At the terminus of Creation, where the ordered fabric of existence draws at last to a final and fundamental stop, a dire-black sea lies beneath a vault bereft of stars.

It is here that the Lord of Unknowable Mysteries maintains His vigil, accompanied by two empty thrones.

Passing centuries, the kindling of new suns, the collapse of civilisations, these are the measure by which He notes the arrival of His Siblings to this desolate expanse. And long have these shores gone in the main undisturbed save by those already bound to Him and His.

It is remarkable, then, when the heavens erupt with a thunder to convulse across the precipice of Creation as torrents of brilliantine lightning surge across that starless firmament. Reality rends itself asunder in accession to imperious Will, its sundered boundaries seething with coruscating energy as the very fabric of What Is yields to the arrival of another Elder. Unfolding wings of Protean inheritance across the empty skies, Stars blinking into existence about His presence, this new-arrived Elder alights beside His Brother with the lingering brilliance of His coming bathing the desolation in fulminous radiance. And for the first time in the newest millennium, the Lord of Oblivion stands in the company of the Lord of the Skies.

Neither speaks immediately. Babel instead contemplates the furious clouds now gathering across the no-longer starless vault. Long, low moments pass before He observes at length, "Must You bring the Storm to My doorstep, Brother?"

"The Storm attends its Master."

"Even here, absent Your Dominion?"

"I am boundless, Brother. Where I am, My Dominion follows. The Sky's sovereign, standing with You here in the Sky."

The Lord of Oblivion's reply is cold. But ambivalent. "How fortunate that Your Ambitions remain so modest."

"What need have I for more? My reach is already without limit. As is My Authority."

"You often deign to remind."

The Skylord leaves the observation to pass without rebuke, returning His attentions to the terminus of existence. "You have given the remnants of Entropy and Discord a considerable measurement of liberty."

"Liberty is a curious description of captivity and servitude. Should I amuse Myself upon them as Sartan does His slaves? Apply an equivalency to mortal branding irons? Hooks to scour beneath skin and sinew?"

"Then Your prisoners seem to possess remarkable privileges."

Babel inclines His head in no more than acknowledgement of fact, turning not from His contemplation.

"Their bindings remain intact," Oblivion's Lord speaks in dispassionate calm, after again long moments pass without utterance.

"And yet their activities have flourished far beyond the Outer Reaches." A coruscating current of electricity surges across the Skylord's wings. "Our Niece is taking advantage of Your apathy. The autonomy afforded Your captives furnishes Her with diversions of consequence."

"The amusements of Pandora are beneath My concern. Her schemes neither trouble My Purpose nor alter the present course of My contemplations."

"Perhaps they ought. She has enjoyed a myriad of opportunities afforded by Your inattention. Most recently upon Theanis. Its last remaining vestiges succumb to My Necessity as We speak, soon ready to be born anew in celestis."

Babel's lips curl into a thin smile. "Opportunity is seldom in short supply."

"Nor, it would seem, is Your patience for disorder."

The air about Oblivion's Lord trembles with cold, cruel amusement. "You speak of disorder with remarkable disdain for one whose very Realm delights in the violence of unmaking."

"My Realm proliferates purpose."

"As does the dissolution of all things. Worlds perish, Vastar. Few among Our Kin have seeded more of their endings than You."

"Nor have They exercised greater authority over their continuance."

"Ah. So certain of the proper order of existence." Babel glances sidelong at His Brother. "Tell Me, Vastar, that You did not cross the breadth of Creation to exchange grievances concerning Our errant Niece. If She is rife in meddling, then complain to Her Father. I have less than interest in an outgrown child prone to tantrum and vice."

"No. The consequences of Your apathy extend beyond Pandora. Once Entropy and Discord's touch came upon Theanis, where they should not have been, I observed the thread of their influence, unspooling farther than either of Us should have tolerated. They have been entreated in their activities, most recently by Glaaki's band. I have no qualms with his Ambition, but I would know what occasioned this diminution of Your control."

"You believe Me unaware?"

"I believe You would permit much to escape Your notice. It is but the why."

The words linger between Them, Babel's expression unreadable. For a breath, a moment, an Aeon, both Elders again regard the forlorn expanse in palpable silence.

This time it is Vastar that breaks the quiet. "You remember My visits to this place in bygone times?"

"Among other iniquities."

"You were proud. Bright. You accepted the burden placed upon You without hesitation, so very certain as You stood upon the precipice of existence to watch what lurks beyond its bright heart."

"I have not forgotten."

"Then You understand why I find Your present indifference so curious. Is it Your most recent contemplation within Your city?"

"The question presumes My certainty has diminished. Perhaps My understanding of such matters has changed. Time affords contemplation, Brother. Even to beings like Us."

"Contemplation is commendable. Dereliction is not."

Figure and frame of Oblivion's Lord grows palpably, utterly still. Another long moment passes by. When He next speaks, it is absent indifference and far from humour. It finds calculated surety. And cold anger.

"An admonition?" He near-spits the word. There is danger in His voice.

"Concern."

This is an answer Babel did not expect. He turns sharply towards Vastar, the burning void of His eyes at last yielding to something approaching curiosity.

"Your watch has abided for centuries, even if it is yet newborn in Creation," the Skylord continues. "I do not measure the burden of Your vigil against Mine. We were each left with a purpose and burden beyond Our Siblings to understand, let alone endure. Yet by that same measure, neither can I remain idle when those in Your charge intrude upon My Necessity."

Vastar turns toward His Sibling, His expression momentarily losing its imperious severity.

"Attend to Your bindings, Brother. A once-outsider draws nearer, absent Your chains and yoke. It is already seeking and searching. I suspect it desires reunification."

Babel offers no reaction. "The inner realms never lack for unwelcome visitors." He pauses, at last allowing a thin smile to part His lips. It is mirthless. "Nor, it seems, do I. Agreements are not invitations."

"Concern is not sentimentality."

"The child's machinations will be accounted," He finally allows. No more, and no less.

Nothing more is said, for They both recognise the conversation now trails behind. Vastar expands His mighty wings, illuminating the terminus once more in a sudden blaze of incandescent brilliance. For a final moment, He regards His Younger Sibling. Then, the Skylord ascends into the heavens, His passage into the Veil marked by a succession of brilliantine lightning as the gathering stormfront dwindles into nothingness absent its sovereign. The burgeoning Stars disappear in His absence.

Babel remains upon the shore, His Eye lingering on the wound in reality until it stitches closed behind His Brother.

Turning once more towards the boundary, the Lord of Unknowable Mysteries resumes His vigil.

Near the brink of Creation a solitary tremor passes across the encroaching dark. It is Seen in its slow hunt and wandering hunger.

Babel observes the wanderer creeping ever-slowly inward, and smiles.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Summary: After giving the distant world of Theanis to Necessity, Vastar intruded upon Babel's vigil at the Outer Reaches of Creation to speak with His Brother.

Penned by my hand on the 11th of Ero, in the year 1017 AF.