The Communion's page

Once again, the lights had returned to their home in the place beyond the planes, this time diminished in number. The brightest among them was there, along with the gentle, loving light that had given so much to preserve the life found far below.

“Blessed sister, worthy of praise, you have saved more than we had hoped to keep,” the first light said. “I have prayed that our consensus was not ill-founded, and seeing life flourish in the lands under our care brings me great joy.”

“Your thoughts help set me at ease,” the other light replied, “but I fear our work is not so easily finished. There are holes – inconsistencies – that are the source of my great misgivings. The end is simply averted, not denied.”

The first light, unable to speak to the truth of the matter, sought refuge in silence for a moment. “That is my fear as well. We were to be the silent observers, and we filled that role however we could. Still, perhaps our brother’s descent was necessary so we might offer a more direct guiding hand.”

“If that is so, I cannot fathom such a purpose.” The other light shone down on a specific point far away, fixated on a plateau that had once been bereft of their light.

The first light hesitated before asking, “Do you… have your own designs for this world?”

“Not as such. There is one life I have touched directly, but I leave the future in this mortal’s hands. Until we discern the consequences of our actions, we must remain vigilant and refrain from further intervention.”

“This silence pains me so. Let us continue to pray that it may be ended sooner than expected.”

The lights form a loose circle somewhere in the vastness of the heavens. Even the term 'lights' is a bit misleading - not all of them shine, but they shimmer and vibrate in tune with the sounds of creation itself. Their forms are both ephemeral and eternal - fleeting in their constancy, yet possessed of an otherworldly grace that assures you they will somehow last forever.

There is a sixth space sitting empty in their midst. The five who remain are somber, unwilling to accept this fate as their own.

Finally, the brightest opens himself to the Communion. "We all know what must be done. Our family has caused enough pain - we must inflict but little more to see this doom to its end."

At first, there are no replies. The brightest hangs like a sullen supernova, ignorant of the demise that awaits. Then another speaks, this one cold and flowing like an autumnal stream. "Magic is my domain, dearest brother. Should I not be the one to abate our wayward sibling's wrath?"

"That would be unwise," the brightest counters gently. "We must stay together. All will be lost if we do not act as one spirit."

A void stirs between the stars, revealing itself to be one of the five, by far the darkest and youngest. "You propose a solution none of us wish to enact. This is a judgment we cannot blindly follow."

The brightest seems taken aback. "Sister, if we had more time and options, I would suggest a different path. Sadly, we have none. Please understand..."

"Our brother is correct," answers another, this one harsh and unmoving, pressing down with the weight and authority of gravity itself. "The end has come, and we are unprepared. How can we abstain from acting in defense of our one objective?"

The others remain silent in the wake of the outburst. The heavens move as the Communion deliberates, each one struggling to find the way forward.

Then, the fifth speaks. "We are divided. Therefore, I must choose. Dearest brother, first among us, and dear sister, second among us, you are right... we must act swiftly so the land might heal."

With their conclusion reached, the members of the Communion depart one by one until only the brightest remains, basking in the light and shadow of the fathomless realm. Eventually, even that light departs.

Down below, the Last Continent lay pure and unmarred, unaware of the trials to come.