Aether had found the Architects. They were one, too. They weren't sure if this was right. Maybe it hadn't been. They didn't decide to go back into the darkness. But it found them. And they found themself in the darkness, curling energies twisted around them, pulling every fibre of their being in a thousand directions. They put out their hand into this maelstrom, feeling the thrum of endless energy course through their flesh, webbing across their skin like a scar. They felt the deep, vibrating noise rush into their head, filling their thoughts with static. They felt tired. Sleepy. Maybe... Maybe they'd just sit, for a moment. Take a moment to rest. No. Their thoughts kept them from being torn apart, rifts between every atom. Don't sleep. Don't. Then they'd not be real. They'd have never existed at all, so thoroughly eradicated from the universe as to be torn from memory and time. So no. Don't sleep. They felt the power webbing down their skin and let it flow off their fingertips, giddy with creation. The fuzzy static filling their skull tripled in volume, and was tinted gold. Their eye squinted and their glow brightened. They felt a scream building in their chest but it was dashed on their teeth, dying on their tongue, its whispering corpse whipped away by the wind. They felt a scream build again and felt their body pull apart. They couldn't take more of this. They were going to die. And they didn't want their second ever chat with Mythria to be 'hey so like i forgot i wasn't all powerful.' So they funnelled the burning lead on their skin, wind cutting into them like an angry beast, and spread their wings, extended by the burning magics that tore them apart. They soared away, knowing they were leaving a trail of themself behind.


It hurt.