?” Permeus demanded

  “Hasn’t that pathetic excuse for a primordial being not advertised me enough,” Operas said, “I want to destroy your world. "

  “The same world that I tried to destroy a hundred years ago but couldn’t,” he spoke as if the memory revulsed him.

  “I could come up with any excuse I want, but the fact is I lost. I lost, and your mother.... she condemned me to a long slumber as punishment, binding me deep within my Chasm.” His eyes narrowed. “But I have been stirring for decades, and now I manifest, though I admit not yet fully awakened.”

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  “I know,” he said all the while Permeus was still, “It sounds stupid to be telling you my weaknesses though sadly for you what I am telling you are not weaknesses but simply circumstances.”

  “Circumstances I will bypass.”

  Permeus glanced around at the burning city, at the out-of-shot infected titans running around the ruins of what was left in total chaos, the shadow beasts slinking through the streets.

  “You claim to have done all this while still asleep?” Permeus asked his voice with a twinge of fear.

  A laugh escaped Operas, hollow and echoing.

  “Merely dreams taking form. Little whispers of my will. The nightmares I sent to your sister Desia and to you were just the beginning.” He elaborated, “In fact, I dream of making one of them come true tonight.”

  “Any guesses which one it is?” He asked with a deranged look on his face.

  Permeus instantly remembered his nightmare from earlier, watching his children and wife burn by immortal flame amid darkness.

  “My nightmares,” Permeus murmured, pieces falling into place. “You’ve been planning this?”

  “Planning?” Operas shook his head.

  “No, I’ve been existing. Slowly returning to consciousness. But recently, I gained enough strength to manifest creatures of darkness in the deepest parts of the underworld. Little by little, my influence spread.”

  He gestured to the surrounding chaos.

  “But tonight, tonight was quite the fortune. Seven Origins gathered in one place, and with my already growing strength, their combined power acted like a beacon that drew me forth. It gave me enough strength to materialize this body.” He looked down at his pale hands with appreciation.

  “You tried to kill Dalia,” Permeus realized.

  “Yes,” Operas admitted.

  “Your sister has a benevolent connection to the darkness that even she does not understand. I would think she even feared it. If I had killed her and possessed her body, it would have made the transition easier and your demise that much quicker. I would have used her form to fully awaken, to make my way back to the Chasm and regain my full power. Plus, I would have taken out the so-called ‘black night’ my ex-wife has prophesized to assist in my ‘defeat’”

  “You know the prophecy?” Permeus asked in fear.

  “Truth is, I know only as much as you do,” Operas admitted, “but I know enough to put two and two together. “

  Operas shrugged elegantly. Permeus himself, who was amazingly proud, doubted anyone was as boastful as Operas. His senses returned to him. He realized chaos was still happening all around them, but Operas’ presence demanded so much attention, he almost did not mind it.

  “Anyway, my plans have changed, son. When I realized all seven of you were gathering here, I saw a much better opportunity.” His eyes gleamed with malice.

  “And to reward you,” he added, “I will kill all seven of you first. "

  “You know, as a token of my appreciation for making my return possible.” He said with a unique madness in his voice.

  “Then after that I am off to reclaim my place in the Chasm and complete my awakening.” He elaborated, “Plus, it would probably do me well to extinguish the white flame in his own realm.”

  The implications of Operas’ words crashed over Permeus like a tidal wave. This being, this thing claiming to be the father of Origins, intended to destroy everything they had created. To end the world they had brought into being.

  “You’re insane,” Permeus growled, drawing his sword. The blade ignited with a brilliant white flame, illuminating the alleyway. “I won’t let you destroy our world.”

  Operas merely looked amused. “Your flame cannot harm me, son of light. I am Darkness itself, and darkness cannot be destroyed; it is the very force of annihilation.”

  But Permeus was beyond caution now. With a roar of pure rage, he launched himself at Operas, his blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. Operas sidestepped with unnatural speed, but the edge of the sword caught his arm, drawing a line of black ichor that oozed like oil.

  Operas looked at the wound with surprise, then genuine delight.

  “Oh, so you have some of her in you,” he said, his voice almost admiring. “Some of Aurea’s light. How fascinating.”

  Before Permeus could strike again, Operas moved in a blur of shadow that materialized behind him. A fist of iron connected with Permeus’ back, sending him crashing into a wall. Stone cracked under the impact, and Permeus fell to his knees, momentarily stunned.

  “But it’s not enough,” Operas continued, approaching leisurely. “You are but an echo of her power, and she an echo of mine.”

  Permeus sprang to his feet, launching a barrage of attacks. His sword became a blur of flame and steel, each strike fueled by grief and fury. For a moment, he drove Operas back; the ancient being having actively to defend against the onslaught.

  But it couldn’t last. As Permeus tired, Operas grew stronger, seeming to draw energy from the surrounding darkness. When Permeus overextended on a thrust, Operas caught his wrist, the grip crushing.

  With a sharp twist, he forced Permeus to drop his sword.

  “You fight well,” Operas acknowledged, “for a child.”

  He delivered a brutal kick to Permeus’ chest, sending him flying across the street. Permeus crashed through the wooden fa?ade of a building, landing amid splintered debris. Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead.

  Before he could rise, Operas was upon him again, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him off the ground with one hand. Permeus struggled, but Operas’ grip was like steel.

  “Huh?” He exhaled as if disappointed

  “Don’t get it twisted. I have always wanted to destroy you, but I expected more from offspring born of my blood.” Operas said, almost sadly.

  “You shall not get away with this,” Permeus said, gasping for air

  “You shall not end our world,” he continued in sheer defiance

  “You know of all my children, you are the most curious, the most questioning and probably even my favorite,” he said, savoring the last two words. “I thought perhaps you at least might understand the necessity of endings.”

  “But seems that I was wrong,” he said, looking deeply into Permeus’s eyes.

  Permeus clawed at the hand around his throat, his vision beginning to darken at the edges. Desperately, he summoned the immortal flame, channeling it through his entire body until his skin glowed white-hot.

  Operas hissed and released him, looking at his burned palm with annoyance rather than pain.

  “Impressive,” he admitted. “But futile.”

  Shadows gathered around his injured hand, reforming it good as new. Then he waved casually, and tendrils of darkness shot out, wrapping around Permeus’ limbs, binding him tightly.

  “Your struggle only delays the inevitable,” Operas said, stepping closer. “This world will end, as all worlds before you have and all the ones that will come after. The cycle demands it.”

  Permeus fought against the bindings, but they tightened with each movement, cutting into his flesh.

  “Our world... doesn’t have to end,” he gasped. “Creation doesn’t... have to be followed by destruction.”

  “Oh?” Operas raised an eyebrow.

  “And what would you know of the greater patterns of existence? You, who have lived barely a hundred years? I have witnessed the birth and death of countless realities, child. I should know... I caused them. This is simply the natural order. I am the natural order.”

  He rose him up into the air and slammed him to the ground, knocking the air out of Permeus’ lungs. He knelt beside Permeus, studying him with those terrible red eyes.

  “Any last words?” Opera asked with a sickly grin.

  “You shall be defeated,” Permeus promised him

  “If you believe that?” Operas replied

  He raised a blade of darkness high, ready to deliver the final blow. The blade descended but never reached its target.

  Permeus, with a last gasp, had sent a fireball into the air. A blast of pure light exploded between them, sending Operas staggering backward and disintegrating the shadow tendrils holding him. When the brilliance faded, Operas was quick to his feet, setting a new blade onto the target, but the Origin of Immortality was already long gone.